“Kids!” said Hildidge. “Still, who’d be without them?”
“I’m expecting to become a father myself,” said Masters. “It’s a long way off, yet. We’ve just got to know.”
“Congratulations.”
“The rain’s stopped,” said Green, joining the group, “but it still looks as if David had another bucketful or two to send down.”
“Will that hamper your investigations?” asked Kenny.
“Not so’s you’d notice, Sir Thomas. But it all depends what His Nibs here has in mind. If he’s going to ask me to plod round Bramthorpe looking for laburnum trees I’ll have to get my wellies out.”
“A lot of gardens have them,” said Hildidge. “I’ve got one.”
“So have I.” Sir Thomas wrinkled his brow. “And I’m pretty sure Norman and Barbara have one.”
“The forensic man at the inquest said they were commonly grown. But they seldom grow wild, apparently.”
“Golden Rain!” said Kenny sadly. “Nice name for a deadly tree, isn’t it? It doesn’t seem right somehow.”
Masters put his cup down.
“Well, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us . . . We’ll report again, very soon, I hope, Mr Hildidge. I want to work as quickly as possible, because the school breaks up for half term tomorrow.”
“Good luck,” said Sir Thomas. “Come and see me whenever you like.”
*
“Now,” said Masters, turning to Green as soon as they were in the car, “you said we’d bring home the bacon. So we’d better start looking for a few pigs and a tub of salt.”
“Get out of it,” said Green, taking out a battered packet of Kensitas. “You’ve got your ideas.”
“True. The school key, which you lifted from Sir Thomas last night, will have to be tested.”
“It was. At two this morning,” grumbled Reed.
“With what result?”
Reed said: “I don’t know yet, Chief.”
“I thought you said you’d tested the white key fob.”
“I dusted and photographed it, Chief. But I haven’t got any further than that. There were two sets . . .”
“Distinctly different?”
“I’d say so, Chief, but I was so bog-eyed I just left them.”
“I see.”
“Sorry, Chief.”
“Don’t worry. I forgot I’d asked the D.C.I. to pick up the key. I’m gratified he remembered it after our talk last night. I certainly hadn’t expected you to get so far.”
Green said: “You’re being magnanimous, George. Even complimentary. I would say that means you picked up some snippet in there from either Sir Tosh or Hildidge. While you were having coffee, was it?”
“Yes. Rachel Kenny and Helen Hildidge are not close friends.”
“Would you expect them to be? Same class at school but different class outside. Hildidge was probably pounding a beat when his girl was born—with a police whistle in her mouth. While the other one would have a whole canteen of silver cutlery in hers.”
Masters was by now too accustomed to Green’s remarks of this type to rise to it as he once might have done. He took out his pipe and started to fill it, determined by his silence to force Green to ask for further information. At last—
“Well, it’s interesting. Rachel and Helen aren’t palsie-walsie. That should get us a long way. No wonder you’re feeling pleased with yourself.”
“Go on, Chief,” suggested Berger. “There’s more to it than that.”
“Quite right. Though they are not friends they have one mutual friend who, it appears, is pretty close to both of them. The girl’s name is June Hall . . .”
Both Reed and Green uttered exclamations when they heard the name.
“The punishment book,” growled Green.
“Detention,” said Reed. “I noticed last night she was two down and one to go according to Miss Bulmer’s arithmetic.”
“Quite,” said Masters.
“So what?” asked Berger.
“As yet, nothing,” said Masters. “Two girls are each friends of a third, but not friends of each other. We are looking, we think, for three girls. That’s all.”
“Come off it,” growled Green. “You told me to pinch that key . . .”
“Right. The kids we want had to get into the school. There are plenty of keys to the secretary’s entrance. Miss Holland gave every governor one each. But the only governor with a child—or grandchild—at the school is Sir Thomas. Because he uses the key so rarely, he leaves it in the drawer of the telephone table in his hall, so that he doesn’t have to carry it about with him. It wouldn’t be beyond the bounds of possibility for his little Rachel—on one of her frequent visits to his house—to borrow that key.”
“You know what you’re suggesting, George?” said Green grimly. “If it turns out that his granddaughter was instrumental in killing the woman he was going to marry, it’ll break Kenny into little pieces.”
“I realise that. But what can I do about it? This is a perfectly bloody case. You see, Bill, I can’t get it out of my head that Rachel and June Hall are apparently as thick as thieves, and that June Hall is a prankster—as shown by the fact that she was either the instigator or at least party to the idea of introducing a baby hedgehog into the Kenny kitchen, to the consternation of the staff.”
“When did you get to know that?”
“Over coffee, when we were chatting about the girls.”
“Chatting? It may have seemed like chatting to them, but you were probing like a mad dentist.”
“True. I couldn’t get it out of my head that young Rachel was the girl with the best opportunity to get a key to the school. And then June Hall’s name came up. Like you I’d made a mental note that she had appeared in both the punishment book and the detention book. The only one to do so within the last six months or so. So I already knew she misbehaved in school—to a serious degree, if what we are told about Miss Holland vetting punishments is true.”
“I can’t see why it shouldn’t be.”
“Right. And she obviously did bad work, too, otherwise she wouldn’t be in the detention book.”
“In short, she’s a right little raver.”
“I must assume so. But I must also assume that she is intelligent, because what we heard from Miss Bulmer concerning detention . . .”
“That’s right. If she was a dim kid, she’d be encouraged, not punished. She must be a bright kid who’s skiving if her name’s down twice.”
“So, Chief?” asked Reed. “You’re reckoning on June Hall as ring-leader, are you? With the Kenny and Hildidge kids as accomplices?”
“Not quite. That would be jumping the gun.”
“But June Hall?”
“We’ve got to keep our eye on her.”
The car turned into the hotel car park.
“Let’s have a quick look at those prints,” said Green. “In His Nibs’ room if the chambermaid’s finished in it. If not, in a corner of the lounge.”
*
Reed looked across at Masters.
“The same, Chief,” he said, putting down his pocket magnifier.
“What’s that mean?” asked Green.
“It means that two good, clear prints I got off the key fob are duplicated in those I got off some of the drums in the kitchen.”
“So little Rachel was in it, after all,” said Berger.
“What are you going to do, George?” asked Green. “See her parents and ask to take her dabs? Or go ahead and see Sir Tosh and put it to him straight?”
“Neither,” said Masters. He took out his pipe and started to fill it carefully. When he was ready to continue, he said: “You see, Berger, you are not necessarily right in saying that Rachel Kenny was involved. All we can say for sure is that one of the three who handled the drums also handled Sir Thomas’ key. Oh, I know the probabilities are that it was Rachel. But suppose—on one of her visits to Kenny’s house—June Hall had borrowed the key . . .”
“How woul
d she know it was there?”
“Rachel would know her granddad had it, and little girls gossip. Or perhaps June Hall went to use the phone. Kids do, these days, all the time. She could have been standing there waiting for somebody to answer and—again as is commonly done—she idly opened the little drawer, or she was looking for a pencil . . .”
“No good, Chief. How would she know it was the key to a school door, as distinct from any old key to any old door in Kenny’s house?”
“Ah! You’ve got me there, I’m . . .”
“Wait! Wait!” exploded Green. “Of course she’d know.” He looked at Berger. “How many keys have you seen around that School House?”
“Quite a few, and . . . You’re right. They were all on white fobs—at least . . .” He turned to Berger. “In Groombridge House there was a board in the hall—full of keys on white fobs. I remember now.”
“Right, lad. I reckon every key in that school is on a white fob.” Green turned to Masters. “Couldn’t we ring somebody up? The secretary perhaps. She’d tell us. I think each one is fobbed with a white tag that will take a name or a number to identify it. It’s the sort of thing a fussy-britches like Miss Holland would insist on. Then when she gave the governors their keys, she gave them fobs, too. Every girlie in that school probably knows which is a school key and which isn’t.”
“Thanks, Bill.” Masters turned to Berger. “So what I said still stands. But it is immaterial. My point is that June Hall—or any other girl from the school if it comes to that—could have discovered and borrowed that key.”
“And returned it?”
“Easy enough. ‘Can I use the phone, please, Rachel? I just want to ring Mummy to tell her where I am.’ Then, wham! The key is back in the drawer. Kenny won’t have missed it, because he uses it so rarely.”
“Ho, hum!” said Green.
“However, I still favour Rachel,” said Masters, “for obvious reasons. And June Hall.”
“How about Helen Hildidge?”
“We have no reason to suppose she was implicated, simply because she knows June Hall.”
“You hope,” said Green. “The trouble with kids is that clever young imps, like June Hall appears to be, can lead others astray. Kids who would never think of misbehaving—other than being a bit naughty—can be jeered or dared into doing something daft. And then, every so often, it turns out to be as serious as this. I’m no religious maniac, but I agree with what it says in the Bible about whoever leads kids astray—whether they’re grown-ups or other young devils.”
“Amen to that,” said Masters. “But now, gentlemen, let’s put our thinking caps on.” He turned to the sergeants. “You two reported that the head girl . . .”
“Melissa Craig-Deller,” said Reed.
“The same. She told you that Miss Bulmer had said some girls looked pretty sick when the news of Miss Holland’s death was announced.”
“The teachers supported it, Chief. Miss Fryer especially.”
“When you told us, we took it as confirmation that all the girls held a great admiration for the headmistress and were distressed by her death. What if the shock was due to the fact that they thought—or knew—they had caused her death?”
“Good thinking that, man,” said Green. “That’s one thing we can check up on. We can get the names from Miss Bulmer and then check with Miss Fryer that she saw the same people looking the worse for wear. Even if she doesn’t confirm Miss Bulmer, it widens the field a bit, that’s all.”
“No,” said Masters. “We would really like Miss Bulmer to give us names, including that of June Hall. If the Fryer was looking in some other direction and saw some genuine case of distress, we’d do better to ignore it.”
“Why?”
“Because somehow or another, we’ve got to identify the owners of the prints on the drums. That means we have to get their dabs by what can only be illegal means. It will be difficult enough to get three sets. Getting six or more will be a harder task and consequently more difficult to achieve by stealth. Because, please remember, taking prints from three girls—if discovered—will attract as much unpleasant attention as taking them from three hundred, especially after it has been agreed that none shall be taken.”
“Where does that leave us and our conscientious objection to involving kids? We’re as guilty if we do it clandestinely to a few as we would be if we did it openly to three hundred,” said Berger.
“Not a bit of it,” said Green. “If we get those dabs without those kids knowing, we won’t be involving them. Our objection is to lining them up for a grisly enterprise. If we don’t line them up and they know nothing about it, we’ll have done them no harm. There’s no humbug in that. It means we’ll have gone out of our way and put ourselves to a lot of extra work to shield the little darlings from participating in normal police routine. But we’ll also have done our jobs. That way everybody should be satisfied in every way.”
“That says it all,” said Masters. “So for heaven’s sake, watch your step. No overt moves to get prints.”
“That’s all very well, Chief, but how are we to get them?”
“I can’t tell you. I think we’ll have lunch . . .”
“In a pub,” interjected Green. “Not here. I want a pint from the barrel in a tankard, not a bottle in a toothmug.”
“Just as you like. After lunch we’ll try to get the girls’ names from the Misses Bulmer and Fryer. Then we’ll know whom we have to go after. That fact alone will make the task seem a deal easier.”
They left the hotel. As they got into the car it was again raining and the wind had begun to gust strongly.
“Take us to some place where we can get a decent meal,” said Green to Reed. “None of your Ploughman’s on a day like this.”
“Go where you like,” said Masters, “but don’t take too long about it. Remember the school breaks up for half term tomorrow morning. So we’ve only twenty-four hours before they spread themselves all over the country. And as I’ve no wish to go chasing after them, I’d like to make the effort to clear up before they finish.”
“Quite right,” said Green. “Besides, we need our weekend, too. I’d like to watch Chelsea tomorrow afternoon.”
“Home match?”
“They never win if I’m not there,” said Green airily. “I have a good effect on them.”
“You can’t have been attending very often this last year or two, then,” said Berger. “They’ve not been exactly the most successful side in the country.”
“Team-building, lad. It goes in cycles. We’ll bounce back. And talking of bouncing, I’m being rattled about here like a pea in a pod. Take it easy over the potholes, Sergeant.”
“The Chief said to look sharp.”
“Not at the expense of life and limb.”
“Never mind, we’re there now. Sergeant Berger and I earmarked this pub yesterday. It has an air about it.”
“It’s not air I want,” grumbled Green as he got out of the car. “It’s Real Ale I’m after, followed by a big wodge of beefsteak and kidney pud.”
In the event he had the dish of the day—liver and bacon—and rushed through it so quickly that the others were hard put to keep pace.
“To the school-secretary’s entrance, please,” said Masters. “We should get there just before afternoon classes begin.”
As they started away, Masters said to Green: “By the way, I forgot to tell you earlier, but Wanda phoned Doris yesterday to tell her about the baby.”
“Did she say how Doris received the news?”
“Absolutely delighted.”
“I knew she would be. We shall be knee-deep in knitting at our house for the next nine months.”
“Wanda also sent you her love.”
“I should think so, too. Here! Wait a minute! When did you call her?”
“It was too late last night after we’d finished talking, so I rang her this morning, just before I came down for breakfast.”
“You what? Hadn’t you heard
that early morning is the worst time for a lass who’s infantising? And you go and phone her before she’s out of bed.”
“She was feeling perfectly well. She said so.”
“Of course she did.”
“And she sounded it. Cheerful and pleased to hear from me. Besides . . .”
“Yes? Besides?”
“I asked Wanda for some information, and she was very happy to give it to me.”
“What information?”
“You know she’s very good at flowers and gardens and such like, where I am hopeless.”
“Yes. Come to mention it, I can’t see you planting the salvias and watering the azaleas.”
“I wanted to know about laburnums. They flower—or so we’ve been told—in about June. Then the fruit comes—like peas in pods. But this is late October and I can’t think that those drums were interfered with all that long ago. So what happens to the seed pods between June and mid-October? I simply asked Wanda if she could tell me.”
“And could she?”
“She helped a lot. She reckoned that by mid-August the seed pods still on the trees would be drying out. Losing their pale, green, glossy surfaces and beginning to get rough and yellow.”
“Just like peas, Chief,” said Berger. “They then shrink over the fruit inside and you can see bumps . . .”
“We know what happens to peapods,” said Green. “It’s laburnums we’re talking about.”
“Wanda said the drying-out process would take about two or three weeks and then hulls and seeds would be dark brown like the seed pods on Russel lupins, broom and sweet peas.”
“So that by the middle of September at the latest, laburnum seeds might be mistaken for peppercorns—in artificial light by somebody in a hurry and who’s been unwise enough to assume that small, brown, spherical seeds in a box marked black peppers are, in fact, black peppers.”
“Quite.”
“And that means somebody had a month in which to plan and carry out the job.”
Reed slowed to turn right through the big double gates of the school.
“Chief,” said Berger, “do you reckon it was planned to use laburnum seeds, or did whoever did it just happen to notice them on the tree or fallen to the ground and think what a good idea to use those as well as the paint powders and plaster?”
Golden Rain Page 16
