A Fool and His Money (8 page)

‘Thank you, Mr Bosustow.

‘Now, let me sign your receipt and you can be on your way.'

The business concluded, Boase left the shop and headed towards the recreation ground, sporadically touching his pocket to make sure his precious cargo was still aboard.

Having left the jeweller's and wanting the most direct route to the recreation ground, Boase had walked up Swanpool Street, along Woodlane and was now going along Western Terrace. As he reached the Observatory he saw someone running along the pavement on the opposite side of the road. He looked again and recognised Anne Warner. She was crying. Boase crossed over and ran up to her.

‘Miss Warner? Anne – it's me, Archie Boase. Are you all right, Anne?'

Anne collapsed against the wall.

‘Oh, Constable Boase. Thank you. No, I'm not quite myself, I'm sorry.'

‘Where are you running to?

‘I was looking for my sisters. They went out without me and then Molly James came over for some milk because her husband was angry with her and my sisters haven't come back and then Edward James came and just opened my door and walked in. He was really shouting at me saying I was rude to his wife – I think he must have been drinking and, oh! I hate that horrible circus. I'm so frightened. I want my friend Clicker back.'

Anne stopped talking and began to cry again. Boase put his arm around her.

‘Come on, I was just coming to your place. I'll take you back. I'm sure your sisters will be back in a minute. Where have they gone?'

‘Shopping I think.'

‘Oh, well, there you are then. Just like my fiancée, Irene – she loves shopping. I'm sure they won't be long though. Let's cross here, shall we?'

As they headed toward the Warner caravan, Betty and Joan were waiting outside. Boase pointed to them.

‘There you are, Anne. Told you they wouldn't be long.'

The two sisters took Anne and Boase into the caravan and Anne explained what had happened.

‘I think your sister's still in shock – she needs a strong cup of tea.'

‘You're right, Constable Boase. Will you join us?'

Betty was filling the kettle.

‘No, thank you. I just wanted another look around here and then I've finished for the day.'

‘Will you catch whoever killed Clicker?'

Anne was drying her eyes with a handkerchief.

‘We'll do our very best, Anne. I promise you that. I should be going. If any of you hear any news, be sure to let me know, will you? 'Bye then.'

Boase had another look around the site. There were very few people around and no one had anything to tell him that was new. He wondered why Anne had got so upset about Edward James but could see from the treatment of his wife that the man could be very intimidating. He went and knocked on the door of the Jameses' caravan but there was no reply. Boase felt irritated – he wanted to see why this man was now bullying Anne. He wandered around a bit longer, petted the ponies which were tied up by the caravan and then took the decision to come back tomorrow with a better plan.

Anne Warner couldn't sleep. She didn't want to wake her sisters, so she quietly got up and poured herself a glass of water. It wasn't a particularly warm night, but Anne had been turning over and over in her bed, recent events rattling around inside her head and she had felt uncomfortably hot. She sat quietly beside the window and drew back the curtain. The moonlight lit up the inside of the small caravan. She finished two glasses of water but felt no better. It was as though she couldn't breathe properly. As she went to put the empty glass in the sink, it fell from her hand with such a noise it seemed to echo loudly around the caravan. She began to pick up the biggest pieces and, as she did so, a light came on in the bedroom. The door opened and Betty stood there hastily wrapping her dressing gown around herself.

‘What's happened, Anne? Why are you up at this hour?'

‘I … I couldn't sleep and now I've broken a glass. I feel very hot and a little shaky.'

‘Let me feel your head, dear. Anne – you're practically on fire.'

The older Warner girl pushed open the door of the caravan and told Anne to sit on the step.

‘I'll get you a cool flannel. Wait here.'

Betty sat on the step with Anne for five minutes then, stifling a yawn, stood up.

‘Well, I don't know about you but I'm exhausted. Are you feeling any better now?'

‘I've cooled down a bit, thanks.'

‘I'm off to bed, Anne dear, it's almost two. Are you coming?'

‘I think I'll just sit here a little longer, if that's all right?'

‘Of course, but don't be too long; you look very tired. Goodnight, Anne.'

‘'Night, Betty.'

Anne remained on the step, looking up at the bright moon and thinking about her dear old friend, Clicker. She thought about her parents and how much she missed them. As she was about to get up, she thought she heard a sound just across the grass. She listened. Nothing now. It must be her imagination; she
was
very tired, after all. As she rose, she saw a shadow darting across between the caravans opposite her own. It was clearly a person running swiftly. Anne stared harder then became afraid. After what had happened to Clicker, who knew what might happen next? She ran quickly inside the caravan and bolted the door.

Chapter Six

Edward James put the
Falmouth Packet
onto the table and picked up his knife and fork.

‘Have you read this, Molly? It says the police are looking for anyone who was near Hunter's Path the night Clicker was killed. Well, they needn't look at me, I wasn't there. Blast it, Molly, do we
have
to have eggs every day? Why can't we have a bit of bacon once in a while?'

‘Because bacon costs money and that doesn't go far, that's why. It looks like old man Martin isn't going to pay us again – that's twice now. Reckons, with the show off, he just can't afford it and that the police won't let us leave until they're satisfied that no one here had anything to do with the murder.'

‘Well, we can't go on, with no money. Have you got anything left from your father?'

‘About two pounds ten.'

‘Is that all – what the hell have you been doing with it?'

Edward rose from his chair, knife in hand. Molly stepped back.

‘Stop it, Ed, you're frightening me. I've been as careful as I can with the money – it's not easy when there's nothing coming in. Please sit down and eat your breakfast. Here you are, here's a nice cup of tea.'

Trembling, Molly put the cup on the table. She had never been afraid of anyone in her younger days but since she met her husband, well, he could be very frightening when he was in a temper. She shouldn't have to be afraid. She took a little money from a jug under the sink.

‘Look, we haven't completely run out of money – why don't I go to the shop and get a nice bit of bacon for your breakfast tomorrow?'

‘Come here.'

‘What? What for?'

‘I said, come here.'

She walked towards him and he pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her.

‘Stop it, Ed, don't be silly let me go.'

‘I really love you, Molly. Why are you so on edge lately? You know I didn't have anything to do with your father being killed, don't you?'

‘Course I do. Now let me go to the shop. I shan't be long.'

Edward watched his wife through the window and sat back down to finish his breakfast.

Bartlett called Constable Penhaligon into his office.

‘Penhaligon, is there any news of this Aitchinson character?'

‘I'm really sorry, sir, no there isn't. We've tried everything we can think of.'

The door opened and Boase walked in.

‘Morning, sir, morning, Penhaligon – am I interrupting something?'

‘No, come in, Boase. I was just asking Penhaligon about our mysterious Mr Aitchinson. Greet nearly had a stroke this morning shouting at me. He's going too far but I suppose he has a point – Aitchinson is all we have to go on. No one saw anything near Hunter's Path that night, there's really no one else to ask. I'm stumped. Carry on, Penhaligon.'

Bartlett turned back to Boase.

‘You any further forward on this, Boase?'

Boase was laying open a large napkin on his desk to reveal two ham sandwiches. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

‘BOASE!'

‘Sorry, sir, didn't have time for breakfast. I went to the recreation ground last evening but nothing doing. Although I did see Anne Warner in a state running along Western Terrace. I had to take her back to the caravan. She was in a right panic.'

‘Did she say why?'

‘Well, I think it's just the shock of everything. She's quite a timid little creature and very young. I think it all got on top of her. I left her with her sisters, anyway. I don't know what next, sir.'

‘Do you think this has all come from within the circus, or outside, Boase?'

‘If I'm honest, I
do
think it's on the inside – but at the moment I can't even tell you why.'

‘Well, your hunches are usually fairly reliable. We're just going to have to go back again, and keep going back until this is sorted, or before Greet has a heart attack.'

‘Want to go now, sir?'

‘Yes. Hurry up with that sandwich and we'll be off, catch them nice and early. Get a car, will you, I'm shattered.'

The two men knocked at a few caravans and spoke to some of the troupe but the story was just the same; Clicker was a lovely old man, why would anyone want to kill him? and no, they hadn't seen anything or anyone suspicious.

‘I just don't understand this, Boase. When someone is murdered in a little place like this, there's always someone who knows something, however small. It's not like when I was in London – that was a real big job, although I suppose there were more people closer together, all snooping.'

Boase couldn't help laughing at the vision he had conjured up, of lots of nosy Londoners all spying on each other.

‘Do you miss it, sir? Being in London?'

‘Some aspects I do, others not at all. The air is so clean and lovely here. But, of course, the most important thing, my Caroline. I think if we'd stayed in London she might not even still be here. Yes, I think she'd be gone by now with her illnesses. She's so much better now and no error. Indeed, I'd do anything to see her well and she really loves it here, I can tell.'

Bartlett lit his pipe and looked at Boase.

‘Did you hear what I just said?'

His constable was staring into the distance.

‘Boase, what are you thinking about?'

‘We spoke to Howard Smith and his son, Gregory – the fire-eaters – didn't we?'

‘Twice.'

‘Then how could we be so stupid!'

‘Boase?'

‘Sir, what do they call themselves – the fire-eaters?'

‘I don't know. Fire-eaters?'

‘No – look over there on that caravan.'

Boase was pointing to a small caravan a few yards away. It had the door open.

‘I don't see what you're looking at –
or
what you're talking about, my boy.'

Boase was already running towards the caravan. The writing visible one the door read ‘
& Son
'. Boase, reaching the caravan, with Bartlett close behind him, slammed the door shut to reveal the words ‘
H & Son
'.

‘Look, sir. Howard is ‘H' so he and Gregory are ‘H and Son' – AITCHINSON!'

‘Well, I'll be …'

Boase was already hammering on the side of the caravan.

Howard Smith opened the door.

‘What on earth is going on here? What's the meaning of this, banging on my caravan like a maniac?'

Boase spoke hurriedly.

‘You're Aitchinson. You telephoned the police station about Edward James. Do you really think we're that stupid? It was only a matter of time. Go inside please, Mr Smith.'

Bartlett and Boase sat with the fire eater inside the caravan. Boase felt so angry with himself and with this man.

‘Tell us why you made the call and what you know.

‘Well, I made the call to give you information because the sooner this murder is solved the sooner we can get on with our lives and start earning money. You know Chester Martin isn't paying us? Well, none of us can afford to live – one or two here have no savings and are practically starving. Gwynfor Evans especially – he's supposed to be the strongman. He can't afford to buy the amount of food he needs. He's completely run out of money. We can't all carry on like this and you police are worse than useless. You need to arrest Edward James and let us get on with our lives.'

Bartlett leaned forward in his seat.

‘What do you mean we need to arrest Edward James? Why would you say that?'

‘It's obvious he did the old man in. He hated him. He's a nasty piece of work. His own wife is terrified of him. And another thing, he's got a gun. He doesn't need one. The only people here who need a gun are the lion tamers – and they've got rifles. James has a pistol, I've seen it.'

‘When did you see the gun?'

‘He sits on the step cleaning it. I think he does it to keep his wife in line.'

‘So, what real evidence do you have?'

The fire eater raised his voice.

‘It's just as I told your man – I saw Edward James going towards the seafront that night. He probably had the gun with him.'

Boase became agitated.

‘Mr Smith, you've already wasted many hours of police time, making up that fictional name, and now you're making unfounded accusations.'

‘Well, go and get his gun then. I bet you'll find it's the same one that killed the old man. In fact, you probably won't find it at all – he'll have dumped it, if he's got any sense.'