A Fool and His Money (16 page)

‘Only what we've already stated. That, as far as we know, and in accordance with evidence given in a court of law, Edward James murdered his father-in-law, Molly James killed Anne Warner and Howard Smith was mauled to death by lions.'

‘That was a bad business – I've never had any trouble with lions in my show – never. I don't believe it was Wayland's fault neither. Mind you, he should have been more careful over the double doors. Will there be an inquiry into that?'

‘Well, yes, there will have to be, but I don't think that will affect you or your business –just the Waylands.'

‘What about the boy? I can't take him with me now – he says he doesn't want to stay anyway.'

‘Don't worry – we've been in touch with his uncle; he's going to take care of him for the time being.'

‘Thanks.'

Bartlett shook the ringmaster's hand. He took his pipe from his pocket and turned to leave. Boase looked at Chester Martin.

‘Can I ask you a question, sir?'

‘If you like.'

‘How long did you know Clicker?'

‘Oh, for many years.'

‘Since he was with Margaret Field?'

‘Yes. I even tried to warn them about their carryings on. I told them no good would come of it. Clicker was heartbroken when she left. Yes, we went back a long way – we were the only two left from the old brigade.'

Boase sat back down on a chair. Bartlett looked at him and wondered what was on his mind.

‘So, if he was a clown and you a ringmaster – well, how did you get together? Were you always in this circus?'

‘Actually, no.'

Chester Martin began to look thoughtful.

‘We were in another circus in Paris when we were young. We were very good friends – that was long before Clicker met Margaret. We were a team together – in fact, we were lion tamers.'

‘Lion tamers?'

Bartlett came back and looked at Chester Martin.

‘You never told us that before.'

‘Why would I – it's practically ancient history.'

‘Did you have guns?'

‘Yes … but … now, look here, Mr Bartlett. I don't like what you're implying. I hope you don't think I killed the old man just because I owned a gun years ago.'

‘I didn't say that, did I?'

‘Well, I haven't got a gun now. In fact, we sold the act to Arthur and Pearl Wayland. Clicker felt he was getting too old and it was too risky – I think he just didn't want the worry of it all any longer. Arthur has a way with lions, always has had. And, no, before you even ask –
he
doesn't have a gun. He treats those lions like pet kittens and they're completely docile with him too.'

‘Just not with anyone else. Right, thanks, Mr Martin – let me know when you're ready to leave the town. I'm guessing it'll take a day or two for you to get everything ready?'

‘Yes, probably.'

‘Right, cheerio then.'

Bartlett and Boase left the ringmaster and walked back down to the police station.

Chapter Twelve

At midday on Sunday, Archibald Boase was knocking on the Bartletts' front door. He had been invited by Irene for lunch. He waited on the step as Topper barked inside. Irene came running through the hall and, grabbing Topper's collar, pulled open the door.

‘Hello, Archie, I've been looking forward to seeing you – come in.'

Boase wiped his feet on the mat and patted Topper. He kissed Irene's cheek. Caroline Bartlett came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron.

‘Hello, Archie. What beautiful blooms.'

Boase handed Caroline the bunch of flowers he had been carrying.

‘Yes, they're for you – thanks for inviting me.'

‘Well, I didn't – Irene did, but I'll take the flowers anyway.'

Caroline smiled as she looked at the bright yellow flowers.

‘I love dahlias – look, Irene, they're just like a big bunch of sunshine.'

‘They're lovely, Mum. Dad's in the parlour, Archie – go in, I'm just helping Mum.'

Bartlett was sitting in his armchair smoking his pipe. He looked round as Boase knocked on the open door and walked into the room.

‘Good afternoon, sir.'

‘Hello, my boy – how are you?'

‘I'm fine thanks.'

‘Drink?'

‘That'd be lovely – I'm parched.'

Boase sat in the other armchair and sipped a pint of Leonard's.

‘I don't want to talk shop with the girls around, Boase, but just before they come in, what were you thinking about Martin and Clicker being lion tamers?'

‘Well, I don't know that I was thinking anything really – but it
is
strange, all this gun business. I mean, they're all packing up and leaving now but I still don't feel right about the whole thing.'

‘So, say what's on your mind.'

‘I'm not sure – but I'm beginning to wonder just how many guns there are around. We know lion tamers always keep one …'

‘But we don't, do we? Martin says Arthur Wayland doesn't feel the need for one – mind you, he must be mad.'

‘And unusual – I don't imagine many tamers
wouldn't
have a gun for protection.'

‘Quite, but that wouldn't have helped Smith by all accounts, because he had a firm grip on Wayland and his back to the lions – what a fool. I agree, it's all a puzzle – especially now you're doubting the number of guns around.'

‘Well, I'm probably wrong. I just don't know what is the truth of the matter. I suppose if you look at the whole thing from the outside, it's all over – Edward James dead, Molly almost so, and Smith – when you look at it like that, well, it's not much of a puzzle at all really, is it?'

‘But, I don't think you're satisfied, are you?'

‘No.'

‘Nor me – and I think Greet has a lot of questions to answer.'

‘But that'll never happen – he's so watertight he's practically squeaking.'

‘But I can't let this go.'

‘Is this
just
about getting back at Greet, or do you really doubt the outcome of this?'

Bartlett tapped his pipe on the fender.

‘If I'm being honest? Bit of both probably. Seriously though, like you, I can't put my finger on it …'

At that, Caroline and Irene called from the dining room that food was ready and Bartlett, Boase, and Topper trooped to the table. Boase sat in his usual place next to Irene.

‘This looks lovely, Mrs Bartlett – sorry, I mean Caroline. I keep forgetting.'

Irene laughed and Boase looked at her, thinking again how beautiful she was.

Caroline took a dinner plate and looked at Boase.

‘Hungry, Archie?'

Bartlett stared at his wife.

‘Princess, is that really a question you need to ask? I have never known this boy
not
to be hungry.'

‘All right, sir.'

Boase fidgeted and Irene laughed again.

‘Archie loves roast lamb, Mum – don't you, Archie?'

Bartlett snorted. ‘Of course he does – it's food.'

Now everyone, including Boase, was laughing. Topper let out a sigh and rested his head on his paws, waiting for the first morsel to come his way.

Caroline Bartlett piled the first plate high with lamb, roast potatoes and vegetables.

‘Well, I should thank you – I consider it an honour to see an empty plate. Here you are, Archie – tuck in. And Irene has made a lovely pudding, as usual.'

By two o'clock, the lunch was finished. Both men felt that they had eaten too much and Boase was in the scullery with Irene, washing up. Caroline sat down with some mending.

‘Listen to those two, George. They seem so happy together. Do you think the wedding will be soon? Do you think it'll be next Easter – that seems to be what they'd like?'

‘I have no idea, Princess. I hope they get their own place first – we don't really want them living here with us, do we?'

‘I wouldn't mind, dear.'

‘You forgotten what it was like living with your mother?'

‘Well, no – I hadn't. I suppose it
was
rather trying.'

‘And what if they want children? We couldn't cope with that at our age – anyway, there wouldn't be enough room …'

‘George, I only asked about the wedding. Calm down. Here, have another drop of beer and be quiet.'

Caroline topped up Bartlett's glass and carried on with her sewing.

‘I saw that Mrs de Vere yesterday. She's a funny woman. I was behind her in the queue at the butcher's when I went in to pick up the lamb. She was complaining that her leg of lamb hadn't been such good quality as the one she had at Christmas and what were they going to do about it. Poor Joe Pentecost – he only started there last Saturday, straight from school too. She really gave him the run-around. Oh, but it was funny, George. She only came in to complain about the lamb. Joe went and fetched Mr Body because he didn't know how to deal with her. Mr Body refused to give her the money back, saying his lamb was the best in Cornwall and if she didn't want anything else he had a long queue of customers to serve. She was furious.'

‘That's unusual for Ernest Body – he wouldn't say boo to a goose normally. It's about time someone stood up to that woman. She seems to think that just because she's got money she can do anything she likes.'

‘Well, yes – but she usually can. Anyhow, when he told her to buy something or leave the shop she asked Joe Pentecost for two ounces of tongue.'

‘Tongue? What was that for, the cat? I can't imagine Mrs de Vere eating tongue, can you, Princess?'

‘Well, no, I can't. But she had to have the last word. Joe weighed the meat and wrapped it and as he handed it over the counter she flounced out and told Mr Body to have it sent round.'

‘She's got a cheek.'

‘Well, it then got worse because as she was flouncing, she didn't see Joe's bicycle leaning against the window as she left and tripped clean over it.'

‘Did she hurt herself?'

‘I'd say so – landed on her backside and they had to take her to the hospital.'

Bartlett laughed and couldn't stop laughing. As he continued, Boase and Irene came in from the scullery just in time to see Bartlett mopping his eyes with his handkerchief.

‘George, dear – it's not that funny! Mr Body will never hear the last of this.'

Bartlett carried on laughing, then, when everyone thought he'd stopped, he laughed again. Caroline too began to giggle as she thought of Mrs de Vere lying on the pavement.

‘What was everyone in the queue doing while all this was going on?'

‘They were laughing, dear.'

Bartlett was now completely out of control and Topper sat up and put his paw on his master's knee.

‘George, that's enough now – you're upsetting Topper.'

‘I'm sorry, Topper, old man – I really needed that laugh. Come with me into the kitchen – let's see if we can find you a biscuit.'

The two left the room, Bartlett still chuckling to himself.

The Bank Holiday Monday passed uneventfully. Bartlett spent the day in his garden and tried to relax. Boase took a walk over to Maenporth with his pocket sketchbook in search of some seabirds. He took a canvas bag which his landlady, Mrs Curgenven, had filled with a flask of tea, two ham sandwiches, a pork pie and some saffron cake.

Boase didn't eat much and he didn't paint much. He soon wandered over to the cave where Smith had held Irene. He thought over the case and couldn't understand why he felt bad about the whole thing. He was missing Irene – yes, he had only seen her yesterday but he wanted to see her
every
day. He wanted to wake up next to her, to bring her breakfast in bed, to sit with her at their own table and to fall asleep next to her. He skimmed some stones across the water and thought that he'd need a lot more money to provide a home for a wife. With no sketching done and almost as much food left as he had brought, Boase returned to Melvill Road and went to bed early.

‘I didn't know Penhaligon had an interest in guns, Boase.'

‘He did mention it to us before. You must have forgotten, sir. He was asking me before about what we used in the war – he's actually quite knowledgeable on the subject. Why?'

‘Well, I just confiscated this.'

Bartlett slid a catalogue across the desk. Boase picked it up and flicked through it.

‘Why did you take it off him?'

‘Because he's supposed to be on duty – not reading unrelated material.'

Boase grinned, as there was a knock at the door. Boase opened it to see Penhaligon with a tray of tea and some biscuits. Boase grinned all the more.

‘Biscuits too? You must be after something, Penhaligon?'

‘No, just thought you'd like some tea and a bit of something sweet, that's all.'

Boase held up the catalogue.

‘Don't suppose you've come in for this?'

‘Well, I would like it back.'

Bartlett looked up and over the top of his reading glasses.

‘Don't let me catch you with that again, Penhaligon.'

‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.'

Boase handed the offending article to Penhaligon.

‘Just a minute, before you go, Penhaligon. Tell me what you know about weapons that might be used in a circus – say, for a lion tamer.'

‘Well, what do you want to know?'

‘What sort of gun would lion tamers have used, say before the war? Any idea?'

‘They would have used any sort of pistol or revolver. Something small for ease of use, but something that could save their life with one shot if it had to.'

‘Have you got any pictures in that catalogue of what they might have used before the war?'

‘Yes, look, there's a whole history section they show every month at the back. Here you are, look at these pictures – there are lots here.'