Late Delivery, page 14
‘Good. Have you made any progress with green Fiats?’
‘Well, I’ve got the name of the owner of your Fiat. She’s a Miss Rebecca Wells, of Lime Kiln Cottage, Stadhampton. Nowhere near Netherwick, but of course she may have friends there. I haven’t had time to do anything about her, and I wanted a word with you first, because it’s not in our constabulary, and we can’t go off interviewing people in someone else’s manor.’
‘No. I’ll have to see about that. The Chief Constable of Oxfordshire is an old friend, and I think I’ll have to take him into our confidence a bit. Not about Sir Gordon, though, at least not yet. I’m inclined to think that we’ll take the secret of Sir Gordon’s disappearance with us to our graves.’
‘Safer that way, if we can manage it. If I’m meeting Sir Gordon in the morning I’ll have to collect one or two bits of rather specialised kit.’
‘Good luck. My regards to Sir Gordon, and tell him that I’ll be visiting him in hospital. You might mention that apart from us he won’t be allowed any other visitors.’
*
Piet was just going to bed when his telephone rang. It was Dr Southern, chief scientist at the Forensic Laboratory. ‘I hope it’s all right to ring you so late, but I’ve been working on that problem you sent us, and I thought you’d like the findings as soon as possible.’
‘That’s very good of you. They may be exceedingly important.’
‘Well, the design of the poker, with a heavy head a little proud of the shaft provides some crevices where blood can lodge. The stains are human blood, and I’ve been able to determine the group.’ He told Piet what it was.
‘I’m infinitely obliged to you. Can you keep the poker in your safe for the moment? We may need some further tests.’
‘Glad to be of help.’
*
Piet got the file of papers on the Marshall case. The blood on the poker was in the same group as Mrs Denny’s blood.
IX
Resurrection
PIET COULDN’T SEND his own men to investigate Miss Wells and her green Fiat because the printers were not in his constabulary, but he had only to ask the Oxfordshire police to do so. He was on good terms with his neighbours, rang up the Chief Constable of Oxfordshire, Sir Nigel Bryant, to say he had a problem, and was promptly invited to lunch. By the time he got there the news of the finding of Sir Gordon had already been on the radio, and, of course, it had been reported first to the Oxford police.
‘Good work finding that old Colonial Governor of yours,’ Sir Nigel said. ‘In the nick of time, too – seems he could have lasted only a few more hours.’
‘Simon Begbroke is a thundering good man and we’ve got a good team,’ Piet said.
‘Will you ever know exactly what happened?’
‘I rather doubt it. The doctor says he’s had severe concussion, and remembers nothing of how he came to be where he was.’
‘No weapon?’
‘Not so far. The trouble is it could be anything – a spanner from the tool kit of a car, even a heavy stick. We’ll go on looking, but I haven’t much hope. I’ve only talked to Simon on the phone, and I don’t know all the details yet. But from what Simon has been able to piece together it looks as if the old boy was knocked down for his wallet and his watch, a mugging rather than a political kidnapping, which is what we feared at first. Whether we’ll ever get the mugger is anybody’s guess. We haven’t much to go on – signs of a struggle where we found his hat, no tyre marks on the grass, but the place is not far from a road, and the mugger could easily have gone off by car. It’s rather a lonely spot, and we’ve found no witnesses to anything.’
‘Well, you found Sir Gordon, and that’s the important thing. What brings you here now?’
‘I’ve got a confession to make. I’ve been trespassing on your manor.’ Piet told him about the mysterious stamp, the doubts that had arisen over the conviction of Eric Marshall, and of the activities of the Post Office security man.
‘Don’t see that you could have done anything else, and it’s good of you to come to me so promptly. The Marshall case was tried in Oxford, and I was in court for the main part of it. It seems to me you’re going to have a hell of a job to upset the evidence on which he was convicted. Do you really believe that he could be innocent?’
‘How can one know? What I do know is that there is a great deal still to be explained. There is that extraordinary stamp, and presumably 199 like it on the sheet from which it came. Those stamps have not been found. And there is now evidence that a green Fiat, which is not local, was seen outside the Post Office on the evening before the murder, and on the morning of the murder. I’ve talked to Eric Marshall in prison, and he repeats the story he has told from the time of his arrest with absolute consistency. I know subjective impressions are dangerous things, but it’s hard not to be impressed. I can’t help feeling that we accepted the face value of the evidence against him much too easily.’
‘What about the money found in his room?’
‘That cuts both ways. It’s damning evidence against him, but if he took the money at the time of the murder there ought to be at any rate some blood stains on it. And you can’t argue that he threw away blood-stained notes, because the total of money found tallies with the Post Office accountant’s estimate of the money taken. Assume, though, that the boy is guilty – there remains the apparent forgery of a postage stamp, which has still got to be investigated.’
‘What do you want us to do?’
‘I’m interested in every green Fiat that we come across. When I was having lunch at the security printers I noticed a green Fiat in the staff car park there, and took the number. It belongs to a Miss Rebecca Wells, who is the managing director’s secretary. There’s no evidence that she has ever been to Netherwick, but I want to know more about her. Could you put a man on to finding out everything he can – where she comes from, how long she’s lived at Lime Kiln Cottage, when she joined the security firm, what she did before that?’
‘Shouldn’t be too difficult. I know the people at the security firm, because we have special arrangements for keeping an eye on their place. They’re a high risk, and we take precautions accordingly. But you will know all about that. I’ll talk to my CID superintendent myself, and get him to arrange for someone to investigate the young woman’s background. I take it you don’t want her interviewed directly?’
‘No. I don’t want her to know anything about it. If possible, I’d like some sort of general inquiry that didn’t involve her directly in any way at all. And I don’t want anything said about the forged stamp or stamps. At the moment the only people who know about it, apart from the forger, are the Post Office, ourselves, and the managing director of the printing firm. His attitude is that his firm couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with it, even in the most innocent way, and he has reasonable evidence to support him. Since we don’t want to start damaging rumours, and perhaps alert the forger to what we know, I’d be happier if your man were not told about the stamp and asked to investigate Miss Wells and her car for some quite other reason.’
‘What do you suggest?’
‘Well, you know these Continental terror-gangs whose ex-members keep turning up in respectable jobs in other countries. Could we say that the Special Branch has passed on rather vague information that a girl terrorist, or ex-terrorist, with perfect English, and possibly English by birth, is believed to have a job as a secretary in a printing works? Your man could simply say that he’s been instructed to make a routine check on such secretaries, and he can go on to make discreet inquiries from there.’
‘You’re an incurable romantic, Piet, with a romantic attitude to storytelling, though maybe it sometimes helps detection. Yes, I think your tale will do. Would you like to send one of your people to work with our man?’
‘Nice of you, but two detectives on such an inquiry seems excessive. I’m more than ready to leave things to you. Your people know the locality, and the printing works, and you know exactly what wants doing. When you’ve made some inquiries, though, it would be helpful if we could talk directly to whoever has been making them.’
‘No problem about that. I don’t know, Piet – it seems to me that you’re batting on a very sticky wicket. I’m on your side, but I’m not sure that you can win. I can only wish you luck – and if there’s anything else you want us to do, you’ve only got to ask.’
*
Piet took the opportunity of being in Oxford to visit Sir Gordon Gregory in hospital. He found him sitting up in bed reading a somewhat tattered copy of The Odes of Horace. ‘Been my constant companion for over sixty years,’ Sir Gordon said. ‘Aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem. Appropriate in our present circumstances, don’t you think?’
‘My Latin is not as good as yours. I went to an art school, not a university. But I’ve brought you a bottle of good malt whisky.’
‘Well, you can say it means roughly “When things are difficult remember to think straight”. Thanks for the whisky. Do you think we could have a drink now, or would we be thrown out of this place?’
‘We could risk it. You’ve got a glass by the water jug on your bedside table, and there’s another glass on the washbasin. I’ll open the bottle.’
Sir Gordon savoured the whisky. ‘Admirable,’ he said. ‘Was that Chief Superintendent of yours ever in the make-up business in the theatre? He takes his job horribly seriously. There not being any convenient rain he had a jerrycan of water in his car, made a puddle of mud, and rolled me in it. He also ruined my best suit.’
‘I want to talk about that. You must let me have a note of all your expenses, including the suit, and everything will be refunded.’
‘Nice of you, but I don’t think I can remember them all. I’m not exactly penniless, and I want to make my contribution. Who would have paid, anyway?’
‘I have control of certain police funds. But it might have been rather difficult for the auditors in this case, so I thought I’d pay myself. After all, your disappearance was my idea.’
‘Then I’ve certainly forgotten what it cost. And it seems to have paid off. Have you got that boy out of prison yet?’
‘No. And unless we can solve the mystery of the stamp, and everything else, it’s not going to be easy. Thanks to you we’ve made an enormous step forward in finding the poker. All this, of course, is completely confidential, but stains on the poker have been analysed. They are human blood, of the same group as Mrs Denny’s blood.’
‘Where was the poker found?’
‘In a ditch, about two and a half miles from Netherwick.’
‘Isn’t that enough? Eric couldn’t possibly have put the poker in a ditch two and a half miles away. There wasn’t time before he was arrested.’
‘No. But I’m afraid it isn’t enough. It probably is enough to get permission to put fresh evidence before the Court of Appeal, but there is nothing so far to link the poker directly with the crime, and all the old evidence against the boy remains strong. The Court of Appeal is always reluctant to upset a jury’s verdict, and in this case there doesn’t seem to be any legal point on which to appeal. The judge’s summing up was scrupulously fair, and the boy hasn’t contested any of the statements taken from him. We must find out more before we can take any action.’
‘Have you identified the poker as coming from the Post Office?’
‘No. We’ve said nothing publicly about having found the poker, and I don’t want to, yet. I’ve seen the other fire-irons in the grate at the Post Office and as far as I can tell the poker exactly matches them. You told me that you’d actually used the Post Office poker. When you’re better, I’ll ask you to have a look at this poker and see if you can identify it.’
‘Dammit, man, I’m perfectly well.’
‘You’ll have to stay in hospital for a few more days. I’ve arranged for a police car to bring Mrs Morgan to see you this evening.’
‘That’s good of you. Well, you know your job, and I pray that God may guide you to the right outcome. By the way, can you find some safe way of getting Jim Coverdale’s passport back to him? It’s very much on my conscience.’
‘Yes, if you like to give it to me I can have it sent as a security document. It will go to the security branch of our embassy in Washington, and I can arrange for an official to deliver it to Mr Coverdale personally.’
‘That takes a weight off my mind. I shall be very bored here, but it could be worse. That doctor of yours is an intelligent man to talk to, the nurses all are nice, and I’ve still got Horace.’
*
The police finding of Sir Gordon was a big story, but the hospital saw to it that he was protected from being interviewed. Grahame Stevenson’s official statement said exactly what Piet wanted.
As a result of a widespread search by North Wessex police, assisted by many local volunteers, Sir Gordon Gregory was found early this morning in isolated woodland about twenty miles from his home at Netherwick. Sir Gordon was suffering from the effects of concussion, apparently caused by a blow on the head, and he was in an acute state of exhaustion. He is now in hospital in Oxford, where it is hoped that he will make a complete recovery from his ordeal. His wallet and gold watch are missing, and it seems probable that any political motive for the attack on him can be discounted. Police effort is now concentrated on trying to find the weapon used to attack him, in the hope that this may lead to the identity of his assailant, or assailants.
North Wessex police would like to thank members of the public for their help in the search for Sir Gordon, and appeal to everyone in the area around Netherwick to look out for any heavy instrument which may have been used to attack him. It is possible that the weapon was thrown into a ditch or hedge anywhere in the vicinity, perhaps from a car. Anyone coming across any such instrument, a poker, hammer or heavy spanner, is asked to get in touch at once with the nearest police station, or to telephone North Wessex police at 0027 996330.
Further examination of the poker revealed nothing useful, and there were no identifiable fingerprints – after six months weathering there scarcely could be. The blood remained because a small quantity had lodged and dried between the shaft and the working end of the poker, and it had been protected by the way the poker had lain in the ditch. Piet had it sent back to him from the forensic laboratory and he asked the pathologist who had given evidence about Mrs Denny’s injuries to come to see him. ‘Think back to the Marshall case, the Post Office murder at Netherwick,’ he said. ‘You examined the dead woman. I know you have your notes made at the time, but have you any personal recollection of her injuries?’
‘Vividly. It was a particularly brutal case, some of the most dreadful injuries I’ve seen in my professional life. To an extent doctors get hardened to these things, but only up to a point. Even a pathologist is human. She had been hit repeatedly, and the right side of her skull was smashed almost to pulp.’
‘You were shown a bush knife, or heavy cutlass, and agreed that the injuries might have been inflicted by it.’
‘Yes, but by using it as a club. The injuries were those of a heavy blunt instrument, not a knife edge.’
‘Have a look at this poker. From what you recall of the injuries, could they have been caused by it?’
The pathologist took the poker, and swung it gently. ‘It’s certainly very heavy,’ he said. ‘Yes, I have no doubt that Mrs Denny could have been killed by it. But you could say the same of any heavy weapon, a household hammer for instance. In Mrs Denny’s case I recall that her blood was found on the cutlass.’
‘Yes. The defendant’s story was that he had put it down in a pool of blood beside her. There are blood stains on the poker. They have been analysed, and show blood of the same group as Mrs Denny’s. Would you say that the poker was as suitable an instrument as the cutlass to inflict the injuries you saw, or more suitable, perhaps, or less suitable?’
The pathologist studied the poker for some minutes, swung it again, and felt the weight of its poking-head. ‘It’s a nearly impossible question,’ he said. ‘Had I been shown this poker at the time, as an alternative to the cutlass, I think I should have said that it was a more likely weapon than the cutlass to cause Mrs Denny’s injuries. The smashing of the skull and temple bones was consistent with a blow from a hammer-like instrument, like the heavy end of this poker. They could equally have been caused by the flat of the cutlass, which was undoubtedly heavy enough. Theoretically, one might expect somewhat more diverse injury from a broad flat blade than the concentrated damage to her skull, but she was struck several blows, and there’s no rule-of-thumb certainty about how the human frame will respond to such battering.’
‘Other things being equal, you’d accept the poker as a more probable weapon than the flat of a cutlass?’
‘Other things being equal – but they’re not equal, they never are. If I have to give evidence about the poker, I’d say that the injuries were compatible with repeated blows from it. I couldn’t say more. Have you got any reason for thinking that the poker may have been used, and not the cutlass?’
‘No hard evidence – it’s a possibility, no more. I wanted your views about it.’
‘Well, you have them. I might add that Mrs Denny’s blood group, while not exceptionally rare, is by no means common. If the poker has identifiable blood on it from her group, that would be evidence to support the theory that it was used to kill her.’
*
Late as it was after seeing the pathologist, Piet still wanted to talk to Simon Begbroke. Neither had eaten since lunch, and they met at Piet’s home for sandwiches at a time when those who lead more normal lives are thinking of going to bed.
‘You did brilliantly, Simon,’ Piet said. ‘Sir Gordon was much impressed by your artificial mud.’
