Death in Albert Park (5 page)

That evening, for instance, she had seen Mrs. Crabbett arrive in time for tea and had noted that Harry Pressley came home as usual at a little before 6. She had seen Mrs. Crabbett depart at about 7:45 and Mr. Crabbett, whom she also knew by sight, arrive soon after 8 and shortly leave again. But what interested Dyke most in her evidence was her story of a man in a
cloth cap and a raincoat, wearing glasses and carrying a newspaper who was ‘hanging about' in the street that evening. She had taken note of him because he looked rather odd. Odd? Yes, his raincoat was too large for him. Time? She would say it was about y when she had seen him first but he had come back several times. He seemed to be waiting for someone.

This was at last a lead and Dyke put out further enquiries for anyone who might have seen the stranger. He sent a man to call at every house in Salisbury Gardens to make enquiries about him, but received only the usual conflicting evidence. One woman believed she had seen the man several nights ago and had thought at the time there was something she did not like about him, while another resident was sure he had sat near him on a bus that day.

Pressed for further description Miss Pilkin thought the man was of'medium height', and, she would think, middling in age. He hadn't given her the impression of
heingyoung,
but then again she wouldn't say he was
old.
There was nothing much else she had noticed about him, except she was sure he had not called at the Pressleys'. She would have noticed that, she said. She had not liked the Pressleys, she admitted, but she was sorry now, because it was terrible about Mrs. Crabbett. She wouldn't want anything like that to happen to anyone. They had been unkind to her dog, and she couldn't forget it, because her dog would never hurt anyone and had only wanted to play with the Pressleys' little girl. Still, that was one thing and murder was another and she wouldn't like anyone to think she had wished it on her. As for that man she had seen, she herself was quite sure it was the Stabber, now she cams to think of it. She meant, who else could it be hanging
about there? But she had not thought of it at the time because the Stabber belonged on the other side of the Park and she wasn't one to think the worst of people. If she had, she'd have warned Mrs. Crabbett instead of letting her go straight to her death like that, poor thing. She
had
thought there was something unpleasant about the man she had seen. He had a bad aura, she said. But she had never connected him with the murders.

Once again there were bloodstains, but no weapon. Once again no motive could be found for anyone but a homicidal lunatic. Once again there was nothing in the dead woman's life that was not commonplace. Once again there was nothing to suggest any dark sexual aspect of the affair. Once again there seemed to be no way of identifying the madman or preventing him from striking again.

“Well, Deene,” said Mr. Gorringer with assumed mournfulness. “I suppose you will now insist on your part of our bargain. You will want your pound of flesh, if that is not too unhappily apt a metaphor to use.”

“I am certainly going to spend the holidays, or part of them, in Albert Park.”

“I feared it. But my hands are tied. Tell me, though, have you any predisposition in the matter? Any inkling of how to go about it? It is indeed a baffling problem— a lunatic at large, a creature perhaps appearing normal in his everyday life. How will you start?”

“Oh, exactly as I always do. Make a few enquiries in each case. Try to get the background.”

“But surely here, the background of the unfortunate victims is of secondary interest? It probably was not even known to the murderer.”

“That may be. But I know no other way. I shall treat each case
as
a case of murder.”

“You mean, you don't think they are all the work of one madman?”

“I don't say that. They well may be. But I don't think that should be assumed too readily. I propose to take them one by one. I have a feeling I shall come on something. Perhaps find something a§ yet unnoticed which is common to all.”

“I trust you will preserve the strictest anonymity, Deene?”

“You needn't worry about that. The school won't be mentioned. In fact, I may as well tell you, headmaster, that I have never felt more doubt of myself. The only mass murderer who ever remained unidentified was Jack the Ripper and it looks as though there is a considerable similarity of action and motive. I frankly don't see what use I can be. But I've got to try.”

“To that I can only say God Speed,” said Mr. Gorringer and dismissed Carolus with a headmasterly gesture.

C
AROLUS
had never been to Albert Park and his first impressions of it were damping. Just the sort of district, he reflected, for some dirty little schizo to let himself go with a butcher's knife, just the district to breed hatred, egomania, evil-mindedness, all the things that went to this sort of murder. The streets were unrelievedly ugly and even the houses overlooking the scrubby little park were heavy and pretentious like the people for whom they were built.

Albert Park had neither the honest rowdiness of Lewisham nor the still faintly eighteenth century gentility of Blackheath. Its houses were grim, built on basements to teach servants their place, ponderous without being grand, and the streets between them, labelled with important-sounding names, were almost deserted. There had been Spring in the air as he drove up from Newminster, but here there was not the faintest promise ofSpring and it seemed that there never would be.

He went first to Salisbury Gardens, a long row of
double-fronted houses from behind whose lace curtains he could imagine leprous faces peering. He did not look out at Number 31, the Pressley home, or the house opposite, but turned his car at the top and made for Crabtree Avenue. It was nearly 5 o'clock and he thought if he reached St. Olave's Ladies College when the girls were leaving it, he might have a chance of seeing Miss Cratchley. He knew that tomorrow was the school's Breaking-Up day.

His car seemed to attract some attention as he drove it in the school gates and made for a square of asphalt on which two cars were already standing. He had barely switched off his engine when a middle aged man in overalls approached him.

“No cars allowed in here,” he said, but dubiously. “What are you, a parent?”

“No. I want to see Miss Cratchley.”

“Oh, Press,” said the man understandingly. “Well, I wonder
how you'll
get on. She's had most of them out before they've had time to turn round.”

“Are you the caretaker?”

“S'right. Well, night watchman would be more like it, specially since we've had all this with the murders. Oh, thank you very much, Sir. Only don't let her see your car here or you'll get me the sack. She's hot on cars coming in.”

“Where will I find Miss Cratchley?”

“I could show you where her study is but don't go and tell her I done it.”

“You seem rather scared of the headmistress.”

“Wait till you see her. That's all. It's not the job I worry about, specially now the missus daren't put her face outside the gates for fear of the Stabber. But I hate trouble of any sort. Easy come, easy go. That's me.
Come on, this way. I'll just show you which door it is then I shall have to hop it. She's usually there at this time in case there's anything to clear up. That's her car, see? Now, down that corridor, round to the left and the first on your left. And good luck.”

Carolus knocked boldly.

“In,” replied a quick voice.

He found himself facing a handsome grey-haired woman, not sitting like a business magnate at her desk but upright in an armchair with a tea-tray beside her. She showed no surprise but said “Who are you?” steadily as she scrutinized him.

Carolus decided to take a chance.

“Shake you if I said I was the Stabber, wouldn't it?” he said fatuously.

“Not in the least.What do you want?”

“One or two details about Hester Starkey.”

“I thought I'd finished with the Press weeks ago.” She rose and moved to ring a bell.

“I'm not Press.”

“Well, you're not Police, are you? I've finished with them, too.”

“No. I'm a schoolmaster.”

“Good gracious. What on earth can a schoolmaster want with details about poor Starkey. Did you know her?”

Carolus shook his head.

“It's worse than that. Worse than if I wanted to sell you a vacuum-cleaner. I'm a private investigator.”

A frosty smile appeared for a moment.

“I see. And you think
you're
going to discover this murderer, do you?”

“I can try.”

“What makes you suppose you might?”

Carolus answered that with a question.

“Have you lost many girls through this?”

“Surprisingly few, so far. We take them out in a crocodile in the afternoon, and send them down Cromarty Avenue. The police have been very helpful and put two men on when the girls are coming in or going out. But I fear our numbers will be down next term unless this is cleared up. Sit down Mr….”

“Deene. Carolus Deene. May I ask you my questions?”

“If they're not too ridiculous. It's no good poking about in poor Starkey's private life. That will tell you nothing about the murderer.”

“Yet that's just what I'm going to do. Investigate each of these murders separately as though they were unconnected.”

“But they were not unconnected. A child could see that.”

“Perhaps not. But that's my line of approach. And it might work.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you care to tell me about her.”

Miss Cratchley smiled.

“Tall order. She wasn't a bitter woman, if that's what you think. So many people imagine that this profession makes women bitter. She was alive and interested in many things. Pictures, books. She edited the school magazine.”

“Was she popular?”

“With the girls? She was respected. She did not encourage girls to lose their heads over her. She taught well and was a good disciplinarian. I miss her a great deal.”

“Did you like her, Miss Cratchley?”

“What a very odd question. No, I don't think I did, particularly. I valued her help.”

“Had she any money beyond her salary?”

“I shouldn't think so. There was a rich relative somewhere, I believe.”

“Had she many friends?”

“Outside the school I know of none. But then I wouldn't. I leave my staff severely alone in their own time. In the school she had two—of a sort. I suppose her friend, perhaps her only real friend, was another mistress here, Gerda Munshall. But there was also, in a way, the games mistress Grace Buller.”

“In a way?”

“Oh, Grace is a big sentimental woman who loves everyone and can't bear it when someone doesn't love her. Gerda MunshalPs a very different type. Highly intelligent. Perhaps a little too much emotion—repressed and otherwise. She, I think, was devoted to Hester Starkey.”

“Do you mind if I talk to these two?”

“Wait till after tomorrow, will you? They'll be on holiday then, after this
very
difficult term. I'll give you their addresses. I don't know why I feel a certain confidence in you, Mr. Deene, but I do.”

“Thank you. Yes, it must have been a trying time for you.”

“Trying? You're a schoolmaster, you tell me. Try to imagine what it's like to have a murder in a school. A sensational murder such as this. I must say the parents have acted splendidly, most of them. I immediately called a parents meeting and addressed it. I'm pleased to say I seem to have their confidence. But it's a grave responsibility, Mr. Deene. That's why I catch at any straw.”

“Even me”

“Just so. Leave me your address in case I need to get in touch with you again.”

“I'm in rather a difficulty there. I usually stay in the town when I'm investigating. But somehow, Albert Park …”

“Exactly. I quite understand. Have you a car?”

“Yes.”

“Then stay at the Golden Cockerel Guest House. Ten miles out in quite pleasant country. It's good. Professionally run. Comfortable. You'll like it. I shall phone you there if I want to see you.”

His life for the next week or two thus ordered by Miss Cratchley, with no chance of forming any preferences of his own, Carolus rose to take his leave.

“I have to see the Detective Superintendent in charge of the case,” observed Miss Cratchley. “He's coming here at six o'clock. I'm afraid I don't expect any good news. Perhaps you'll be able to bring me some soon. Good night.”

Waiting about outside was the man in overalls.

“You've
done it,” he said. “The others was out on their ears in no time. She's a terror, isn't she? Tell you what you wanted to know, did she?”