The Death-Cap Dancers (Mrs. Bradley)

by Gladys Mitchell

“That is interesting. You prefer it to the other theory you outlined?”

  “Yes, I do, ma’am, but there’s the young fellow who used to ride tandem with the injured boy. Mind you, I’m not saying that their relationship was anything but what it ought to be, but there’s a lot of that sort of thing about in these days, especially since the law was changed. The murdered girl—the first one—was sweet on the wounded boy and the second dead girl was, by all accounts, her rival. That part seemed straightforward enough, but to remove both of them would leave the way clear for this tandem partner, if you see what I mean, and that’s a point I have to consider.”

  “But why attack the beloved object as well as the predatory girls, Inspector?”

  “Goodness knows, ma’am. Jealousy is as cruel as the grave, they say. That could be one answer, I suppose. He may have had his suspicions that his friend had paired off with one of the girls and left him flat.”

  “I think I shall enjoy a chat with your dancers, Inspector.”

  “You’ll have a look at the young people, ma’am?”

  “Oh, yes. It seems a pity to come all this way for nothing, does it not? I imagine you have questioned them closely about the first death?”

  “Yes, I have. The only one of them who seemed to have an alibi was this girl Pippa. I know what is thought about alibis, ma’am, but this one seems unbreakable. I thought at first that I could eliminate two of the boys, but then I found I couldn’t. They had spent most of the day in Gledge End getting the hall ready for Saturday’s show, but I was unable to discover at what time they left, and the medical evidence hasn’t been of much help, because the doctors can’t say, within a couple of hours, when the first girl died. Now that we have eliminated your young ladies it has helped a bit, because there is no doubt the girl was dead when they found her. However, they weren’t all that sure of the time they saw the damaged bicycle and when they had made their report and we had got the police surgeon along to look at the body, the best part of another hour had elapsed, which didn’t help much. You see, my trouble is that I neither know when those two fellows left the church hall last Thursday nor at what rate they pedalled back. The death-spot wasn’t all that far from Gledge End. At twelve mph they could have reached it in half an hour, I reckon, so I can’t dismiss them from my calculations.”

  “But your problem, I imagine, is not only that you cannot find out at what time they left the hall, or, presumably, whether they remained together when they had done so. What else?”

  “There’s another thing, yes. According to the rest of them, this Mrs. Judy Tyne left the Youth Hostel, which is about twenty-five miles from where her body was found (if she followed the moorland road, as we think she did) at around nine in the morning. It could not have taken her six or seven hours to cycle that distance. This lot went everywhere on their bikes, so she must have been an experienced cyclist.”

  “A puncture?”

  “We don’t think so. In fact, we’re sure not. The tyres were quite tight. One of my chaps tested them. They were nearly new and there was no sign of a mend. The only damage was to the front wheel.”

  “An assignation with somebody—with whoever killed her?”

  “Must have been with one of the dancers, then, and it could have been with any one of them, including this second dead girl, but, of course, she’s out of it now.”

  “What was the alibi of the girl they call Pippa?”

  “She was at Ramsgill’s farm all day, sworn to by Mrs. Ramsgill before she knew anything about the murder. I don’t think it’s any good trying to climb that tree, ma’am.”

  “At what time did she leave the farm?”

  “Round about tea-time, roughly speaking. Anyway, far too late for her to have got to where the body was found. Besides, she’s a slip of a thing. Mind you, the doctors are going on the assumption that Mrs. Tyne was struck from behind and probably taken by surprise, but, really ma’am, I can’t see that Pippa Marton could have anything to do with it. Besides, there is this second death and also the vicious attack on her brother.”

  “Come, now, Inspector! It is not unknown for sisters to attack their brothers.”

  “I grant you he was attacked from behind, like the girl on the moor, but the second dead girl was face to face with the murderer and she would make two of Miss Pippa.”

  “What about the other young men? Could they be connected with the first death, the death on the moor?”

  “No real alibis at all. Two of ’em went to a swimming pool where nobody can swear to them, and the two on the tandem declare they went to the pictures, but again there is no real proof that they couldn’t have slipped out, met the girl, and killed her. But, there again, one of them is this boy who is now in hospital. Of course, the attack on him and the murder of the second girl need not have been by the same person that killed Mrs. Tyne, or for the same reason. Against that, a Death-Cap toadstool was found pushed into all the three youngsters’ headwounds.”

  “Do you mean an extremely poisonous fungus which the botanists call Amanita phalloides?”

  “I don’t know what the botanists call it, ma’am, but I’m told it’s pretty deadly. Anyway, it’s convinced us that the murderer is a psycho and, if I may repeat myself, that is where we hope you will come in.”

  “I am free as soon as I have registered at the Ewe and Lamb, where a room has been booked for me. I should like to begin work on the case at once. Can you pick me up there in half an hour’s time? I am told it is quite near here.”

  “I can drive you there, ma’am, and wait until you are ready to go.”

  “Then I will leave a note here for my great-niece and we can be off at once. Is the Death-Cap toadstool readily obtainable in these parts?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. I’ve had a word with the forest warden and he tells me that it grows under trees and that his foresters, who take the cabin holidaymakers around when they first come, are told to warn people about it and show them the difference between it and the mushroom which it somewhat resembles.”

  “The Death-Cap, so named, seems reminiscent of the days when the judge in a case of murder was passing sentence, don’t you think, and wore a black square on his august wig?”

  “Yes, ma’am, that had occurred to me. Seems as though our fellow thought he was awarding the death penalty to those girls for some crime he thought they had committed. Wonder what was in his mind?”

  “Murderers are as egoistic as the Roman emperors, Inspector. That is the answer here, I think, but speculation along those or any other lines is unprofitable at present.”

  She scribbled in her small notebook, tore out the leaf and left it in the centre of the table for Hermione to find when the girls returned. At the Ewe and Lamb she registered at the desk and booked a table for five at dinner.

  “Where first, ma’am, when we leave your hotel? For tonight I’m leaving the dancers at the Lostrigg Youth Hostel with a police-guard. The warden there wasn’t any too pleased, as they were only booked in for last night, but he had to stretch a point for once and I promised to take them out of his care tomorrow. They will attend the inquest at Gledge End and then I shall escort them to the forest cabin I’ve been given.”

  “Then I think I will wait to question them until after the inquest. Let us make first for the hostel at which they stayed previously. I should like a word with the warden.”

  “That’s at Long Cove Bay, ma’am, and only about half the distance to the Lostrigg place.”

  “Good. I have to get back in time to dress for dinner and welcome my guests.”

  On the way to the Youth Hostel Ribble detailed a conversation he had had with his Chief Constable when they had known that Dame Beatrice was to visit her great-niece. It had run: “This is a very nasty business, Ribble.”

  “Yes, indeed, sir. Not what I’m used to on our manor.”

  “No, indeed. So what are you doing about those dancers?”

  “I’ve commandeered an empty forest cabin for a couple of days to house them.
I’ve no evidence against any of them except that all the boys’ alibis for the first murder are suspect, but nothing points to one of them more than to the others. As for the girl, I want to get her right out of it, but I can’t. On the evidence of Mrs. Ramsgill, the farmer’s wife, Miss Pippa Marton is in the clear so far as the death of Mrs. Tyne is concerned, but there isn’t an alibi in sight for this business at the church hall. None of them can produce one.”

  “How’s that, then?”

  “Not one of them can swear to what any of the others were up to once the show was over. They were all lending a hand at clearing the platform and the body of the hall, removing their props, and so on and so forth, and some of the stuff was taken out of the hall and nobody can say who did what and who went where. Besides that, they’re all scared stiff and are most unwilling to commit themselves to any definite statements in case they might incriminate themselves or one another. I was a bit doubtful about leaving Miss Marton with them, but I’ve got to keep them all rounded up until Dame Beatrice can take a look at them, and I thought my best plan would be to get them along to her as soon as I could.”

  “Yes, I take your point about not leaving them on the loose. In any case, we couldn’t expect Dame Beatrice to chase them all up when they got to their homes. You might be justified in holding them in custody for a couple of days, I suppose, but I think we shall get far more out of them if we don’t frighten them further, or aggravate them too much. They are a pretty intelligent lot, I daresay, and probably know their rights and will exercise them, once they get over the shock.”

  “I believe Dame Beatrice is expecting her secretary to join her. What about the other young women, sir, those who found the first body? We don’t need them any more, do we?”

  “If Dame Beatrice wants to send them home and it doesn’t look as though they can help you any further, let them go.”

  “I see the Newcastle chaps have picked up our man, sir.”

  “Oh, yes, he’s out of it all right. He’d still got the rucksack he stole from the Youth Hostel and he was wearing the anorak. Both have been identified and the lorry-driver who gave him a lift outside Durham has come forward. Our man couldn’t have had anything to do with these last attacks and you never really considered him for the first one, did you?”

  “Not after we were told about the toadstool. The thing is called the Death-Cap and seems to be this joker’s trade-mark. We’re up against a psycho all right, sir. That’s why we can do with Dame Beatrice, as you say.”

  “What about the young fellow who swears he saw the girl’s car skid and hit a tree?”

  “The girls don’t know about that, sir, and I shan’t tell them. Swore he saw the skid when he was on his way back from the forest carpark last Thursday and very cleverly identified the tree for us. Seems to be a bit of a woodman, not to say more than a bit of a naturalist. Name of Trent. Had one of the cabins and got to know the girls.”

  “So you didn’t believe his story?”

  “No, sir, but we’d given up suspecting the girls before he told it. I reckon he’s sweet on one of them and told the lie about seeing the skid just to keep them out of trouble.”

  “As my old schoolmaster, who was mad on Chaucer, would have said, ‘he was a verray parfit gentil knight.’”

  “And could have been a damned nuisance, sir, but no harm done on this occasion, as I had already made up my mind that those girls were out of it.”

  “A bit of a naturalist, you say? Wonder what he knows about Death-Cap toadstools?”

  “I’d never thought of that, sir. Well, the forest warden will have his address, so I can keep the tabs on him. Lies, even in what the liar thinks is a good cause—”

  “Are not items to inspire confidence in the liar? I agree. Yes, keep your eye on him. Meanwhile, it will be interesting to see what Dame Beatrice makes of this business.”

  “I shall give her some notes, sir, of visits I made in connection with the first murder and the outcome of same. I shall make my own enquiries with regard to the church hall affair and shall leave her to take her own course. We can compare our findings and discuss them later, if that is her wish. With her vast experience she may hit on something which I’ve missed. I hope she can. Unless one of those dancers is our man, or this young fellow who told me that unnecessary tarrididdle about Miss Lestrange’s skid in the woods when she went to park the car, I haven’t any line which looks like a useful follow-up.”

  “Have you thought about that caretaker at the church hall?”

  “In connection with the murder there, yes, sir, but I haven’t questioned him yet from that angle. I’ve only taken his statement about finding the injured lad and the dead girl. I can see he might be implicated there, but it’s difficult to see how he could have been involved in the death of that girl on the moor.”

  “I would press him, all the same. Keep strictly within the rules, of course, and be sure to tell him that he is entitled to have his solicitor present—that should scare him a bit!—and see what he will come up with. After all, the part of the moor where the first body was found isn’t all those many miles from Gledge End.”

  — 13 —

  ELDER

  As they took the road to the hostel at Long Cove Bay, the car passed the spot where the first murder had taken place. Ribble pointed out the spot on the roadside verge where the damaged bicycle had lain.

  “Interesting,” said Dame Beatrice. “She was either cycling on the wrong side of the road or else she was returning to the rest of the party at Long Cove Bay, one would suppose.”

  “Unless the murderer shifted the bike across the road, ma’am, but that seems unlikely. Our guess is that she had thought better of scarpering and perhaps had realised she had nowhere to sleep. They were booked in at Long Cove Bay for the Thursday and Friday nights, but not at the Lostrigg hostel until last night.”

  “Do the Youth Hostels not take in benighted travellers?”

  “It would be chancing your luck. They would, if they had room, I suppose, but, as I understand it, booking beforehand and in writing is the general rule. Besides that, she would have had another forty miles to cycle, even after she reached Gledge End, and she may well have baulked at that, especially if the wind was against her.”

  Dame Beatrice had been conscious of the wind as soon as the car had come out upon the open moor. She looked out of the window at the rising slopes covered in dying heather and the sinister dark gold of acres of dead bracken and, through the windscreen, at the narrow serpentine road winding its way over the bleak autumn landscape. Further on there were patches of stonewalled pasture with here and there a shepherd’s hut and a sheep-fold, sometimes whole, sometimes in ruins. But soon even this primitive evidence of human occupation was left behind, and when the car came in sight of the hostel, that, too, was surrounded by a waste of moorland. As a private house it had had a large garden for which many tons of soil had been imported from more fertile localities, but there was nobody at the hostel to give it the care, attention and hard work necessary for its preservation and unkeep.

  Occasionally Mrs. Beck made it one of the hostellers’ chores to get to work on the gorse bushes, brambles, bilberries, and crow-berries, and a bill-hook and secateurs were kept in the warden’s cottage for this purpose. The job was an unpopular one, however, as the hostellers maintained, with some reason, that they were responsible for keeping the house tidy but that their obligations did not extend to the garden.

  Ribble took Dame Beatrice straight to Mrs. Beck’s cottage. The warden was in and greeted Ribble with a grim smile.

  “I expect you’ve heard we’ve had more trouble with your dance lot,” Ribble said.

  “More trouble? I’ve heard nothing.”

  “This is Dame Beatrice Lestrange Bradley. May we come in?”

  “Happen you must. What’s amiss now?”

  Ribble told her.

  “Dame Beatrice is consultant psychiatrist to the Home Office,” he said. “We think we’ve got a homicid
al maniac on our hands.”

  “I should think so, too. Nobody’s safe these days, are they?”

  “I think you are wise to keep a dog,” said Dame Beatrice, giving the Alsatian her fingers to sniff. “I wonder whether I might look at your register of guests? I am anxious to establish any possible overlaps.”

  “Overlaps? Oh, I see what you mean. Folks that were staying with me at the same time as the dancers. It won’t help you. The dancers came in last Wednesday evening and, except for poor Judy Tyne, stayed Thursday night and Friday night. I had nobody else except a party of four schoolteachers on Wednesday night and they went off first thing Thursday morning. I’ve had them before and I’m sure I can vouch for them.”

  “Were they cyclists?”

  “No, walkers. They couldn’t possibly have picked up Judy on her bicycle.” Mrs. Beck produced her records. Dame Beatrice took down the names and addresses of the teachers. They were all women and she could see why Ribble had not troubled, in his own phrase, to chase them up.

  “The only help we might get from them,” she said, when she and the inspector were back in his car, “is if they heard anything of the quarrel which caused Mrs. Tyne to take herself off on Thursday morning.”

  “I can find that out while you’re busy on your own course of action, ma’am, but from what I’ve been able to find out, the row was nothing more than a cat-fight between Mrs. Tyne and this other dead girl.”

  “You spoke of what seems to be an alibi for the death of Mrs. Tyne, Inspector.”

  “Won’t take five minutes, if you’d like to call on Mrs. Ramsgill, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Ramsgill, like Mrs. Beck, had not heard the news of the second death and the injury to Mick. She was deeply concerned.

  “To think that Ramsgill and I were actually in that hall just before it happened!” she said. “Well, I never did! How upset poor little Pippa Marton must be to think of her brother being set upon like that!”

  “Ah, yes, Miss Marton,” said Dame Beatrice. “She was with you on the day Mrs. Tyne was killed, I believe.’