The Problem at Two Tithes (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 7) (22 page)

‘Ah, but William has a particular advantage over you,’ said Angela. She looked at her watch. ‘It’s a quarter past eleven now,’ she said. ‘You’d better go and wander about the village until the Red Lion opens. We shall see you later.’

‘Very well, ma’am,’ said William, and went off.

‘What shall we do now?’ said Freddy.

‘I don’t know,’ said Angela. ‘I’ve telephoned Inspector Jameson. He won’t be here for another hour or two, though, and in the meantime I don’t suppose there’s much we
can
do.’

‘We might go and have another look around by the church, or along Dead Man’s Path,’ suggested Freddy.

Angela wrinkled her nose doubtfully.

‘I don’t think there’s anything to see,’ she said. ‘The police have searched the place thoroughly, and I seem to have spent half my time on Dead Man’s Path since I got here. I’m starting to wonder whether I’m not a little more ghoulish than I care to admit.’

‘I don’t think you are,’ said Freddy. ‘You have a healthy curiosity, that’s all. And someone has to do something to get Kathie out of gaol. The police aren’t interested any more—as far as they’re concerned, they’ve got their man and they can think about something else now.’

‘I expect you’re right,’ said Angela. ‘By the way, while you were fetching William I happened to meet Margaret Tipping and we had a very interesting conversation.’

She told him briefly what Margaret had said and he raised his eyebrows.

‘I say,’ he said. ‘Poor Mrs. Tipping. Rather rotten luck for her to end up with a fellow like that, don’t you think? I mean, I’m hardly a shining beacon of morality myself, but even I should never stoop to that sort of thing.’

‘Of course you wouldn’t,’ said Angela. ‘I think it takes a certain sort of person to do something so ill-natured. Still, he had to live with the consequences himself, too. I don’t suppose the marriage was particularly happy for him either.’

‘It serves him right,’ said Freddy. ‘I’ve no sympathy. I don’t say he deserved to be shot in the head for it, but I don’t suppose he’ll be much missed.’

‘No,’ agreed Angela. ‘However, you must admit it makes for a very strong motive.’

‘Yes, it does rather, doesn’t it?’ he agreed thoughtfully.

They had been walking down Church Lane as they spoke, and just then they saw a familiar figure hurrying towards them up the road. It was Mrs. Hunter, the vicar’s wife.

‘Good morning, Mrs. H,’ said Freddy as she joined them.

She did not return the greeting and they saw immediately that something was wrong, for her expression was shocked and indignant.

‘Gipsies!’ she exclaimed without preamble. ‘I told you, didn’t I? I said they were shameless and that they’d stop at nothing, but nobody listened to me. I don’t know what Sergeant Primm thinks he’s been doing lately, but I told him he ought to arrest them, and he didn’t, and now look what they’ve done!’

‘What have they done?’ said Angela.

‘What have they done? Only stolen my bicycle, that’s what!’ said Mrs. Hunter.

‘Goodness me!’ said Angela. ‘Are you sure? But we saw it only a little while ago, chained up by the church. They must have done it in the past few minutes.’

‘Well, not to say
stolen
, exactly,’ said Mrs. Hunter, calming down a little. ‘But they have most certainly made an attempt. Look, come and see. You two shall be witnesses.’

She turned and headed back down the lane, and they followed her into the churchyard and up the path.

‘There!’ she said dramatically, extending a finger.

The bicycle was still there, chained up, as it had been before. Angela had only glanced at it earlier, but now she looked at it more closely and saw what she had not noticed before.

‘Oh!’ she said.

‘You see?’ said Mrs. Hunter.

‘Someone has tried to cut it away,’ said Freddy. He bent and peered at it. The chain was a thick one, and had been wound around the frame of the bicycle and through the metal hasp on the lid of the old poor box. The whole was fastened by a padlock. Someone had evidently taken a saw or other cutting tool to the hasp, for it was buckled and ragged at its edge, although it was still in one piece.

‘Yes, and look,’ said Angela, pointing. ‘Whoever it was has also tried to cut through the chain.’

‘He must have had a good go at it,’ observed Freddy. ‘Why, there are marks all over it. He didn’t get far, though. It’s a stout chain, and that hasp looks as though it’s made of stern stuff too.’

‘I’ve said it before,’ said Mrs. Hunter indignantly. ‘I’ve tried to warn everybody, but nobody ever listens to me. These thieves must be stopped!’

‘Perhaps you ought to take your bicycle home,’ said Angela.

‘I shall indeed,’ said Mrs. Hunter. ‘It’s already been here far longer than I intended, but I thought it would be safe while my wrist recovered. Evidently I was wrong.’

‘I’ll take it back for you,’ said Freddy. ‘Do you have the key to the padlock?’

‘Unfortunately not,’ said Mrs. Hunter. ‘Alice Hopwell has it.’

‘I think she’s out,’ said Angela.

‘Perhaps the children know where it is,’ said Freddy. He ran off and returned a few minutes later with the key.

‘Enterprising young souls,’ he remarked. ‘They made me give them sixpence apiece before they’d let me have it.’

‘Yes,’ said Angela. ‘They certainly seem to have made a little money for themselves recently.’

The bicycle was unlocked and they wheeled it down the lane to the vicarage, where it was delivered safely into the custody of the Hunters’ garden shed and locked up.

‘There!’ said Mrs. Hunter. ‘I shall report it to the police as soon as I can. We can’t simply let these people go on rampaging around the countryside, plundering and looting wherever they go. Now, you mustn’t leave just yet, for I want to talk to you both about this ridiculous Tipping business. Why on earth have the police taken it into their heads to arrest Kathie Montgomery? I know we all joked that he did it and she helped him, but really, nobody could possibly have taken the idea seriously, could they? Do you suppose the police were listening to all the rumours and acted on them? If that’s the case I shall have a very strong word with Sergeant Primm when I see him. Listening to gossip is no way to conduct an investigation. I never gossip myself, of course, but I have had occasion several times lately to speak to the parishioners on the subject. Thou shalt not be a talebearer among thy people, and neither shalt thou stand against the blood of thy neighbour. That’s what I say. It’s not right to speak ill of people before we know the facts. Or even after we know them,’ she added.

‘I don’t think the police acted on rumours,’ said Angela. ‘Unfortunately, there is strong circumstantial evidence to suggest that Norman and Kathie were involved in Mr. Tipping’s death.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Mrs. Hunter. ‘Why, everybody knows Daniel Tyler has sworn they were nowhere near Tom when the shotgun went off.’

‘There’s no proof that the bang they heard was the shot that killed him,’ said Angela. ‘Everyone just assumed that was the case. For all we know, Mr. Tipping might have been killed some time earlier.’

‘But of course it was the shot that killed him,’ said Mrs. Hunter. ‘What else could it have been? If it wasn’t, and he died earlier, then they couldn’t have passed along the path when they did without stepping over Tom.’

‘Exactly,’ said Angela, ‘and that’s what looks so suspicious. As things stand, there are no other suspects to speak of, and the two of them were on the spot at more or less the right time. You can’t blame the police for leaping to the obvious conclusion.’

‘Rubbish,’ said Mrs. Hunter. ‘Are you telling me they shot him before everyone thinks he was shot, and then deliberately walked along the path later, ignoring the dead body as they passed and not caring who saw them? And how are they meant to have arranged the convenient gunshot noise and the meeting with Tyler?’

‘It’s not the police’s job to explain that,’ said Freddy. ‘All they have to do is arrest the most likely suspect and then hand him over to the courts.’

‘Well, it’s a disgrace,’ said Mrs. Hunter, ‘and I can’t see your brother and sister-in-law standing for it, Mrs. Marchmont. If I were in their position I should complain to the chief constable.’

‘Oh, I’ve no doubt they will,’ said Angela.

‘And they must write to the newspapers too,’ added Mrs. Hunter. ‘Mr. Pilkington-Soames, you ought to take up the cause. This is a splendid opportunity for you to write something decent for a change. It will be a good way to get your name known. Perhaps you might even be offered a job with a proper newspaper on the strength of it.’

‘I think that’s a splendid idea,’ said Angela maliciously. ‘Don’t you agree, Freddy? Shouldn’t you like to work for a
proper
newspaper?’

Freddy ignored her and said, ‘The newspapers can’t do much in the case of an arrest, and there’s nothing to say the two of them will be charged anyway.’

‘But if the police think they have the right people then who is going to find the real culprit?’ said Mrs. Hunter.

‘Why, Angela, of course,’ said Freddy, who was not going to let the earlier dig pass. ‘Didn’t you read the article about her in the
Herald
this week? She’s by way of being a detective, you know, and according to the story she’s sworn to bring the murderer to justice.’

‘Really? I don’t take the
Herald
myself,’ said Mrs. Hunter, ‘but Esther does. Perhaps she still has it.’

‘Then I suggest you look it out,’ said Freddy. ‘It’s a
marvellous
piece, and really shows Angela to best advantage.’

‘Well, I shall certainly go and look for it if what you say is true,’ said Mrs. Hunter. ‘Now, can I offer you some tea?’

‘We’d love to,’ said Angela, ‘but I’m afraid we must go. I have a murderer to bring to justice,’ she added, glaring at Freddy.

‘Well, I wish you the best of luck, my dear,’ said Mrs. Hunter. ‘And if there’s anything I can do to help I shall be more than willing.’

Out in the lane, Freddy said, ‘How long before Inspector Jameson gets here, do you suppose? Is there anything more we can do?’

‘We’ll have to see whether William has had any success,’ replied Angela. ‘Until then, I think we shall just have to wait.’

‘Well, at least we appear to be on the right track at last,’ said Freddy.

‘I do hope so,’ said Angela. ‘I should very much like to know how the murderer managed about the gun, though. It’s possible we may never find out.’

They were passing the church as she spoke, and as they did she glanced towards the spot where Mrs. Hunter’s bicycle had stood.

‘Oh!’ she said. She stopped and began to laugh.

‘What?’ said Freddy.

She did not reply, but turned and hurried through the church gate and up the path.

‘What are you doing?’ said Freddy, following her.

Angela stopped next to the old poor box.

‘What do you think?’ she said.

He looked puzzled, then comprehension dawned on his face.

‘Do you mean—’ he said.

‘It would explain the gipsies, wouldn’t it?’ said Angela.

‘It certainly would. Go on, then,’ said Freddy.

She tried to lift the lid of the box.

‘It’s stuck,’ she said. ‘Look, the thief bent the staple when he tried to saw through it and now the hasp won’t lift over it.’

‘Let me have a go,’ said Freddy.

He tried to bend the staple back with his hands, but had to give up.

‘What we need is a hammer,’ said Angela.

‘I don’t suppose you thought to put one in your pocket before you came out this morning?’ said Freddy.

‘I carry many odd things in my pockets, much to Marthe’s despair, but I have yet to resort to ironmongery,’ replied Angela.

‘Well, in the absence of that, a hobnailed boot will have to do,’ said Freddy, removing the article in question from his own foot. He lifted the boot and gave the staple several sharp blows with the heel.

‘Try it now,’ he said.

With a little struggle, Angela managed to open the hasp, and lifted the lid. They peered inside, then their eyes met and they both smiled in triumph, for standing upright and leaning against the inside of the box was a shotgun.

‘I do like it when I get things right,’ said Angela. ‘It doesn’t happen nearly often enough.’

‘You’re too modest,’ said Freddy. ‘Well, well—so this is where the gun was hidden. No wonder the police couldn’t find it—it was locked up in here all the time.’

‘Yes. The murderer presumably intended to come back and fetch it once the fuss had died down,’ said Angela. ‘But then Mrs. Hunter fell off her bicycle and Alice Hopwell chained it to the box for her. The gun’s been here all week, under our very noses.’

‘Whoever put it there must have been itching to get at it,’ said Freddy. ‘What a stroke of bad luck to carry out the perfect murder and then be unable to dispose of the weapon! The killer must have been terrified it would be found at any moment.’

‘Terrified enough to try and break into the box, in fact,’ said Angela.

‘It’s a good thing for us that our worthy sea captain gave it a lock made out of a ship’s anchor,’ said Freddy. ‘Of course, all this makes it look very much as though the whole thing were premeditated.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Angela. ‘It was premeditated, all right. There’s no doubt about that. Look—the barrel has been sawn off to make sure the gun fits exactly into the box.’

‘And to make it twice as deadly,’ said Freddy soberly.

‘Yes,’ said Angela. ‘I don’t suppose the murderer wanted to take any chances.’

‘I take it this
is
the murder weapon?’ said Freddy. ‘I mean, I don’t suppose the gun was just shoved in here as a donation to the poor. Let’s see, now—we don’t want to wipe any finger-prints off.’

He dropped his boot and fished in his pocket for a handkerchief, which he wrapped around his hand. Then he lifted the gun out of the box and broke it open carefully. Inside was a spent cartridge.

‘It’s been fired, right enough,’ he said. ‘I imagine Jameson will be very interested to see this when he arrives.’

‘Well, good
morning
,’ came a bright voice behind them just then, and they whirled round to see Corky Beckwith, wearing the ecstatic expression of one who had just been presented with an enormous birthday cake and a gold watch for good measure. ‘I see the detecting duo have turned up something delicious for the pot.’