A Fool and His Money (14 page)

‘But if James didn't kill Clicker, who did?'

‘That's what we need to find out, Boase – and we will. We will.'

Chapter Ten

Again, Boase couldn't sleep. He had so much on his mind. Irene, the wedding, Bartlett. Yes, Bartlett. Boase didn't like to see him so upset. As Boase lay on his pillow turning over the recent events in his head, he thought he heard a shout from below his window. Was that someone calling his name?
Surely not?
He listened again.

‘Boase. Boase!'

Glancing at the clock, he threw back the covers and ran to the window. Opening it he looked down into the garden.

‘That you, sir? It's half past one!'

‘I know – you need to get dressed and come down!'

Boase hurriedly threw on his clothes and, moving quietly, went across the landing, down the stairs and out through the front door. Bartlett was waiting at the gate.

‘What's going on, sir?'

‘I left messages with everyone about Howard Smith – that they must let me know if he appeared. Well, Coad just came round to my house, as I asked him, I did say day or night – I guessed Smith'd appear at some ridiculous hour, under cover.'

‘Was he at the caravan?'

‘No. Coad and Rabone were patrolling about an hour ago when they saw him. They recognised him from when we were at the recreation ground before.'

‘So where was he – and where is he now?'

‘They said they saw him at Greenbank – come on, we're going there now. I walked here but I sent Coad back for a car – he's left Rabone waiting near Smith to make sure he stays put.'

‘What? Smith will see him for sure – especially Rabone.'

‘But they didn't expect to see him there.'

‘Well, you told them to be alert – they should have been prepared.'

‘It was Rabone who found him – then Coad just happened to be coming along and he sent him to fetch me. They did the right thing; there didn't seem to be any urgency – apparently he's holed up in that little nightwatchman's shed by the Greenbank Laundry – you know the one. Rabone saw him come out for a smoke, sitting on the wall, bold as you please. In this moonlight he was easy to spot. They couldn't have taken him in on their own without a car – look at the size of him. Here we are, here's the car.'

The car was driven swiftly from Melvill Road and towards Greenbank, arriving a few minutes later. Bartlett and Boase got out and walked towards Constable Rabone, who was standing by the wall and looking down on the laundry.

‘Is he still here?'

‘Yes, sir. He's inside that little shed. Look – down by the side of the laundry.'

‘Yes, I know it. Right, Boase, you and Coad go down on this side, I'll go on the other. Rabone, you wait here in case he gets away. He can only come up past you – unless he jumps into the sea!'

The men took their places. The moon disappeared behind a cloud and the bay was lit only by a few twinkling lights from ships. Boase and Coad moved quietly along the side of the Greenbank Sanitary Laundry and found themselves at the back of the shed. Bartlett had appeared at the side. They could hear some noise from inside. As the moon reappeared, the three men waited silently for their opportunity. Bartlett could clearly see Boase and Coad now, and beckoned them to come around to the front of the hut. Coad, being in front of Boase, stepped forward and as he did so his heavy boot kicked an abandoned beer bottle. He grimaced and stood still as the bottle rolled down the small slope rattling as it went. Boase sighed. Suddenly, the door of the hut opened and Smith was standing in the doorway. From his position near the sea wall, Bartlett could clearly see the man, lit up by the dim oil lamp inside. Bartlett moved forward.

‘Stay just where you are, Smith. It's the police.'

Boase and Coad ran forward towards Bartlett just as Howard Smith darted across to the sea wall, moving swiftly through the ten-foot gap between the three men. Bartlett spun round in time to see Smith jumping over the wall. The three men looked over the side. The moon had disappeared behind the clouds again and the sea was black. Boase listened. He could clearly hear the sound of the man in the water. He pulled off his overcoat and jumped up onto the wall. Bartlett grabbed him.

‘Don't, Boase – let him go. He'll either come back or drown.'

Boase looked at Bartlett aghast. He knew Bartlett thought it unspeakable what Smith had done to help Edward James to the gallows but he was very surprised to hear him talk like this.

Boase continued looking into the sea for another fifteen minutes before Bartlett persuaded him to leave.

‘Come on, Boase. There's nothing we can do but wait and see. Let's go home.'

Boase still felt uncomfortable with Bartlett's attitude but he took the older man's advice and went back to his lodgings.

Boase had seen little point in going back to bed when he reached home at a quarter past five in the morning, so made himself some porridge and washed before going to the station. Bartlett had done much the same thing and was already in their office, a cup of tea on his desk, when Boase arrived.

‘Get any sleep, Boase?'

‘No, sir. You?'

‘No, I didn't bother. Greet's already been on at me – I am getting sick of him, I am, straight. This is all
his
fault – I told him he shouldn't have interfered. Anyway, he knows the lot now. I told him about last night too.'

‘What did he say, sir?'

‘Well, he just tried to lay the blame at my door. He's well and truly crooked, Boase. I tell you he's crooked.'

Bartlett looked out of the window onto the street.

‘Any news on Molly James, sir?'

‘Oh, yes – had that out with Greet too. She's going before the magistrates on Monday.'

‘That soon?'

‘Well, I suppose there's no point waiting about – she's guilty, we all know that. But she didn't kill Clicker and neither did her husband.'

‘What do we do now, sir? About all this business? We can't leave a murderer to get away.'

‘You're telling me. But what do we do? Who else could have killed the old man? We've been through the whole circus troupe, we've got no other suspects outside. It doesn't make sense, Boase. Edward James had the gun that killed Clicker but it wasn't him that pulled the trigger. We know that now. Unless …'

‘Unless what?'

‘Well, we're saying that Edward's gun was the weapon. What if there was another identical gun?'

‘It's not impossible, sir, but that type of gun isn't very common.'

‘But, as you say, not impossible.'

‘So what do we do? Ask everyone around if they own a weapon like that?'

‘You know that's not what I'm saying, Boase, don't be awkward. We don't know that the killer is local anyway. But I'm not prepared to finish this here, no I am not. I am of the opinion that an innocent man has been put to death, the man who played the major part in that act has escaped us and Greet won't have any more to do with it. What a kettle of fish this is.'

Bartlett drank his tea and continued to look out of the window. He turned round as there was a knock at the door. Penhaligon stuck his head round it.

‘Sorry to interrupt, sir. There's a young fellow here – Gregory Smith.'

‘Gregory? Send him in, Penhaligon.'

Gregory Smith had been crying.

‘Where's my dad?'

‘I'm sorry, Gregory – we don't know where he is at the moment. We'd like to know where he is, too.'

‘He's run away because of you. Why did you have to bully him like this? He hasn't done anything wrong. He hasn't killed anyone.'

‘Look, I can't discuss this with you and I'm hoping your father will return home. Maybe you could let us know if he comes back?'

‘What? You're kidding. You'd be the last to know. You've caused enough trouble.'

Gregory flung open the door, which banged against the hatstand behind, and went into the lobby. Boase followed him.

‘Gregory, could I ask you a question?'

‘What?'

‘Your father – can he swim?'

‘What has that got to do with anything?'

‘I just wanted to know, that's all.'

‘Funny sort of question – but no, he can't swim a stroke. In fact, he's terrified of the water.'

Gregory left through the main door and Boase returned to his desk. He looked at Bartlett.

‘Did you hear that, sir?'

‘Yes, Boase. I heard.'

Three days passed. Bartlett and Boase kept up each day with the details of the trial of Molly James and both had to give evidence. Howard James had not reappeared.

‘Do you think he drowned, sir? He can't swim after all.'

‘I don't know what's happened – it's public now, people have been out searching for him and unless he's been washed out to sea, I don't know what's happened to him. Greet's going mad up there but what more can I do? I didn't expect he'd do a foolish thing like that. Look here – it's all over the
Packet
.'

Boase picked up the
Falmouth Packet
and scanned the front page. News had got out somehow that the police were responsible for the disappearance of Howard Smith.

‘I don't know, Boase. This is going from bad to worse: Edward James, hanged; Howard Smith, missing possibly drowned; and Molly James – when's the verdict?'

‘I think tomorrow, sir.'

‘Well, I'd have liked to go up there but I can't get away. There was talk that she might get a jail sentence for what she did but I can't see that happening, can you?'

‘No, sir, I can't. They found enough evidence against her apparently – the trial's been in all the papers. She's in it up to her neck, I'd say, sir, no joke meant. I don't like the death penalty any more than you do, but things aren't looking good for her – they said they found evidence of her being in the caravan at the time too.'

‘Yes, well, I know deep down it was her –but she's such a young woman.'

‘So was Anne.'

‘I know, I know. You don't really think Molly would kill the old man, though, do you?'

‘We now know she's capable of murder – but her own father?'

‘Looks like they didn't have a very good relationship.'

‘Yes, but it's too late now, sir. Edward James is gone and we have to get past that now.'

‘You're right, but I'm not happy, Boase.'

Boase left that particular conversation there.

‘Irene and her mother want to go for a picnic on Sunday – fancy it? I can't say I'm that bothered, I'd rather stay at home with a beer and the newspaper. But if I stay in, Greet might send someone round for me to come in and I don't really see what I can do at the moment.'

‘Picnic it is then, sir. Thank you.'

Sunday came as a blustery day but that didn't deter the small group, including Topper, who made their way across the cliff path to Maenporth armed with plenty of food, a flask of tea and a good supply of Leonard's London Beer. Caroline Bartlett paused as the small beach came into view.

‘You all right, Princess?'

George Bartlett offered his arm to his wife.

‘I'm fine thank you, George. Just need a minute.

‘Irene, you two go on and find a nice spot, we'll catch you up. I'm sorry, Princess, this was a bad idea. It was too far for you to walk.'

‘No. No. it wasn't. It's a lovely walk. I'm fine, really. Don't fuss now, dear.'

The four sat and ate, drank and talked and Topper ran in and out of the sea.

‘Shall we have a little walk, Archie?'

‘If you like – look, the tide's out quite a long way – we could walk round to the caves on the other side.'

Caroline put down her cup.

‘Oh, do be careful, Archie – the tide can come in quite quickly here.'

‘We won't be long, I promise.'

The two walked across the beach, hand in hand.

‘You shouldn't worry about those two, Princess. That boy is more than capable of taking care of her – he'd never let anything happen to our girl.'

‘I know, George, but she's still my baby.'

Bartlett smiled and pushed back a wisp of hair that had strayed across his wife's face.'

‘She's
my
baby too and I'm more than happy that she's safe with that young man. Now, any more of those ham sandwiches? The sea air always makes me hungry.'

Boase and Irene had strolled across to the other side of the beach and towards the caves. As Irene balanced on a rock, a wave came up and splashed over her. She shrieked.

‘Oh, no! Archie, my shoes will be ruined. I should have listened to you and carried them. And my stockings are soaked. Do you mind if I just go around behind that rock and take them off?'

‘Go on, Irene – I don't want you to catch a cold. Be careful, it's a bit slippery. I'll wait here.'

Irene disappeared around the rock and Boase waited, observing a nest up in the cliff. He watched to see if any birds would appear, half thinking he would have liked to have brought his paints. He turned and looked back across the beach. He could see Bartlett and Caroline, and a couple of other people walking their dogs. He watched as Topper continued to fetch sticks and seaweed from the shoreline. This was a far cry from the pressures of work and murder and trials and executions. As he stood and waited, a scream came from behind the rock. Boase ran like a whippet, leaping over rocks until he reached a small cave.

‘Irene? IRENE!'

Irene was nowhere to be seen.

‘Irene, answer me. Where are you? Irene?'

Boase entered the cave and walked further into the gloom. He could see a cigarette glowing in the darkness.

‘Irene?' Are you in here.'

Boase's heart was pounding now.

As he peered further into the blackness, he saw Irene's face. She was being held, a hand over her mouth. As she was pushed towards him, Boase clearly saw Howard Smith behind her.