Such Is Death (25 page)

“He had, as I knew, been several times to Lobbin's shop and seen the coal-hammer there. ‘Bertrand's only taken to coming to the shop lately' Lobbin told me. Bertrand also knew that Lobbin was in the bar of the Queen Victoria every evening from six to ten, because he told me so. Finally, Bertrand had a very good reason to get himself admitted by Mrs Lobbin. He only had to say he wished to apologize for Mrs Dalbinney, or something of the sort, to settle the quarrel between Mrs Dalbinney and Mrs Lobbin, in fact, to be admitted by Bella.

“He had, as I knew, a hammer in his house and took this in the pocket of his overcoat. This second murder was forced on him by circumstances and fear and he had not time for the detailed planning he had done for the first. But he saw
how
to go about it. He would murder the woman with his own hammer then go downstairs to the shop for hers, blood it and leave it by her. It would be the means of hanging Lobbin. Meanwhile he would go home, scrupulously clean his own hammer and return it to the tool chest.

“All this he carried out with skill and good fortune. He was becoming an accomplished murderer now. He did not know that Mrs Cocking had watched his entry but in any case she could not see much of his face. Then he hurried home to arrange matters so that should anyone call, or should Molly French return, no one could guess that he had been out.

“I found him so ‘settled' and established by his electric fireside that my respect for him as a clever murderer was lessened. He had overdone it. The smoking jacket and slippers, the calf-bound volume of Gibbon, the brandy and the nearly smoked cigar were a little too much, particularly since (as I discovered later) he had arranged to call for Molly French at that time. But what really gave him away was a piece of that petty parsimony for which he was known. He had not found it difficult to burn the paper money found on Ernest, but when he wanted to be discovered smoking the last of a cigar, he could not bring himself to throw away the length of Corona from which it had been cut and it was this I found in the box. He covered this as best he could. ‘Not that. It's only half a cigar', he said jovially. But trivial as it may appear it provided me with one of the few pieces of evidence concrete enough to convince me.”

“You think he anticipated your visit?” said Moore.

“Some visit, anyway. Mine or Molly's. When I reached Prince Albert Mansions Paul's first words to me were ‘we rather wondered if you would come round'. They had
heard from the hall porter who was the husband of one of the barmaids at the Queen Victoria that the murder had happened. They may have phoned Bertrand. Or he may have sensed that I had my suspicions. At all events there was a big act intended to show that he had not been out that evening.

“His plan nearly came off, for I take it you would have charged Lobbin this evening at any rate with the second murder. I am the first to admit that though
all
the evidence I know of in this case is circumstantial there is at this moment
far
more of it against Lobbin than against Bertrand. I do not think Lobbin would have been convicted but I do think it is more likely, as matters stand, than the conviction of Bertrand. Further I think that it was because I have a touch of Bertrand's madness that I have been able to follow the ghastly distortions of his mind.”

“You alarm me, Deene,” said Mr Gorringer.

“There is no need for alarm, headmaster. I don't mean that I have any secret desire to kill. I mean that the lunatic, the murderer and the detective who has my kind of imagination, are all touched with the same frenzy. I could put myself in his place and follow his mad logic. It was only by doing so that I could identify him.”

“To say that you have identified him is ludicrous,” said Mr Gorringer. “You have produced nothing but your morbid imaginings to make us believe this story, which smacks more of the writings of Edgar Allan Poe than of real life. Has he, Inspector?”

“Nothing,” said Moore.

“You see, Deene? You have failed to convince the Inspector, and you have made me rather indignant. I cannot see that you have produced for this theory of yours anything to which a judge or jury would listen.”

“He hasn't,” said Moore. “Yet I shall have to investigate it.”

Mr Gorringer bridled.

“You will? It would seem, if I may say so, that you
would be guilty of dangerous blundering. Mrs Dalbinney has a number of highly influential friends who would not relish the involvement of her brother in such a cock-and-bull story.”

Carolus, looking very tired, said, “I warned you, John, that I had almost nothing cogent to offer. The headmaster is quite right to say that no judge or jury would listen to it. But now it's up to you. It should not take you long to test it.”

“It won't.”

“There is first of all the chance of identification by the Bullamys or Mrs Cocking, or both. Then there is the hammer. You will find it in the tool chest in a small room at the back of the house. It will have been carefully cleaned but the microscope will pick out some traces of blood. Then someone must have seen Bertrand last night in the region of the Queen Victoria. But above all, there are his clothes. It is impossible that these murders could have been carried out by the method chosen without
some
blood getting on the murderer's overcoat. There may have been time to have the one worn for the first murder cleaned. But not for the second. You know what happens when someone tries to clean bloodstains out of cloth? Some trace is always left. Bertrand has no means of destroying the coat in the house, because Molly French is there, and if he dumped it somewhere you will know in time.”

Moore smiled.

“I think you can leave all that to us, Carolus. It is rather more in our line than having the touch of madness which, you say, has enabled you to produce this theory.”

“I reject the word ‘theory',” pronounced Mr Gorringer.

“It is what I looked for from you, Carolus,” Moore said. “The kind of wild hypothetical imaginary stuff which might easily turn out to hold the seeds of truth. But it is only when we get to work on it that it begins to make sense or otherwise. You wouldn't be much good
without us back-room boys,” said Moore good-naturedly, adding—”Let's have another drink.”

It was eighteen months before Carolus had occasion to re-visit Selby-on-Sea and he found it basking in warm June sunlight. He drove along the road by the promenade, but could not see the last shelter from his car. When he reached the Queen Victoria, however, he found Doris and Vivienne still behind its bar.

“Well!” said Doris at once. “Fancy seeing you! It does seem a long time since you were here. I thought we might have heard something of you, but not a word. You're looking very well, isn't he, Vivienne?”

“Mmmm,” said Vivienne in almost enthusiastic agreement.

Carolus invited them to have a drink. Vivienne said she didn't mind, and Doris said it was very kind of him.

“It was a shame about those murders,” said Doris presently, “after all the work you did, too, for the police to get the credit. I don't suppose you minded, but I said to Vivienne, I wouldn't mind betting it was Mr Deene put them up to it, didn't I, Vivienne? Still they got him in the end, that's one thing. All those bloodstains on his coat—what else could they have been? Mr and Mrs Bullamy had to go over to Bawdon to give evidence at the trial, you know. They'd seen him crossing the road just after he'd done for this fellow with the staring eyes. They both picked him out separately on the identification parades. And that Mrs Cocking! She picked him, too, but you ought to have heard what she said about the police! She called them all the things she could lay her tongue to. But I expect you read about in the papers?”

“Yes,” said Carolus.

“Of course he confessed in the end. Seemed quite proud of it, didn't he? Well, he wasn't in his right mind and that's a certainty. How he came to be a Colonel beats me. Fancy killing anyone like that! It gives you the creeps, doesn't it?”

“No,” said Carolus, but smiled.

“All the family moved away from here afterwards. It was that Emma Rafter I was sorry for. I did hear they'd gone abroad and changed their name. Well, you can understand it, having two brothers like that. Mr Lobbin's still here, though. He's married again.”

“Really?”

“Yes. A very nice party she is. Older than him, but seems to understand him more. He's started writing little bits in the paper. He was always clever. He's in here most nights, if you want to see him. He soon seemed to get over it, once they knew it wasn't him.”

Doris served another customer but returned to give Carolus more news.

“That young policeman still comes in. Very pleased with himself, he seems to be. I don't know why, because he's still in uniform, though; he hoped to go on the detective side. He married that young woman that was always about with him. So that's two weddings we've had.”

“What about yours, Doris?”

“Mine? I like that! As if I should get married! I've got enough to think about as it is. Well, all I can say is, I hope we don't get another business like the one you were here for. Murders, and that. We don't want any more, thank you very much. We can do without that. Can't we, Vivienne?”

“Mmmm,” agreed Vivienne, and raising her glass she faintly smiled.