“Stay here.” The guard went into the lodge. He was back again almost before Green had selected a bent Kensitas and lit it.
“Nothing doing. Mr Toinquet says no exceptions.”
“Thanks,” said Green. “You’ve told me what I wanted to know, mate.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. People who don’t want to talk to a policeman investigating a murder—particularly Security chaps like you, in uniform—have some little secret to hide. And that’s nice to know. When I tell my boss that the Security Corps has some reason for not cooperating with us, he’ll take you lot apart. He’s that sort of bloke. Nasty, suspicious type. And, of course, you’ll automatically go on our list of suspects.…”
The guard was growing angry—visibly. This didn’t appear to worry Green. He blew smoke out of his nostrils, sucked a tooth and glared. “If I know anything about running a place like this, the least breath of suspicion about the guards is the signal for wholesale sackings. Got a nice little quarter here, have you? I’ll tell you what, buster, you’ll find it a hell of a job getting another free roof over your head as an out-of-work. Houses come expensive these days.”
“I shan’t get sacked for obeying orders,” growled the guard.
“Want a bet? Laddo, the law of this land says it is the duty of every citizen to co-operate with the police. Now you tell me Widow Twankey’s trying to overrule the law. Thanks for that bit of info. You’ve dropped him in it good an’ proper. So long, chum. Enjoy your last tour on stag.”
Green turned and started to walk away.
“Here, wait a minute, you. I don’t let anybody threaten me.”
“Then p’raps you’ll tell me what you’re gunna do about it? Apart from the fact, of course, that I haven’t threatened you—merely let you know the score.”
The second guard appeared at the door of the lodge. He called across. “What’s on, Len?”
“This cocky copper’s threatening me.”
“Is he now? Well, we’ve got powers of arrest inside these gates. How about giving him a bit of his own medicine?”
Green said: “You two are a ripe pair. Every word that comes out of your ugly mugs gives me more reason to take you apart. And don’t think I’ll forget that joke about putting me in your nick.” He turned and stumped away, back up the drive. He was nearing the house when Hill and Brant joined him from a side path.
“We’ve seen everybody except Bullock,” said Hill. “He’s not been back to the Centre since he left this morning.”
“So he’s stayed with Mrs Mailer. She’d need somebody by her.”
“I suppose so. But we’ve got nothing out of the others. They can’t remember what kit Redruth had or how long it was after he started off that he fell. The only thing one of them can remember about him was that his water-bottle was leaking. He took it off the body together with all the other gup and put it in the coach for Clay to collect. He says the water ran down his trousers as he was carrying it over, so he pulled the cork out and emptied it.”
“And he can’t remember the number?”
“No.”
“In that case … hey! I wonder if that club keeps accounts?”
“It has to,” said Brant. “All government jobs do. They’ll be consolidated in the Centre’s welfare accounts if they were given grants from public money.”
“General Office,” said Green. “See if they’ve replaced any gear. If they haven’t, and we look for a leaky bottle, or a set without a bottle …”
“No good,” said Hill. “It’ll only help us if it was number six, and we know number six was sound because Mailer was using it this week-end. He wouldn’t have set off up a mountain with a hole in his bucket.”
“Aye, you’re right. Still, it’s worth a try. But before you go, have you met Widow Twankey’s understrapper yet? He must have a second-in-command of some sort.”
“That’s a thought,” said Hill. “I’ve not met him. Probably it’s his rest day.”
“Why not ask Toinquet?” said Brant.
“I’ll ask that secretary of his,” replied Green. “She’ll have the situation buttoned up.”
Green was being heavily gallant.
“Miss Alice … I’m sorry to be so familiar, but that’s the only name I know you by.”
She looked over her spectacles at him.
“Alice will do, Inspector. Or Miss Dinwiddie, if you must.”
“I was wondering where I could find Mr Toinquet’s assistant. I’ve not met him yet, and I’d like a word.”
“You will find him, I expect, at his house in the village.” She scribbled on a notepad. “Here’s the address and phone number.”
“Thanks. But I’ll not disturb him on his day off. I’ll wait until he comes on duty.”
“Then you’ll wait a long time, Inspector. He’s on a fortnight’s leave.”
“Starting when?”
“About three o’clock yesterday afternoon, I understand.”
Green looked down at her. Her gaze was direct. He tried to read it. Her air of efficiency shone through, but he couldn’t get what she was trying to tell him. Too neat, he thought. Too neat to be toothsome. But at her age, neatness and efficiency, amounting virtually to primness, were only to be expected, he supposed. Particularly in a career spinster.
She must have guessed his thoughts.
“You’re summing me up, Mr Green. Assessing the woman in me.”
Such frankness was a jolt, but Green was equal to the occasion. “Nothing was further from my thoughts,” he lied, casting around for a reason. “I was wondering why an efficient PA like you, knowing everything that goes on, should only ‘understand’ that the leave of a senior security officer should start at three o’clock yesterday. I’d have expected you to be sure.”
Her eyes twinkled in a smile.
“Sit down, Inspector.” She indicated the corner of her desk. “You are a suspicious man, so let me explain. As yesterday was Sunday, I was not in the office …”
“But a fortnight’s leave isn’t taken on the spur of the moment. Surely you’d have booked it in weeks ago?”
“Quite right. I did. And then I had to delete it.”
“Oh, why?”
“Because Mr Toinquet said it would not be convenient for Mr Mercer to be on leave just now.”
“Any reason?”
“I think Mr Toinquet wanted a few days off himself.”
“So that’s why Widow Twankey was all dressed up with nowhere to go when we arrived. He was ready for leave with a flying start, was he?” He looked down at her. “But yesterday afternoon he changed his mind and told Mercer he could have the original dates?”
“I assume that Mr Toinquet thought that he himself should be on the premises while you and your colleagues are with us.”
“So he should, Alice. And so should his deputy. So, like me, you’re wondering why Mercer should be sent off at all, let alone at three in the afternoon. If he had to be away, why not after duty? That’s the usual time for leave to start, isn’t?”
She nodded. “I scented a mystery myself. But I can tell you no more than you’ve already heard.”
“Ta, love. You’ve been a great help.”
Her eyes twinkled behind her spectacles.
After leaving Partington, Masters wanted to think. Nobody at the Centre had offered him an office as an HQ. Crome had probably thought Toinquet would have arranged this, but the security man had obviously not thought it necessary. So, as he was on the first floor, and the various library rooms were close by, he decided one of them would afford him the necessary peace and quiet. He walked slowly along the corridor and entered the technical section room.
“A book, sir?” The librarian, now she knew him, seemed prepared to be friendly and helpful, but obviously considered her domain a place for reading, not thinking.
“Er … yes, thank you.”
“Subject?”
He was at a loss as to what to ask for, but he didn’t want to hurt her feeli
ngs or to became engaged in explanations for his presence. Then his recent conversation with Partington threw up the word he hadn’t understood. “Not a subject, exactly. I’d like to check up on nystagmus.” He spelt it out for her.
“Is that a physical phenomenon, sir?”
“In the medical sense.”
“In that case we want the section on the principles and practice of medicine. If you would like to sit down I’ll bring you what I can find.”
He chose a seat at a table in the window while she riffled through book indexes. She brought him first one open volume, then another, and a third. Then she left him to get on with it.
He wasn’t really interested in the written word, but he made some attempt to read. ‘Continuous rolling movement of eyeball … aural nystagmus, lateral, jerking, rotatory …’ The types and their causes were explained. He turned to the second book. ‘Brain damage … lesions of the cerebellum—the inferior part of the brain—produces disturbances of the eye movements. Jerking nystagmus is commonly seen …’ He continued to read for no good reason. ‘Jerking nystagmus in the vertical plane generally indicates that the lesion is in the brain stem rather than in the labyrinth. In cerebellar lesions the nystagmus is more marked on deviation of the eyes to the side of the lesion …’
It was rapidly driving him to sleep. He read bits twice and made no sense of them. The lines danced. He tried to think, but found his eyes heavy.
“The tea trolley’s outside, sir. Would you like a cup?”
The librarian’s voice brought him awake with a start. He had no liking for institutional tea, but he thought a cup might serve to bring him fully awake.
“Thank you.” He put his hand in his pocket. “How much?”
“Guests free,” she said cheerfully, and went out into the corridor.
As he knew it would be, the tea was ghastly. Stewed and far from hot, but it served its turn.
He stood up. “Where shall I leave the cup?”
“Oh! Are you leaving?”
“Yes. I’ve read what I wanted. Thank you for your help.”
“It’s just that I’ve got some more information on nystagmus for you. You see, you said it was medical physical, which it is, of course. But I have here a recent article which is physical physical, if you follow me.”
“I take it that you file in the physics section any medical paper which has a bearing on physics, is that it?”
“Yes. I thought I remembered getting one a few weeks ago.…”
He held out his hand. In the face of her pleasant and helpful attitude he felt he couldn’t be boorish and refuse to accept the paper. He noted with gratitude that it was a small article occupying only two or three magazine columns. He returned to his seat, packed his pipe and was about to light it when he recalled that smoking is usually forbidden in libraries. With a sigh he picked up the paper.
Short or not, the article riveted him. He read it once, avidly, then a second time more slowly. Now was the time to think. Brain alert. All systems go. He forgot the probability of a ban on smoking. He lit his pipe and concentrated. The bits and pieces began to come together. Those facts still to be checked began to marshal themselves in his mind. Out of confusion came a pattern—conclusions from hints, conclusions from known facts, conclusions from conclusions …
He was astounded when the librarian said: “It’s half past five, sir. I lock up now unless there is something else you would like.”
“Good heavens! So late?”
“Was the paper any help, sir?”
“So much so that I’d like to borrow it, if I may. Would that be possible if I signed for it?”
“You can have it, sir. It’s only a photocopy. I’ve got the journal it came from. February’s Nature, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. Volume two four seven, page four oh four.”
She smiled at him as he left the library. She didn’t know it, but Masters felt like kissing her.
Green left Alice Dinwiddie and crossed the hall to the general office of the Centre. Hill and Brant, he was informed, were in the Senior Administrator’s office. He was at liberty to join them if he so wished. He did wish.
“I’m Thorne.” The Senior Administrator was a big man of about forty. Hair standing up in tight curls and greying. “I’m a bit of a misfit here—an ordinary civil servant. So when some of the excitement comes my way I’m ready to make a meal of it. Makes a change from chair-polishing.”
“Nice of you to be so co-operative,” said Green.
“Co-operative, but unhelpful.”
“You haven’t got the accounts?”
“Oh, I’ve got them all right. But they don’t show any new equipment purchases. Nothing since the original capital investment. And even those items were written off immediately for accounting purposes. So there’s nothing I can tell you”.
“Mr Thorne,” said Green cheerfully, “you’ve given us what facts there are. Whatever has happened is fact—positive or negative.”
“Perhaps I’d have been able to appreciate that better if I’d known what you were after.”
Green shook his head. “We weren’t after anything except facts. We can’t just go after anything we think we’d like to see. It’d be nice if we could. Like you looking for a bit of surplus money over at the end of the financial year.”
“The fact is that such a thing never happens.”
“There you are then. Same with us. So we have to accept what’s there. Right, we’ll leave you in peace, Mr Thorne, and get on with our nosing about.”
As soon as they were clear of the house, Green said: “I want to go into the village, so whistle up the car and let’s get weaving.”
“Where’s the Chief?” asked Hill when Brant had gone for the car.
“God knows, and I don’t suppose he cares. He’s had it on this case.”
“Who, the Chief?”
“Doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.”
“Is that a fact or simply an assertion?”
“Both, laddie. That’s why we’re in a hurry.”
“To beat him to it?”
“And why not?”
“That’ll be the day! If the Chief’s all at sea, I don’t reckon much to our chances of cracking it.”
“Come along and see what we get.”
“It’s nice to meet a crowd of decent coppers,” said Mercer.
“You’re an ex-yourself?” asked Green.
“Nothing ex about it. Seconded here. I’m still serving. Inspector Mercer at your service.”
It was a neat little semi. It was easy to see that Mrs Mercer took a great pride in it. And that Inspector Mercer took a great pride in his wife. With every reason. She was what Green privately designated as ‘a pretty little thing’. She looked no more than a girl-wife.
“You wondering why I allowed myself to be pushed into this job?” he asked. “Because of Sue, here.” He put his arm round her as she dealt with the tea tray. “Regular hours. The irregular variety were playing hell with our marriage, weren’t they, my pet? Here, I’ve got office hours, with the occasional visit to the Centre in the middle of the night in my duty weeks.”
“And he’s not out facing demos every Sunday,” added Mrs Mercer. “At least when he goes off I know he’ll be safe and he’ll be back inside a couple of hours.”
“Very nice,” said Green. “But it’s not all so reg’lar, is it? I mean, this leave you’re on. First you put in for it, then it was refused, now you’ve got it.…”
“I don’t know why men can’t run their affairs better,” said Mrs Mercer, pouting prettily.
“Why the sudden change?” asked Hill.
Mercer frowned. “I’ve been asking myself that. Toinquet sprung it on me yesterday afternoon. I took it before he could change his mind again.”
“That Toinquet!” said Mrs Mercer, perching on the arm of her husband’s chair. “He’s ever so hateful.”
“Steady, love,” said Mercer.
“Well he is. Look h
ow he …”
“I said steady, Sue. Mr Green and the sergeants are here on a murder enquiry, not a gossip trail.”
“Well, that was nearly murder, wasn’t it? If it hadn’t been for you and Doctor Mailer it would have been.”
Green was sitting up and taking notice of this exchange between husband and wife. He glanced across at Hill and winked knowingly. The mention of Mailer and murder all in the same breath seemed to portend something of interest.
“That’s got nothing to do with …” begun Mercer.
“Oh, but it has,” said Green urbanely. “It seems you and Widow Twankey don’t get on, Mr Mercer. Was there bad blood between Twankey and Mailer, too?”
Mercer sighed in exasperation. “It was about six weeks ago. We’d had a student protest at the gate. You know the crap. Banners saying ‘We want bactericides not bacteria’ and that sort of thing. That was on the Saturday afternoon. By tea-time the crowd had been dispersed by the local police, but Toinquet, quite rightly, ordered an increased security alert. It was getting dark then by five o’clock, remember, so on the Sunday we stood to at dusk again, just in case of trouble.
“Toinquet and I were both in the lodge, and there were two dog-handlers out with their animals between the wall and the wire.”
Green nodded to show he understood. “The perimeter must be a long one.”
“About one point six miles,” agreed Mercer. “Hell of a distance to keep secure. That’s why we have the fence electrified.”
“Oh, yes?”
“About ten past five—remember we were in the control room in the lodge—the bell went, showing that a trip wire had been triggered. That meant that somebody had managed to get across the wall, but to me it meant that whoever had done it was a pretty clumsy customer. No professional would fall into the trap of touching an obvious trip wire. So I was fairly sure there was some kid acting the fool and the dog-handlers would get him right enough. I mean, notices telling people to keep out are like magnets to kids these days. They’ll have a go just for the hell of it—not to pinch secrets.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing just then. Toinquet used the personal radio to set on the handlers. He was a bit excited. The day before could have been ugly, and you’ll know him. The heavy hand every time. Hit and hit hard before asking questions. Anyhow, we’ve got a screen there which tells us if the electrified wire has been touched. There’s not much current goes through—fifteen volts or some such. Just enough to activate the alarm.”
Dread and Water Page 14
