Chapter Eleven
ELEVEN
As they drove back to London, Mackinnon at the wheel, Ernie Piper taking notes, Alec told them about his interview with the widow.
“Ah,” said Tom, ruminating, “it don’t sound as if she’s grief-stricken.”
“No, but we’ll talk about that when everyone’s reported. Go ahead.”
Tom’s report from the Duke of York for the most part merely confirmed what Mrs. Pelham had said: The colonel was a monumental bore.
In fact, the landlord, Chas. Watson, said a group of elderly regulars had concocted a defence, a rota of whose turn it was to take Colonel Pelham off into a corner and bear with him for a few hours, leaving the rest free for the evening.
Tom had all their names, but considered it unlikely that they’d have anything to add.
“Watson can’t remember specifically whether there were strangers in the saloon bar that evening, but he says more than likely.
August they get a lot of visitors to the spa, and they’re the kind that drink in the saloon, not the public.
For what it’s worth, laddie, the place is a free house.
I had a nice pint of McMullen’s bitter.”
“I can’t see what it means, if anything,” Ernie admitted, “but you never know.”
“Is that it, Tom?” Alec asked.
“Just about. Seems the colonel was pretty regular in his habits. He didn’t go in every night, but when he came, he always arrived at a little after nine, after his dinner, and stayed till closing.
Late August, it would have been dark when he left.
Easy to waylay him on the common. Like you said, Chief, there’s plenty of hiding places near the path he would’ve taken, the most direct route to his house. ”
“All three victims walked a lonesome road home from the pub,” Mackinnon observed. “Pelham across yon common, Halliday across the fields, and Devine along a high-hedged lane. Did the killer choose them for that reason, or was it a fortunate coincidence for him?”
“A good question,” said Alec. “We won’t know the answer until we find a motive.”
“But, as far as we know, nane o’ the three showed any sign of concern that such might put them in danger?”
“Not as far as I know,” Piper told him. “No one’s mentioned it in any report.”
“We ought to have asked,” Alec acknowledged, “and will have to when we get to follow-up interviews. They were all vulnerable every time they walked home. It would appear that they didn’t feel threatened, weren’t conscious that someone might be gunning for them, or they would have taken precautions.
Mackinnon, any luck with the neighbours? ”
“Not what I’d call luck, sir. They all avoided the auld man like the plague, considered his hoose a blot on the landscape, and were sorry for his wife.
I didna get any feeling of serious animosity.
One young woman said she’d called one day when the colonel was out to give Mrs. Pelham a pamphlet on feminism.
Mrs. Pelham returned it next day, saying she was all in favour, but you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. ”
“She’s certainly blossomed out, though, in the short time since I told her he won’t be coming back!”
“Some of them are a wee bit shocked at how lightly she took his disappearance, and now his death, however much they disliked him.”
“Some people want to be shocked,” Tom observed tartly. “Good luck to her, I say.”
“I rather liked her,” said Alec. “She has considerable force of character. The colonel must have been a real tartar to keep her subdued.”
“Ah,” said Tom, “he’d have got the upper hand when she was young and unsure of herself, I dare say. Then he went off soldiering and she discovered her own strength, but, like she said, the habit of kowtowing was too strong for her.”
“That sounds a lot like what you usually call psycho-rubbish, Sarge.”
“You watch your cheek, laddie. Common sense, that’s what it is.”
“Common sense or psycho-rubbish, given her obvious feeling of liberation, would any of you consider her a suspect in his death?”
“No,” Ernie said promptly. “For one thing, the servants swear she never went out the evening he didn’t come home. She was knitting and listening to the wireless. And then, why would she want to murder Devine and Halliday? Doesn’t seem likely she even knew of their existence.”
“Unless he talked about them. She told me, if something’s repeated often enough, it sinks in even if you’re not listening.”
“I can’t see it, Chief,” said Tom. “All the plotting and planning it must’ve taken to bag the other two. And what for? What could he have said about them that’d make her want them dead?”
“I ought to have asked the neighbours if she’d been away from home when Devine and Halliday were killed.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Mackinnon. Even if she was responsible, for some unfathomable reason, I can’t imagine her carrying out the kidnapping and killing herself.
Nor can I see her hiring someone, or even beginning to have any idea of where to look for a hired killer.
The whole thing strikes me as extremely unlikely. ”
“Me, too,” Tom agreed.
“I asked the servants,” Ernie said smugly, “and Mrs. Pelham hasn’t spent more than a few hours away from home in years. The colonel had enough of travel in the army and wouldn’t stand for any more.”
Alec laughed. “That looks like that, then. Now that we have the colonel’s army service information, someone’ll have to go and check the records to find out if Halliday and Devine were in the same unit.”
“Saturday, Chief,” Piper reminded him.
“Damn! It’ll mean sending a request up the chain: the super, the AC, the commissioner, the home secretary, and, assuming they can all be got hold of tonight, hoping Joynson-Hicks will agree to talk some brass hat in the army into getting a clerk in to find the bumf for us.”
“Shouldn’t think we’ve got a hope, Chief,” Tom said.
“I wadna be so sure, Mr. Tring. Whilst I was in charge at the Yard, Jix telephoned the AC twice to find out what was going on. There’s nae doot he’s verra consairned. A fourth murder wad be a blot on his record.”
“And mine,” said Alec grimly. “The trouble is, it may take a fourth to provide us with a useful connection.”
“At the rate he’s been bumping them off,” Piper pointed out, “it could be months before he does another.”
“Nor is he likely to bury the body in the same area,” said Mackinnon. “It might never be found.”
“There’s always the possibility that he’s come to the end of his list. Even if not, unless he’s stupid enough to do the target trick again, we might never connect a fourth with the first three.
Then the case would eventually be written off as unsolved, bad, but not quite so bad for our reputations. ”
“Only if we don’t solve it, Chief,” said Tom. “I’m betting we will, though it may take a while.”
Piper was thoughtful. “I’m betting the Justice! Revenge! target is too important to him to leave off. Otherwise, why would he do it? Unless he’s a madman.”
“In which case, all bets are off,” said Alec.
“Catching a madman who appears sane under most circumstances is a matter of sheer luck. Of course, we have no evidence that there were three identical targets. The first and second safety-pins could have been something quite different for all we know. What I would like is some bit of tangible proof of something!”
“Let’s hope we get something to go on from the army records,” said Tom, “even if we have to wait till tomorrow.”
“Or Monday! Yes, if we knew they were all together during the War, we could look for other veterans of the same battalion, or regiment. Someone might know of a particular incident the three were involved in. It must have been something out of the ordinary to incite such a desire for vengeance. Also, we might be able to find out if anyone else was mixed up in whatever it was, in time to protect him.”
“Tell that to Sir William Joynson-Hicks and he’ll fall over himself to help.”
“I’ll make sure Mr. Crane passes it on. One thing we haven’t done—I admit it slipped my mind—is a thorough search of the burial area for bullets. Knowing what kind of gun was used might be useful.”
“We did a pretty thorough search, Chief,” Tom protested.
“In the rain, in the twilight. And I don’t recall anyone checking the trunks of trees.
The way the victims were tied up, he might have put them up against a tree to shoot them.
Don’t worry, Tom, I shan’t send you, any of you three.
It’s a job for a couple of DCs. You’re needed at the Yard this evening.
What I’m betting on, is that we’ll be faced with a lot of tips from the public, since the papers printed the names this morning.
I assume Cavett’s done some preliminary sorting, but it’s up to us to decide which are worth following up. ”
The big room set aside for their use at Scotland Yard looked as if a multicoloured snowstorm had floated through.
On every desk and table were drifts of official memo slips with telephone messages; blue, beige, and even violet notepaper; pink telegram forms; and scribbled scraps of all sizes and shapes.
Over these pored Inspector Cavett and his men.
A couple moved about the room, transferring sorted piles from one place to another.
Cavett looked up as Alec, Tom, Mackinnon, and Piper entered.
“Bloody impossible, sir,” he said bluntly.
“Three men, each of them apparently known to half the population of southern England and every newspaper-reading nut in the whole country. Plus a whole year since the first disappearance for people to let their imaginations run riot in, if they can’t actually remember anything about last week. ”
A messenger brought in a new stack. “Who gets this lot?”
A man with a nearly clear space on the table in front of him raised a weary arm. “I’ll take ’em.”
Alec sat gingerly on the corner of his desk.
“It looks as if you have everything under control, Inspector, but it must be about time you went home. I’ll want you here for a meeting at ten thirty tomorrow.
If you’d be so kind as to explain what’s going on and your sorting system to DS Mackinnon, he’ll take over. ”
“The CID never sleeps,” said Piper.
“To start with, give your ‘most likely’ pile to Piper here. He can get started on it. I’ve got to talk to Superintendent Crane.”
“He’s gone home, sir.”
“So they told me downstairs. Can’t be helped, I’ll try to get him on the phone. Tom, you’d better come with me.”
They went up another floor to Alec’s office, where Tom had his own desk and phone.
“Mind if I ring me old dutch, Chief?”
“That’s what I brought you up for. You know I live in terror of Mrs. Tring’s displeasure. As the super’s at home, it’s best if I call him direct.” He slid his telephone towards him and unhooked the receiver. Connected to the switchboard, he asked for Crane’s home number.
“Mr. Crane left word he’s dining out, sir—”
“Great Scott!” What he meant was “Bloody hell!” but he spared the ears of the switchboard girl.
“—But he gave a telephone number where he can be reached in an emergency. Would you classify your call as an emergency, Chief Inspector?”
Did he? He wouldn’t have been talking earlier about rousting out the home secretary on a Saturday evening if he didn’t consider the matter urgent.
The possible army connection was their only real lead, and the sooner they found out whether it actually led anywhere, the better.
It would take time to dig through the mounds of paper below, to cross-check tips and contact tippers.
“Urgent enough to risk interrupting his evening, miss.” And then the super could decide whether it was urgent enough to disturb the AC. “I’ll stay on the line.”
“Very well, sir.”
He listened in as she spoke to a very hoity-toity butler. A few minutes passed before Crane came on the line.
“Fletcher? News?”
“Not exactly, sir. I need some information.” He explained.
A long, windy sigh blew down the wire. “I’ll see what I can do, but you realise that even getting hold of these people on a Saturday evening may be impossible, let alone getting their cooperation.”
“I’m aware of that, sir. I wouldn’t ask if—”
“I know you wouldn’t. I’ll get right to it. With my hostess’s permission…”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Never mind. Er, Fletcher, Mrs. Fletcher still well out of the way, is she?”
“Yes, she’s in Saffron Walden. North Essex.”
“Not far enough,” Crane said gloomily.
Alec didn’t consider it the right moment to inform him that it was Daisy who had first suggested the possibility of a military connection.