The Floating Body (20 page)

‘It is about Stanhope, sir,’ Conway began.

‘But not about his bowling,’ Wynyard added.

‘It’s another thing altogether, sir,’ Conway resumed. And then he seemed to hesitate.

‘Well then, out with it, you two,’ McKell insisted, becoming impatient.

I was standing about two yards away from McKell as this conversation was going on, with the Famous Four at my back. We could clearly hear every word.

‘It’s about the term exam paper, sir,’ said Wynyard.

‘Next week’s term exam, sir,’ Conway added unnecessarily. Then the pair of them again lapsed into silence as if reluctant to continue.

I looked around for Stanhope, but he was on the far side of the nets surrounded by a small group of well-wishers.

‘Well, sir . . .’ said Wynyard, ‘we saw Stanhope outside your study window, sir.’

‘So? What about it?’ McKell was becoming more and more irritated by this piecemeal announcement that had to be extracted, it seemed, one slice at a time. ‘Anyone in the cathedral close might pass in front of the windows of my flat, so why do you think Stanhope’s presence there is significant?’

‘It’s just that it looked to us . . .’ Conway said, still feigning reluctance to name the crime of which he wished to accuse young Stanhope, ‘it seemed to us . . .’

‘It seemed that Stanhope,’ said Wynyard, taking up the tale, ‘was coming out of the window of your flat, sir!’

‘What? You’re saying he’d been inside my flat? Creeping out like some sneak thief? Is that what you’re saying? What possible motive could he have for doing that?’

‘Next week’s exam paper, sir,’ said Wynyard.

‘He asked us to sneak it for him, sir,’ Conway added in as shocked a tone as he could manage.

‘And when we refused,’ Wynyard added hastily, ‘it did occur to us, sir, that he might sneak it himself.’

‘Are you accusing Stanhope of having stolen the term paper from my study?’ demanded McKell.

‘It’s just our suspicion, sir . . .’ Conway said slowly, as if fearing he had gone a step too far.

‘Well, this can be settled very quickly,’ said McKell firmly. ‘You two will accompany me to my study immediately. We’ll see if next week’s term paper is still in my desk where I left it. If it’s not, we’ll investigate your suspicions—we’ll search Stanhope’s study. But if the exam paper’s not missing—let me warn you—then you two will be in trouble. Come on, both of you. With me. Now.’

As McKell, Conway and Wynyard marched off, I turned to the Famous Four and asked, ‘What do you four think is going on here?’

‘We have a fair idea, sir,’ said Hamilton. Then, with a glance at the others, he said, ‘Leave it to us, sir, we can take care of things from here.’

‘Off you go then,’ I said, and at my words of dismissal all four of them took off at a trot.

What happened next I was not an eyewitness to, but when it was all over, the Famous Four came to my study that night and reported to me. From what they told me I think I can piece together a fair account of the sequence of events as they unfolded.

Hamilton, as leader of the Famous Four, had come to the conclusion that Conway and Wynyard had stolen the term paper—probably under the cover of darkness on Speech Night—gone into Stanhope’s study when the younger boy was absent and hidden the exam paper there. They had probably, he thought, copied it for their own convenience first.

But this was more than a mere schoolboy prank. Hamilton, Clifford, Redway and Cardew all knew that if a stolen exam paper was found in Stanhope’s study, he would be expelled in disgrace.

Disgusted at what Conway and Wynyard were doing, they knew they had to foil the plan, and they had to act quickly.

They were certain that McKell would go to his study and discover the term paper to be missing. He would then respond to the poisonous suggestion from Conway and Wynyard that Stanhope must have it, and the boy’s study would be searched at once.

The Famous Four knew they had only minutes to act. If the paper was in Stanhope’s study, they had to retrieve it before McKell came storming in, demanding the study be turned over and a thorough search conducted.

The four of them hurried to the first floor of the dorm building where, to their dismay, they found Stanhope’s study door was locked. Stanhope himself was nowhere in sight. The last time they had seen him, he was being carried off in triumph to the tuckshop to celebrate his newly discovered skills as a spin bowler.

‘The window,’ said Hamilton, as the Famous Four stood in the corridor outside the locked study door. ‘Clifford, you need to spring off to the caretaker’s shed and borrow his ladder—top speed, lad, off you go. And Redway, you’re the smallest and lightest of us—you need to be waiting at the foot of the wall when Clifford comes back with the ladder. Shoot up and see if the window’s unlocked.’

‘And if it’s locked?’ asked Redway.

‘Then we’re sunk—and so is Stanhope. But if you can get in, you’ll have just minutes to find that exam paper that Conway and Wynyard planted and get it out before McKell arrives breathing fire.’

Two minutes later, Redway was on the back lawn underneath Stanhope’s window. A minute after that the muscular Clifford arrived, lugging with him the caretaker’s ladder. It was the work of a moment for the two of them to prop the ladder against the wall and for Redway to scramble up.

‘It’s unlocked!’ he called out to Clifford below when he reached the window sill. Without wasting precious seconds, he pushed up the window and squeezed into the study.

Then he began his desperate search.

As he did so, he called out through the locked door to Hamilton and Cardew, still waiting in the corridor outside the study.

‘I’m in, but I can’t find the paper,’ he said through the timbers of the door.

‘Keep going, old chap,’ urged Hamilton, ‘and hurry.’

From inside the study came the sound of drawers being opened and furniture being shifted.

Then the two in the corridor heard the dreaded thump of boots, and McKell emerged from the staircase and began marching towards them. Hamilton gave two thumps on Stanhope’s study door as a warning to Redway to make his retreat.

‘Out of the way, you two,’ demanded McKell as he arrived. Close behind him, and smirking in an unpleasant way, were Conway and Wynyard.

McKell tried the study door. Finding it locked, he produced his master key from his key ring, turned it in the lock and swung the door open.

Hamilton and Cardew anxiously looked inside. There was no sign of Redway—so at least he had made his escape. But had he found the missing exam paper?

‘We’re doing no good hanging around here,’ said Hamilton quietly to Cardew, ‘let’s go and find Redway.’

They left McKell launching his search of Stanhope’s room and hurried down the staircase. At the foot of the stairs they found Redway.

‘Did you get it?’ asked Cardew.

By way of response Redway patted his pocket and smiled.

‘Where’s Clifford?’

‘Returning the ladder. What do I do with the paper?’

‘Do you think you can get it back into McKell’s study without being seen?’

‘Let’s try,’ responded Redway, heading for the open space of the cathedral close.

Clifford joined them to report that he had returned the caretaker’s ladder and it hadn’t been missed. Then the Famous Four hurried over to the windows of the Deputy Head’s flat.

Fortunately for them, McKell’s desk stood just underneath an open window. Hamilton hurried from window to window to see where McKell’s sister was. When he saw her in the sitting room, knitting, he gave Redway the thumbs up. The smaller boy stepped over the garden and dropped the stolen term paper back inside McKell’s study. He saw it flutter to the floor just underneath the desk.

‘Mission accomplished, skipper,’ he said as he hurried back to Hamilton’s side.

And with that announcement the Famous Four exchanged grins and handshakes all round. Then they headed off to the tuckshop to join Stanhope’s celebration.

It was the following afternoon that Jack, Warnie and I went for a walk into the town. We were at the top of the hill heading down the high street with no particular objective in mind, but with the strong possibility of ending up at the pub at the foot of the hill—from the force of gravity if nothing else.

Jack paused to light his pipe and to draw our attention to the sky, where pale grey clouds were rolling in from the west, piling one upon the other like shape-shifting rocks rolling into a jumbled heap at the foot of an avalanche.

Warnie broke into Jack’s poetic monologue, saying, ‘There’s that unpleasant woman.’

‘What woman?’ I asked.

By way of an answer Warnie pointed the stem of his pipe at a thin, angular woman who was just emerging from the small jewellery shop next door to the pub.

‘It’s the sister of your Deputy Head Master,’ Warnie continued. ‘Whatever her name is.’

‘Muriel,’ I explained. ‘Muriel McKell.’

‘Yes, that’s her. Strikes me as a most unpleasant woman.’

I agreed with Warnie that Muriel McKell was the sort of person who, given half a chance, would howl at the full moon, eat broken glass for breakfast and devour her young.

Jack interrupted my character analysis to say, ‘Look on the other side of the high street.’

At first I couldn’t see anything of interest in the direction Jack was indicating, so he added, ‘Sitting in the bay window of that little teashop opposite the pub. Isn’t that our old friend Inspector Crispin of Scotland Yard?’

I squinted at the figure sitting in the sunlight in the window of the teashop and then said, ‘Yes, I do believe you’re right.’

‘And,’ said Warnie, ‘he appears to be taking as much interest in that odious McKell woman as we are.’

This prompted me to look again at Muriel McKell. She was still standing in front of the jeweller’s with her handbag open. She was rummaging inside this, her hand thrust deep into its innermost recesses.

‘Forget about the pub,’ said Jack with a smile. ‘I propose we have afternoon tea.’

‘Tea? Really? Afternoon tea?’ Warnie responded. ‘Oh, ah well, I suppose so. If that’s what you want, then tea it is.’

Jack led the way across the road, and we stepped up our pace down the high street until we reached a twee little shop done up in a half-timbered mock Tudor style with the sign
Nesfield Tea Rooms
over its front door.

As we entered, a small bell on the door tinkled musically. Crispin was so occupied with his close observation of Muriel McKell—still hovering on the footpath outside the jeweller’s shop—that he didn’t look up to see who had come in.

It was Warnie who interrupted him by saying, ‘Now this, inspector, resembles what those American detective novels I read would call a “stakeout”.’

Crispin glanced over his shoulder at us, then resumed his steady gaze at the Nesfield high street.

‘Good afternoon, gentlemen,’ he said without taking his eyes off the street. ‘Popped in for a spot of tea?’

‘May we join you?’ I asked.

Crispin waved his arm in a welcoming gesture at the spare chairs around his table. We pulled out the chairs to sit down, and as we did so, on the opposite side of the street, Muriel McKell—still unaware that she was under observation—snapped closed the clasp of her handbag and strode purposefully away, heading up the hill towards the school.

Seeing his target disappear, Crispin swung around in his chair and gave us his full attention.

‘And how are you getting on with your murder mystery?’ he asked as he signalled to the waitress. When she arrived, he ordered another pot of tea and said, ‘Do you have the whole puzzle neatly solved now, Mr Lewis?’

‘Hardly!’ snorted Warnie. ‘This one’s dashed impossible. Body killed by invisible assassin, sails off a roof, floats in the air unseen and tumbles to earth the next day. I mean, even for a giant intellect like Jack’s, that’s a tricky one.’

A frown creased Crispin’s brow as he said, ‘Tricky is certainly the word for it.’

‘Have you been offering the local chap, Inspector Locke, any of your thoughts on our mystery?’ I asked.

Crispin shook his head. ‘No, no, no—I have my own little matter to focus on.’

‘A matter which involves the McKells, I see,’ said Jack with a knowing nod.

For a moment Inspector Crispin looked uncomfortable. Then he turned to me and asked, ‘What do you know of the McKells, both brother and sister, Mr Morris?’

‘Almost nothing,’ I replied. ‘Bear in mind I only arrived at the school at the start of term. And they’re not very approachable people. Not exactly warm and welcoming.’

At that moment the waitress arrived with a fresh pot of tea and a tray filled with cups and saucers, a bowl of sugar and a jug of milk.

As we were helping ourselves to cups of hot tea, Crispin asked me another question. ‘Have you noticed anything at all odd about the McKells—or about their behaviour?’

‘They have all the charm of a couple of ill-tempered mastodons thumping about in a primeval swamp. That’s all I’ve noticed really. Unless you count McKell’s constant dashing off to rock-climbing conferences. And I’m told he spends every holiday skipping up and down vertical rock faces all over the Continent. Fellow’s a regular mountain goat apparently.’

Crispin stirred his tea in thoughtful silence, and then said, ‘I’ll take you gentlemen into my confidence. I trust you—and you might be useful as my eyes and ears inside the school.’

A lingering silence followed, broken by Jack asking, ‘What do you suspect the McKells of being involved in?’

Crispin said, ‘Diamond smuggling.’

Warnie hooted with laughter. ‘Preposterous! That sort of thing happens in London, not in small cathedral towns. And it’s done by international gangs, not by schoolmasters.’

‘That’s what’s made their operation so difficult to detect,’ Crispin admitted.

‘I must admit,’ I said, ‘my impression is that both the McKells are thoroughly unprincipled and would stoop to anything.’

Warnie raised a questioning eyebrow, so I explained. ‘He clearly hates schoolmastering, so if he thought he’d found a way to make enough money to retire in comfort, I think he’d seize the opportunity with both hands.’