Kiss and Tell

by Leo McNeir

  “Don’t bother going through the whole thing now,” said Bartlett. “The point is, we haven’t got clear evidence one way or the other.”

  “Some water in the lungs, but not enough to make drowning the cause of death,” said Marriner, reading the summary. “The fatal injury was the skull fracture.”

  Bartlett grunted. “Blow to the head or contact with a hard object while falling. You see the impact was at the back of the head.”

  “So he slipped and fell badly?” said Marriner. “It’s not impossible. His feet could’ve shot out from under him, he went down hard and caught the stone edge of the lock. Very nasty. That way, he would’ve ingested some water, and he’d have died in a few seconds.”

  “Reading between the lines,” said Bartlett, “That’s what Doc Gregory seems to think happened.”

  “But you don’t, sir?”

  “I dunno. What else’ve we got that’s suspicious?”

  “What Walker said, you mean?”

  Bartlett shrugged. “There was a time when I didn’t believe anything she said, but now ...”

  “You don’t think she knows more than she’s telling us, sir? It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “Two questions, Ted. Why did she turn up at the lock just like that? What did you get from Mercedes?”

  “Just as she said. They had a call from someone calling herself Mrs Walker, describing herself as Simon Walker’s wife, at about the right time. She gave all the right ID information, including the letters from the password. They gave her the location of the car. They record their calls for monitoring the service, and they can let us have the tape.”

  “It must’ve been her, Ted. No doubt about that.”

  “No, sir. I’ve arranged for the tape to be collected from their call centre near London. You said you had two questions.”

  “The watch. Walker seemed to think he was wearing a Rolex when she saw him that evening. The autopsy report mentions grazing of the left wrist, consistent with a metal bracelet being dragged off. The Rolex would’ve had a steel wristband.”

  “You’re wondering if it got pulled off when he went in the lock?”

  “Either that or someone pulled it off in a hurry.”

  “There’s one way to find out, sir.”

  “Get on with it, Ted. Tell British Waterways we want that lock drained. If the watch is in the mud at the bottom, there’s a fair chance the whole thing was an accident. If not, it looks as if our mugger might’ve gone too far this time.”

  *

  First thing that morning Marnie had returned the calls left for her on the answerphone, and then buckled down to finalising designs for the projects in her programme. Anne fielded all the incoming calls and spent the morning typing invoices and checking delivery dates. Hardly a word was spoken between them until a call came in shortly before noon.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Marnie, but I’ve got Guy Pinkerton on the line. He says he wants to speak to you in person.”

  Marnie picked up. “Good morning, Mr Pinkerton. What can I do for you?”

  “Call me Guy, for a start.” It was his usual gruff way of speaking. “First of all, I want to say I’m very sorry about what happened. I heard about it from the local BW officer. You know they’ve closed the canal at the Stoke Bruerne locks?”

  “The second lock from the bottom, yes. That’s where it happened.”

  “No, this is different. They’re draining the lock, as well as the pounds on either side. The whole section’s closed. That’s one of the reasons I’m phoning. I want to ask you a favour, Marnie.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “You know the boat that broke down on Sunday? Needs a new gearbox. I’ve got one coming tomorrow, and we were going to tow the boat up to the yard. The closure’s put the kybosh on that. God knows for how long. The customer’s putting pressure on me. You know how it is.”

  “So how can I help?”

  “If I can get the boat somewhere where a van can reach it, I can get the gearbox sent directly there. One of my mechanics can get on with the work at that point. It should only take half a day. Could I get the box delivered to your place?”

  “No problem. But what about the boat itself?”

  “We could take it along the towpath in a barrow or bow-haul the boat. It’s not far, I gather. The two of them should be able to manage.”

  “It’s best part of a mile,” Marnie protested. “Look, I’ll go up after work today and tow it here with Sally. We can pop it in our docking area to work on.”

  “Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of it –”

  “It’s fine, Guy. I owe you, remember, for the loan of your wharf. You make your arrangements, and we’ll fit in.”

  *

  The search began that afternoon inside the lock. It was surprisingly clear of mud and debris as it had been drained in the spring for the fitting of a new pair of gates. Yellow tapes were stretched across the towpath to cordon off the area. Three police officers looking like astronauts in protective clothing picked their way slowly and systematically along the floor of the chamber. The air was filled with the throbbing of heavy diesel pump engines. On both sides of the canal, uniformed police were conducting a thorough search of the hedges and grass borders.

  *

  For the third time that month Sally Ann made her way along the canal to rescue the narrowboat, High Jinx, only this time the mission was planned in advance. Marnie was glad to help a fellow boater in trouble, but there was one aspect that caused her concern. Ralph noticed her serious expression as they motored north up the canal and he leaned over the tiller to speak to her.

  “I think I know what’s bothering you, Marnie.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Is it that obvious?”

  “We don’t have to offer him hospitality, not in our present circumstances. If it would make you feel any better, I can invite him on to Thyrsis for a drink or something later this evening.”

  The stranded boat came into view, and Marnie turned Sally Ann while Ralph went along the towpath to alert the owner of High Jinx who immediately set about releasing his mooring ropes with profuse thanks. Anne helped push Sally Ann away from the bank while Ralph held the towrope clear of the water, and they set off at a slow but steady pace, meeting no other traffic on the short journey.

  They were hardly moving when Marnie brought Sally Ann alongside Thyrsis, where Ralph untied the towrope. The owner of High Jinx had turned the stern into the bank, and it was a simple if heavy task to manhandle the boat backwards into Sally Ann’s dock. Marnie manoeuvred Sally Ann across the entrance to the dock and made her secure.

  Ralph coiled the end of the stern mooring rope neatly on the deck below the T-stud. “You needn’t have worried, Marnie. Our guest has promised himself an early night.”

  “Did you explain ... about Simon, I mean?”

  “I did mention it, yes. He’d heard the news on the radio and when he realised who we were, he straight away said he already had plans for tonight and didn’t want to trouble us further. He seems quite a shy man, rather embarrassed, so I just left it at that.”

  *

  After darkness fell the search continued under arc lights powered by a mobile generator. Bartlett turned up as the evening wore on, and Sergeant Marriner reported progress. The two detectives stood together at the edge of the empty lock chamber like mourners staring into a giant’s grave.

  “Do you get the feeling all this might be a waste of time, sir?” said Marriner softly.

  “Wish I knew, Ted.”

  Down below them the cosmonauts conferred in a huddle. They looked up at Bartlett and Marriner and shook their heads wearily.

  35

  There were no builders on site the next day. The delay with the roof slates had held up the farmhouse project, and Marnie had agreed they could work on another job for the rest of the week. From force of habit Anne went out to look at the site and returned to the office with the news that a van was bumping down the field track towards them. The gearbo
x for High Jinx had arrived.

  The driver parked almost outside the office, opened the rear doors of the van and cheerfully invited Marnie to help herself. Anne suggested that Marnie leave everything to her and offered the driver a choice of wheelbarrow or sack barrow. But he produced his own trolley, onto which he carefully slid the gearbox, and Anne led him off through the spinney. Meanwhile, Marnie rang Guy Pinkerton to report the arrival, and he confirmed that a mechanic would be sent along in the early afternoon. Deciding that she could not hide away indefinitely, Marnie took herself out to let her guest know what was planned. She passed the van driver and Anne coming back from the dock, signed the delivery note and left Anne to see him on his way.

  It seemed strange to have another boat occupying Sally Ann’s dock, recalling the first sight of the grey boat that brought Anthony Leyton-Brown several weeks earlier. This would be her year of unexpected visitors, a year she would never forget. At the edge of the spinney she stopped, took two deep breaths and walked towards the boat. It had its curtains drawn, and for a moment after knocking on the stern door Marnie had the feeling that there was no-one aboard. She was on the brink of turning away when she heard a bolt being drawn, and a face appeared round the door.

  “Sorry to disturb you, but I’ve just had a word with Guy Pinkerton. Someone’s coming down this afternoon to fit the new gearbox. I thought you’d like to know.”

  “Thank you. That’ll be fine. It’s, er, very kind of you to let me stay here.”

  “You’re welcome. Do you have everything you need? I’m afraid I’ve not been a very good hostess.”

  “I do understand. Your ... the man ... told me what happened. I’m very sorry.” He shook his head.

  “Thank you. That’s why I’ve been ... you know ...”

  “Of course. I’m sorry, I don’t think I know your name.”

  “Forgive me. I’m Marnie Walker.” Automatically she held out her hand.

  “And I’m John Hewitt,” he said reaching forward.

  There was a pause, and it seemed for a second as if Marnie was going to draw back. They shook hands.

  “Are you all right, Mrs Walker?”

  “Oh yes,” said Marnie, adding, “You’re left-handed.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Like my father. You wear your watch on your right hand.”

  “That’s true, but lots of left-handed people wear them on the left wrist, you know.”

  “And you have the watch on the inside of your wrist. My father always does that. It’s what I noticed. He says you can see it better when you’re driving.”

  Hewitt raised his hand, palm towards his face. “That’s why I wear it that way round.”

  “Okay, well if you need anything our office is in the barn facing the cottages just through the spinney.” She pointed over her shoulder. “And here’s my card with our phone numbers.” She pulled one from her back pocket. Hewitt took it with his left hand.

  On her way back to the office barn Marnie was frowning again. She was still frowning when she sat at her desk.

  Anne was at the back, pouring milk into a saucer for Dolly. “D’you want coffee, Marnie?” She stroked the cat’s head. “Marnie?”

  “What?” Marnie seemed to be reading something.

  “I thought I’d make some ... Marnie, are you all right? You’re shaking.” Anne quickly crossed the room. “What’s the matter?”

  Marnie held up her hands and stared at them. There was a distinct tremor, as if she was freezing. She spoke slowly and quietly. “I’m not sure, but I think I may have come face-to-face with Simon’s killer.”

  Anne gasped, her eyes like dinner plates. “What did you say?” she whispered.

  “I’ve got to think what to do. I’m sure he’ll be suspicious. I think I blew it.”

  “Phone the police,” said Anne. “Straight away.”

  Marnie already had one hand on the phone, the other flipping open the address book to find the number. “Anne, lock the door, will you.”

  Anne flew across the office, flicked the snib on the lock and forced home the bolts, top and bottom. She looked quickly through the window. Marnie was pressing buttons on the phone.

  “Who is it?” said Anne. “How do you know? Are you sure?”

  “Hallo? I need to speak to DCI Bartlett. ... Marnie Walker, Knightly St John. ... What? Oh, then try Sergeant Marriner. ... Please interrupt their meeting. This is very urgent. ... Look, I don’t care if he’s having tea with the Queen, I’ve got to speak to him. ... Thank you. Yes, I’ll hold.” She put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Does he think I’m going somewhere? Come on, come – Oh Mr Bartlett. It’s Marnie Walker. Listen ...”

  *

  Chief Superintendent Scutt listened patiently while Bartlett reported on progress with the search of the canal. Nothing had been found at the bottom of the chamber but a windlass used for operating the lock paddles. It was the modern design made of solid aluminium and was capable of delivering a blow that could cause serious injury. Forensics were examining it, but it was more than likely that someone had simply dropped it into the lock by accident.

  Sergeant Marriner confirmed that statements had been obtained from the boaters who had found the body, plus everyone on boats within a mile of the lock in both directions, and the residents in the lock cottages nearby. So far no-one had seen or heard anything suspicious that evening. No-one had heard a car drive into the car park. There had been no sound of a fight or any kind of commotion.

  “There must’ve been a splash when he went in,” said Scutt.

  “Not so’s you’d notice,” said Marriner. “There’s a constant sound of rushing water at the lock. It’s either pouring in through the gates if the lock’s empty, or pouring out over the top if it’s full. We had to have pumps going all the time when our men were searching in there.”

  “Why didn’t anyone hear the car?”

  “It’s very quiet sir, a brand new Merc.”

  “You’ve checked for footprints, of course.”

  “Nothing there. Dozens of people will’ve been there that day, working the lock. The ground was firm and grassy. There are no indications of a scuffle.”

  Scutt turned to Bartlett. “So what are your conclusions, Jack?”

  “Well, sir, on the evidence so far, it looks like it could’ve been an accident. He stopped there for some reason unknown to us –”

  “Such as?”

  Bartlett shrugged. “Could be to do with Marnie Walker, but that’s only a guess. He’d come back to see her for the first time in a couple of years. Perhaps he wanted to show her what success he’d achieved in business and maybe try to start over again. Wouldn’t blame him. She’s an attractive woman. But she’s got her professor now, and they’re all nice and cosy together.”

  “You’re thinking suicide?” Scutt sounded sceptical.

  “No, sir. I’m just saying, perhaps he wanted to have a walk by the canal for a quiet think, got lost in his thoughts, went too near the edge in the dark, slipped ...”

  “What about what Walker said ... he was going home to get ready for an early start?”

  “It could just’ve been an excuse. We’ll check his diary when we get hold of it.”

  “What about the watch, the missing Rolex?”

  “We’re assuming Walker was right when she said he was wearing it that evening,” said Bartlett. “We don’t know that for a fact.”

  “Something caused the grazing on his wrist,” said Scutt.

  “If it had come off in the canal we’d have found it, sir,” Marriner joined in. “I’m sure of that.”

  “That seems to be the one sticking point,” said Scutt.

  The intercom buzzed on his desk. Scutt pressed a button. “What is it, Sandra?”

  “There’s a Marnie Walker on the phone, sir, wanting to speak to DCI Bartlett. She says it’s very urgent.”

  “Okay, you’d better put her on the line.” Scutt pressed the button marked ‘conference’ and pointed a
t Bartlett.

  “Hallo?” Marnie sounded strained.

  “Bartlett here, Mrs Walker. What’s happened?”

  “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think I know who killed Simon.”

  All three police officers straightened in their seats. “Go on,” said Bartlett.

  “To keep it brief, there’s a boat being repaired here. The man on board seems to be wearing Simon’s watch, his Rolex. I may be wrong, but it’s a very distinctive wristband in steel and gold. I’ve never seen another one like it. The man’s a stranger round here, calls himself John Hewitt. There’s something odd about him. His boat seems to turn up every now and again looking as if it’s deserted. I think he’s hiding out on it.”

  “Could it be our mugger?” said Marriner.

  “Mrs Walker, can you give us any details of the boat?” said Bartlett.

  “Yes. It’s called High Jinx, and the licence number is 1704426, registered at Watford.”

  Bartlett nodded towards Marriner who was scribbling rapidly on a pad. “Good. Tell me, where is this Hewitt at the moment?”

  Marriner took out his mobile and left the room.

  “I saw him not five minutes ago,” said Marnie. “He’s on the boat here.”

  “Is he aware of your suspicions?”

  “I don’t think so, at least I ... Actually I’m not sure. He might be.”

  “Are you somewhere safe?”

  “Yes. We’re in the office with the door locked.”

  “That’s good. Stay where you are and don’t go out for any reason at all. Got that?”

  “Yes. Do you think it could be him?”

  “We’re checking him out now, but it’s best not to take any – just a minute.”

  Marriner came in at the double. “I spoke to my contact at BW. There’s no such boat with that number and no record of anyone called John Hewitt owning a boat at all.”

  “Jesus!” said Bartlett. “Did you hear that, Marnie?”

  “Yes.”