Late Delivery, page 18
‘You haven’t said what you worked at.’
Constable Reece swayed slightly. ‘May I sit down, sir?’ he asked.
‘Of course.’
He was given a chair, and Piet asked if he would like a glass of water. ‘Yes, please, sir, I would,’ he said.
Piet let him take several gulps of water, then repeated gently. ‘You haven’t said what you worked together at.’
Constable Reece was silent. Then he said, ‘It’s very difficult for me, sir. I know I’ve got it coming to me, and I reckon I deserve whatever I get, but I don’t want to say anything against Becky. I’ll confess to everything I’ve done, but I want to try to keep her out of it.’
‘She can’t be kept out of it, but I understand your feelings. I have reason to believe that either one or both of you forged a postage stamp on paper taken from the printers where Miss Wells worked, with the position of the Queen’s head reversed. That would make the stamp, or stamps, for I think you printed a whole sheet of them, extremely valuable to collectors. I have further reason to believe that one of you inserted this sheet of forged stamps into the stamp-book at Netherwick Post Office a few minutes before it closed on the evening of April 7. I know this already, so if you are prepared to admit it the admission can’t do any additional harm to Miss Wells, who will, of course, have to answer for her own actions.’
‘What you say is correct, sir.’
‘Where are the stamps now?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You must know. They were worth a great deal of money to you.’
‘That’s the whole trouble, sir. We don’t know what happened to the stamps. I don’t know how you found out about it all, but it was more or less exactly as you said. As you already know about Miss Wells I can’t do any more harm by explaining the arrangement we had. You see, the stamps had to be bought from a Post Office to make them valuable, to make them authentic, sir. So Miss Wells went to Netherwick and put the sheet of stamps in the book while old Mrs Denny was serving another customer. We’d practised doing it with a piece of paper – it was quite easy.’
‘Why did you choose Netherwick?’
‘Because Mrs Denny was so old. I know her and the Post Office from my patrol, and we thought she wouldn’t notice anything. The idea was for Miss Wells to go back early in the morning when the Post Office opened, and buy 200 stamps. She was then going to wait around until someone came in to buy a newspaper, or something, show him the stamps and say “Gosh, look at these! They must be a misprint. I wonder if they’re valuable?” The other customer would then be a witness that she’d actually bought the stamps at the Post Office. But everything went wrong.’
‘You mean, Mrs Denny sold one of the stamps before the Post Office shut.’
‘I don’t know how you know about it, sir, but that’s what did happen. Becky went in about ten minutes before closing time, bought a cake of soap and stayed there looking around. A child came in for some sweets, and while Mrs Denny was serving her Becky slipped the sheet of stamps into the stamp book. Then, a minute or so before the shop closed, a gentleman rushed in and bought a postcard and a stamp for it. Mrs Denny served him, and then put the stamp book away behind the grille at the Post Office end of the counter. Becky said, Could she buy some stamps, but old Mrs Denny said, No, the Post Office was shut. She was very strict like that, sir.’
‘What happened then?’
‘Well, Becky went out to her car and stayed to see whether the gentleman who’d bought the stamp was going to write his postcard and post it in the Netherwick box. If he had, I would have tried to get it out. The afternoon post had gone, and the box wouldn’t be cleared until the morning. The card would probably be on the top of the letters in the box, and a string with a stone covered in glue might get it out. If not, I could have broken the lock of the box. You see, we had to get that stamp back.’
‘But it wasn’t posted in Netherwick.’
‘No, sir, and that’s where everything went wrong. The gentleman got into his car and drove off. Becky tried to follow him, but she lost the car because of some road works with traffic lights. His car got through but she was held up, and by the time she got through he’d disappeared at the crossroads. She gambled on a turn he might have taken, but it was no good. I was on early morning patrol, so I was at home in the evening. Becky came to see me and told me everything. It seemed that the only thing to do was to break into the Post Office and get the stamps from the book.’
‘Why was it so important to recover the stamps?’
‘Because we didn’t know what might happen to the one that had been sold. If the gentleman knew anything about stamps he would notice it, and there would be a fuss about it before we were ready to do anything. And it was possible that the old woman might have realised the peculiarity of the stamp when she sold it. Becky was afraid that she said the Post Office was shut because she didn’t want to sell any more of the stamps. I think it more likely that she was just being strict, but we couldn’t know.’
‘So you broke into the Post Office.’
‘Yes. It was quite easy. I was in uniform and if anyone came I’d say I was investigating an apparent break-in.’
‘I know that Miss Wells was with you.’
‘How can you know that, sir?’
‘Never mind about that. I do. So you can tell me exactly what happened.’
‘Well, Becky did come over early in the morning, and was outside the Post Office when I got there. She didn’t come in with me at first, but stayed outside to keep watch. I said that I broke the lock of the door quite easily, but I hadn’t realised that a shop bell rang when the door was opened. I went inside with my torch and was looking for the stamp book at the Post Office end of the counter when old Mrs Denny came downstairs.’
‘What happened then?’
Constable Reece put his head in his hands. He was trembling, and sobbed rather than said, ‘I can’t go on, sir.’
‘I’m afraid you must,’ Piet said gently. ‘You may even feel relieved when you’ve told the truth. It must have been hell living with that truth.’
The constable seemed to take a new grip on himself. ‘Yes, sir. I don’t know how you can know so much, but you do understand, if I may say so. Mrs Denny switched on the light. “What are you doing behind the counter?” she asked. I told her that I was on patrol, noticed that the Post Office door was open, and had come in to investigate. She didn’t believe me. It was that damned bell. “The bell only rang a minute ago,” she said. “And if you wanted to investigate something, why didn’t you call me? Stay where you are while I ring the police station.” Then I lost my head. She knew me, you see, sir, because I’d called at the shop several times, and discussed security with her, so I couldn’t just run off. There was a big heavy poker in the fireplace. I picked it up and hit her with it, and went on hitting her.
‘Becky must have heard, because she came into the shop. She was shocked. But we still wanted the stamps. The stamp book wasn’t on the counter, so we thought it must be in the safe. I went upstairs and found a bunch of keys under Mrs Denny’s pillow. One of them opened the safe and we found the book. But the stamps weren’t in it. I told Becky to take the money so that it would look like robbery, and we went out of the shop. I had to get on with my patrol and report back to the station. I took the poker and threw it out of the car into a ditch. Becky decided to wait in her car a little way from the shop so that we should know what happened. She saw the black boy come along and go into the shop. Then she saw him running out. Then a man came, and a moment later came to the door and looked up and down the road. He went back into the shop and we know now that he rang the police. A few minutes later the police cars came. Becky saw one of the officers go across the green to the boy’s house. She drove away a little, but she came back, left the car, and hid in some bushes near the church. She still had the money. When she saw the boy taken away she slipped into the house. The door was open because the boy’s mother had been sent for, and she was still in the kitchen. She was sitting on a chair crying. Becky took off her shoes, went upstairs very quietly, and put the money in the first drawer she found. Then she slipped out. The boy’s mother never noticed her.’
‘And you left things at that?’
‘There was nothing else we could do. Of course we were unhappy about the boy and we talked over things time and again to see if there was any way we could help him. What we finally decided was that we would go on with our plans to try to get hold of a boat capable of ocean voyaging, and when we were somewhere safe from extradition we’d write a confession, and send it to you, sir. But we didn’t have the stamps, and without the stamps we didn’t have enough money to sail away. We would have done this in the end, though, sir – please believe me.’
‘Why didn’t you try to recover the poker earlier?’
‘Because it seemed safe enough where it was. And, to be frank, sir, because I’d very little idea where I’d thrown it out of the car. I did look in several places where I might have thrown it. When you caught me, it was the third or fourth place I’d been looking.’
*
Piet made no comment on this dreadful story. ‘The evidence we have suggests that you have told the truth, Reece, and that is to your credit,’ he said. ‘You will now go with the chief superintendent for the formal preparation of your statement. After that you will be charged with the murder of Mrs Denny, and you will appear before the magistrates tomorrow. It will be a brief remand hearing. Whether you will be further charged with attempting to pervert the course of justice in the case of Eric Marshall I do not yet know. You should have a solicitor to represent you when you come before the magistrates. If you have no lawyer of your own, the chief superintendent will help you to arrange for legal representation.’
XIII
The Stamps
IT WAS ONE o’clock before Simon came back to say that Constable Reece’s statement was typed and signed, and that he had duly been charged with murder. ‘I think it has been about the vilest morning of my life,’ he said. ‘I hand it to you, Piet. I knew a lot of what you’d been thinking, but how could you be so sure that the girl was present? Was it guesswork?’
‘No. There wasn’t very strong evidence, but there was some evidence. What made me sure about it was the scent she uses. I suddenly remembered last night that I had a vivid recollection of her scent from the time I met her in the managing director’s office at the printers. The man who discovered Mrs Denny’s body remembered a distinct fragrance in the shop when he got there – that didn’t come out at the time. It was good work by Sergeant Clifford in conversation in his bar. There were other things. When I talked on the phone to that American friend of Sir Gordon’s who bought the stamp he said he had a vague impression of a young woman’s being in the shop as a customer. And there was the green Fiat. It was the scent that convinced me. I don’t know to what extent recollection of a scent can be used in evidence, but it won’t be necessary. It was important to me, though, because it enabled me to talk to Reece with certainty in my own mind.’
‘Miss Wells is being brought from Oxford and is due here at two o’clock. We’ve got about three quarters of an hour. I don’t know about you, Piet, but I don’t want any lunch. I could use a drink, though.’
‘So could I.’ Piet went to his cupboard. ‘To Sir Gordon Gregory and Bella Marshall’s faith in her son,’ he said as he handed a glass to Simon.
*
Miss Wells was accompanied by Inspector Parsons, a woman police officer and an alert, youngish-looking solicitor who introduced himself as Ambrose Cutlink, of Penn, Denver and Cutlink in Oxford. She sat on the same chair occupied by Constable Reece a few hours previously. ‘My client has been arrested on what seems a trifling charge of stealing some odd bits of valueless paper from the printing firm for which she works,’ Mr Cutlink said. ‘She has not yet appeared before a magistrate.’
‘That is in the hands of the Oxfordshire police,’ Inspector Parsons observed. ‘She will be brought to court tomorrow, and I am instructed to say that the police will ask for a remand in custody.’
‘It seems preposterous,’ Mr Cutlink said. ‘And if the Oxfordshire police are dealing with the matter I do not understand why she has been brought here.’
‘Because there will be further charges involving my constabulary,’ Piet said.
‘Oh? May I know the nature of these charges?’
‘In good time. It is necessary for me to put some questions to Miss Wells.’
‘I have explained to my client that she is not compelled to answer any questions. But of course she may say anything she wishes that may help to clear up things. If I think any of your questions unfair, or out of place, I shall indicate it.’
‘Very good.’ Piet then asked Miss Wells, ‘Can you explain what you were doing in Netherwick on the evening of April 7th last?’
‘Easily. I have never been to Netherwick.’
‘And early in the morning of April 8th?’
‘My client has said that she has never been to Netherwick,’ Mr Cutlink put in.
Piet continued, ‘Do you know a Constable Ian Reece?’
Miss Wells, who had been pert and defiant, swayed a little on her chair. ‘Do I have to answer that?’ she asked her solicitor.
‘If you do know the officer in question the acquaintanceship can perhaps be proved. I see no harm in answering the question truthfully.’
‘Yes, then.’
‘Were you planning to sail round the world with him?’
‘What on earth has that got to do with it?’ Mr Cutlink exploded.
Piet went on quietly. ‘Would you care to say how you planned to finance the voyage?’
Miss Wells swayed again. ‘May I have a drink of water?’ she asked.
There was a jug of water on Piet’s desk. He poured a glass for her, and Inspector Parsons handed it to her. Mr Cutlink looked perplexed. The next question came from Miss Wells. ‘What has Ian told you?’ she asked. Mr Cutlink tried to come to the rescue. ‘What my client wants to know,’ he said, ‘is whether one of your officers has made any statement concerning her.’
‘That, in fact, is what she asked in fewer words,’ Piet said. ‘The answer is yes, Constable Reece has made a long statement. I am prepared to let you read it. You will not find it pleasant reading. In fairness to Constable Reece I should say that he did his best to protect Miss Wells, and the references to her finally made were made only when he knew that we already had independent evidence concerning them.’
Miss Wells was weeping, and Mr Cutlink was now out of his depth. ‘May I suggest an adjournment?’ he said. ‘My client seems scarcely fit for further questioning.’
Mr Cutlink’s intervention somehow braced Miss Wells. She dried her eyes with her handkerchief, and as she did so an unmistakable fragrance of the scent she used came into the room. Piet and Simon both noticed it. Something of her old pertness returned. ‘I’m perfectly fit. I want to know what Ian said.’
Piet gave a copy of Reece’s statement to Mr Cutlink. He grew noticeably more worried as he read it. ‘These are allegations infinitely more serious than I understood when I was instructed,’ he said. ‘May I have an opportunity of discussing them with my client before we proceed?’
‘Certainly,’ Piet said. ‘But you will understand that the woman police officer will have to be present.’ Simon took them to a small interview-room near Piet’s office. ‘I wonder what happens next?’ he said when he came back. And then, ‘That scent is really unmistakeable. It seems rather a pity that we’re not likely to have an opportunity of cross-examination about a woman’s scent. It would be an interesting exercise.’
‘If the man who found Mrs Denny’s body is prepared to swear that he recognises the scent I don’t see why it shouldn’t be perfectly good evidence,’ Piet said. ‘But I don’t think we’re going to need it.’ He was right. In about half an hour Miss Wells, Mr Cutlink and the woman police officer came back, Mr Cutlink looking shaken and subdued. ‘I have advised my client that her wisest course is to say nothing until she appears in court and is represented by counsel, but she has rejected my advice,’ he said. ‘She says that she does not contest Constable Reece’s statement, but wishes to add to it. The lady officer is a witness to the fact that she came to this decision voluntarily. In the circumstances I feel that my proper course is to withdraw.’
Piet felt that the unhappy solicitor needed a word of sympathy. ‘You have done your best, Mr Cutlink,’ he said, ‘but as you yourself observed these are matters far graver than you undertook. I shall be obliged if you will stay to see that your client’s interests are protected.’
‘He can do what he likes,’ Miss Wells said. ‘I don’t want him. Get on with it.’
‘I have asked him to stay because you may still need his advice,’ Piet said. ‘I hope you have decided to tell the truth in order to put right a very great wrong, but that is a matter for you. You must realise now that we have sufficient evidence to charge you with having been an accessory to the murder of Mrs Denny, with having stolen money from the Post Office at Netherwick, and with having attempted to pervert the course of justice. You say you wish to add to Constable Reece’s statement. What do you wish to say?’
‘That the whole idea of the stamp was mine. Ian had nothing to do with it.’
‘He says that you worked together.’
‘Oh, yes, we did. But he would never have been involved if I hadn’t suggested it.’
‘Had you been thinking of trying to produce a forged stamp for some time?’
‘Yes. From the old days in the advertising agency. It seemed such a harmless way of making money. The collectors would pay, they’d be happy to get hold of a rare stamp, and nobody would be any worse off.’
