Festival, page 22
‘You may be right, but it’s not enough evidence for an arrest,’ Sir John said.
‘Of course not. I’m afraid there is a great deal more. I was bothered by a discrepancy in timing when Victor Norton came to see me on the day Jo was taken – he said that he hadn’t known anything about the kidnapping until late afternoon, because his car with the radio in it had been sent off to hospital with that girl who later died. But that wasn’t until around half-past one, and police signals about Jo were sent out at 12.25. He must have known – if he hadn’t heard the radio himself, some other officer would certainly have told him. His reasons for not knowing about Jo were fine for after half-past one – no car, and that public meeting at Wick Episcopi were perfectly good explanations. But they couldn’t apply earlier.’
‘That is enough to require questioning. I still doubt if it is enough to justify an arrest.’
‘There is more. The dead girl has been identified as Jane Partridge, by the way – sister of the vocalist of that Space Orchids group at Earl’s Down. I think that Victor Norton killed her, though I’m not sure if I can ever prove it, if he doesn’t confess. Consider what evidence we do have. Jane Partridge died from a massive injection of heroin. She was not herself a drug addict, and it would have been extremely difficult to inject her – struggling, and perhaps screaming – against her will. The pathologists found a bruise on the back of her head, which would have been sufficient to knock her out, at any rate temporarily. Just about the time this happened a woman in the tent, outside which Jane was found, heard someone say, “Look back the way you’ve just come,” and after that a curious little noise, which she described as being “like air escaping from a tyre”. You make just such a noise by swishing a cane! Inspector Lovell knows, as everybody in the Force knows, that Victor Norton always carried a rather grand malacca cane, with a heavy silver head. I think he wrapped a handkerchief round the head to make a sort of soft club, told her to look round and knocked her out with a blow on the back of the head. Then he injected her with heroin.’
‘That is pure inference.’
‘Not quite. Victor Norton himself, and Inspector Donaldson, dealt with the girl when she was found collapsed, and one of the first questions that any trained police officer would ask is, “Where was the syringe with which some drug may have been injected?” Apart from anything else, they’d want to give the hospital some indication of what the drug was, and a syringe would have traces for analysis. Neither Norton nor Donaldson did anything about a syringe. And shortly after I myself raised the question, they found the remains of a broken syringe trodden into the ground by a shoe that Inspector Donaldson was wearing – that can be proved by going to his house and recovering the shoes that I actually saw him wearing. The discovery of the syringe is damning, because if it had been used by Jane to inject herself, it could not have been where it was found! It was at least a hundred yards from where she collapsed, to get there she would have had to negotiate several lines of tent-ropes, and with the dose she had I do not believe that she could have done it. The syringe ought to have been within a couple of yards of where she fell – to have been found where it was can only mean that someone who realised its significance put it there! But they put it in the wrong place.
‘Now let’s go back to the taking of Jo. We found prints on the polished sides of the pram – a good surface –which have not yet been identified. Naturally, our first thought was to see if they were made by any of our investigating officers, so we checked with Records and they don’t match any of our own people’s. But Victor Norton’s prints are missing from Records! Why? I suspect that Victor himself took Jo from her pram and handed her over to Jane Partridge waiting in the Mini van in the road. The note found in Jane’s purse said that she was to pick up the Mini van at Avebury and follow a big black car. Victor’s car is a big black police car, though without police markings. Not much evidence in itself, perhaps, but taken in conjunction with everything else it seems highly suggestive. Victor could have walked into the garden openly – if he was seen, all he had to say was that he was looking for me. He could handle the pram openly – if Sally saw him, he could say he was pushing it a bit more into the shade. Sally would have suspected nothing – she’d have invited him into the house for a drink. But Victor was trying to be too clever. If the prints on the pram turn out to be his, they ought to be there openly. It was a stupid thing to take his own file from Records – he’d have been much safer if the prints had been quickly identified as his, for he could have given a perfectly reasonable explanation for them, not necessarily for that day – he’s been here quite often, and he could say that of course he must have touched the pram. I suppose he thought that they’d puzzle and delay us for a bit – we’d have been much more puzzled, and perhaps put off the scent, if the prints had been identified as Victor’s – nobody is going to suspect a deputy chief constable easily. But like the shoe mark, supposed to have been made by somebody who couldn’t possibly have been there, the attempts to mislead us actually produce incriminating evidence. The next thing must be to see if I’m right, and the prints on the pram are Victor’s.’
‘You have made a powerful case for investigation at any rate,’ Sir John said. ‘I think we ought to call on Mr Norton quickly. But I asked Chief Superintendent Hardy to ring here with news of developments in Cornwall, and I’d like to hear what he has to say first. He should be on the line any time now. I think your wife said something about breakfast – this might be a convenient moment for it.’
*
Superintendent Evans had had a trying night, but on the whole he was not displeased. The schooner had got away all right, and that nosey chief inspector from the Yard was almost certainly drowned. He had not come ashore, and if he ever did it would be as a body, washed up on the rocks anywhere between Trevose Head and Tintagel. It was tiresome that he’d not been able to find Sergeant Trevithick – he’d been to the sergeant’s house and frightened his wife nearly out of her wits, but he was satisfied that Mrs Trevithick had no idea where her husband was. Probably with some other woman somewhere – it was hard to make out what he was doing at Port Gaverne at all. Anyway, he could deal with the sergeant, and he’d have his stripes off him easily enough. It was a nuisance that there’d have to be other officers from the Yard, but he could probably divert their inquiries from anything really dangerous to him personally. If necessary, the schooner and the Partridges could be sacrificed. The schooner had got away safely with by far the most valuable haul so far, and with that disposed of she could be regarded as having reached the end of her useful life. There were other boats, and other people could be recruited for them.
The superintendent knew nothing about the shipwreck, nor of Sergeant Trevithick’s telephone call to the Yard. He was, therefore, rather puzzled when he heard the sound of cars drawing up outside his house soon after his wife had brought him a cup of tea in bed. He looked out of his bedroom window, and saw three official-looking cars. A moment later there was a knock at his front door. He put on a dressing gown and went downstairs to open the door himself.
He was confronted by a bunch of hard-faced men. ‘Superintendent Evans?’ the apparent leader of the party asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m Chief Superintendent Hardy from New Scotland Yard, and these officers are my colleagues.’
The superintendent did not invite them in. ‘Your commissioner duly informed me that you were coming, but I must say this is a ridiculous time to call. I get to my office at nine, and I shall be happy to see you then. As you can see, I’m not even dressed.’
‘I think, perhaps, you don’t fully understand the situation. I must ask you to get dressed, and I’m afraid I must also ask that two of my colleagues should accompany you while you are dressing. There are a number of urgent inquiries to be pursued, and you know well enough that while you are not compelled to make any statement it would be wiser to cooperate.’
The superintendent began to get angry. ‘You talk as if you are contemplating putting me under arrest,’ he said sarcastically. ‘How the hell do I know who you are? If you don’t go away I’ll telephone my own Force and have you thrown out.’
His attempt at bluster evaporated when Chief Superintendent Hardy said, ‘Here is my identity card. I do have a warrant for your arrest, but in fairness to you I wanted to put certain questions to you first. In view of your attitude I must warn you that anything you say will be taken down, and may be used in evidence. Now will you please allow two of my officers to accompany you while you get dressed?’
‘I don’t seem to have much option. But my lord, you’ll pay for this!’
Two officers went with the superintendent to his bedroom, went into the bathroom with him, and when he wanted to use his razor politely suggested that he should forego shaving for a bit. The superintendent swore, but complied. He was exceedingly worried, but he still did not see what could have gone wrong.
Chief Superintendent Hardy interviewed him in his sitting room. The very first question hit with the force of a bullet. ‘Can you please send for the four police officers who accompanied you to Port Gaverne last night?’ The problem was that the superintendent could not send for them, because they were not policemen – they were small fry in the gang which helped from time to time with the schooner, and they had simply been wearing police uniforms. Evans did not immediately give up. ‘They are naturally off duty now,’ he said. ‘I can’t say offhand how they are rostered for today, but when I get to my office I can find out. I should add that they were with me at Port Gaverne at the request of your own Chief Inspector Johnson.’
‘Can you explain why two of them attacked Chief Inspector Johnson, and one of them fired a pistol at Sergeant Trevithick, of Camelford?’
‘No, I can’t! You talk as if you had been there – it’s all a whole pack of lies.’
‘Very good. I must ask you to accompany me to Plymouth, where you will be charged with being concerned in handling illegal drugs and certain stolen property. We are taking you to Plymouth because it is not in the area of your own Force. You will appear before a magistrate later today, and you can, of course, make any application in court that you may wish.’
*
There was a delicious smell of fried bacon from the dining room at Piet’s house, and the party were more than ready for breakfast. Sally was singing aloud as she scurried around, making toast and bringing marmalade. They’d just about reached the marmalade stage when the phone – an extension in the dining room – rang. Sir John answered it. ‘Yes, it is Hardy,’ he said.
He was silent for several minutes while Hardy was speaking. The others could not hear what was said, but they could guess from Sir John’s face that whatever it was the news was important and grave. When he spoke again, he said, ‘You’ve done very well, Hardy. Carry on down there, and ring me at Mr Deventer’s headquarters at noon. We’ve got work to do here, and after what you’ve said we’d better get on with it. Good luck, and my particular compliments to that sergeant.’
Having put down the phone he turned to the others. ‘There’s no need for indecent haste, and I’m going to have another cup of Mrs Deventer’s admirable coffee. But we mustn’t waste time. It looks as if Deventer’s theories – at the Cornish end, anyway – are being proved right. Hardy has arrested Superintendent Evans and is taking him to Plymouth, away from his own Force, though there is no evidence so far to implicate other members of the West Cornwall police. Hardy got a Customs and Excise party to the wreck of the schooner at first light, and sent one of our chaps with them. They’ve recovered several suitcases full of manufactured drugs, mostly heroin and cocaine. They haven’t been checked yet, of course, but probably they come from those two robberies at pharmaceutical factories earlier in the year. They’ve also recovered a cabin trunk packed with jewellery, and including the Duchess of Ravenstoke’s miniatures, set in gold and diamonds – we’ve circulated their description so well that our man and the Customs recognised them at once! They’re still searching the wreck, and I daresay more will come to light.
‘There is real evidence against Superintendent Evans. First, Sergeant Trevithick – an excellent witness, Hardy says – is prepared to swear that he saw Superintendent Evans helping to load two of the suitcases on to the schooner. The second piece of evidence also derives from Sergeant Trevithick, though it began by being negative, and I don’t think the sergeant himself actually appreciated its importance. He didn’t recognise any of the uniformed men who were with Evans, and although obviously he can’t swear to it, Trevithick thinks that he knows most of the Wadebridge men at least by sight. Of course, they may have been drawn from some other area of the Force, but it struck Hardy that they might not have been policemen at all, but members of the gang wearing police uniform, which Evans could have obtained. So Hardy began by asking Evans to send for the officers who had accompanied him to Port Gaverne – a wholly reasonable question, because obviously they have to be interviewed. But it upset Evans. He said he couldn’t send for the men because they were off duty, and he didn’t know how they were rostered for today. So far he has failed to give even a list of their names. Hardy had obtained a warrant before going to see Evans, but he’d been half-hoping that he wouldn’t have to use it – no policeman likes proceeding against another police officer. But Evans was so evasive about the men who had been with him that Hardy felt he had no choice –and Evans hasn’t even been questioned yet about the sergeant’s evidence of having seen him help to load the schooner. He’ll come before a magistrate in Plymouth this morning, and we shall ask for a remand in custody. And now, gentlemen, I think we should transfer our attention to Mr Norton.’
*
Victor Norton was unmarried and lived by himself in a charming cottage on the outskirts of Savernake Forest. He was having breakfast when his visitors knocked at his door. He was astonished to see Piet. ‘What on earth are you doing here? I thought you were dying,’ he said.
‘Actually, not, but I had to disappear, and that seemed the most convenient way,’ Piet replied. ‘I must congratulate you on your press conference – very loyal to me. About your loyalty as a policeman I am afraid I am less sure. In the circumstances I do not propose to question you myself – this is Sir John Carfax, the Metropolitan Police Commissioner, and with him are Assistant Commissioner Melrose and Chief Superintendent Tollington, both of New Scotland Yard. Inspector Lovell you know. Sir John and his colleagues would like to take your fingerprints, and they have a number of questions to ask you relating to the death of that girl at Earl’s Down, who has now been identified as Jane Partridge, sister of the vocalist with the Space Orchids group, about the kidnapping of my daughter, and about your association with various individuals who either have been, or are likely to be, charged with offences concerned with illegal drugs and dealing with stolen property. Would you like to be interviewed here, or would you prefer to accompany us to headquarters?’
Norton’s reply shook them. ‘Obviously it would be less embarrassing here, but you can save your breath,’ he said. ‘I admit taking your daughter, Piet, and I admit having had to remove Jane Partridge. I don’t know what else you have against me, but if I admit those two charges it should be enough. Those are matters concerning me, and I’m prepared to tell you what I did in each case. If I help you like this, I hope you will not expect me to answer questions that may tend to incriminate others.’
‘I can give you no assurance about that,’ Sir John said. ‘I think, Jock, you had better take him to the Yard.’
‘Before we do anything else, I think he ought to be searched,’ Piet said. It was as well. In an inside pocket they found a neat leather wallet, about the size of a spectacle case, containing four loaded hypodermic syringes. They also found a small silver snuff box, apparently containing snuff, but hidden in the snuff were two pills, which, on later analysis, were found to contain potassium cyanide.
*
Melrose, a police driver and a detective constable who had come with the party, went off with Victor Norton. Chief Superintendent Tollington and Inspector Lovell went to interview Inspector Donaldson. It was a distasteful task, and Piet wondered if he ought to go himself. Sir John dissuaded him. ‘You will have to see him later, but for the moment I think you have other things to do – we have to bring you back to life. You have an officer of your own Force with the chief superintendent, and if there is any question of identification Inspector Lovell can deal with it.’
‘I don’t like it, sir, any more than you do, but I agree with Sir John,’ Lovell said. ‘You have more than enough on your plate.’
*
When Tollington and Lovell had departed, Sir John asked Piet, ‘What are your plans for coming back to life?’
‘Best to be simple and straightforward, I think. My idea is to call a press conference this morning, present Jo to the photographers, and just explain what I’ve been doing. I wonder if you could attend it? The Yard is already deeply involved.’
‘Certainly I’ll attend, but we shall have to be very careful. Victor Norton’s admission makes things a bit easier for us, but I don’t think we can mention it at this stage. I fear there will be further arrests, and all cases will be sub judice.’
‘Of course. But there are two facts that can properly be reported – the recovery of Jo, and the wreck of the schooner with the finds already made on board her. That will be enough to give the press a field day.’
‘Yes, nobody can question those facts. What time were you thinking of holding your conference?’
‘As soon as possible. The media people have been good about not worrying Sally, but they’ve certainly had the house under observation. They will have seen the coming and going of cars, and they may even have seen me carrying Jo. I think we should ask the Press Association now to put out a newsflash that Jo has been recovered safely, and to announce that the police will hold a press conference at ten o’clock.’
