Death in Desolation (An Inspector Littlejohn Mystery)

by George Bellairs

  ‘One more question …’

  Cromwell was still sitting on his ridiculous little chair and nodding off to sleep, or that was what it looked like. Littlejohn felt the same himself. The little room was hot and airless and the questions and answers had grown formal and almost useless. From what they already knew, they could have answered them without much help from Rose.

  ‘… You said you told someone about Harry Quill’s suggestion that he might buy you a business.’

  She took him up right away.

  ‘I said nothing of the kind.’

  ‘You implied it, though. You must tell me whom you told. It’s very important.’

  ‘I didn’t wish Harry to go spending all that money on something which might prove a flop. He wasn’t a business man, as his failure on the farm showed. Also, if he was finding all that capital, I wanted to make a success of it. Harry had saddled himself with a big farm and then hadn’t enough left to work it properly. I didn’t want to do the same if he spent money on me. I’d rather have let the matter drop at once.’

  ‘Very sensible of you.’

  ‘There’s another thing. It was all right talking about shops, tobacco, haberdashery, stores and post offices, but what did they cost? Would the money run to that? And, if it did, how and where would we find a suitable one and were there any available at that price?’

  She ought to have known Harry Quill before he started buying land and planning his huge farm which came to nothing but ruin. She was the business brain of the pair of them and didn’t seem to miss a point.

  ‘So you asked a friend for advice?’

  ‘Yes. I wasn’t going behind Harry’s back, but I know if I’d suggested asking anybody’s advice, he’d have resented it. He’d have asked me if I didn’t trust him in the business matter. I went to see Mr. Bilbow, of Nunn’s the lawyers. He comes here for a drink sometimes and besides, he looked well after me and my interests when Tim got him to represent me about Jack’s death. I called to see him and put the matter before him.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  Cromwell and Littlejohn were wide awake now. Here, was something fresh, something exciting at last.

  ‘He listened to all I said and then asked me to leave it with him.’

  ‘When did you go to see him?’

  ‘As soon as Harry had left. I was due back at the Drovers but I asked Mr. Criggan to let me off for half an hour. You see, the way Harry had talked, he was coming back to see me on his way home. He behaved as though he’d have the money with him when he got back.’

  ‘Where from?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve said so. He didn’t tell me where he was getting it and I didn’t ask. It would have been taking a liberty.’

  ‘Did you see Harry about the town as you went to Nunn’s office?’

  ‘No. He was nowhere about.’

  ‘He wasn’t in Nunn’s office?’

  ‘What would he be doing there? I’m sure he wouldn’t go to see them about the legal side without telling me and discussing with me what sort of business we’d buy. No; he wasn’t in Nunn’s. I’d to sit in the waiting-room there for ten minutes till Mr. Bilbow was free. A young lady I didn’t know came out of Mr. Bilbow’s room and I saw Mr. Nunn going out as I went in. He spoke to me. I’m sure Harry wasn’t there.’

  ‘And Bilbow told you to leave it with him. You were in a hurry, though. What did you say?’

  ‘I said it was very urgent. To make it appear so, I said I’d had an offer of a sweets and tobacco shop and the seller was in a big hurry and had others wanting to buy it. He seemed a bit put-out and advised me not to jump at anything, but to wait. There were other businesses coming in the market every day and he would do his best to find me one …’

  ‘Wait a minute, Rose. Let’s get all this in proper order. You called to see Bilbow. Now think quietly. What did you say and what were his replies? Right?’

  And he sent Cromwell to the bar to make peace with Criggan so that Rose would have no distractions.

  ‘I said, as I told you, I wanted his advice about buying a business, as I felt I’d like a change from my present job. And then, he suddenly faced me with a thing I’d forgotten. He knew I’d got four thousand pounds compensation for Jack. He’d arranged it after Tim asked Nunn’s to handle it. He said was I thinking of spending that on buying the business. I didn’t know what to say.

  ‘I did some quick thinking. I’d put it all in the savings bank at six months’ notice on Mr. Bilbow’s recommendation at the time. I said I wanted to spend two thousand on the business, would give notice right away, and meanwhile, a friend would lend me the money. He looked hard at me and then said I wouldn’t get much in the way of what I wanted for two thousand pounds. However, perhaps the idea of a little village store with a post office would be best. I’d get a small salary for running the post office and perhaps Nunn’s firm could arrange a loan for me for what it would cost to buy the store above two thousand pounds.’

  ‘He suddenly chose the post office, did he?’

  ‘Yes. It seemed to come to his mind very quickly. He’s a smart man in spite of his drinking habits. He even said he thought he knew the very place for me. He’d let me know next morning. I thought I’d be able to persuade Harry to wait till then. If necessary I’d tell him I’d asked Mr. Bilbow about businesses; not for advice, but if they had any on their books what would suit us.’

  ‘And that was all?’

  ‘Yes. Having said that, Mr. Bilbow seemed anxious to get rid of me. He said he’d another client and he’d kept him waiting whilst he saw me. He’d better let me go and get on with his next interview.’

  ‘Thank you, Rose. I think that will be all. I’m sorry this has taken so long. You’ve been a great help.’

  ‘You do think Harry’s two thousand was an honest deal. I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything improper.’

  ‘So do I, Rose. We’ll soon find out what it was all about.’

  Outside, Littlejohn found Mr. Criggan in quite an amiable mood. He even told Rose she could put on her things and go home now. He and his wife would manage. Cromwell had been applying his skilled technique of buttering-up his adversary and Criggan felt good.

  On the way back to the hotel, Littlejohn told Cromwell about the Bilbow interview with Rose, details of which he’d missed.

  ‘It seems to me that Bilbow smelled a rat about the two thousand pounds. Rose is a bit naïve and must have given her secret away without saying much. It’s obvious, when she mentioned borrowing the money from a friend until she could get her own money from the savings bank, that Bilbow thought of Harry. Harry who, through Nunn, was negotiating a loan, in cash, from his Aunt Clara. Harry, who was Rosie’s best friend.’

  ‘You think Bilbow killed Harry to get the cash?’

  ‘We mustn’t jump to conclusions yet, old chap. There are other matters to see to before we can even begin to suspect Bilbow. After Rose had told him her tale, she said he seemed eager to get rid of her. To bring the interview to an end, he even said her best bet was a country store and post office, explained that she’d get a salary as postmistress, and then bundled her out.’

  ‘What was his hurry?’

  ‘Perhaps he wanted to be after Harry, or to tell Aunt Clara what Harry proposed to do with her money; give it all to his mistress! He was in such a hurry that he made a big mistake or gravely misled Rosie to get rid of her. Postmasters and postmistresses of large or even small village offices are most rigorously vetted before they’re appointed. Bilbow knows as well as you and I do, that a woman who’s previously been a barmaid wouldn’t stand a ghost of a chance of getting the job. He told her the first thing that came in his head to get rid of her after he guessed what was happening to Aunt Clara’s money.’

  ‘What now?’

  ‘We’ll deal with Bilbow in the morning.’

  10

  Treasure Hunt

  ‘SO YOU think Bilbow was responsible for the death of Harry Quill?’

  Littlejohn
felt that to report to Superintendent Taylor, of the County police at Marcroft, was now his first duty. Not that he had neglected the local man; since the discovery that the death of Harry Quill had nothing whatever to do with the black gang, the investigation had taken a totally different aspect. In two days there had been revealed sufficient new evidence to turn suspicion in a fresh and more definite direction. Besides, the need for local routine work was arising. The Scotland Yard men would require the help of the local police.

  Taylor listened patiently to Littlejohn’s review of all the work he and Cromwell had done. Rosie, the Quill family, the funeral, the sifting of information and, finally, the emergence of Bilbow from it all. Bilbow, the skilled lawyer on whom Nunn, his master, depended; the adviser, legal vade mecum and general factotum of the Quill family; and the investigator and watchdog of Aunt Clara Quill.

  ‘You think Bilbow did it?’

  ‘The case is entirely circumstantial, Taylor. We’ll need a lot more information before we are even justified in suspecting him. Our search for it will have to be a discreet one. If we let Bilbow know we’re on his trail, we’ll have a devil of a job to nail him; he’s used to lawyers’ briefs and evidence. Scare him and he’ll wriggle out of the net.’

  ‘What do you want us to do?’

  ‘The first job is to complete the schedule of Harry Quill’s comings and goings on the day of his death. He left home around eleven, drove to Marcroft on his tractor, as usual, and arrived here about noon. He appears to have gone to Rose Coggins’s place and stayed there until she got home for lunch at two o’clock. He lunched with her and left her at two-thirty. There our schedule ends. Nobody, so far, seems to have seen him after he left Rosie’s. He must have been somewhere. He couldn’t have vanished into thin air.’

  ‘He didn’t go home from there, you say?’

  ‘Rosie said he told her he was just off for the two thousands pounds with which they’d buy her business. He told her he’d call back on his way home and tell her all was well. He didn’t call.’

  Littlejohn lit his pipe. Taylor didn’t smoke. His private office was dark and smelled of dust and old papers. He was hoping very soon now to remove himself and his men to new quarters in the Town Hall, where they’d have more light and air. It was a race between Taylor’s retirement and the completion of his new headquarters.

  ‘The next that was seen of him, as far as we know, was when he was discovered dead on his own doorstep. In my view, he didn’t go home alive. He was killed somewhere else and taken and dumped at Great Lands. The autopsy put down the time of death between eight and midnight. Not, mark you, from organic damage in the brain or elsewhere, but from brain haemorrhage, arising out of a comparatively mild blow on the head. That means that although Harry Quill perhaps died around eight o’clock at night, he might have been a long time dying from the blow. That gives us from just after half-past two in the afternoon until eight at night or later as the span in which the murder could have been committed. I may be wrong. Harry’s wife might have done it. Even though she was an invalid, she might have mustered strength enough to hit him hard enough to inflict the injury which killed him. But the case hasn’t pointed in Mrs. Quill’s direction at all. She doesn’t come out of this investigation as the type who would commit such a crime. Of course, she might have had a brainstorm and done it. In that case, Taylor, the case will end by being unsolved. Nobody knows what happened on that lonely desolate farm on the night Harry Quill died. And nobody ever will.’

  ‘So, we try to find out whether Bilbow is innocent or guilty?’

  ‘It’s our job to do that for all parties concerned.’

  ‘All the Quill family and all the Quill’s men,’ said Cromwell, who’d been calmly listening without saying anything.

  Taylor gave him a deadpan look wondering if he meant it or if it was just a joke.

  There was a map of the district on the wall. The room was so gloomy that a special light had been installed to illuminate it when in use. Littlejohn walked across and switched it on. Taylor and Cromwell gathered round.

  ‘Harry Quill was murdered, either for the two thousand he’d promised Rosie he’d bring back with him, or for some other reason … let’s say a crime of passion.’

  Taylor made a wuff-wuffing sound which was supposed to be a laugh.

  ‘Crime of passion? Harry Quill? That’s a good one.’

  He didn’t know how good it might turn out to be!

  ‘The murderer is left with a dying man and a tractor on his hands, because, as I see it, Harry Quill was unconscious and dying from the time the blow was struck until after eight that night. The criminal faces his problem of getting rid of Harry and his tractor. He decides on an ingenious solution. A gang of thieves is infesting the countryside, robbing and violent at lonely farms. Great Lands is just such a lonely place. If the murderer gets the body and the vehicle back to the farm, it will appear to be yet another escapade of the black gang. But the gang don’t oblige. They get themselves laid by the heels on that very night and hundreds of miles from Great Lands. So, after all his scheming, Harry’s murderer finds the police are investigating the crime with an open mind.’

  ‘The murderer waited until after dark and then drove the trailer with the body on it, to Great Lands, dropped the body in the farmyard, parked the vehicle, and away … Is that it, Chief Superintendent?’

  ‘Exactly. Harry wasn’t going far for his money. Either to Nunn’s office, or to Longton Curlieu, where Mrs. Clara Quill, who was making him the loan, lives. For the sake of argument, let’s say Bilbow did it. He was hard up, needed money, and here was Harry Quill with two thousand pounds. Mrs. Clara Quill’s lawyers, presumably Nunn’s, had arranged the legal side of the mortgage on Great Lands which Harry was giving as security to his aunt. So Bilbow knew all about it. After Harry left her, Rosie rushed off to Bilbow for advice about how to invest in a business when the two thousand arrived. She thus let Bilbow know that Harry was off to his aunt’s to collect. Rosie told us that after that, Bilbow seemed in a hurry to get rid of her. As well he might be. He wanted to be off to intercept Harry on his way back with his money. I don’t know what sort of a plan Bilbow had to get hold of it. But he ended with the money, perhaps, and, what is more certain, a dying man and a tractor on his hands. He perhaps hid them until after dark and then transported both to Great Lands. Now, our problem is to find anybody who saw him doing it. There, you can help us, Taylor. Tell us what you know about the quietest ways on the map say, for a start, between Marcroft and Sprawle and Longton Curlieu and Sprawle. Then, having planned an itinerary, lend us a few men in cars to scour the area and find out if Bilbow, or anyone else for that matter, was abroad that night on a tractor.’

  Taylor took a step backwards and studied the map, like an artist admiring his own, or somebody else’s handiwork. He made circular gestures in front of it with his hands.

  ‘Here’s Sprawle and here’s Marcroft … and this is Longton Curlieu … We’ll put pins in them to indicate where they are … You see the main road from Longton Curlieu through Marcroft to Rugby passes within two miles and a half of Sprawle. If I was landed, as our murderer was, with a body and a tractor I wanted to dispose of, I’d give the main road a miss. Too busy and well-lit for secrets like that. There’s what they call the Back Road from Longton Curlieu to Marcroft. The present main road’s a new one that ironed out all the twists and turns of the old road. I’d go by the back road then. Longton’s nine miles from Marcroft. The old road is very quiet between them; a hamlet called Bibworth and a pub called the Toll Bar three miles from Marcroft.’

  ‘So, the murderer would have to go through Marcroft if he wanted to get from Longton to Sprawle …’

  ‘That’s what I was just going to point out. No. Anybody familiar with the roads round here, would know that just before you reach Marcroft from Longton, there’s a turning to the right into the hills by a narrow, but good enough road to Sprawle. That’s the one I’d take with my body and my tractor. Road’s g
ood, very little traffic, dark at night … The very thing. There are two small villages along it before you reach Sprawle Corner. There’s Coopers Cross and Hanging Newstead. Each has a pub. The Jolly Tinker at Coopers Cross and the Dick Turpin at Hanging Newstead. Dick Turpin, by the way, was never executed at Newstead; never came within a hundred miles of it. The pub’s a small one which does well with coach parties at week-ends, but quiet after dark.’

  ‘Which gives me an idea. If Bilbow was the culprit, he’d be certain to need a drink to see him through. Quite a number of drinks, in fact. He’s a real soak and a job like that would make him thirstier than ever. He’d probably call at one or all the pubs en route for whisky. Someone at one or another of the inns might have noticed him and his tractor. We’ll try them. Cromwell, it’s a nice day. We’ll go ourselves to Hanging Newstead and call on the Dick Turpin …’

  Taylor excused himself. Court day, he said. So they went without him.

  They soon found the road Taylor had pointed out on his map. It rose into the hills, steeply in some parts, to join a secondary highway which seemed to originate in the direction of Longton Curlieu and travel to Rugby, via Poynton Harcourt, as the sign posts had it.

  They went through Coopers Cross and stopped for a drink at the Jolly Tinker. The pub had also been a farm once and was occupied by a man and his wife, who looked like tinkers who had settled down, and their many children. The place had a beer licence only and although Littlejohn and Cromwell tried out their drink and found it quite good, they couldn’t imagine Bilbow wasting much of his time at a place which didn’t sell whisky or other spirits of some kind.

  Mr. Houlighan, the landlord, was anything but jolly and denied ever having seen anybody like Bilbow or heard a man driving a tractor in the dead of night. He wanted to know what it was all about and what the pair of them were doing there at all. He suggested that they should go about their business and let him get on with his. He was a big man with a cauliflower ear and might have been a boxer in his time. He began to make pugnacious gestures as the gingerly interview progressed and, as Littlejohn and Cromwell were too busy to stimulate him to a free-for-all, they bade him good day and left him still talking to himself. Later, Taylor explained that the man had recently appeared in county court for debt and that presumably he mistook Littlejohn and Cromwell for bailiffs.