‘Yes, all right, ask away,’ said Dr Armitage. He had half-risen but now sat down again.
‘Thank you. Can you just take me through Sunday, as it appeared to you? I realise you may already have gone over it once with Inspector Puttick.’
The Headmaster pursed his thin lips, appearing to assemble his thoughts. ‘Well, as I told the Inspector, nothing of note happened, at least that I’m aware of, until very late Sunday evening. Church is at ten, the whole school worshipping at St Nicholas’ in the village. After that, boys and masters not engaged in extracurricular activities can do as they please, and what they pleased to do that day I’m afraid I know not. You’ll have to ask them. Luncheon is at one; tea, for those that wish it, is at four, and dinner for the boys is at seven. Only the duty master is required to attend that – it was Mr Crockford on that occasion – and most prefer to eat out for a change. As for my wife and I, we had people to dinner in our flat, some very good friends from the village. We ate at seven or so and subsequently spent the evening playing cards and chatting. They left for home at about ten thirty and we’d turned in by about eleven.
‘It was not until about eleven forty-five, when I, for one, was fast asleep, that I was summoned to the telephone by our butler, Gibbs. That was the lock-keeper’s wife to tell us about the fire. We could see the flames from our window so it must already have been well alight. I had Gibbs raise the others and we all hastened down there bearing buckets. Our intention was to use the river water until the fire brigade arrived. We do have a fire station in the village but we knew it would take a while to turn out the volunteer crew and get an appliance along the towpath. We were, alas, far too late; the shed was already an inferno and nothing could be saved.
‘As to what occurred before we arrived, I must refer you to our Mr Noble, the hero of the hour. He was returning from a weekend away, and seeing the conflagration as he passed over the bridge, he raised the alarm at the lock house before trying what he could do. It was he who discovered the unfortunate Willoughby and with the help of Jackman the lock-keeper managed to drag out the body. I’m sorry to say they both burned themselves quite badly in the process. It has all been most distressing, and while one doesn’t for a moment compare the two losses, we now have no boats.’
‘Very valuable — the boats?’
‘Yes, they were rather, especially the eights. They’re insured, naturally, for something in excess of six hundred pounds, but there is always a worry that they might wriggle out of it on some pretext. They like taking one’s money, I find, but don’t always care to give it back. You are wondering about arson?’
‘Well, it has to be considered as a motive. Any other criminal damage?’
‘Not that I’m aware of, no. And the threats in the letters were against Mr Willoughby’s person, of course, not property. Did Inspector Puttick give them to you?’
‘They’re being sent to Scotland Yard. Our various experts will look at them and then pass them to me. Tell me about Mr Willoughby. Why would he have been at the boatshed on a Sunday?’
‘I don’t know why he’d have been there Sunday night. That’s a mystery. No-one normally goes there at night, as apart from anything else it’s quite unlit and going down through the woods can be treacherous in the dark. He may, however, have been there earlier preparing for Sea Cadets, which is on alternate Monday afternoons. We keep a couple of heavy pulling boats for them to train in. They’re not kept in the shed so they, at least, have survived.’
‘When was he last seen? Do you know?’
‘I understand that he looked briefly into the staff room at about twelve o’clock. He didn’t speak and they got the impression he was looking for someone.’
‘Who might that have been?’
‘No-one seems to know. There is a bit of a tradition among the resident masters to gather there for coffee and a biscuit after church. I don’t know who was still there at the time but I know Mr Wayland was and he will be able to tell you.’
‘What sort of man was Willoughby? Have you a photo of him, by the way?’
Dr Armitage pulled forward a folder. ‘Yes, I anticipated that. Here you are. It’s a year or two old but he hadn’t altered much.’
Felix perused the likeness — a square-jawed, unsmiling man, projecting a sort of lofty disdain. Was that for the photographer, he wondered, or for humankind? ‘He was obviously capable of engendering hatred,’ he said, ‘given the letters and the dummy.’
Dr Armitage nodded. ‘The first thing to say about that, Chief Inspector, is that he was our games master. This school has a sporting ethos, as you will have noticed, and there are inevitably a few boys who kick against that. We do try to accommodate the quiet and bookish, perhaps not always successfully, but I cannot imagine any of them going so far as to murder him. In any case he was a big, strong fellow and could surely have fought them off. It’s entirely possible, of course, that the letters were written by a man posing as a boy. No-one here recognises the hand, and the grammar and spelling are quite execrable, rather improbably so to my mind. As for the dummy. That, I feel, is definitely the work of an adult. When you have seen it I think you will agree.’
‘All of which might suggest one of his colleagues,’ said Felix. ‘Was he well-liked by them?’
The Headmaster took a while before answering. ‘I shouldn’t wish to mislead you, Chief Inspector. He was not, I’m sorry to say, the most popular member of staff. Blunt, arrogant and confrontational might best describe him; though again, I cannot imagine any master hating him enough to murder him.’
‘Did you like him, Dr Armitage?’
The Headmaster smiled regretfully. ‘I expect I’m putting myself in the firing line, Chief Inspector, but no I didn’t. He was a difficult man to love, though I tried hard to, for my daughter’s sake.’
‘Your daughter’s?’
‘Yes, Emily, my youngest. She was engaged to him. My apologies; you clearly didn’t know that.’
‘Oh, I see. No, I didn’t. How is she taking it?’
‘I’m not entirely sure, is the answer to that. She was very shocked initially but there have been no tears since, or not in front of her parents anyway. It is, of course, only three days since it happened.’
‘And did you approve of this engagement? One presumes you didn’t.’
The Headmaster shook his head. ‘For my own part, no. He was a bit old for her and I’ve described to you his character. I try not to play the heavy-handed parent if I can help it but I shan’t pretend I’m not relieved.’
‘Might we interview Miss Armitage about him?’
‘I’m no longer the one to ask, Chief Inspector; she recently turned twenty-one. I’ll pass on the message that you wish to speak to her.’
‘Thank you. And now you, sir. Can you tell me what you did between returning from church and settling down for the evening with your family and friends?’
Dr Armitage blew out his cheeks. ‘Well now, what did I do? Not my entire family, by the way, just my wife. Emily was away for the weekend, visiting her married sister.’ He indicated the photos on the desk. ‘These are rather ancient, I’m afraid. They are both grown up now, or think they are. However, to answer your question, I was working in this study until luncheon which I had in our flat with my wife. It being Sunday I rather lingered over it and didn’t leave until about two-thirty. Afterwards I was conferring with Mr Wayland and other members of staff for an hour or so at the Lodge, though I can’t vouch for the exact time I left there. Perhaps about four. Mr Wayland will be able to enlighten you on that, as might Mr Dunston or Mr Nicholls, who were also there. We don’t make a habit of working on a Sunday but we had a rather awkward timetable problem to sort out; and once you start chatting, of course, you think of umpteen other things that need dealing with. I eventually returned home to find our friends already installed and drinking my sherry.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ smiled
Felix. ‘Are your friends on the telephone?’
‘Yes, my secretary will have the number. Are you going to be this thorough with everyone, Chief Inspector?’
‘Yes, we are, sir. Did you solve your timetable problem?’
‘Yes, but only by robbing Peter to pay Paul, with the inevitable complaints. My staff are as jealous of their little empires as any cabinet minister.’
‘What did you make of him?’said Felix, as they went in search of the others.
‘There’s a robust sort of honesty to him, I suppose,’ said Rattigan. ‘Seemed more concerned about his boats than anything else. Not surprising, perhaps, if he hadn’t much time for Willoughby. Doesn’t sound as though anyone did.’
‘No, it doesn’t. Though we only have his word for it so far.’
Chapter Three
They found the two sergeants coming out of a door in the old stable yard.
‘All done, sir,’ said Nash. ‘There was no-one there but we found someone to let us in. One or two reasonable dabs, though they may not be much use to us.’
‘We suspect they were already on the bits and pieces when whoever made the dummy got them,’ explained Yardley. ‘They don’t look very recent.’
The dismantled effigy of Franklin Willoughby had been left in a corner of what appeared to be the school workshop. Nearby, a rather nice mahogany bureau sat next to a crude but colourful puppet theatre, a partially constructed five-foot-long battleship complete with revolving gun-turrets, and, of all things, a very large barrel.
The principal component of the dummy was a shop manikin in flesh-coloured plaster, badly showing its age. Most of the dabs had been found upon its battered but still shiny surface. One arm, set to a permanent right-angle at the elbow had needed to be broken so that it hung straight down in a simulacrum of death, while it and the body had been cleverly augmented with sacking and newspaper to achieve the necessary bulk. The head, with the usual sketchy moulding of the features, was unmodified, having been hidden by the kitbag, and the clothes and shoes which had apparently made the thing so convincing had unfortunately been taken back by their indignant owner. Without them it would not have fooled anyone for a moment.’
‘The crux of the matter is whether a boy at this school could have got hold of the manikin and found somewhere to work on it,’ said Felix. ‘One assumes it was chucked out by a gent’s outfitter or one of the big stores.’
‘I can see how Armitage thought it unlikely,’ said Rattigan. ‘They don’t grow on trees, these things and, as you say, where would they work on it? You wouldn’t want someone bursting in on you.’
‘Might it be worth asking around the shops, sir?’ said Yardley. ‘They might know what sort of person they gave or sold it to.’
‘Yes, it might,’ agreed Felix. ‘That could be a job for Puttick, if he wants to help, or one of his chaps anyway. They’ll know where the likely shops are, which we don’t. Maybe I’ll have a word with him.’
‘Kids mustering outside,’ warned Nash.
A rotund, bespectacled little man came in. ‘Good morning gentlemen, I’m Eric Campling. I take it you’re Scotland Yard?’
They introduced themselves. ‘We’ll clear off and let you get on with your class,’ said Felix. ‘Thank you for keeping the dummy for us. We’ve finished fingerprinting it now, but it would be helpful if you can hang onto it for the moment. What’s the barrel for, by the way? Surely you don’t teach cooperage here?’
Campling chuckled. ‘It’s a “butt of Malmsey.” Minus the contents, unfortunately, or I might be tempted to draw off a flagon or two.’
‘Christmas play?’ asked Felix.
‘Yes, Richard III, of course. We have one every year. The boys vote for which it’s to be.’
‘And choose the most bloodthirsty ones, no doubt. You couldn’t direct me to Mr Willoughby’s room, could you? I don’t want to trouble the Headmaster again so soon, if we can avoid it.’
‘I’ll take you,’ said Campling. ‘Just let me get these fellows started.’
‘If you’re sure?’
‘Yes, that’s all right; they’re fifth formers, they don’t need me to tell them what to do. If they cut a hand off or something they know where Matron is.’ Two minutes later he came out to join them. ‘Come along. This is the quickest way, if not the prettiest.’
‘Hello! The new Alvis,’ said Yardley as they crossed the yard. ‘Rather nice, aren’t they?’
‘I used to have an early one,’ said Felix, pausing to admire the little sports car. ‘Whose is it?’
‘Belongs to Arthur Noble,’ said Campling. ‘He’s the only member of staff with a car. It was he that dragged Willoughby out of the fire, you know.’
‘So we understand. I’m looking forward to meeting that gentleman.’
They passed among communal showers and changing rooms and then were climbing some dark backstairs. ‘Been a while since I was up here,’ said Campling cheerfully. ‘Willoughby’s room used to be mine before I was married. Got a house in the village now, and three kids.’
‘You’ve been here a while then?’ said Felix.
‘Yes, I’m a lifer. Indefinite sentence. I arrived with the furniture when we opened in nineteen hundred and five.’
‘You opened then?’ frowned Felix. ‘I’d assumed you went back centuries.’
‘Oh, we do, in a manner of speaking,’ said Campling. The original school was founded by the sainted Thomas in sixteen forty-six with an endowment of six hundred quid. The usual thing: “to clothe and educate the poor boys of the parish.” It jogged along happily enough in a two-room building in town for a couple of centuries but by the time we took it over it’d been reduced to a sort of dame school with just a handful of pupils. Since moving here, of course, we’ve gone from strength to strength.’
‘What about the going-out uniform?’ asked Yardley. ‘The corduroy short trousers, is it? And the fancy cloaks.’
‘Oh, Lizzy Armitage designed those. Sorry to destroy your illusions.’
‘And you’ve been the woodwork teacher all this time?’ said Nash. ‘You must like it.’
‘Yes, and metalwork,’ said Campling, ‘but it’s only one of my hats. I’m also Divinity and Pastoral Care. There are some sad little chaps here, you know, just about abandoned in some cases. I do what I can for them, which isn’t much. Anyway, I must let you get on. Here’s the room. This landing is rather handily situated because you can slip a visitor in or out without anyone noticing – or yourself, come to that – not that I had much occasion to do so, alas.’
‘Well, thank you for your help, sir, and for the history lesson,’ said Felix. ‘I should never have guessed. You’ll probably be seeing me again tomorrow, when I start taking witness statements.’
‘You won’t find mine very illuminating I’m afraid,’ said Campling. ‘I was on church business all day, one way and another, apart from a couple of pints in the Spotted Cow. When you’re ready to leave, turn left, then right, and take the main stairs. That’ll bring you out at the front door. The other way is more backstairs and some storerooms and you’re in the woodland behind the school.’
◆◆◆
‘Nothing’s ever quite as it seems, is it?’ said Rattigan when he’d gone. ‘For all practical purposes the school is just twenty-three years old.’
‘We live by myths and inventions,’ said Felix as he broke the seal on Willoughby’s door. ‘I’m not sure they’d want that generally known — by the parents, I mean. Rather spoils the image, doesn’t it? I wonder what else we can get out of him? He’s bound to know who the disaffected boys are for a start; the ones who admit to it anyway. In we go.’
‘Pooh! Socks,’ said Yardley, recoiling at the fusty air.
The room was quite a small one, barely eleven feet square, and very untidy. The wardrobe door was hanging open and the narrow single bed was scattered with discarde
d clothing. On a table was a pile of papers and letters, held down by a dumbbell weight, while a jumble of sporting equipment (cricket pads, tennis rackets and more weights) appeared to have been flung willy-nilly into a corner.
Felix examined the garments on the bed. ‘The sort of thing one might wear for supervising games perhaps. I wonder what he was doing in these on a Sunday? Then he seems to have changed out of them, perhaps in a hurry. That’s assuming, of course, that he slept in this bed Saturday night or they could have been here longer. However, what we want from you chaps is evidence of any visitors he might have had, so concentrate on dabbing the door and any bare surfaces, such as they are.’ He turned to the table. ‘What have we here then?’
‘Letter from his mother,’ said Rattigan, holding it up, ‘and one from a Matthew, probably a brother. Yes, definitely a brother.’
‘Affectionate?’
Rattigan passed them over. ‘I’d say yes to the brother, as much as they ever are. Usual wisecracks and so on. Mother sounds a bit chilly. Hopes he’s living within his means now.’
‘Hmm, the “now” suggesting that Mother or Father might have stumped up in the past,’ hazarded Felix. ‘Hello, a bank statement . . . Three pounds, one and three halfpence in the red. Given his likely salary that’s sailing a bit close to the wind, I’d have thought.’
‘Mummy’s concerns justified, then,’ said Rattigan. ‘Bank manager thinks so too — “Dear Mr Willoughby, it has come to our attention . . .”’
‘Interesting. All it wants is a bookie’s bill. Or perhaps he has some other vice. Worth looking into anyway.’
‘Quite a heap, all told,’ said Rattigan, checking the dates. ‘Wait a minute, that’s June of last year! No wonder they’re dusty.’
‘We’d best go through them properly,’ said Felix, opening his case to receive them. ‘I’m not very impressed with his filing system, are you?’
An Education in Death (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 9) Page 2
