Damned by Logic

by Jeffrey Ashford

  Ansell tried to quell the panic the statement occasioned. ‘He is totally mistaken.’

  ‘The captain of the Helios made him give his evidence after swearing to tell the truth on a Bible. An unusual occurrence in unusual circumstances, but one that would probably be accepted in court without objection.’

  ‘He must have reckoned I was a poor tipper.’

  ‘A far-fetched possibility. Mrs Morley believes you had an affair on the ship.’

  ‘She’ll think up six impossible slanders before breakfast.’

  ‘She is unlikely to have conceived the affair without reason.’

  ‘Georgie.’

  ‘Would you please explain?’

  ‘I’d met a passenger a few times and we became friendly – in the simple meaning of the word.’

  ‘Was she unmarried?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Her name?’

  Ansell gave the first which occurred to him. ‘Nancy.’

  ‘And her surname?’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘Your memory was on hold? No doubt we will be able to judge what was her name from the passenger list. Please continue.’

  ‘She bought the Barbary ape in Gibraltar, found she didn’t have enough room to pack it in her luggage, asked me if I would take it in mine.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It did not occur to you that it might be an injudicious thing to do?’

  ‘Why should it have done?’

  ‘You would have known luggage has to pass through customs and anything bought abroad has to be declared. I don’t doubt you have read or heard of a passenger who was carrying something illegal who asked someone else to carry it for him through the customs’ inspection.’

  ‘She wasn’t someone to put anyone else at risk.’

  ‘Was your luggage searched?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Were you strip-searched?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Melanie Caine was. What does that suggest to you?’

  ‘She was chosen by chance, as regularly happens.’

  ‘Customs had been advised she would be carrying illegal goods. That she was found without them means she passed them on to someone else.’

  ‘Or that the advice was nonsense.’

  ‘Did you meet this Nancy after you were through customs?

  ‘No.’

  ‘She has been in touch with you since then?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then you still have the ape?’

  ‘It was burnt.’

  ‘By you?’

  ‘By my wife.’

  ‘Why did she do that?’

  ‘Because Babs made out that the ape proved I’d had an affair.’

  ‘Describe the ape.’

  ‘A typical tourist memento. The apes at Gibraltar are very carefully looked after because—’

  ‘You may assume we know the tradition. What was it made of?’

  ‘Material with a thick nap.’

  ‘Was it filled with foam?’

  ‘I imagine so.’

  ‘You did not open it up?’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘You are a man of intelligence and it’s reasonable to accept that in the circumstances it must have occurred to you that something was hidden in the ape since this Nancy was scared to take it through customs.’

  ‘Christ! I say the same thing time and again, but you won’t listen. I was doing a good deed, not smuggling.’

  ‘I do not believe Nancy existed. The ape was Melanie Caine’s and she persuaded you to carry it ashore in your luggage because there were illegally mined, uncut diamonds in it and she suspected, or was certain, she had been eyeballed. So she needed to find someone who would carry them ashore for her. He would have to be easily attracted so the odds were he needed to be a little short of middle-aged, married to a less than amorous wife, on his own and ready to jump at a chance of unbridled sex at which she was an expert.’

  Ansell struggled to avoid the humiliation any acceptance of what had just been said must bring him; a humiliation increased still further by the presence of Belinda.

  ‘She was, of course, an upmarket call-girl. And she is now dead, Mr Ansell. Did you know that?’ Glover came out with the bald statement and watched Ansell’s reaction closely.

  ‘You know nothing about her ... What do you mean dead?’ He was clearly shocked by that, but couldn’t bear the thought of giving himself away.

  ‘But you do or you would not be so disturbed by my description of her. Despite your many denials, Mr Ansell, I am convinced that you met Melanie Caine aboard the Helios and had an affair with her.

  ‘The bar steward will not be the only crew member to have noticed the two of you together. A stewardess may well have gained a good insight into the nature of your relationship. The dining staff will bear witness. Are you going to force us to question all these people?’

  There was a long silence during which Ansell tried and failed to find a credible way in which to continue his denial. His mind remained numb from the certainty that his worst fears had been realised and that Melanie was actually dead.

  Glover accepted the failure as an admission. ‘Did Melanie Caine ever suggest what was inside the ape?’

  ‘No.’ Ansell muttered in so low a voice, he was asked to repeat what he had said.

  ‘Well, let me tell you,’ Glover stated in his matter-of-fact way, ‘there were several large uncut diamonds in there. Because she was certain she was being watched by the police, she determined to find someone to bring them in for her.’

  Ansell again recalled the frantic way in which Melanie had begged him to return Georgie immediately, her terror when he had said the ape had been burned.

  ‘You said your wife burned the ape. Where did she do that?’

  ‘She wouldn’t say, but it had to be in the garden or it would have attracted too much attention.’

  ‘And because of the rain, all signs of the bonfire would have been washed away and you were left with almost no chance of finding the diamonds unless your wife named the precise spot ... I don’t think we need continue for the moment.’ He stood, left the sitting room, held the door open for Belinda.

  Mrs Kelton came out of the kitchen. ‘You finished?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then clear off and don’t come again.’

  As he followed Belinda out, he murmured, ‘We’ll be back, soon.’

  Belinda drove the car away from the pavement and down the road, stopped at the T-junction.

  Glover said. ‘We’ve made some progress, but it’s just managed to raise even more questions.’

  She said nothing.

  ‘Ansell was probably responsible for her death and it’ll be a smooth mouthpiece who gets a verdict of manslaughter rather than murder.’

  She said, ‘You’re assuming that he was so overwrought when he knew what would happen to Melanie if he didn’t return the ape, that he threatened his wife and scared her to death if she didn’t tell him where she’d burned it.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He did not admit he was with Melanie.’

  ‘His silence did. And what about his physical reaction when we told him she was dead. He almost collapsed on the spot. And we have a perfect eyewitness. Would you choose to ignore the bar steward’s evidence?’

  ‘Photos don’t always make for a solid identification.’

  ‘Here, they do. Melanie suspected, or knew, she was under surveillance so she picked him out and dumbed his brain with sex. A not uncommon occurrence, you’ll agree.’

  ‘You believe I’m qualified to give an opinion?’

  ‘Goddamn it, all I was saying ... Small wonder Sergeant Frick once told me that you could be more difficult to deal with than running on water.’

  She stopped at lights.

  ‘Melanie induced Ansell to buy her the ape in Gibraltar. She unpicked the stitching, pushed the seven diamonds inside the stuffing, sewed it up. Brain suspen
ded, he cheerfully carried it through customs. Then what?’

  She was silent.

  ‘You’ve become unwilling to give an opinion?’ Glover pressed.

  ‘It seems to disturb you when I do,’ Draper retorted with her characteristic defiance.

  ‘Well, let me give you my theory,’ Glover began. ‘Ansell arrived home, stupidly left the ape on the bed where the Morley woman picked it up, smelled cheap scent, saw blonde hairs that hadn’t come from her, and declared adultery. Later, Melanie phoned Ansell to tell him where he must meet her and hand over the ape. His wife said she’d burned it. He demanded to know where exactly and threatened her so violently, she was frightened to death.

  ‘That Melanie was tortured must surely mean that whoever was with her when she phoned believed she was trying to double-cross them and skip with the diamonds. Not being an expert, the torturer went too far and she died. Her body was dumped in the woods.

  ‘They must have found the number she dialled and from that were able to identify Ansell’s house in Bracken Lane. They broke into it with the help of a very smart twirler, found the wife was on her own, explained what would happen to her if she didn’t tell them exactly where she’d burned the ape. She collapsed. To search the large, sodden garden at night was hopeless.

  ‘So the diamonds, which would not have been burned up in any bonfire, are somewhere in the garden. But where?’

  She drove into the station car-park and the bay reserved to the DI.

  ‘And answer came there none.’

  She opened the door, stepped out of the car. He did the same, spoke to her over the roof. ‘When assumptions are linked to facts to provide answers, there is always the chance of a mistaken assumption or fact. Can you name one?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So far, we’ve assumed Melanie never hinted or spoke about the diamonds to Ansell and he carried them ashore in naive innocence. But is that a mistake? Could he have become reasonably mentally alert and guessed at least part of what was going on and reckoned to join in. Desperate, for his own sake, not Melanie’s, to make his wife say exactly where the bonfire had been, did he inadvertently kill her? Where do we go from here?’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll tell me.’

  ‘We see where the diamonds are in the garden.’

  ‘You mean to search it?’

  ‘To have it searched.’

  FIFTEEN

  The day was fine and warm, but the earth in the garden of number thirty-four remained glutinous, causing the police who were searching it to swear freely.

  They found many objects which they named pebbles. But in order to leave no possibility untested, and because he was unsure what they might look like, Glover called in a diamond expert and asked him to say if any of the pebbles might in fact be uncut diamonds. The expert tried not to show his amusement at the suggestion.

  The search proved unfruitful in the discovery of anything of the sparkling variety, so Glover reluctantly returned to the station.

  Back at his desk, Glover stared at the form lit up on his PC screen which asked for projected costs for the next month. As if any mere copper could provide something so prone to chance and criminals. The force needed soothsayers not accountants. The phone rang.

  The caller was Wicks, a DI at county HQ. ‘How’s it going your way?’

  ‘Slowly.’

  ‘Then you’ll be sorry to know the chief will be with you in an hour.’

  ‘It’s Friday the thirteenth?’

  Wicks laughed.

  The call over, Glover picked up a ballpoint and began to write down the questions Abbotts was likely to ask. Again, the phone interrupted him.

  ‘Belinda here, sir.’

  She should identify herself as Constable Draper, he thought bad-temperedly. ‘What is it now?’

  ‘I’ve heard from the phone people. Melanie Caine made a call to Ansell just before midnight on Saturday, the eighteenth of last month.’

  ‘Where was the call from?’

  ‘An unidentifiable mobile.’

  He replaced the receiver, annoyed he had probably allowed his ill humour to become obvious.

  When in his early twenties, Detective Chief Superintendent Abbotts had played rugger with the county police team. A heavily built forward with the ability to run quickly, along with the possession of an aggressive nature, made him a key forward player in a team which won the force’s championship three years in a row. As youth slipped away, he had had to give up the energetic and injury-prone sport. Always enjoying food, the lack of exercise had caused bulk to build. This was the imposing figure that entered Glover’s office later that morning.

  There was a creak as he sat on the desk in Glover’s room. ‘What’s your appreciation?’

  Glover repeated much of what he had previously said to Belinda, though in a neutral manner.

  ‘Do you think Mrs Ansell, when on her own at night, might have forgotten to turn on the alarm system?’Abbotts asked.

  ‘Unlikely for that type of woman, I think, unless she had had a skinful and that was negated by the PM.’

  ‘Was she normally a heavy drinker?’

  ‘We have no evidence one way or the other apart from a healthy liver which would imply a moderate intake.’

  ‘Let’s accept she did not forget to switch it on, then.’

  ‘Then I’d say among the intruders there had to be an electronics expert and a top twirler. If the numbers needed to still an alarm of that make and model are not noted and have been forgotten by some gormless individual – apparently this does happen – they can be regained, but only with a very smart bit of kit. The outside door locks were checked and none of them showed signs of having been forced. If there was a twirler who managed the job, he could have the Bank of England worried.’

  ‘You think there was a break-in?’

  ‘Not a forced entry.’

  ‘The husband?’

  ‘He’s in the frame, even if we can’t yet prove he wasn’t in Oxford throughout the relevant times.’

  ‘What was the state of the marriage?’

  ‘Almost certainly strained. But there’s no evidence of violence. Even the Morley woman, who’d find reason to malign a saint, has not suggested he ever hit his wife. Constable Draper reckons he’s incapable of deliberately harming or threatening a woman.’

  ‘Her reason?’

  ‘Womanly intuition.’

  ‘Not much safer than reading a horoscope. Have you checked with records for the names of villains with the skill to break a sophisticated alarm system?’

  Glover nodded. ‘There are only two names now in the frame and one’s been inside for the past two years.’

  ‘The other?’

  ‘Gabby Ayling from up north, occasionally brought down south for a sharp job.’

  Abbotts eased himself off the corner of Glover’s desk. ‘Keep looking and speed things up.’

  Glover was irritated by the order.

  ‘Has the wife’s body been released for burial?’ Abbotts turned back from the door as if the question had just occurred to him, although it was always his tactic to leave a final order for just before he left a room.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Find out the form of burial and have someone at the service to note Ansell’s reactions.’

  He finally left and Glover got back to imparting his own orders further down the line.

  PC Thorn stood in front of the sweets stand in the supermarket and stared at the boxes of truffles. Could any man understand women? The previous night, Carol might have been in an icebox.

  ‘Evenin’, Mr Thorn.’

  He turned to face Ed Stewart, a small time and mostly unsuccessful blagger. ‘What are you hoping to nick today?’

  ‘Don’t be like that, Mr Thorn. I’ve got a sniff.’

  ‘Use a handkerchief.’

  ‘It’s a good one.’

  ‘If it’s only as good as the last one, see a different chemist.’ He stepped aside to avoid being hit by a trolley.
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  ‘Weren’t my fault.’ Stewart moved closer.

  ‘You’ve been eating garlic by the hundredweight.’

  ‘It’s good for the health.’

  ‘Yours, maybe, but not mine.’

  ‘You want a handle for the Bracken Lane job?’

  ‘Well?’ Thorn feigned indifference, not wanting to encourage Stewart to expect too much from him in return, particularly when the last piece of information had been barely more than useless.

  ‘It’s worth a score.’

  ‘What’s the next laugh?’ Thorn picked up`a box of truffles, walked over to the nearest cash desk, at which an elderly couple were unloading their trolley.

  Stewart intercepted him as he reached the outside door after buying the chocolates. ‘A fin, then, Mr Thorn.’

  ‘You think I’ve won the lottery?’

  ‘It’s strong.’

  ‘So’s the garlic.’ He brought a five-pound note out of a pocket, gave the other time to note the colours, concealed it in the palm of his hand. He left the building, walked across the large car park to his Ford. Stewart followed him.

  ‘Gabby,’ Stewart said, as Thorn pressed the key fob to unlock his car door.

  ‘He doesn’t have a longer name?’

  There was no answer. Thorn handed over the note.

  ‘Gabby Ayling.’

  Thorn returned to the CID general room, entered in the informer’s book the date, time, how much he’d paid Stewart and the information he’d been given. He went along to the detective sergeant’s room. ‘I’ve been given a possible name for the twirler in the Ansell job. Cost a bit, but likely it’s worth that, despite his bad information last time.’

  ‘Have you entered the details?’ Frick wanted to be certain the rules had been observed before he learned the nature and possible value of the information.

  ‘Gabby Ayling, an electronics wizard from Scotland.’

  Ansell was watching a film on television, the ending of which was, for once, not readily discernible, when the phone rang. He went into the hall.

  ‘It’s Mary. We’re just back and have heard the dreadful news about Eileen. We do wish there were some way in which we could help at so bitterly sad a time for you. She was so alive ...’

  Her commiserations continued. He gave conventional responses for a while, then let his mind drift amongst memories until she said, ‘So I want you to come along.’