Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
Running footsteps on gravel. Alec swung round to see a small boy in grey shorts and a green blazer, without his cap.
Satchel in hand, he dashed along the path from the school, towards the street.
With his free hand he seemed to be rubbing away tears.
One of his dark grey knee socks had sagged down to his ankle and on the skinny calf two dark red weals were clearly visible.
Alec decided he was going to enjoy confronting Cartwright.
Pennicuik emerged from the shrubbery. “That’s the last of ’em, sir, poor little blighter.” He aimed the announcement halfway between Alec and Underwood, uncertain to whom he was meant to report.
“Let’s go.” The inspector took the lead.
Alec glanced back to see if anyone had observed them. On the far side of the street flaunted a bright red umbrella. He sighed. Still, Daisy was preferable to a crowd of curious locals.
The sound of four determined men tramping along the gravel path was very different from a scared schoolchild fleeing.
Intimidating, Alec thought with pleasure.
He reminded himself that they had no firsthand evidence against the schoolmaster, nothing to justify a charge of indecent assault, far less one of murder.
An alarmed face peered out through the schoolroom window, then disappeared.
Leaving Pennicuik outside to ward off interruptions, Underwood marched straight in without knocking. Cartwright had his back to the door, standing at the blackboard, cleaning it with a feverish motion. He turned slowly, trying to look surprised.
“To what do I owe the visit, gentlemen?” His voice quavered.
“Acting on information received, sir,” said Underwood, at his most stolid, “and pursuant to our enquiries regarding the death of Judith Gray, widow of Albert Gray, of Cherry—”
“I know where the bloody woman lives! Lived.”
“‘Bloody’?” Alec repeated. “You disliked her?”
“I hardly knew her,” Cartwright said sullenly.
“Hardly?” asked Underwood.
“I suppose we may have spoken once or twice, at a dinner party or some such occasion.”
“It strikes me as a bit odd that you know her address if you’d only met once or twice, casually.”
“Someone must have mentioned it in my hearing. I have an excellent memory.”
“Good, good.” Underwood rubbed his hands together. “Nothing better than a witness with excellent memory, don’t you agree, Chief Inspector? You’ll have no difficulty, then, Mr. Cartwright, remembering whether you’ve ever been to Cherry Trees?”
“Nev—I … hm … Possibly.” From adamant to peevish in two and a half words. “In my position in the community, I and my wife receive many invitations. I can’t be expected to remember everyone who’s asked us over for drinks before dinner.”
“In spite of your excellent memory. Ah well, perhaps Mrs. Cartwright will be able to tell us.”
And now he was alarmed. “There’s no need to bring my wife into this!”
“‘This’?”
“This … This nonsense. Insinuating that I was involved with Judith. With Mrs. Gray. Why would a smart, well-off young widow like that want anything to do with the likes of me? A penniless schoolmaster with no prospects and twenty years her elder … But she married a man thirty years her elder and more!” Now he was disgruntled.
“Judith?” Eyebrows raised, Underwood let the name hang in the air. The silence stretched for all of twenty seconds, that must have seemed an age to Cartwright.
He capitulated. “All right, I admit I called at Cherry Trees, just to offer neighbourly condolences. Mrs. Gray was very friendly, invited me in, offered a drink. She asked me to call her by her christian name.”
“She was friendly, so you called again.”
“Only once or twice.”
“Mrs. Gray was friendly still, perhaps a little flirtatious? The sort of manner more appropriate to her gay circle of London friends, perhaps.”
“She led me on.”
“You tried to kiss her. She rebuffed you. You quarrelled, and—”
“No! It’s not true.”
“You didn’t try to kiss her?”
“I—No, of course not. I’m a married man, with a position to uphold.”
“You weren’t considering that,” said Alec, “when you made advances to the others.”
“W—” Cartwright moistened his lips. “What do you mean?”
With distaste, Underwood told him, “Three young women have affirmed that you attempted to fondle them against their will.”
“Liars! They’re all the same.”
“Relying, no doubt, on your position to give you greater credibility than them. However, they’re unknown to each other and they all tell the same story.”
The schoolmaster sank onto the tall stool behind his lectern desk. “How—how did…” His voice failed him.
“You must realise,” said Alec, “we can’t ignore the possibility of your having behaved in the same way with the murder victim.”
“I didn’t kill her.”
“We’d like you to come across to the station—”
“People will see! The rector—”
“The rector already knows about those three incidents.”
Cartwright buried his face in his hands.
* * *
“Here comes Vera,” said Isabel.
Vera scurried across the street, almost running. “Your umbrella caught my eye, Daisy.” She was very pale. “Oh, it’s awful. Alec, and his sergeant and Inspector Underwood marched into the juniors’ classroom. Are they going to arrest Mr. Cartwright?”
“I doubt it,” said Daisy, “unless they’ve uncovered something I don’t know about. Which, of course, they may have. Come on back to the Saracen and have a cup of tea. We’ve had ours but you look as if you need it.”
“Don’t let his fate worry you, Vera.” Isabel patted her friend’s arm. “If he’s arrested, it’s no more than he deserves. Go and order tea and I’ll join you in a minute. I just have to deliver this letter to the police station.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Daisy advised. “We know none of our lot are there and for all we know, Harris is back. I wouldn’t trust him not to lose it, or even open it.”
“That’s a point. All right, I’ll come with you two.” They all started walking towards the hotel. “I mustn’t stay for another cup of tea, though, if I’m to get the shopping done. We can go home, Vera! The cellar’s been cleaned thoroughly, and Mr. Underwood says we’re allowed to move back in.”
“Thank goodness. I can’t wait to be back in my own room. I’ll pack up all our stuff.”
“I haven’t told them yet that we’re leaving. I hope they won’t charge us for tonight.”
“I’ll sort that out for you,” Daisy offered.
“Thanks. They won’t want to offend you in case you move out, too. Would you mind taking charge of this letter, as well? I’d like to go straight home with the shopping, and you can give it to Alec.”
“Yes, but I think we ought to give each other proper receipts for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t want Alec to think I somehow wangled it out of you, or worse, the post office. And you’ll want something saying I’ve accepted responsibility for handing it over to the coppers.”
“What letter?” Vera, her woes forgotten, was bursting with curiosity.
Isabel quickly explained as they entered the hotel. The lobby was empty. Vera, forgoing the cup of tea she had needed so badly a minute ago, made for the stairs.
“Tea at home. Bliss!”
Daisy went to the reception desk, where she found a pad of paper and a pen stand. She and Isabel each wrote out a suitable receipt, then signed and swapped them.
“You go and do your shopping. I’ll sort things out with Mr. Whitford. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t charge you for tonight.”
“I don’t know what we’d do without you, Daisy.”
“Oh, nonsense. You’d manage. Just a minute, I keep forgetting to ask you … No, never mind. It’ll be better if Willie’s there. I’ll drop round later, if that’s all right?”
“Of course. Anytime.”
Daisy tracked the landlord to his den. He grumbled a bit at her request but soon let himself be persuaded, as long as the ladies cleared the room before six o’clock. That gave them plenty of time, but Daisy went up to see if Vera needed any help.
“No, thanks, we have hardly anything here. That’s what has made it so difficult. We’d have had to start washing things in the hand-basin and hoping they’d dry overnight. Daisy, how much tip should we leave? It’s been so long since I stayed in a hotel, I’ve no idea what’s proper.”
This weighty question was settled at twenty percent plus sixpence for the Boots, “and a bit extra for Sally, because she’s been so helpful. Do you have enough cash?”
“Plenty for the tip, and my cheque book was in my handbag, the one that Pennicuik brought, thank goodness.” Vera sat down suddenly on the nearest bed. “It’s all very well, but what about Mr. Cartwright? What are they saying to him? Are they asking him about me? What will he say about me?”
“Vera, honestly, you have no need to worry. The rector is on your side, and he heard what those others said about Cartwright.”
“But he, or the school board, may decide it’s easier just to get rid of another infants’ teacher.”
“They’d never find a man to teach the infants, so they’d just put themselves in the same situation all over again. At least, they can’t be sure he’ll be chastened enough not to repeat his offence.”
“They could find an older woman.”
“I’ll be very surprised if they don’t give him the sack. He ought to go and teach in a boys’ school where there are no young women to tempt him. If, that is, he’s not arrested for murder.”
“Do you think that’s why they descended on him?”
“I’m sure of it. I’m afraid the police wouldn’t think what he did to you and the others a serious matter if it weren’t for the possibility he tried the same ploy on Mrs. Gray. I wish I could hear what they’re saying. And what he’s saying.”
Vera shuddered. “I don’t.” She got up and closed the one small suitcase Pennicuik had brought them from Cherry Trees. It had so little inside, it didn’t need sitting on, as Daisy’s suitcases almost invariably did.
Musing on Mrs. Gray’s missing suitcase, Daisy retired to her room for a nap.