‘Joan … Joan. What’s wrong? What’s happened?’
The girl couldn’t answer, so Boase left her and ran across to Bartlett, who had just entered the caravan. The two men saw Betty leaning over Anne, who was slumped on the floor. Blood was seeping through the blue scarf Anne wore wrapped around her neck. Betty picked her up and rested her head in her lap.
‘Anne, Anne. Speak to me, Anne. Who did this to you?’
Anne moved her lips slowly and Betty leaned nearer to hear the words she was trying to utter. She couldn’t make them out and looked up at Bartlett. Boase had pushed forward and was pressing a cloth against the girl’s neck to halt the bleeding but he quickly realised he was losing this battle. Picking her up in his arms he ran out of the caravan and across the road to the hospital. The sisters followed, horrified at the trail of blood Boase was leaving behind him. Bartlett had also run outside but was looking around the caravan. He searched underneath but there was no one there. Going back inside, he opened every cupboard and checked under each bed. Nothing.
At the hospital, a blood-soaked Boase stood waiting while two doctors and two nurses tried to help Anne. Joan and Betty sat down and held hands, crying. Boase walked across to them.
‘The nurse says she was lucky – she hasn’t severed an artery. Did you see anyone as you came up to the caravan? Have you any idea of who could do this?’
Joan wiped her eyes and looked up at Boase.
‘Well, I suppose it’s probably the same person who killed Clicker, and everyone says that’s Edward James. You had him at the police station and you let him go.’
Bartlett, already thinking along the same lines, had walked into the James caravan to find Edward asleep in a chair. He woke him up.
‘What the hell is it now? You can’t just walk in here.’
‘Were you anywhere near the Warner caravan earlier on?’
‘No. I’ve been here all day. It’s not like there’s any work is it – thanks to you.’
‘Can your wife verify that?’
‘She was here earlier on but she’s gone out for some shopping. I must have fallen asleep – boredom does that to people.’
‘Stand up, please’
‘What?’
‘You heard – get up.’
Edward James stood and Bartlett inspected his clothes. There was no blood. In fact, Bartlett thought he looked uncharacteristically clean. Anyone who had just done that to Anne Warner would be covered in her blood and there certainly hadn’t been enough time to clean up. He left the caravan and walked across to the hospital. As he entered the corridor he saw a doctor talking to the Warner sisters. Boase was walking towards him.
‘What’s happening, my boy?’
‘She’s dead, sir.’
‘Dead?’
‘I can’t believe it. When I rushed here with her, they said it didn’t look too bad. She’d lost a lot of blood but that could be dealt with. They’ve just come out now and said her heart gave out. Must have been the shock of it. I feel terrible that I didn’t do enough to save her.’
‘You did more than anyone, Boase. Meantime, I’ve just been over to see James – sitting there, calm as you like – asleep when I first went in, in fact. He wouldn’t have had time to clean up that amount of blood. And look at you – you’d better go home and sort out some clean things. I’ll get a car to take you back.’
‘It’s not far, I can walk.’
‘Not looking like that you can’t. Who would do such a thing to a child like that?’
The Warner sisters were staring at Bartlett and Boase and then they turned away.
‘They think it’s my fault, sir.’
‘Well, they shouldn’t, because it’s not. My word, Greet’s going to have a field day with this. Come on, let’s get you sorted out with a car.’
Bartlett stopped by the Warners.
‘I’m so very sorry, truly I am.’
Betty scowled at him.
‘Well, that’s not much good now, is it? How many more people are you going to watch being killed? She was just a child, Inspector Bartlett.’
‘I know. I’m so sorry.’
Joan was sobbing uncontrollably and just stared at Bartlett. Having no more words to offer, he left the girls to their grief and went to organise a lift for Boase.
‘Did either of Anne Warner’s sisters get anything of what she was trying to say, Boase?’
‘No, sir. I asked Betty again but she hadn’t been able to hear. Do you think the girl was saying who did it?’
‘Well, we’ll never know now.’
Boase walked along Western Terrace the next morning feeling hungry; he hadn’t been able to eat anything at breakfast. This business had really upset him. Clicker, well, that was one thing. Clicker was an old man – although that didn’t make it OK. But Anne, she was such a sweet young thing and what a sad, short life she’d had. Boase felt upset and, worse, responsible.
Sitting behind his desk, Bartlett lit his pipe and looked at the clock on the mantelpiece in his office. It was a quarter past seven. He hadn’t slept and had been in since six.
Constable Penhaligon knocked at the door and stuck his head round it.
‘Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Howard Smith is here. Says he wants to see you.’
‘Oh, our “Mr Aitchinson”? Right, yes, I’ll see him. Bring him in, Penhaligon.
Howard Smith came in and Bartlett directed him to a chair.
‘What brings you here, Mr Smith? Thought of something else?’
‘I can’t believe you’ve let him go. You know it was him.’
‘Actually, we don’t.’
‘I told you I saw him going to the seafront. It was shortly before you say the old man was killed. And why don’t you ask his wife? I bet she can’t give him an alibi because he wasn’t there. And now, that poor Warner kid has been murdered – who do you think did that? She’d be alive now if you’d kept him locked up.’
Bartlett sat back in his chair.
‘Mr Smith, you can’t go around pointing the finger at all and sundry without any evidence. Now, is there anything else you want to say?’
‘Just put him away, that’s all I’m saying. Put him away before you’ve got another murder on your hands.’
Howard Smith stormed out and slammed the door.
Boase walked into the lobby of the police station. He quietly opened the door of the office he shared with Bartlett and sat behind his desk.
‘Morning, Boase. You all right?’
‘Morning, sir. Not really.’
Bartlett sighed.
‘I don’t think James killed Anne, really I don’t, Boase, but we should get him in again anyway – ask him if he knows anything and see if he can shed any more light on Clicker.’
‘Righto, sir. I’ll see to it – in fact I’ll bring him in myself. But I don’t think a history of violence, even with a conviction for it, will be enough.’
‘But he’s violent with his wife and he had the weapon. Take a car and bring him in, Boase. And we should speak to Molly too – about where he was that night.’
Boase had just parked his car at the top of Killigrew and stepped onto the road, when a small car veered around the corner, nearly knocking him down. Boase saw the driver clearly. It was Edward James. In an instant, Boase was back in his own car and chasing after him. The two cars sped towards Penryn paying no heed to other traffic on the road. On and on they raced with Boase trying to keep up. James had the faster car and by the time Boase had reached Treluswell, the first vehicle had vanished. Determined to catch up, he continued on the Truro road. Reaching a bend in the road at Perranarworthal he saw James’s car lying on its side in a ditch. He jumped out and ran across to the stricken vehicle. As he did so his quarry was walking away.
‘James … James … stop.’
Edward James, shocked from his accident, turned and saw Boase. He sat down in the hedge.
‘What are you playing at? You might have been killed driving like that. Why are you
running away – you’re not making it look good for yourself, are you?’
‘I’m getting away from her. She’s a nasty piece and I’ve had enough.’
‘Molly?’
‘Yes. Molly. I don’t care if I never see her again.’
‘Well, I’m sorry to say, you probably will see her again. You have to come back with me; we need to talk to you again. Come on, the car’s just here.’
He led the man across the road to his car and they returned to Falmouth. As they walked into the police station, Boase addressed Constable Rabone.
‘There’s a car out at Perranarworthal in a ditch – bit of a mess. Get someone to arrange to have it moved, will you?’
Bartlett was sitting at his desk when Boase entered the room.
‘James is downstairs, sir. He was driving away when I got to Killigrew. I chased him and, well, he crashed his car out at Perranarworthal.’
‘Is he all right?’
‘Bit shook up but he’ll live.’
‘Let’s speak to him now – have him brought up.’
Bartlett and Boase sat with Edward James in their office. Bartlett leaned forwards on his chair.
‘Why were you running away? You know you’re a suspect in two murders, don’t you?’
‘I didn’t do it. Your boss knows that – and his boss. That’s why they let me go.’
‘But someone has said they saw you heading towards Hunter’s Path at the right time.’
‘Who said that? They’re lying, it’s not true.’
‘Well, someone is going to speak to your wife in a minute to find out what she knows about all of this.’
‘Well, she’ll stitch me up like a kipper – we can’t stand each other. That’s why I was leaving.’
‘Nevertheless, we will be speaking to her.’
Boase cast a glance in Bartlett’s direction. Was the older man thinking the same, he wondered. He listened as Bartlett continued.
‘Were you clearing off because the money had run out – now that Clicker is gone?’
‘Of course not. It was never my idea to take his money. Molly said that he owed her because he hadn’t been around when she was a kid. I said that wasn’t his fault – her mother had made the decision to leave when she was a baby.’
‘So how can you explain why you were going to the seafront that night?’
‘Well I can’t, because I wasn’t. That’s the truth of it.’
‘But we have a witness prepared to swear on oath that you were. We also examined your gun and it had one bullet missing which was the same type that killed Clicker.’
‘It’s nothing to do with me, I’ve told you.’
‘Could someone have stolen it from you and then replaced it?’
‘That must be what happened because I wasn’t there, I didn’t kill him.’
‘What about Anne Warner?’
‘To Hell with you, man! You saw for yourself – I was asleep when it happened. Just leave me alone. I’ve already complained about you lot once.’
Edward James was taken to back to his cell and Bartlett and Boase went to see Molly. As they arrived, she was outside the caravan grooming the ponies.
‘Molly, you need to know that we’re holding your husband on suspicion of your father’s murder and possibly in connection with the murder of Anne.’
‘What’s it got to do with me?’
‘We need to speak to you, Molly. Can we go inside?’
Molly sat in the small kitchen of the caravan and looked at Bartlett and Boase.
‘Molly, did Edward leave here the night your father was killed?’
‘Yes. He did. We were on early in the show. Afterwards he said I was not pulling my weight in the act. We had a huge row and he stormed out.’
‘Did he take his gun?’
‘I can’t say – he had left before I came back.’
‘What time did he return?’
‘Oh, about two or three, I’m not really sure, I was quite sleepy but I heard the door and looked at the clock.’
‘Had he said anything to you about your father that day?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Nothing.’
Bartlett and Boase left the recreation ground and returned to the station.
‘What do you make of all this, Boase?’
‘Not at all sure, sir. What do we know? Clicker was shot through the head. Edward James was seen near Hunter’s Path. His gun had one bullet missing which was exactly the same as the bullet that killed Clicker. His wife says he went out after the show and didn’t return until the early hours. Howard Smith has signed a statement to say he saw James that night. It’s beginning not to look good for him.’
‘That’s what I think. Why would Smith say that if it wasn’t true? Mind you, I don’t see how he was anything to do with Anne – his clothes were perfectly clean when I saw him and he wasn’t the least bit agitated.’
‘That’s as may be, but I’ve seen people in the war like that – just kill someone and calmly return to their duties.’
‘Surely that’s different though?’
‘I don’t think so – takes a certain type of person and there are people like that about. And isn’t it suspicious that he was so calm – and clean?’
‘You saying he’s committed two murders?’
‘No. But I’m keeping an open mind. If he only killed Clicker then we have another murderer at large and Greet’s not going to like that.’
‘No, you’re right there.’
A knock at the door relieved the pair’s concentration.
‘Come in.’
The desk sergeant looked into the room.
‘Thought you should know, sir, Superintendent Greet took a statement from a woman while you were out. Says she saw Edward James walking along beneath Hunter’s Path that night. She was out walking her dog. She looked at him because he was only wearing a thin shirt and it was quite nippy that evening. Says it was definitely him.’
‘Why is he taking statements?’
‘Said because you weren’t here, he didn’t want anyone else doing it.’
‘Is the woman absolutely sure?’
‘Greet says it’s a positive identification. Cuppa, sir?’
‘I wouldn’t say no. Thank you.’
Bartlett looked at Boase.
‘This is even worse for him, isn’t it, my boy?’
Chapter Eight
As the days turned into weeks, Greet became determined to tie up the murder case. Much to Bartlett’s annoyance, the superintendent had taken matters very much into his own hands, although, thankfully, had seen fit not to bow to pressure from the London police to allow them to investigate. Greet had reassured the powers that be that the case was nearing an end and they’d accepted that.
‘I don’t think Edward James killed Clicker and Anne, sir. You don’t either, do you?’
‘No, I don’t believe I do. Greet’s nailed him for Clicker and I think as he’s so sure of his evidence, we can’t do anything about it. I hope to God he’s right on this – he thinks he knows everything and we haven’t got any better argument so that’s that. But, no, I’m not satisfied with the Anne Warner business. Not a jot. Greet has that all wrong.’
‘Well, if we really believe that, it means even with James awaiting his obvious fate there’s still a killer lurking. We have to do something.’
‘I think so. Greet is being so difficult about this. He’s saying that he did all the work on the Clicker case, which is not in the least bit true, as you know, and we should have tied off the Anne case. I feel bad for her sisters. They won’t rest until we find out what happened.’
‘Let’s revisit it, sir. Go back to the start. We can’t leave it like this.’
‘What do you mean? What can we do?’
‘We need to look at this with a fresh pair of eyes.’
‘At my time of life, my eyes are anything but fresh, Boase.’
‘Yes, never mind that, sir. Go back to the beginning. The evening I saw Clicker
– I was one of the last people to see him alive probably. And I saw Anne. Now, do you remember why she was talking to him?’
‘About Margaret Field.’
‘Yes. She was showing him that newspaper – we didn’t fully deal with that, did we?’
‘Why would that be relevant?’
‘What if someone else had seen that paper?’
‘I don’t understand what you mean.’
‘We didn’t keep the newspaper – we gave it back to Anne. Do you remember?’
‘Yes, yes, I do. Go on.’
‘What if someone else saw the paper and knew she had told Clicker – that could be a reason to kill her. And there’s only one person I know that could have a motive for that.’
The two men spoke together.
‘Molly James!’
Bartlett leapt from his chair and grabbed his coat.
‘My boy, I’ve been so damned stupid. We didn’t entertain the fact that she could be the killer. Come on, we need to get up there now.’
The pair fetched a car and drove straight to Molly James’ caravan. They got out and hammered on the door.
‘Try round the other side, Boase. Look – the ponies are gone.’
Bartlett was looking through each window when he heard a shout behind him.
‘Mr Bartlett … Mr Bartlett!’
He turned to see Arthur Wayland, the lion tamer.’
‘You won’t find Molly James, she’s gone.’
‘Gone where?’
‘I’m not sure – she came over yesterday to speak to Pearl and me. She said that now Edward had been arrested for her father’s murder, she had no need to stay.’
‘Did she not give any idea of where she was going?’
‘No. I didn’t like to ask. She wanted to know if we’d look after the ponies. She said we could sell them if we wanted to but just to make sure they went to a good home. Is she in some sort of trouble, Mr Bartlett?’
‘Nothing for you to worry about, Mr Wayland. And you have absolutely no idea where she might be?’
Arthur Wayland took off his cap and scratched his head.
A Fool and His Money Page 8
