A Fool and His Money (24 page)

‘George – this is where we may have a problem.'

‘Oh?'

‘Yes. Superintendent Greet's family – they were here before. They told you they were going to put in a high-level complaint against you, didn't they?'

‘Yes. Yes, they did. Why? What's happened?'

‘Well, they've gone ahead with their threat. They've complained and in no small way.'

‘Oh, no.'

Bartlett was visibly shocked.

‘George, can I get you something? I'll send for some tea – you look a little unwell.'

Bolton went quickly to the door and, leaning over the stair rail, called down to Penhaligon in the lobby.

‘Penhaligon, bring some tea for Inspector Bartlett, will you? Be quick.'

The tea, fortuitously having been already freshly brewed, was brought into the superintendent's office and Bartlett gratefully accepted it.

‘Bit better now, George?'

‘Yes. I'm all right, sir. Don't worry – it's been a hard couple of weeks. I'm fine now. Thank you.'

‘Look, I want to help you here, George. This isn't going to be easy. I had no idea how influential Greet's family actually are.'

‘What do you mean, sir?'

‘It seems that it's a family occupation – not just Greet but several of his family are in the force, a couple of them quite high up, apparently. So that will make it difficult for you – for us.'

‘How? What will be difficult?'

‘They want you gone, George. Out of the force. I want you to stay – you're a good policeman and you've got more left in you yet. I need you here. But they want you finished.'

George Bartlett sat in his armchair in the parlour. Caroline and Irene listened to the story he relayed.

‘George, dear. What does this
mean
?'

‘It means they want me out, Princess. And it looks like they'll get their way.'

‘Dad!'

‘It's all right, Irene. It's probably coming time I thought about finishing now. I
would
have liked to do it in my own time – on my terms.'

‘But, dear, it looks like your new boss is fighting in your corner.'

‘Yes, he is – I wish he could have come to us a long time ago. Nevertheless, I don't see what he can do to help. I haven't been suspended but, well, if they tell me to go, then I have to go.'

Topper suddenly stood up from his place next to Bartlett's chair and walked into the hall, his tail wagging. He let out two small barks. Caroline got up and followed the dog into the hall. A familiar silhouette appeared in the glass panes of the front door. Caroline went across the hall and opened it.

‘Oh, hello, Archie. How are you?'

‘I'm very well, thank you – I was wondering if Irene was in?'

‘Yes, yes, she is. Umm – would you like to come in?'

Boase, clutching an extremely large bouquet of flowers stepped across the threshold.

‘Irene … Archie's come to see you.'

Irene looked at her father and he winked at her.

‘Go and see what he wants.'

Irene went out into the hall. Boase handed her the flowers and as she took them, he touched her hand. She drew it away quickly. Bartlett called to them.

‘Why don't you two go and sit in the garden? I expect you want to talk.'

The couple went out through the back door and into the garden.

‘Shall we sit on the seat, Irene? I'd like to talk to you.'

‘Do you think they'll be all right, George – after their little falling out?'

‘I'm sure they will. They think very highly of each other – no doubt about that. We had a few little rows before we were married, if my memory serves me right?'

‘Yes, dear, we did. But that business the other evening – and the fight … well, we never let things get that bad, did we?'

‘No, we didn't – but just don't interfere. They're old enough to know what they're doing. They don't need intervention from us.'

‘If you say so, dear.'

Caroline moved across to the window and looked out into the garden.

‘Sit down, Princess – they'll see you. I said leave them to it.'

‘Very well, dear. Whatever you say.'

‘Irene – I've been such an idiot. Can you forgive me? I'm so sorry.'

‘What you did, Archibald Boase, what you did was unforgivable. In the first place, to think that I could not meet with an old friend, and in the second place, well, to cause so much trouble and to hurt another person like that …'

‘You hurt me, Irene. I thought you were my girl.'

‘I was. But you ruined that, Archie Boase. You're a horrible, jealous, violent man. Now please go. I don't want to see you again.'

‘Irene, please, dearest Irene. Please don't say such things. I love you with all my heart. For ever. Please don't push me away. Please don't. How can I say how sorry I am? What do you want me to do? I'll do anything to show you how much you mean to me.'

Boase took Irene's hand in his. She tried to pull away but he held her small hand firmly and he kissed it.

‘Irene, my darling Irene. Please don't send me away like this.'

‘Archie. Please go. I
can't
forgive you. I don't like what I saw in you.'

Irene ran across the lawn, into the house and upstairs to her room. Bartlett stood up from his chair and ran to the door.

‘George, leave her alone. She'll tell us when she's ready.'

Bartlett went to the back door and saw Boase slumped on the garden seat.

‘George, leave them both, please. You were right – let them deal with it –
we
never wanted people interfering.'

‘But what on earth has she said to him?'

‘She'll tell us when she needs to.'

Bartlett turned and looked again into the garden. The seat was empty.

‘It's at half past eight, Boase.'

‘What is, sir? What's at half past eight?'

‘You just this minute asked me what time is my meeting with Bolton.'

‘Oh, sir. I'm so sorry – yes I did, didn't I? I feel a little out of sorts this morning. I apologise.'

‘Irene?'

Boase fiddled with a pencil, turning it over and over in his hands. His head was down.

‘Boase – don't put your head down. Face up to what's happening like a man.'

‘But I don't know what's happening, sir. Irene doesn't want me and I don't know what I can do about it. She's a very single-minded girl, as well you know.'

‘Yes, yes she is, my boy. She made it quite plain to her mother and me that she wanted nothing more to do with you – and that's her decision to make, but …'

‘But what, sir?' Boase looked up hopefully.

‘Well, are you going to let her go, or are you going to fight for her? And I do not mean fight like the other night – that's what caused this mess in the first place.'

‘Is there any point in fighting? She's made up her mind about me now.'

‘Well, I'm fighting for my job – I can't just give up, don't want to give up. Anyway I need to go and see him now, try to find what's happening. Wish me luck?'

‘You'll be fine, sir. Don't worry.'

Bartlett left to go upstairs. Boase sat staring into space for ten minutes, still toying with the pencil.

After forty-five minutes, Penhaligon knocked on the door and pushed it ajar.

‘What is it, Penhaligon?'

‘It's Inspector Bartlett – just thought you should know, he's outside sitting down. He came downstairs about ten minutes ago and went straight outside. He don't look too good, I fancy.'

‘Thanks, Penhaligon – I'll go out and see him.'

Boase walked out through the front door and saw Bartlett sitting on the wall. He walked over to him.

‘What happened, sir? Everything all right – how did it go?'

Bartlett looked away from Boase.

‘Sir?'

‘I'm finished, Boase.'

‘What do you mean …
finished?'

‘I've been told to leave – to take early retirement. All because of what happened with Greet. Apparently his family – should I say, his influential, high-up-in-the-police family – want me gone. If I don't go quietly, they have the power to get rid of me.'

Boase slumped down on the wall next to his boss.

‘This can't be right. No, this can't happen – they can't do this to you, sir. After all you've done over the years.'

‘They can. They have. I am left with no choice.'

‘But I can't believe this, sir. You can't go – you just can't go. What will we all do here – without you?'

‘Well, you'll manage, that's what you'll do. They'll bring someone in and it'll be like I've never been here.'

‘Please don't say that, sir. There must be something we can do?'

‘No. Nothing. Just forget it, Boase.'

Boase stood up and straightened his collar.

‘I'm going to see him … I'm going to see Bolton.'

‘Boase – don't be stupid. There's nothing you can do – you'll just irritate him and get on his wrong side.'

‘But it's not fair, sir. Anyone can see that. I thought you said this Bolton was a decent sort?'

‘Yes, yes I did – but there's nothing he can do. He talked to me for an absolute age about what had happened and what he had tried to do – says he doesn't want to lose me but they're apparently a difficult bunch of people to get along with.'

‘Just like Greet then?'

‘Just like Greet. Exactly so.'

Bartlett sighed and went on.

‘He
tried
to stand in my corner but he doesn't have that kind of power. I'm confident that he's done what he can for me. You'll get on just fine with him, Boase. He's a decent sort – I've got a feeling about him. You know – when you can read someone straight off. I don't think there's any side to him.'

‘But I want you to stay, sir. You belong here with all of us.'

‘I'm due retirement soon anyway, Boase. You know that – I'm just going a bit early, that's all.'

‘But you have another two or three years left, sir, and now you're leaving under a cloud, after all you've given over the years. I'm sorry, it's just doesn't feel right to me.'

‘Well, look at it this way – this is an opportunity for me to spend some time with my wife. She needs me and now, well …'

Bartlett cast a look up at Boase. ‘Looks like I may still have another woman under my care if you can't sort out this mess with Irene. What do you plan on doing about it?'

‘I really don't know, sir. Irene has made it plain she doesn't want me anymore.'

‘Well, in that case, all I can say is I'm very sorry. I was very pleased to be welcoming you as a member of my family, I truly was, and so was Caroline. It's such a terrible shame, my boy, a terrible shame.'

By four o'clock the next afternoon, George Bartlett of the Falmouth police force had emptied his desk, said goodbye to all the men who he had come to know so well and taken his hat from the peg for one final time.

By five o'clock that afternoon, Archibald Boase had looked at the diamond engagement he had so recently bought for his girl, kissed it lovingly, and replaced it in the box.

The two men who had carried the Falmouth police so often through frequently troublesome times were now facing their own troubles.

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Marina Pascoe

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Empty Vessels

A Bartlett and Boase Mystery

1921, Falmouth. Inspector George Bartlett is investigating the disappearance of a young girl, and events take a turn for the worse when a woman is found dead, badly mutilated, on a local beach. Bartlett and his assistant, Constable Archibald Boase, soon realise the woman was a local prostitute, Ivy Williams.