The Nine-Spoked Wheel, page 3
‘But there must be a photograph of me discovering it.’
‘Oh, God,’ thought Revers. But he said politely. ‘Very good, sir. If you will return to the stone I’ll ask the photographer to take a picture.’
Dr Arbolent liked being photographed. He fussed about the positioning, said that he must have several photographs of the wheel itself, but was clearly mollified by the Inspector’s consideration. The photography did not take long, and he then announced that he was prepared to go to Swindon.
‘When will you be back, sir?’ Revers asked.
‘I must go to the British Museum, but I have only preliminary work there at the moment I shall try to return tonight, I think. There is no need for you to meet me – Sir Cyril Caponet will send his car.’
‘Can you be here tomorrow afternoon? At three o’clock, say?’
‘Yes, I can be here then. Meanwhile, the site, I take it, will be under guard?’
‘The whole area, as you see, has been roped off. There will be a constable on duty the whole time.’
*
Revers was thankful to see the man go. He had provided some useful bits of information, but his pomposity had been insufferable. As for his ‘discovery’, Revers did not know what to think. He and his wife had often visited Avebury, and while they had no expert knowledge they felt the fascination of the Great Stones. He enjoyed reading books about the past, and he was aware that new knowledge could come to light suddenly from some chance find. Only last year, on a trip to London, he had seen the Sutton Hoo treasure at the British Museum. There did not seem any obvious treasure here, but a hitherto unknown carving on one of the Avebury stones was likely to be important in itself, whatever it might mean. He looked at his watch: the day had begun so early that it seemed to have gone on for ever, and he could scarcely believe that it was only half-past ten. He remembered that he and the firemen had had no breakfast, and that he had still to take a statement from the Americans who discovered the body.
Revers interpreted his undertaking to Dr Arbolent not to dig without him as not including a further attempt to tilt the stone so that he could examine the ground on which the body had lain. He asked the chief fire officer how long it would take to lift the stone sufficiently to look beneath the fallen face. About an hour, the fireman thought.
‘Right,’ said Revers, ‘Get your tackle fixed, but don’t try any lifting yet. When the tackle’s in position, knock off, and go into Marlborough for some food. The lorry with the winch will need to stay here, but the photographer can run you into Marlborough in his car. I’ll pick you up at the police station at two o’clock, and we’ll lift this afternoon.’
He arranged things with the photographer, told him that he wanted pictures taken all round the stone, of the broken earth in the hole and particularly close-ups of the splintered timbers, and he then set off for Marlborough himself. It was so late for breakfast that he decided that he might as well wait for lunch. His appointment with Professor Boyce was at noon, so he had time to go to the police station first. There, they had news for him. The Cambridge police had just telephoned to say that they’d been round to St James’s College and confirmed that there was a student there called Paul Andrew Clayton, doing post-graduate research in archaeology. Personal details were more difficult because most of the college had gone down, but they’d got hold of someone in the bursar’s office who was able to tell them that Paul Clayton was away, assisting a certain Dr Arbolent in an archaeological dig in Wiltshire. Clayton appeared to have no home outside the college: his next-of-kin appeared to be the Shropshire County Council, in whose care he had been brought up, his parents having died or disappeared. He normally spent his vacations working for some museum or other. The question of formal identification was going to be difficult, for he had no known relatives. The college was going to see if it could find someone who knew him well enough to identify his remains, but as his friends had all gone down, that might take a little time. The college also suggested that the North Wessex Police might get in touch with the social services department of the Shropshire County Council. The Cambridge police would report any further information they might get from St James’s College.
Revers was relieved about one thing: at least there seemed to be no parents who had to be told of their son’s death. With half an hour in hand before his call on the Boyces, he went across to see his superintendent.
Superintendent Macleod was a Scot who had married a Wiltshire girl during the war, joined the North Wessex Police when he came out of the army, and had now spent rather more than half his life in southern England. He was a conscientious and exceedingly alert policeman – with a high regard for Revers. He knew, of course, of the finding of a body at Avebury, but did not yet know many details. Revers gave him a rapid summary of his activities since being called out early that morning, emphasising his own puzzlement about the fall of a stone which had apparently stood securely for between 3,000 and 4,000 years, and the self-importance and possible hostility of Dr Arbolent.
In spite of his long domicile in England, Superintendent Macleod retained traces of his Scottish accent. ‘If anybody can blame us puir bluidy coppers nowadays, they will,’ he said. ‘But you know, John, the man has a point. Archaeological digging is skilled work; they need to record exact levels all the time, so that if they find anything they know just how far down it was, and can try to date it. An awfu’ lot of knowledge of our own history has been lost by bulldozers tearing up old towns for redevelopment. I can understand your chap’s wanting to be there when we dig deeper into his precious hole, particularly as he seems to have discovered something there that he regards as important. I don’t see how we can object to his being there when we dig tomorrow – you did well to tell him so. At the same time I think I’ll have a word with the Home Office to get authority to act on our own if need be. You can’t overlook the fact that this Dr Arbolent has had a direct responsibility for the stone, and maybe he’s to blame in some way for what happened – from what you say, a point that he is quite aware of.
‘Now John, you’ll be needing to see your American Professor, and as soon as you’ve done that you’ll be badly needing a bite to eat. I’ll sort things out with the powers that be while you’re away, and I think I’ll come out with you myself this afternoon to have a look at the place.’
*
The Boyce family was assembled in the entrance hall of the hotel when Revers got there. During her walk around Marlborough Juliet had fallen for, and bought, a bright yellow pullover, which she had put on. She was looking, Revers thought, remarkably pretty. Professor Boyce was looking – and feeling – slightly ill at ease.
‘I am sorry to have to trouble you like this,’ Revers said, ‘but I am sure you will understand that it is my duty.’ Professor Boyce gave a little bow, and Revers went on, ‘Would you like to come to my office – it’s quite near – or would you prefer to talk here?’
‘There’s a Residents’ Lounge that seems to be quite empty,’ Juliet said.
‘Let’s go in the lounge,’ Mrs Boyce added.
*
The lounge was empty. It was equipped with writing tables that didn’t seem to be much used, and a television set which was presumably used in the evening but which was mercifully blank now. Revers drew three chairs round one of the writing desks and sat down at the desk with his notebook. ‘I have your name only as Professor Boyce,’ he said, ‘may I have your first names also?’
‘I am Stephen P. Boyce. My wife’s name is Miriam and my daughter’s Juliet.’
Revers wrote down the names. ‘Stephen P – I’m sorry, I didn’t get what the P stands for.’
‘Well, in my country it’s known as a “Middle Initial”. It’s never used except as “Stephen P”. But if you need to know I was christened Stephen Percival.’
‘Your address I have as Milman University, Iowa. You have no address in England?’
‘Nothing better than c/o The American Express Company in London. I’m sorry. We’re just in England on vacation.’
Revers felt Boyce’s slight edginess and tried to comfort him. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘you have nothing whatever to apologise for. We are in your debt. You acted promptly and very sensibly. It is rotten luck that your holiday should be interrupted like this, and I’ll do my best not to interrupt it much. Do you know England well?’
‘My people came originally from England, but the family has been in the States for generations. I was a Rhodes Scholar at Oxford a long time ago, and I was stationed in England for a short time before the D-Day landings – when I was in the Army. I haven’t been back since. Miriam and Juliet have never been in England before. This was to be the vacation of our lives.’
‘Don’t let this spoil it. I shan’t keep you much longer. Which of you first saw the man’s foot?’
‘I think I saw the fallen stone first, I was a little ahead, and I called back,’ said Juliet.
‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Boyce. ‘You waited and we came up. As for the foot, I think we all noticed it more or less together.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘Well, I went to the stone to see if I could move it, but of course I couldn’t. So we went back to the village to get help. Then we saw the telephone box and thought we’d better call the police. We didn’t know anyone in the village, and we didn’t know whom to knock up.’
‘You did very well. We got your call at 05.18. Can you estimate the time at which you saw the foot?’
‘Sunrise was at 04.43 – we know that because of planning to go to Stonehenge. We were on top of the mound just about in time for the sunrise. We waited about for a few minutes, and started to walk round the circle. We didn’t walk quickly; we were enjoying the morning. It must have been around 05.00, or a few minutes after, when we got to the stone, but I didn’t think to look at my watch.’
‘Approximately 05.00 – that will do fine. Did you see anything – anything at all – to suggest how the man had got beneath the stone?’
‘No, nothing. But then we didn’t look for anything. All we thought about was to get help.’
‘You did everything you could. I think that’s about all – and thank you all very much. I’ll get this typed out, and bring it round later for you to sign. I’m afraid you may be required at the inquest.’
‘That may be very awkward for us – we’re due to fly back to the States in ten days’ time.’
‘I don’t think you need worry about that, Professor. We have to try to find out why the stone fell, and that may take some time. So the inquest will probably have to be adjourned. But the coroner will want to open the proceedings quickly, so that he can issue a burial certificate. I expect it will be the day after tomorrow. If you can give evidence then, I don’t see why you should be required again.’
Boyce was relieved. ‘We can certainly stay here until then,’ he said.
‘Do you know who the man was, Inspector?’ Juliet asked.
‘We don’t know for certain, but we think he was an archaeological student who had been helping with some excavations in the area. I have met the man in charge of the work – a certain Dr Arbolent, who is staying with Sir Cyril and Lady Caponet quite near by. I am hoping that he may be able to identify him.’
‘How awful! I’m doing archaeology at Milman,’ said Juliet. ‘And I’ve heard of Dr Arbolent – he wrote that book on the Etruscans that I’ve got at home, Daddy. I think he’s quite famous. Shall we see him at the inquest?’
‘I couldn’t say, Miss, but it’s quite likely.’ Revers got up to go.
*
When he had gone, Juliet said, ‘Oh, Daddy, it’s a dreadful story. But I can’t help finding it all rather exciting. And I would like to see Dr Arbolent.’
Boyce didn’t reply for a moment. Then he said, ‘We seem to be stuck here for a couple of days, anyway. What was it the Inspector said – that some people called Caponet live nearby? It’s an unusual name, but I think it must be the same. I was at Oxford with a man called Cyril Caponet, though he wasn’t a “Sir” then. He’d certainly remember me, we were quite good friends. Let’s find a phone book, and I’ll call him.’
There was a telephone box in the hall. Boyce made his call, and came out of the box delighted. ‘It is Cyril Caponet,’ he said, ‘and he really did seem pleased that I’d got in touch with him. We’re all asked to dinner for tomorrow night. What’s more, Juliet, you’ll be able to meet your archaeologist. Cyril said he’s got him staying there, and he hoped we wouldn’t mind.’
II
A Noise in the Night
WHEN REVERS GOT back to his office, there was a message from Swindon to say that Dr Arbolent had identified the body as that of Paul Clayton. The back of the head was horribly mutilated, but the face, although crushed, was still more or less recognisable. The archaeologist had also recognised the clothes as those normally worn by Paul Clayton, and the shirt was found to be marked with his name. It was not a completely satisfactory identification in a legal sense, for Dr Arbolent had known Clayton only for a few weeks. He could say nothing of the young man’s background, and did not even know his exact age, but for the moment it would have to do. Perhaps the Cambridge college would send along someone who had known Clayton for longer; that would please the Coroner, but Revers thought there could be little doubt but that the body was in fact that of the young archaeological student.
He remembered that he had not yet fully examined Paul Clayton’s wallet, which he still had in his pocket. He had sent back the driving licence with the request for information from the Cambridge police, but he had not yet studied the wallet’s other contents. There was just time to do so before setting off again for Avebury. There were three £1 notes, a snapshot of an unnamed girl, a bank cheque card, and a short letter, headed ‘Cambridge’ and signed ‘David’ which said, ‘Glad to hear that things are going well. I’m not sure when I can get away, but I’ll try to come down some time in July. Will let you know in good time.’ There was also an envelope containing a cigarette stub. The envelope was a small brown one, and the stub, as far as Revers could make out, a very ordinary cigarette end. ‘What on earth did he want that for?’ he wondered. ‘The girl’s perhaps?’ Reflecting on the inconsequential bits and pieces left on the sudden winding up of life, he put the wallet and its contents in a big Manila envelope, wrote on the outside ‘The property of the late Paul Andrew Clayton’, and put the envelope in his safe.
Superintendent Macleod decided to go to Avebury in his own car, which was as well, because Revers had to pick up the firemen, and while he could just fit them into his car there would not have been room for the superintendent too. The cars reached Avebury almost together, and while the firemen went to their lorry Revers took the superintendent to the fallen stone. Before leaving for Marlborough the fire crew had looped a steel cable round the lip of the stone and run back the cable to their winch. They were helped by the lozenge-shape of the stone, which, they thought, would hold the loop when the cable tightened.
‘They’re ready to lift now,’ Revers said. ‘Shall we get on with it? We haven’t been able to see the ground where the body was, yet.’
Macleod walked round the stone, looked into the pit at the back and said, ‘OK John. But for God’s sake tell them to be careful.’
The fire crew, used to working in dangerous structures, needed no telling. The chief officer made everybody stand well clear of the cable in case it broke, and gently applied power to the winch. The cable grew bar-taut as it took the weight of the stone, and very slowly the top of the stone began to lift. When it had risen about four feet the fire officer stopped the winch and held it there. ‘Get a couple of jacks under her,’ he said to his men, ‘and then it will be safe to look at the ground.’
In spite of the hydraulic jacks and the powerful cable holding the stone, Revers had to grit his teeth to go underneath it. There wasn’t enough height to stand upright, but by bending down he and Macleod could study the ground where the stone had lain. There wasn’t much to see. There were some dark patches of blood on the grass, and Macleod picked up a small white object, which turned out to be a tooth. ‘Poor kid,’ he said. ‘Well, John, there’s not much more here. Better have the stone down again – then it can’t fall on anyone else. I want another look at yon pit.’
When the firemen had let down the stone Revers said that he didn’t think there was any need for them to stay any longer, ‘You’ve done a marvellous job,’ he said. ‘At some time, I suppose, the stone will have to be re-erected, but that’s for the Department of the Environment to see to. You’ve done your bit. If there’d been any chance of getting the chap out alive, I’m sure you’d have managed it.’
*
The constable on guard duty was out of earshot at the far end of the roped-off enclosure. When the firemen had gone, Macleod said, ‘You’re not happy, John.’
‘No,’ replied Revers, ‘I’m not. I’ve been thinking all morning, and I can see no reasonable way for a man to be trapped by a falling stone as this man was, lying face downwards and with his head towards the stone – unless, of course, he was asleep, or drunk, or drugged – or dead. It’s a queer place to go to sleep. There was no smell of drink when we got him out, and no sign of vomit on the ground. I looked for that particularly. The autopsy will presumably show if he was drugged. If not . . .’ he gave a worried little shrug.
‘There’s some queer religions about nowadays,’ Macleod observed. ‘He might have been praying to the stone.’
‘He might. But if he was kneeling he’d have been crushed kneeling, and if he was prostrate – well, it’s possible. But remember what you say to recruits, Super – “Ninety-nine per cent of detection is taking note of the obvious”. To lie prostrate before a great stone just before it falls isn’t at all an obvious thing to do. And there’s another thing. Come and have a look in the pit.’
They walked round the fallen stone and Macleod stood for some time on the edge of the hole without saying anything. Then he nodded. ‘A good point, John,’ he said.
