Hobby of Murder (14 page)

‘You often come out as early as this?’ Roland asked.

‘Pretty often,’ Ian replied.

‘Did you see anyone else around here?’

‘No.’

‘I’m not thinking of someone who might have done this thing, but another witness.’

‘No, there was no one else about.’

‘You assume it was murder, do you, Inspector?’ Andrew asked.

‘We’ll know more about that later,’ Roland said. ‘But there’s something about her neck, the angle of her head, that suggests … Well, we’ll leave that to the experts. Meanwhile, Professor, I think you and Mr Davidge might go home and I’ll come in to see you later. I don’t think you can give us any help here now.’

Andrew was very glad to be sent away. He and Ian walked down to the turnstile in silence and crossed the road to the house, the door of which still stood open. Two police cars were parked in the road, and as they crossed it an ambulance drew up there.

As soon as she heard them on the path leading up to the door, Mollie came out of the kitchen and stood still in the middle of the hall with a look of horrified questioning on her face.

‘It’s really Eleanor, is it?’ she said in a whispering voice.

‘Yes,’ Ian said.

‘And she’s dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘Drowned?’

‘I thought so,’ Ian replied, ‘but Roland seems to have his doubts. I got the impression he thinks she may have been dead already when she went into the water. Didn’t you, Andrew?’

‘He was considering it, certainly,’ Andrew said.

‘You mean it was murder, not an accident or suicide?
Who would want to murder Eleanor?’ Mollie’s white face was taut with shock.

‘The person whom she knew murdered Luke,’ Ian said.

‘But how could she know that? I know she was sitting near him, but all the same …’ She stopped, still staring at them incredulously, then suddenly she said, ‘You haven’t had any breakfast. Andrew, you didn’t touch yours. I’ll make some more coffee.’

She turned and went hurriedly back into the kitchen, moving as swiftly as if she was running away from them and their information.

While she was making the second pot of coffee, Andrew went upstairs, had a quick, casual wash and shaved, and seeing the breakfast tray that he had ignored on the bed, picked the portion of cheese off it and, chewing it, went downstairs again. Mollie had brought coffee and toast and marmalade on a tray into the sitting-room where the electric fire was alight.

‘I thought we could do with a bit of warmth this morning,’ she said. ‘It’s turned quite cold, hasn’t it?’

Her voice was back to normal and her face, though a little pale, had lost its look of horrified blankness. She appeared merely thoughtful.

‘You must be right,’ she said, ‘but I still can’t make any sense of it.’

Andrew was very grateful for the hot coffee. Having finished his cheese, he helped himself to toast and marmalade and presently to a second cup of coffee. None of them talked much, though once or twice Mollie started what sounded as if it was going to be a question, but which she did not finish. Andrew thought that they were all waiting for something to happen, probably the arrival of the police, though it might be of one of the Davidges’ neighbours, who would have seen the police cars arriving and parking outside their house. Meanwhile, all three of them wanted
to ask the same questions to which none of them could give any answers. It had become almost impossible to talk.

It was over an hour before they heard footsteps on the paved path outside the door and Ian, going quickly to it, brought in Inspector Roland and the young sergeant. Roland expressed satisfaction on seeing the glowing red bars of the electric fire, went up to it and held out his hands to the warmth. If he had had anything to do with moving the body in the water, they might well be chilled.

Rubbing them against one another, he remarked, ‘Soon be Christmas.’

‘Good heavens, Inspector!’ Mollie exclaimed. ‘This is only September.’

‘Yes, but time flies,’ he said. ‘Flies faster and faster the older you get. I get the feeling that chap Singleton has been dead for a week or two, but it was only a couple of days ago that it happened. It may interest you to know, by the way, that the Bartlett sisters have been traced in London. They’d gone, as we thought they might, to the house of their widowed sister, and were simply hiding when the first inquiries were made there. But they showed up yesterday evening.’

‘Are you telling us that that gives them an alibi for this murder this morning?’ Ian asked.

‘Absolutely watertight,’ Roland answered. ‘But though we haven’t any definite facts yet, our impression is that the murder wasn’t done this morning, but at least twelve hours before you found her. We’ll know more about that later when the forensic people have had time to do their stuff. That twelve hours is only a rough guess.’

‘But have you found how she died?’ Andrew asked. ‘You presumably got her out of the water pretty quickly.’

‘Again, we’ve nothing official,’ Roland said. ‘Our surgeon is there, and he agrees with me that probably she was throttled from behind by a strong pair of hands, then tipped
off the bridge into the water.’ At a gesture of invitation from Mollie, he had sat down, and all the others except Ian, who remained standing at the window, watching what might be happening in the road, had found chairs. ‘It looks as if her neck’s broken.’

‘But twelve hours ago,’ Andrew said, ‘that makes it seven o’clock or so, and it’s dark by then. What was she doing out there on the common in the dark with someone who she knew had committed a murder?’

‘It isn’t really dark by seven,’ Roland said. ‘It’s dusk. If you turn on the lights indoors it looks dark outside, but if you’re out, it’s still almost daylight.’

‘All the same, it’s a bit strange to go out for a walk in semi-darkness to meet a murderer,’ Andrew said. ‘Why did she trust him?’

‘She might have met him by chance,’ Roland said. ‘It was a fine evening, and even murderers may sometimes feel like a breath of fresh air.’

‘That’s what I suggested to Professor Basnett,’ Ian said, ‘but he thought it was more likely she’d met someone by appointment.’

‘Any reason for that, Professor?’ Roland asked.

Andrew considered it. ‘Not really. Just that I find it unlikely that our murderer should be so lucky as to meet his second victim, who happened to be threatening him, when he was out all by himself on a lonely common. I know it could happen, but it doesn’t feel likely.’

‘It might not have happened quite like that,’ Roland said. ‘She might have gone off for a short walk across the common just before it got dark—she was the sort of person who might do that, mightn’t she?—and the murderer was coming along this road here when he saw her start off and quietly followed her. I was going to ask you if you’d seen anyone pass the house, going in either direction about that time. Anyone of any kind. It doesn’t necessarily have to
have been someone who was at that dinner. It’s natural to think it probably was, but that could be a mistake. It could be a mistake to assume that the two murders have any connection. She could have been killed by the sort of pervert who happens to like killing lonely women. There were a couple of murders of that kind in Rockford a year or two ago, and we thought we’d got the killer, but we could have been wrong and he’s still about, or there could be another.’

‘Was she raped?’ Mollie breathed.

‘No,’ he answered. ‘That’s to say, her clothing wasn’t disarranged. We haven’t been able to examine her yet.’

‘But it’s true the two crimes are remarkably unlike,’ Andrew said. ‘The one’s extremely subtle and complicated, the other’s straightforward and brutal. It could be two different minds at work.’

‘Meanwhile, you haven’t answered my question,’ Roland said. ‘Did you happen to see anyone at all going along this road towards evening? Someone walking or someone in a car?’

Ian turned from the window. ‘We couldn’t have seen anyone, I’m afraid, because by then we’d have drawn the curtains. But even if no one walked past, I should say it’s certain that a number of cars went by. There isn’t much traffic on this road, but sooner or later something comes along.’

‘And were you in this room at that time?’

‘Ah, you’re asking us for our alibis,’ Ian said. ‘Yes, we were all in this room, drinking sherry. Then about eight o’clock we went into the kitchen for supper. And earlier than that time we were together here, watching the television news. Is that sufficient?’

‘Inspector, if you’re right that Eleanor Clancy’s murder might have been some random pervert,’ Andrew said, ‘doesn’t that destroy the Bartletts’ alibis for Luke Singleton’s murder? Not that they actually have alibis for that.
However, if Miss Clancy was killed because she knew who’d done that murder, then their alibi for yesterday evening makes it fairly impossible that they could have had anything to do with poisoning Singleton. You needn’t look for someone who used them to do the killing, which would have meant it could have been someone anywhere in Lower Milfrey or Rockford or London, or anywhere you choose. You’re back to looking for someone who was in that room at that dinner. And why need this second murderer of yours have come along this road? Isn’t it a good deal more likely that he came along the lane that comes down to the bridge?’

‘Of course, of course, Professor,’ Roland said, giving a sardonic little smile. ‘You’re right on all points. And you’ve probably made up your mind that I haven’t much faith in the existence of this second killer. I only consider that he has to be borne in mind. But I might have guessed you’d see through me. I think the Bartletts are blameless, and God knows how, we’ve got to find Singleton’s killer in that dining-room.’

‘Miss Clancy made a curious remark the last time I saw her,’ Andrew said. ‘I can’t remember her exact words, but what she meant was that she had quite a bit of a gift for recognizing people. Or that’s how I took it. And of course, she did recognize Mrs Waldron, although it was years since they’d met. And she recognized Luke Singleton immediately. But what perhaps makes that unimportant is that in both cases she knew the person’s name in advance. She knew whom she was going to meet. All the same, there may have been someone else in that room whom she recognized, someone she knew a little too much about for that person’s comfort, and whom she could envisage committing a very complicated murder.’

‘And that suggests someone who came from Rockford,’ Roland said. ‘She’d probably have met all the Lower Milfrey guests already and they’d have known that she’d
recognized them and wouldn’t have taken risks with her there. Of course we’re questioning all the Rockford people, but we haven’t got anywhere so far.’

‘Have you tried the Lady Mayoress? She was there that evening,’ Ian remarked. ‘She quite often gets her picture in the local paper. Eleanor would have recognized her.’

‘Mr Davidge, this is a serious matter,’ Roland said reprovingly. ‘This matter of recognition may turn out to be important.’

Ian went abruptly into one of his sullen moods. ‘Any bloody thing that happened during the last three days may turn out to be important, mayn’t it? It’s a whole waste-bag of events. And everything you pull out seems to have something against it. And probably there’s something that’s been staring us in the face all the time that would solve the whole business—Oh God, what’s this now?’

He has been interrupted by the sound of running footsteps on the path up from the road.

The doorbell was strenuously rung.

Ian went to answer it. A young uniformed constable came bounding into the room. He was carrying a package of some sort, wrapped in transparent plastic. He thrust it out to Roland.

‘One of the divers found this,’ he said. ‘Sergeant Merry weather told me to bring it straight to you, sir.’ He added warningly, ‘It’s wet.’

Roland took it, but he held it between his hands, touching it as little as possible.

Looking at it through the plastic, he stated, ‘It looks like a handbag.’

‘And it’s got money in it,’ the constable said.

‘I suppose you’ve all been handling it,’ Roland said. ‘Any fingerprints on it won’t mean a thing.’

‘Sergeant Merry weather looked inside it, sir,’ the constable
said, ‘then put it in this sheeting. But he said there wouldn’t be any prints left after the soaking it’s had.’

‘You found it in the lake, did you?’

‘One of the divers found it, just about a yard or so from where the body was lying. And it’s got a thousand pounds in it, and a cheque-book with Miss Clancy’s name on it, and a purse with some change in it, and a comb, and a diary, and a handkerchief and a latchkey and a car key.’

‘And a thousand pounds?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘In what form?’

‘Fifty-pound notes, just in a bundle with a rubber band round them.’

‘You’re sure about that cheque-book?’

‘So Sergeant Merry weather said, sir.’

‘So the handbag is Miss Clancy’s.’

Ian had drawn near enough to Roland to be taking a look at the package on his knee.

‘It’s Eleanor’s all right,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen her carrying it.’

Roland handed the package back to the constable.

‘You’d better take this in to the station. Hand it over to the forensic people and tell them how it was found. Try not to handle it more than you can help, though the sergeant’s probably right, with the soaking it’s had there won’t be any prints left on it.’

The young man took it and left as speedily as he had come.

‘Now why should anyone throw a handbag with a thousand pounds in it into the lake?’ Roland demanded.

‘An accident,’ Andrew suggested. ‘She was carrying it when she was attacked and simply had it jerked out of her hand and let it go and it fell in the water.’

‘That thousand pounds has the smell of blackmail to me,’ Roland said.

‘But who was blackmailing who?’ Andrew asked.

‘Had she just been paid it by her attacker, or was she going to pay it to him?’

‘But it isn’t blackmail!’ Mollie said angrily. ‘I’m sure Eleanor’d never done anything in her life for which anyone could blackmail her, and she wouldn’t try to blackmail anybody. I believe, if she really had that sort of money in her handbag and went up on the bridge to meet someone, then she was taking the money to help them in some way.’