The Suitcase Murderer

by James Andrew

  ‘I’ve no alibi for the Saturday.’

  ‘So, any one of us could have done it?’ Thomas said.

  ‘Three different suspects,’ Russell said.

  ‘Unless it’s four,’ Duggan said, looking at Amelia.

  ‘I was wondering when you were going to get around to me,’ Amelia said. ‘Inspector Blades does think I might have been angry with Emma because she was leading Thomas on.’

  ‘Except Emma wasn’t,’ Thomas said.

  ‘But one of us did murder her,’ Duggan said.

  ‘According to the police,’ Russell said.

  ‘And what are we going to do about that?’ Duggan said.

  At that moment, the interior door opened, and the room went quiet as Blades came in and looked at them. ‘Bring Russell Parkes in,’ he said.

  Silence fell after Russell Parkes had been taken away. Thomas noticed that Sergeant Ryan had replaced Peacock behind the desk, and he presumed Ryan would now be writing relevant notes of any conversation they had.

  The clock ticked. A car rumbled past the window. Sergeant Ryan coughed. Duggan shifted in his seat. Amelia frowned at Thomas as he moved his hand to take out a Woodbine, before changing his mind.

  ‘Do you think he’s getting anything out of Russell?’ Thomas said.

  Two pairs of eyes bored through him. Thomas decided to keep quiet. No one said anything for a while. Duggan rose from his seat and paced to the window and back. Then he turned towards Thomas and spoke.

  ‘He should have been questioning Russell a lot earlier.’

  ‘I didn’t know about Russell,’ Thomas said. ‘He’s a surprise.’

  ‘I thought there was someone,’ Amelia said. ‘I knew she practised her music. At first, I thought it was with a group. Then I thought it must be with another young woman.’

  ‘You didn’t ask her?’ Thomas said.

  ‘I didn’t place that much importance on it,’ Amelia said.

  ‘I don’t suppose she wanted me to find out,’ Duggan said.

  They all fell silent again. After an eternity, the door opened, and Russell was shown back through. Thomas studied him but could tell nothing from his demeanour about what might have happened when he was in Blades’ sanctum. The suspects waited in fretful silence. Then two more policemen entered from outside, both sergeants. Thomas had not realised there were so many of them in Birtleby. Perhaps it was a procession that had been arranged for the purpose of intimidating the suspects even more.

  Blades called out for the Roots to enter.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  As he and Peacock left the office and entered the corridor, Blades was struck by the intent look on the faces that swivelled towards him. Thomas in particular looked terrified. He had given Thomas and Amelia a thorough interrogation when he called them through. Though he had covered no new ground, it had obviously had an effect. And Blades was ready to go further now all the evidence had arrived.

  At that moment, the door to the station opened and Musgrave walked in.

  On cue, Blades thought, Musgrave, with his usual imperious glance and swaggering stride.

  ‘Hello, John,’ Blades said to him. ‘Good of you to come.’

  ‘Good of you to send for me.’

  ‘Have a seat.’

  Musgrave glanced along the row of suspects. His eyebrows arched in surprise.

  ‘I take it you’ll have news to spill when you’ve time?’ he said.

  ‘Possibly by the end of the morning,’ Blades replied.

  ‘Meanwhile?’

  Blades gave him a cryptic smile.

  ‘It’s good to see you, John. Take a seat.’

  Musgrave gave this a moment’s thought, then said, ‘As you wish,’ then sat down.

  Blades noticed his suspects glancing between him and Musgrave, then back again.

  Then Blades said, ‘Let’s face it. I haven’t always felt in charge of this investigation. It’s time I took control.’

  Blades noticed the indignation on Amelia’s face; he supposed she was still smarting from the interrogation.

  ‘You can’t blame us for your problems,’ she said. ‘You’ve had nothing but my co-operation.’

  ‘You haven’t tried to mislead me?’ Blades said. ‘What was that story about port being spilled? We found no trace of that, only the blood you said could not possibly have been there.’

  ‘I–’ Amelia spluttered. Perplexity had quickly replaced the self-righteousness. ‘But I didn’t see how you could have found any blood in the parlour.’

  ‘So, don’t make something up,’ Blades said.

  He noticed that Amelia, sensibly, did not reply. He continued. ‘We know Emma died just after she faced you with your husband’s misbehaviour and insisted you do something about it.’

  ‘But I didn’t–’ Amelia replied.

  ‘And it is when Emma was killed,’ Blades said. ‘Which makes you suspect number one.’

  ‘I’ve told you my husband would not behave like that.’

  ‘I said you, not your husband. Did you lash out in a temper?’

  ‘I’m not the one with a temper,’ Amelia said.

  ‘You mean Thomas is?’ Blades said.

  Thomas’s face showed clearly what he thought of the sound of that. Amelia was reduced to staring back at Blades.

  ‘Which still doesn’t mean it couldn’t have been you.’

  Thomas was staring at him in impotent fury but Blades was glad to see him still seated and still silent.

  ‘And for long enough I thought it must be you,’ Blades said to Amelia. ‘You’re the picture of the downtrodden wife, who puts up with things over and over – and then yet again – until, finally, it is too much and she snaps.’

  ‘You thought it might be me?’ Amelia asked. ‘You don’t now?’

  There was relief on her face.

  Blades did not reply to that, but simply spread his gaze around the suspects arrayed before him.

  ‘I’ve had to give thought to so many suspects,’ Blades said. ‘They’ve been strewn all over the place with gleeful abandon. In fact, it puzzled me that there could be so many. It’s not the usual thing with murder cases. It’s a bit obvious who did most murders because there was only one person who, in the first place, knew the victim well enough to be motivated to murder them, and, two, could possibly have done it.’

  He threw an accusing look at them all, before settling his eyes on Thomas.

  ‘And obviously I had to question Amelia particularly carefully, as she could have said more to give you away.’

  ‘Me?’ Thomas glared at Blades. ‘But you’ve asked me the same questions over and over, and I’ve answered every one of them. Truthfully,’ he emphasised, ‘because I didn’t do it.’

  ‘But you fit the crime as well,’ Blades replied. ‘A man of a difficult age faced with the temptation of an attractive young woman around him all the time.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Thomas said.

  ‘Was Emma talking to you about the fact you were misbehaving with Louisa? Or did you try to force yourself on Emma? A young woman like her up to no good with a man like Alfred Duggan. Did you think she was asking for it really? Did you think she deserved it?’

  ‘No. She didn’t. And I didn’t. I’ve told you before, I liked Emma. I wouldn’t do anything like that to her.’

  ‘But the question’s still there,’ Blades replied. ‘The overbearing arrogant employer so used to getting his own way. Why not take that one small step further and get your own way about something personal you really wanted?’

  ‘You’ve no proof of that.’

  ‘Which I need to have. But, on the other hand, you haven’t proved you didn’t do that.’

  ‘I don’t have to.’

  ‘No. But I need to find some way of dismissing you from my inquiries when you’re sitting up begging to be considered a suspect in the way you are. It doesn’t take six hours to travel from Birtleby to Ramshead, and you still haven’t given a convincing explanation for how you spent
all that time that day. And you lied to us. You said Emma had just been behaving as usual, that she did not seem any different from her normal self when you left, but that was the same day that you had the row with her. In my experience it’s guilty people who lie, Mr Root.’

  ‘Not just. No, not just,’ Thomas said. ‘All right, I lied,’ he admitted. ‘But I didn’t kill her. Really, I didn’t.’

  Blades looked at Thomas’s face and, for the first time, showed some pity.

  ‘So you say, but you could have helped yourself and us much better by being open with us from the beginning.’

  Thomas was nodding as he looked back at him.

  ‘But your lies pale in significance against those of Russell Parkes.’

  Russell sat up in his chair and looked askance at Blades.

  ‘Now look here,’ he said.

  ‘I heard an almost endless list of those from you,’ Blades said. ‘You said you hardly knew Emma, yet you were often in her company as she and you met to practise music together, if that’s what you were doing.’

  ‘Of course it was,’ Parkes said. ‘Emma had fine musical abilities.’

  ‘You gave a false alibi. You said you were with Rose Weller all day on the Saturday when, in fact, you met up with her on the Friday.’

  ‘An easy enough mistake to make. We were confused about the day.’

  ‘You have no alibi for the day of Emma’s disappearance.’ Blades was looking directly at Russell Parkes who now could only stare at the floor.

  ‘Have you?’

  ‘No,’ Parkes muttered.

  ‘You have gambling debts, and what makes that suspicious is the fact you have a conviction for assault on a young woman over money.’

  ‘I’ve explained that,’ Parkes said. ‘I’ve explained all of it. Why do you have to keep on bringing up the same things over and over?’

  ‘You’re the type to have done it,’ Blades said. ‘You’re a womaniser who makes use of women simply for his own ends – which could be taken one step further and lead to murder.’

  ‘Which it didn’t,’ Parkes said. ‘So, you can’t have any proof I killed her.’

  ‘If only any of you knew how to behave when being investigated by the police, it would help. If you’re suspicious, and all of you are, we have to learn enough to dismiss you from our investigations or convict you. And every one of you has lied over and over again, making yourselves look even more guilty. It’s not like when your husband or wife – or father or mother, employer or teacher – questions you about something they think you’ve done. It’s not enough to make up any excuse that comes into your head. This has been a serious legal investigation, and your deceptions have wasted my time.’

  ‘But we can all go now?’ Parkes said.

  ‘No,’ Blades replied.

  ‘Do I get my story now?’ Musgrave asked.

  ‘Unless you are the story,’ Blades replied.

  ‘What?’ Musgrave said, and the cheroot dropped out of his mouth.

  ‘Because there might be a case against you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘You’ve been so helpful. But I’ve often wondered why. Instead of always being able to follow up on where I’ve been wanting to go with this investigation, I’ve kept coming across you trying to lead me in a different direction. And the question is why.’

  ‘Hang on. I’ve been of assistance. I’ve given information in order to help you. Who told you where to find the body?’

  ‘And who told you? How did you know where it was?’

  ‘I’ve said. I can’t reveal sources.’

  ‘A useful excuse. You’re the one who kept pointing me towards Russell Parkes. You knew about his connection with Emma. You told me about his problems with the Leighton Insurance Company. You knew about his alibi being false.’

  ‘That must have been useful. Are you complaining about that?’

  ‘But how did you know?’

  ‘I can’t–’

  ‘–reveal sources. Perhaps it was Emma herself who had told you all about Parkes.’

  ‘Emma?’

  ‘Because you knew Emma as well, didn’t you? You’re not the only one who has informants and we’ve done interviews all over Birtleby. You’re distinctive. How many people go about with that hat and chewing that cheroot all day?’

  ‘I–’

  ‘You could just admit it. We can prove it.’

  ‘I-I suppose. I didn’t know her well, though.’ Musgrave was deflated. His fleshy face sagged. ‘I did meet her a few times, that was all. I knew her through one of the girls in the office. That’s not an offence.’

  ‘But it does mean you’re someone who needs to be actively dismissed from the inquiry. How did you know where Emma’s body was?’

  ‘I–well–’ But an answer obviously did not immediately spring from Musgrave’s tongue.

  ‘I’ve looked at everyone else. Let’s look at you. What goes with that overblown cynical journalist act? A personality that looks for and craves attention. What better way to gain warped pleasure than from murdering someone and framing someone else for the murder, then pointing the police in his direction?’

  ‘That’s slander.’

  ‘It’s a question. I’m running a murder inquiry. Where were you getting all of your information from?’

  Musgrave’s mouth was wide open now. He reached for another cheroot, thought better of it, then put it back in his pocket. ‘I suppose I’d better say something before you finish your case against me.’ But Musgrave paused for thought again. Then he said, ‘Yes. I’d better tell you. I found out from Duggan.’

  Blades gave Duggan a fierce look. ‘So, not only was Duggan turning up in person to send my investigation on wild goose trails, he was sending you to do the same. And he knew exactly where the body was to be found.’

  Blades was examining Duggan, as everyone else was doing. Duggan had turned his luminous blue eyes on Blades. That wholehearted smile was on his face, and his picture of innocence looked like a challenge.

  ‘You could have done it, Mr Duggan. A lot of facts point to it, and your psychology does. That’s a wandering, disorganized mind you have.’

  Duggan’s eyes widened at this. The vacant, irritating smile disappeared to be replaced by a frown.

  ‘It fascinates me. Women are strongly attracted to you, and it draws you to them as much as the other way around. You can’t say no to them – even if you tried, which I suspect you don’t.’

  Duggan’s smile returned at that. ‘You sound jealous, Inspector Blades. Are you struggling to find anyone to philander with?’

  Blades returned the smile but he knew his was icy. ‘And there’s no way any sensible person would have expected to get away with bigamy in the way you did. Your second marriage was to someone who stayed only a few miles away. How could you have expected to get away with that?’

  ‘Women usually believe what I tell them.’ Then Duggan laughed, yawned, and reached in his waistcoat pocket for a cigarette.

  Blades was the one who frowned now. ‘You were lucky your first wife didn’t divorce you. You deserved it. I was surprised by that. She only decided on a divorce relatively recently, when she became convinced you’d gone that huge step further and committed murder. Because it looks that way. A bizarre, extremely emotional person with poor restraint, with strong links to a murdered woman.’

  ‘She didn’t mean it though. She wouldn’t have gone through with a divorce.’

  But Blades noticed he did not deny the murder.

  ‘Are you really so sure of your power over women, Alfred Duggan?’ he asked.

  Duggan lit his cigarette, drew in a lungful of smoke which he made a point of luxuriating in before replying. ‘Of course. Isn’t everybody?’

  ‘It was you I first suspected. You insisted on having so much attention from me. You kept turning up at the station. You changed your statement, which was bizarre. That made both statements unbelievable and unlikely to help you. Then you kept on coming up with informatio
n. And information that didn’t make sense. You pointed me at Russell Parkes by suggesting a motive that would never hold water. He murdered her for money she didn’t have. Then I began to understand why your first wife didn’t leave you. It was because you usually don’t make sense, do you?’

  Which was so obvious now as he looked at Alfred Duggan. That relaxed and arrogant pose was entirely unsuited to his situation.

  ‘She felt she ought to stay with you to look out for her husband. I found out why when I looked up your medical records. Oh, yes, they arrived eventually. You suffered from a serious head wound in the war.’

  Blades noticed the sharp intake of breath from the other suspects but his gaze was on Duggan as he studied the unconcerned eyes and the empty smile.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Blades said. ‘It completely changed your character, as happened, you might be interested to hear, to a man called Phineas Gage, a foreman working on a railway line in the USA in the nineteenth century.’

  Alfred’s look was mystified. ‘Just what has anyone called Phineas Gage got to do with me?’

  ‘He had an accident,’ Blades continued. ‘Before that, his firm thought of him as their most reliable employee; and he was extremely popular with the men he worked with. Then the unfortunate man had a bolt go clean through his skull when he was working. He didn’t manage to hold down his job after that.’

  Alfred now shot Blades a look of mockery.

  ‘He was unpredictable, followed whims as they occurred to him, without thinking any of them through, and he didn’t even notice the effect any plans of his had on other people. And you suffered from a war wound, didn’t you, Alfred?’

  ‘A lot of people were wounded in that war. What of it?’

  ‘A bullet went completely through your brain. You should be dead. Nobody understood why you survived but you did.’

  ‘Is that a crime?’

  ‘Before that, you were a steady husband and a reliable soldier, a sergeant that your officers thought well of and could rely on. After that, your behaviour became completely flaky and unpredictable, particularly that temper of yours. And they said you were completely unable to tell truth from falsehood. You were given a dishonourable discharge from the army, after which you had the greatest difficulty in settling into civilian life. It wasn’t Russell Parkes who was in trouble about discrepancies in his accounts. It was you. Yes. I did find that out. Your brother-in-law got you your present job. Otherwise you wouldn’t have one. And you became a bigamist. And you killed Emma.’