A Fool and His Money

by Marina Pascoe

  ‘Twice.’

  ‘Then how could we be so stupid!’

  ‘Boase?’

  ‘Sir, what do they call themselves – the fire-eaters?’

  ‘I don’t know. Fire-eaters?’

  ‘No – look over there on that caravan.’

  Boase was pointing to a small caravan a few yards away. It had the door open.

  ‘I don’t see what you’re looking at – or what you’re talking about, my boy.’

  Boase was already running towards the caravan. The writing visible one the door read ‘& Son’. Boase, reaching the caravan, with Bartlett close behind him, slammed the door shut to reveal the words ‘H & Son’.

  ‘Look, sir. Howard is ‘H’ so he and Gregory are ‘H and Son’ – AITCHINSON!’

  ‘Well, I’ll be …’

  Boase was already hammering on the side of the caravan.

  Howard Smith opened the door.

  ‘What on earth is going on here? What’s the meaning of this, banging on my caravan like a maniac?’

  Boase spoke hurriedly.

  ‘You’re Aitchinson. You telephoned the police station about Edward James. Do you really think we’re that stupid? It was only a matter of time. Go inside please, Mr Smith.’

  Bartlett and Boase sat with the fire eater inside the caravan. Boase felt so angry with himself and with this man.

  ‘Tell us why you made the call and what you know.

  ‘Well, I made the call to give you information because the sooner this murder is solved the sooner we can get on with our lives and start earning money. You know Chester Martin isn’t paying us? Well, none of us can afford to live – one or two here have no savings and are practically starving. Gwynfor Evans especially – he’s supposed to be the strongman. He can’t afford to buy the amount of food he needs. He’s completely run out of money. We can’t all carry on like this and you police are worse than useless. You need to arrest Edward James and let us get on with our lives.’

  Bartlett leaned forward in his seat.

  ‘What do you mean we need to arrest Edward James? Why would you say that?’

  ‘It’s obvious he did the old man in. He hated him. He’s a nasty piece of work. His own wife is terrified of him. And another thing, he’s got a gun. He doesn’t need one. The only people here who need a gun are the lion tamers – and they’ve got rifles. James has a pistol, I’ve seen it.’

  ‘When did you see the gun?’

  ‘He sits on the step cleaning it. I think he does it to keep his wife in line.’

  ‘So, what real evidence do you have?’

  The fire eater raised his voice.

  ‘It’s just as I told your man – I saw Edward James going towards the seafront that night. He probably had the gun with him.’

  Boase became agitated.

  ‘Mr Smith, you’ve already wasted many hours of police time, making up that fictional name, and now you’re making unfounded accusations.’

  ‘Well, go and get his gun then. I bet you’ll find it’s the same one that killed the old man. In fact, you probably won’t find it at all – he’ll have dumped it, if he’s got any sense.’

  Bartlett and Boase got up from their seats. As they went through the door, Bartlett turned.

  ‘Make sure you come into the station today. At three o’clock. You’ll be making a statement regarding what you saw – or what you thought you saw. Don’t be late.’

  With the same thought in both their minds, Bartlett and Boase went immediately to the Jameses’ caravan. Bartlett knocked at the door. It was opened by Edward James.

  ‘Not you again!’

  ‘We’d like to search this caravan, Mr James.’

  ‘Well, you can’t. I don’t want you here upsetting my wife.’

  Bartlett was becoming exasperated. ‘Is your wife in?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well then, we won’t be upsetting her.’

  The two men pushed their way into the caravan and began their search. Ten minutes later, Boase called from the bedroom.

  ‘It’s here, sir!’

  Edward James lunged towards Boase, who was holding up a gun.

  ‘What are you doing? That’s my property. You haven’t even got a warrant.’

  Bartlett turned to the man.

  ‘I have my Superintendent’s authority to search.’

  ‘Well, let’s just say we’d like to borrow it for analysis in connection with a murder investigation. In the meantime, get your coat, you’re coming with us. We think you might have more to tell us.’

  ‘Am I under arrest?’

  Bartlett drew his pipe from his pocket and looked at Edward James.

  ‘No, but it can be arranged. Coming?’

  The suspect thought better of speaking again and went along with no further fuss.

  Their suspect being held in a cell, Bartlett and Boase were told to give him a couple of hours to calm down before they spoke to him again. He had become very agitated and tried to punch Constable Penhaligon, who was fortunately rather too quick for the older man.

  Bartlett looked out of the window.

  ‘Do you think it’s him?’

  ‘Dunno, sir. We’ll have that gun analysed – if that’s different from the murder weapon then we might have a problem. But, aside from that, why else would he do it? Firstly, he didn’t like the old man – not much of a reason. Second, the old man was giving the Jameses money, so why kill him? Third, until we speak to him, we don’t know much else. I’ve asked for a police report from Halifax. I found out he was convicted of an assault there about eight years ago. Spent some time in prison for it.’

  ‘Well done, Boase. How did you find out that?’

  ‘I have ways, sir.’

  Boase grinned and ate a hard-boiled egg which he had just rediscovered in his pocket.

  Bartlett watched in amazement.

  ‘I wondered what the smell was. How long have you had that in your pocket?’

  ‘Only since yesterday, I think, sir.’

  ‘God – you’re going to poison yourself one of these days. I don’t fancy my daughter being a young widow.’

  Boase chuckled and finished his egg. He intended to have a bath when he got home. He was going to see Irene tonight and surprise her with the necklace. He certainly didn’t want to be smelling of stale food when he held her close and kissed her.

  At four o’clock, Edward James had still not calmed down enough to be interviewed and Superintendent Greet had been down to the cell to speak to him. This did nothing but further agitate the man and the door was locked until he submitted. Howard Smith had come in at three o’clock, as instructed by Bartlett, but had said nothing more in his statement than he had already stated earlier.

  Bartlett came into his office and looked at Boase who was writing at his desk.

  ‘Guess what?’

  ‘What, sir?’

  ‘Greet wants to interview Edward James. Thinks he’s the best person to handle him.’

  ‘But he’s an idiot … oh, sorry, sir …’

  ‘Well, I can’t argue with that. Anyway, he wants me there but says you’re to go home. Sorry, my boy, but he’s adamant on this. Is there anything you want me to ask or to say to him?’

  ‘Not really, sir – you’re more of an expert than me.’

  As they spoke there was a knock at the door and the desk sergeant entered.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt but it looks like your gun expert is working overtime – here’s his report.’

  Bartlett took the brown envelope and ripped it open. He read the single sheet of paper which had been inside.

  ‘Blimey.’

  ‘What, sir?’

  ‘Boase, the gun had one bullet missing and it’s exactly the same type that killed Clicker.’

  ‘Well, now do you think it’s James?’

  ‘Well, it’s fairly damning – unless … I suppose someone could have stolen the gun and replaced it afterwards … like Molly?’

  ‘I don’t think so
– although she’s a liar, I don’t think she’s a killer. As we said before, she was getting money from Clicker so why should she want that to stop – and he was still her father, after all. That’s got to count for something surely?’

  ‘But we don’t know if Clicker had told her that he knew about Margaret Field. I don’t want to bring it up yet until we know more. He had only just found out himself that same evening. I don’t understand all this, sir. Unless …’

  ‘Unless Howard Smith was something to do with it.’

  ‘Well, he’s not saying much. We could speak to him again if you like.’

  ‘Maybe, sir.’

  ‘I’ve got to see Greet now and speak to James. You get off home. You seeing Irene later?’

  ‘Yes, I am – I’m looking forward to it.’

  ‘You cut along then. I might see you tonight then?’

  ‘You might – ’bye, sir. Wish I was coming in with you.’

  ‘So do I, Boase. So do I.’

  Boase was sorry, yet not. He might have been stuck in a cell with Edward James for half the evening and then been late for Irene. Now, he could clean himself up, have time for a proper shave and be on time to see his fiancée.

  Topper heard Boase opening the garden gate and ran to the front door, barking loudly. Irene came running down the stairs and, pulling Topper out of the way, opened the door. She pushed a stray wisp of hair back from her forehead.

  ‘Hello, Archie – my word, you’re early.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Irene.’

  ‘I didn’t say it was a problem – I’m always happy to see you, you know that.’

  Irene reached up on tiptoe and kissed Boase’s cheek. In return he kissed her lips.

  ‘Well, let’s not stand here, Archie. Come in. Dad’s not back yet.’

  ‘I know. He asked me to tell you that he might be quite late this evening. Greet has asked him to stay with him to interview someone.’

  Caroline Bartlett stuck her head around the parlour door.

  ‘Good evening, Archie. Did I hear you say George will be late?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Bartlett … er … Caroline. Sorry. Yes, Superintendent Greet has asked him to stay.’

  ‘You mean told him to stay. That man really has the limit of my patience. George does so much at that place and Greet takes advantage at every opportunity. Anyway, at least you’re here. Come in and have some food.’

  The three, accompanied by Topper, went into the dining room and sat at the table.

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point waiting for your father, Irene. Goodness only knows what time he’ll be back. I really don’t like to eat without him. In fact, why don’t you two go ahead and I’ll eat later when he comes home?’

  ‘Oh, Mum. You must be hungry. Have a little something to eat.’

  ‘No, really, dear. I think I’ll sit in the parlour; I have a little sewing I want to finish anyway. I’d rather wait and I’m sure you two have things to talk about. Look, I’ll pour myself a cup of tea and take it into the other room. Help yourself to food, Archie. I know you’re always hungry. Come on now, both of you – take as much as you like.’

  Caroline took her tea into the parlour, leaving the couple alone.

  ‘They love each other so much, Archie. She never eats anything when Dad’s not here. Do you think we’ll be like that one day?’

  ‘I feel like it now, Irene. I really love you.’

  ‘But I bet you don’t stop eating when I’m not around. I don’t think that would ever happen.’

  Irene giggled and Boase scowled.

  ‘Don’t make fun of me, Irene – I have enough of your father going on about how much I eat.’

  ‘I’m only teasing, Archie. Here, have some ham – I bet you’re starving.’

  Boase pulled Irene’s chair closer to his and held her hand.

  ‘I’ve brought you a present.’

  ‘Archie – you’re supposed to be saving your money. You don’t need to be buying things for me all the time.’

  ‘I don’t do it all the time and anyway, this one is a special gift to remind you how much I love you.’

  Boase took the green velvet box from his pocket and handed it to Irene. She took the box and opened it. At once a tear came to her eyes.

  ‘What’s the matter – don’t you like it? I can change it for something else if you prefer.’

  ‘Archie, I love it. It’s so beautiful.’

  ‘Not as beautiful as you.’

  ‘But this must have been so expensive. I love it. Help me to put it on. Can I go and show Mum?’

  Irene kissed Boase and ran into the parlour.

  ‘Well, Topper, I think she likes it.’

  Topper let out a sigh and surveyed the piece of ham that had earlier fallen into Boase’s lap.

  By ten o’ clock there was still no sign of Bartlett and Caroline had fallen asleep in the chair. Boase said goodnight to Irene and left for home.

  Chapter Seven

  Two days had passed uneventfully and Bartlett and Boase were feeling despondent. Greet had gone behind their backs and found further evidence against Edward James.

  ‘I think Greet should have let him go, Boase.’

  ‘But you’ve seen the evidence, sir.’

  ‘Patchy, my boy, patchy. I’ve just got a bad feeling about all this. I know you’re right and I’m probably not thinking straight but I’d feel better if we had a better grip on all this.’

  ‘Well, we don’t know why Clicker was murdered but it’s over now. Greet’s got his man.’

  ‘Well, there’s the rub. I’m not convinced.’

  ‘Cheer up, sir. Something’s bound to turn up soon.’

  ‘Yes, but we’re running out of time – I don’t want that London mob here snooping about in our business.’

  Greet had always made it quite clear to Bartlett that if he didn’t tie up a serious case within three days then he would call in the police from London to take over. Bartlett had always managed to avoid this in the past but now he was worried that his time was up. He certainly didn’t want to be undermined and made to look incompetent. He’d have to do better than this. Greet was certain that James was the murderer yet Bartlett thought there was more to it than that. But what?

  ‘Cuppa, sir?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say no – thought you’d never ask.’

  As Boase opened the door, Penhaligon was on the other side with a tea tray.

  ‘Good man – you read my mind. Thanks, Penhaligon.’

  Penhaligon handed the tray to Boase and walked over to Bartlett’s desk.

  ‘Sir, I think you should know that Edward James has made a complaint – about the way he’s been treated.’

  ‘Oh, has he now?’

  Bartlett looked at Penhaligon over the top of his glasses.

  ‘Does Greet know?’

  ‘Yes, sir. James wrote a letter directly to him. I can’t say what was in it, sir. Superintendent Greet didn’t say.’

  ‘No doubt he’ll be down here in a minute to tell all. Thanks, Penhaligon – and thanks for the tea.’

  Bartlett took his cup from the tray and looked up at Boase.

  ‘Can’t say I blame him. Yes, he’s violent to his wife and he’s got a record for assault but that doesn’t make him a killer, does it?’

  ‘Well, no.’

  ‘Superintendent Greet has asked to see you, sir.’

  Bartlett stared at the desk sergeant.

  ‘But it’s only half past seven – what’s he doing in so early?’

  ‘Not sure, sir, but he told me to make sure that you went straight up the minute you arrived.’

  ‘Right – tell Boase where I am when he comes in, will you?’

  ‘Yes, of course, sir.’

  Boase arrived ten minutes later, picking up Bartlett’s newspaper from the front desk, together with the news of Greet’s meeting. He went into the shared office and hung up his coat.

  ‘Penhaligon – Penhaligon … any chance of some tea, please?
I’m sure Inspector Bartlett will be glad of one when he comes down.’

  Penhaligon went off to boil the kettle, bumping into Bartlett on his way.

  ‘That man is a lunatic, Boase.’

  ‘What? What’s happened, sir – why did he want to see you so early?’

  ‘He’s let Edward James go.’

  ‘But I thought that’s what you hoped he’d do?’

  ‘Yes, but why does he keep messing around? He says he’s been told by the “big cheese” to let him go.’

  ‘Parsons?’

  ‘Yes, Parsons – told Greet that he’d need more evidence.’

  ‘But that’s a good thing, surely?’

  ‘Well, yes, yes it is. I just wish Greet would leave us alone to get on with things our way.’

  At that, Penhaligon came in with a tray.

  ‘Tea, sir?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say no, Penhaligon. Thank you.’

  Bartlett and Boase sipped their drinks in silence as Boase ate a ham sandwich.

  Bartlett lit his pipe.

  ‘Now we’ll have to find some real evidence. I’m going back up there on my way home today when I’ve cleared this mountain of work here, and I’m going to go through every last one of them at that circus. I’m not going to rest until I find whoever did this – not least because Greet’s determined to make me look like an idiot in front of all and sundry. I know what he thinks – he thinks I can’t do the job. He’s been trying to get rid of me for a long time now. Well, I’m having none of it. You can come with me if you like – I’ll warn you though, I might be there some time.’

  Boase didn’t like the way Bartlett was thinking and, taking his tea, returned to his desk to finish a report. The day dragged on, seemingly endless until Bartlett stood up and put on his hat and coat.

  ‘Come on, Boase, let’s get out of here.’

  The light was fading as Bartlett and Boase made their way up Killigrew Street and into the recreation ground.

  ‘I was hoping to get here before now, Boase.’

  ‘Yes but you didn’t expect to be held up so late. Anyway, you’re more likely to find everyone in at this hour.’

  ‘Look, Boase, there’s two of the sisters – the jugglers. I don’t think we can get much more out of them, though.’

  Boase agreed as they watched Betty and Joan Warner walk towards their caravan and enter. Within seconds a scream was heard which echoed around the circle of caravans and Joan came running out. Bartlett and Boase ran across to her. Boase grabbed her by the arms.