Chapter 28 #2
“Inspector Underwood talked to Mr. Turnbull, who, incidentally, did not give him your name when he spoke of Cartwright’s misbehaviour. It wasn’t too difficult to deduce that you were one of his victims. We don’t expect to run into any difficulty in finding the other two.”
“Daisy said the police wouldn’t be interested, it wasn’t bad enough for him to be arrested.”
“Judging by what the three of you told the rector and assuming he reported accurately to the inspector, that is correct. Our only interest is in whether the details of his actions towards you indicate a pattern of behaviour that might have subsequently escalated.”
“In other words,” said Daisy, “he might have gone on to push Mrs. Gray downstairs.”
Alec frowned at her. “Miss Leighton?”
“I can’t!”
“Don’t be a jellyfish, Vera,” Isabel said bracingly. “Just imagine how you’d feel if Cartwright went on to kill someone else, or even just assaulted another woman, because you wouldn’t help catch him.”
“If you’d rather,” said Alec, “you can tell Daisy and she’ll take it down in shorthand. However, Underwood and I will both be reading her report. We may in that case have further questions, and in the end—either way—we’ll have to have your signature on it, stating that it’s correct.”
“You never know,” said Daisy, “talking about it may help you to put it in perspective.”
“Here or elsewhere?” Alec asked remorselessly. “With or without Daisy or Isabel?”
Vera gave Isabel a pleading look. Isabel got up and poured her another glass of wine. “Have a little Dutch courage.”
Twisting the stem of the wineglass in nervous fingers, Vera fixed her eyes on the pale liquid.
She began to speak very fast. “The children had all left. I was writing on the blackboard when he came in, through the connecting door. A poem: ‘How do you like to go up in a swing?’ Do you know it? The little ones love it. I looked back to see who it was, and I smiled at him. I wish I hadn’t! ”
“For pity’s sake,” Isabel exploded. “That doesn’t make it your fault.”
Alec gave her a look of the sort that could shut Daisy up in full flow, no mean achievement. “Did Cartwright say anything, Miss Leighton?”
“I don’t think so. I can’t remember.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I turned back to the board and went on writing, and I explained to him that I was going to have the children copy the poem as best they could and memorise it. He came up behind me—”
“You didn’t hear him coming?”
“I was talking, as I said. Besides, he wears rubber-soled shoes so that the children can’t hear him creeping up on them.
He shouldn’t be a teacher. He’s a bully.
” Indignation trumped modesty. “He put his arms round me and felt my … my bosom! And kissed my neck. It was horrid. I got away and ran to the outside door. That’s when he called me—horrible names. ”
“You need not repeat his words. Did he pursue you?”
“Just a few steps. He stopped and threatened me.”
“Threatened violence?”
“No. If I told anyone he’d deny it and I’d lose my job.”
“He made no attempt to attack physically? To give you a push or a slap?”
“He shook his fist,” Vera said doubtfully. “I could have been outside before he reached me. Someone might have seen. He went back into his classroom and slammed the door.”
“Has he tried anything since?”
“No. But I’ve been afraid he might.”
“You’ll be all right now. I’ll be very surprised if Cartwright doesn’t leave at the end of term, if not before. Thank you for being brave enough to tell me.” Alec took a last mouthful of coffee and stood up. “Daisy, are you ready to go?”
“Yes, I’ll just get my—” Intercepting a disappointed look from Isabel, Daisy changed direction. “But there are a couple of things I must give you.…” She dug in her handbag for the letter from France.
“Later, Daisy. I’ve got to get back to the station.”
Once in the car, she returned to the subject. “Darling, I really do have some important information for you. Perhaps I’d better come with you to—”
“How important?”
“Very.”
“Daisy, what have you been up to?”
“Nothing! Mostly just taking messages for you.”
“Messages?”
“A telegram from Mr. Crane, for one.”
“Great Scott, Daisy! What does he say?”
“I don’t know. It was delivered, not telephoned, and I didn’t read it.”
“How do you know it’s from the super, then?”
“The boy told Sally it’s from the Yard. There’s a message from Tom, too.”
“I told you not to—”
“I met him in the street, in the dark. He walked me to Cherry Trees. Do you want to know what he said?”
“Of course,” Alec said crossly. “That can’t wait till we reach the station. Underwood doesn’t know about Tom.”
“He didn’t tell me any details.” She related the snippets the retired detective sergeant had passed on. “Does it sound helpful?”
“Might be.”
“How about what Vera said?”
He sighed. “A washout. It tends to suggest Cartwright was likely to confine his anger at rejection to verbal abuse. A suggestion is not evidence. Your friend Willie wasn’t home yet?”
“No, she’d let them know she’d probably be working late.”
“With any luck, finishing up the job. Perhaps we’ll be able to clear up that side of things tomorrow, if not tonight.”
“Vaughn’s defalcations—if that’s the right word? Did you see him tonight?”
“Not yet. We had an appointment with him and his wife, but they went off to the theatre in town before we arrived. We left poor Ernie there—not that he wasn’t being spoiled rotten by the servants—to phone in when the Vaughns return, however late.”
“Does that mean you’ll be getting up at one in the morning to go off and interview them?”
“If I get to bed at all. Underwood is no slacker and he’s on his mettle.”
“Treading the fine line between competing and cooperating with Scotland Yard, poor man! Well, I won’t tell you any more until I can tell him at the same time. Anyway, here we are.”