‘Hardiman gave them to me.’
‘You seem to have a lot to do with Hardiman.’
Nixon shrugged. ‘He fancies me, I think.’
‘Are you going to let him?’
‘Not likely! I just like to keep him simmering, for the fags. Would you, if he asked?’
‘I might, if the price was right. Not sure what he’s got that I’d want, to be honest.’
‘So you’re a tart as well as a masochist? I worry about you, Morley. Where do you think we really are in the race?’
‘How many in the school?’
‘Two hundred and twenty, I think.’
‘Two hundred and eighteenth and two hundred and nineteenth, then. Tomlinson’s in sick bay.’
‘What’s wrong with Tomlinson?’
‘Grumbling appendix.’
‘Humph, likely! If I were as fat as he is I wouldn’t like running either. Not that I do overmuch.’
‘Better than rugger anyway. Look down there. You can see where the boatshed isn’t.’
‘Yes, you can. Looks funny doesn’t it? Why there, do you suppose? I mean, why choose the boatshed for murder most foul? And as for burning it down — seems a bit excessive.’
‘Dunno. He should’ve done it on Guy Fawkes Night with old Willoughby for the Guy.’
‘Ha de ha!’ said Morley. ‘Seriously though, it’s rather interesting, don’t you think? Like a detective novel but real. We could find out who done it.’
‘To give the fellow a medal, do you mean? He certainly deserves one. Anyway, they’ve got Scotland Yard on the case.’
‘Yes, but I don’t suppose they’re much good. My pater says policemen are usually pretty thick. Also, they haven’t our advantages. We know all the boys for one thing, which they don’t.’
‘You think it was a boy then?’
‘Yes of course. Whoever wrote those letters murdered Willoughby.’
‘Not necessarily. The letters might be a red herring. Anyway, we agreed a boy couldn’t get hold of a tailor’s dummy. Who made that?’
Morley considered this. ‘All right, we’ll investigate the masters too. Maybe it’ll turn out to be old Bungie. I’d certainly like to see him swing.’
‘Suppose it’s someone we like?’
Morley ground his cigarette end carefully into the mud. ‘Then we’d keep shtum, obviously. Come on, we’d better get going. Who’s on the shortcut?’
‘Parker, I think.’
‘Parker’s corruptible. You should have kept a fag for him.’
‘I did. You’ve just smoked it.’
‘Blow! Do you think he’d accept an IOU?’
◆◆◆
‘Merci bien, M. Moreau,’ said Felix, ushering the French teacher from the room, ‘Je n'aurai plus besoin de te déranger.’ Closing the door, he turned back to Rattigan. ‘Nothing useful there, then.’
‘I’m glad the fellow speaks English,’ said Rattigan. ‘I seem to have forgotten my French, such as it was.’
‘You need to keep it up or it goes. Our next-door neighbour is a Mme Durand. She’s a bit of a pest to be honest but she’s improved ours wonderfully.’
‘Why is she a pest?’
‘Always at the door. She’s lonely, I think, and she likes babies. We’re contemplating moving, Teddy, to a house. Detached, preferably, with a garden.’
‘That’ll cost you. Because of Abby, or to lose Mme Durand?’
‘Both, really, and the blasted dog downstairs. Who does that leave us with?’
‘Messrs Matteson, Crockford and Noble,’ said Rattigan, consulting his list. I hope they’re more useful than the others; or more forthcoming anyway. Talking of which — Burstow. I fancied there was a slight hesitation when you asked him about Willoughby’s interest in the ladies. He was all right until then.’
‘Yes, I noticed that too, though it wasn’t really marked enough to pick him up on it. Fancy a cuppa?’
◆◆◆
‘You make a nice cup of tea, Mrs Andrews,’ said Felix, returning the tray. ‘Thanks very much. May I ask, where do you stand in the matter of gossip?’
The School Secretary, a plump and jolly woman of fifty or so, was much amused. ‘Nothing like coming straight out with it, Chief Inspector! What do you want to know? I won’t promise to tell you, mind.’
‘It’s simple enough really. Purely as a matter of routine, we need to investigate Mr Willoughby’s romantic involvements; apart, that is, from Miss Armitage, about whom we know already.’
‘Oh well, in that case you’d best consult Agnes,’ said Mrs Andrews, nodding towards the typist. ‘He’s asking about your boyfriend, dear.’
‘I beg your pardon!’ said Agnes, provoking much feminine mirth. ‘He’d like to have been, I dare say.’
‘He took an interest, then?’ said Felix. ‘I can quite see why, of course.’
‘Ooh, you’re a smooth one,’ said the not unattractive young woman. ‘Bet you’ve broken a few hearts in your time. Yes, he did. Always sniffing around he was; much good it did him.’
‘You weren’t tempted?’
‘No, I was not! Not my sort at all.’
‘Did he try it after he got engaged to Miss Armitage?’
‘Not then, no. He knew which side his bread was buttered I dare say.’
‘I’ll bet he would have if he’d thought he could get away with it,’ said Mrs Andrews. ‘That sort doesn’t change.’
Agnes’ expression became conspiratorial. ‘Shall we tell him?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Mrs Andrews, looking arch. ‘Can we trust him, do you think?’
‘I’m a policeman,’ said Felix. ‘I listen to gossip but I don’t pass it on. And it might be important, you know.’
The two women wordlessly conferred.
‘Did I ought . . .’ said Agnes, glancing towards the door.
‘No, it’s all right,’ said Mrs Andrews, ‘he’s out until twelve. Another cuppa, Mr Felix? You may need fortifying.’
Chapter Five
‘Actually, it was all a bit queer about our Emily,’ said Mrs Andrews, pouring the tea. ‘She was going out with Ernie Crockford for, oh, a couple of terms I should think. Young love’s sweet dream it was and we were expecting wedding bells, weren’t we Aggy? Then suddenly she’d dumped him and taken up with Willoughby, which was a crying shame because Ernie is a really nice chap. Broke his heart, it did.’
‘She said he was boring,’ said Agnes, ‘and Willoughby was a real man. I told her she was mad.’
‘She’s got some strange ideas, that one,’ said Mrs Andrews scathingly. ‘Real man indeed! I know you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead but he was all mouth and trousers as far as I’m concerned. Anyway, it was a big secret at first. We knew about it but her father didn’t. He was that wild when he found out, wasn’t he, Aggy? He even talked about sacking him.’
‘Why was that?’ said Felix. ‘What had he got against Willoughby?’
‘Oh, his reputation. The Don Juan of Thomas Thirkettle, he was, or thought he was. I expect he was afraid he’d get her in a family way and he’d be stuck with him. And then blow me if they didn’t get engaged!’
‘Could he have done that,’ asked Felix, ‘sack him for courting his daughter?’
‘Oh yes. He can do as he likes really. The governors wouldn’t stop him, not for something like that. I’m rather surprised he didn’t, frankly, because quite apart from his philandering he didn’t like Willoughby any more than the rest of us, Once they were engaged, of course, it was too late and he never said any more about it. She’d turned twenty-one by then, so he couldn’t have stopped it if he’d wanted to.’
‘So you have a board of governors? I didn’t know that.’
‘Yes, we’ve got the Bishop, the Very Reverend Anthony Hope, and Mr Justice Wheeler, and Sir Arnold, of cou
rse.’
‘Sir Arnold?’
‘Sir Arnold Longbottom. He actually owns the place.’
‘Not the Headmaster, then?’
‘No, he’s got a stake in the business, that’s all. It’s not a secret. I’ve got a printed sheet somewhere with it all on. People sometimes ask about it.’
‘I’ll get one,’ said Agnes, going to a filing cabinet.
‘Did he actually tell you he didn’t like Willoughby?’ asked Felix.
‘Oh no, he wouldn’t say anything to us. Agnes heard him talking to Lizzie, that’s all. Mrs Armitage, I should say. But we always know whom he likes and whom he doesn’t. Anyway, that’s not the half of it. We know a few things about Franklin Willoughby, don’t we, Aggy?’
‘Tell him about the barmaid,’ said Agnes. ‘That’s a good one.’
‘Which of them do you mean?’ asked Mrs Andrews.
They laughed.
‘Not the most discreet of employees,’ chuckled Rattigan.
‘I honestly don’t think it has occurred to them about Armitage,’ said Felix. ‘They were so keen to dish the dirt on the libidinous Willoughby they didn’t see the obvious inference. I’m not sure it’s very likely anyway, though it has to be considered.’
‘It’s the only decent motive we’ve found so far!’
‘But is it? He’s got a perfectly respectable alibi, though it bears checking, and would the risk have been worth it? He’d have known he’d become a suspect.’
‘Well I can see all that,’ said Rattigan, ‘but I wouldn’t rule him out entirely.’
‘Oh, nor would I. Too soon for that. It explains one thing though. Burstow will have known about Crockford getting the elbow from Emily. He’s a clever man and he probably thought if he said anything, he’d be handing us a motive on a plate. They could be pals for all we know. In fact, they probably are, given Campling’s remark about them.’
‘You’re saying Crockford might have borne a grudge against the man who supplanted him in Emily’s affections?’
‘Exactly that.’ He got up and went next door. ‘How’s it going, chaps?’
‘No problems so far,’ said Yardley. Are we dabbing the boys?’
Felix shook his head. ‘I want to avoid that nightmare if I can. Have you had a cuppa?’
‘Not yet, sir,’ said Nash.
‘Well go and ask Mrs Andrews and her pal for one. They’re nice ladies. We, however, must visit the sick bay. We won’t be long, so when you’ve finished your tea perhaps one of you will find me Mr Crockford.’
◆◆◆
The sick bay at Thirkettle consisted of the usual consulting room with a three-bed ward attached. Scales and a stadiometer stood ready for the termly weighing and measuring and a half-open cupboard revealed the usual medicaments. Peeking through the ward door they saw that one bed was occupied, the patient reading a book.
‘Mrs Dunn,’ said Felix, ‘I’ve already revealed to Dr Armitage my abiding fear of the cane and now I must tell you that to this day I cannot walk into a school sick bay without tasting and smelling malt and cod-liver oil.’
The School Matron laughed. ‘Do you miss it, Chief inspector? I can give you a dose if you like.’
Felix vigorously demurred. ‘No thank you, madam. One of the many compensations of adulthood is that it’ll never pass my lips again. How about you, Sergeant?’
‘I’ve never had the stuff in my life,’ said Rattigan, thumping his chest, and look at me!’
‘A bit less of everything is what you need,’ said Mrs Dunn eyeing him severely up and down.
‘You tell him,’ chuckled Felix. ‘He won’t listen to anyone else. Mrs Dunn, I’m here on a rather delicate mission. I hope you will understand that we cannot be sure that one of the older boys didn’t murder Mr Willoughby, and although I personally think it unlikely I must ask if, in your view, any of them might be capable of having done so. A boy, perhaps, who has shown serious disaffection with school life or a hatred for Mr Willoughby in particular. I did ask Mr Campling but I’m looking for a second opinion.’
Matron’s expression became sour. ‘You were wasting your time asking Campling, as you probably discovered. The man’s useless. He might be a good teacher – I wouldn’t know – but he should never have been given Pastoral Care. If an unhappy child were to be so foolish as to go to him with his troubles, he’d simply tell him to brace up and snap out of it and no doubt drive him to even greater despair. It is I who have to comfort them in their misery and give them a hug and sometimes dry their tears. They’d get none of that from Campling. As for the boys that seldom, if ever, go home, it is I, not Campling, who must write to their parents and tell them in no uncertain terms that they should try to see them once in a while, or at the least write them a letter sometimes, which goodness knows doesn’t take much effort!’ She stopped and gave them an embarrassed smile. ‘Sorry. Me on my soapbox I’m afraid.’
Felix smiled his sympathy. ‘Please don’t apologise, Mrs Dunn. I went to a boarding school myself, and although I was happy enough, I knew of many who were not. However, returning to my question, is there any boy we ought to be keeping an eye on? We will not, let me assure you, go marching in and give him the third degree; we’ll simply bear him in mind as the evidence unfolds. And to repeat, it is not, in my view, a boy that did it.’
Mrs Dunn considered. ‘I should say about a quarter of boys are unhappy here at one time or another but it tends to be the younger ones. Once they get to the lower remove they’ve usually settled down. As for Willoughby, I had no good reports of him and plenty of the other sort. Though having said that, I really don’t believe we have a juvenile murderer on our hands. If we had, I think I’d have noticed someone of that sort as he came up through the school. I doubt they spring into existence fully formed. I’m afraid I shall have to agree with Mr Campling in this instance and say that, no, I don’t suspect any of them.’ She smiled. ‘I cannot, of course, make any useful comment on the masters.’
‘Well that’s a pity,’ smiled Felix. ‘You might have saved us a lot of trouble. Did you like Mr Willoughby personally?’
‘I rarely saw him, but to the extent that I did I didn’t care for him, no. He acted as if he was superior to other people, without good cause as far as I could see, and if a boy was hurt during games, he would invariably wash his hands of it, as if it couldn’t possibly be anything to do with him. I rather dreaded a serious injury or a drowning. Fortunately we’ve had only a few broken bones.
‘Darned cheek,’ said Rattigan as they made their way downstairs. ‘The woman’s no featherweight herself.’
‘She’s a well-built lady, certainly,’ agreed Felix. ‘They might both be wrong, of course, but in Matron’s case it does offer a little reassurance.’
◆◆◆
Ernest Crockford proved to be a pleasant young man, not handsome but with a sort of rough-hewn appeal and a ready sense of humour. Felix guessed that he’d attract his share of girls of the more sensible sort. ‘You are twenty-four, single, and live at the school,’ he reiterated. ‘Where do teachers go in the holidays by the way? You don’t have to answer that, I’m just curious.’
‘Like where do flies go in the winter?’ smiled Crockford. ‘In my case I’m researching a book, so I spend a bit of time travelling about and in the British Museum. My parents live in London so I usually end up with them at some point. However, one is permitted to stay here in the holidays in return for helping with those boys who can’t get home, so I don’t wander off immediately. It’s a pleasant place, after all, and takes on quite a different character when the school is closed. Peaceful, you know.’
‘What’s the book about?’
‘It’s provisionally entitled, The Parfit Gentil Knyght. The Mediaeval Code of Chivalry.’
Felix nodded amiably. ‘Interesting, I should think. All right, let’s hear about what you did on Sunday. Go
to church?’
‘Yes. It’s expected, you know. But it was also my turn to escort the boys there and back. The Head is very eager to give an impression of discipline. They march in step, two by two and, of course, wear their going-out uniform. He calls it our shop window, though I don’t know who he thinks is going to be impressed by it in the village. The job goes with supervising the boys’ luncheon and dinner so I had to do those as well.’
‘A working Sunday, then?’
‘Yes, it is really. It’s a bit tiresome but it only comes around once a term unless someone’s sick. I usually give the day up as a bad job and do marking or preparation of lessons in between. Or my writing, of course.’
‘And is that what you did?’
‘Yes, more or less. I joined the others for coffee in the staffroom after church, then took my marking to the library. After luncheon I took a walk around the grounds then got back down to it, preparing a lesson. Then I read for a bit —’
‘Sorry,’ interrupted Felix. ‘Did you see anyone on your walk?’
‘Not to speak to, no. There would have been boys about of course. I can’t remember who.’
‘Where did you do your reading — still in the library?’
Crockford nodded. ‘It’s a nice room. My own gets a bit gloomy when the sun goes off it. It’s all right at night.’
‘Anyone see you there?’
‘I don’t know. I noticed no-one myself.’
‘You managed to go all that time without seeing a human soul?’
‘Well yes, I suppose I did, another master anyway. We’re usually spoiled for company here; it’s nice to get a break from it.’
‘What was the lesson you were preparing.’
‘Er, the six wives of Henry VIII, if you must know! Would you like to see my notes?’
‘No, I don’t think so. And then?’
‘Then I got a bit restless so I went for another walk, just round the playing fields this time. By the time I got back I had to change for dinner.’
‘And after that?’
‘More reading, in my room this time, and turned in at about ten-thirty. Later, of course, I was rudely awakened by Gibbs, summoning us to the boatshed. Not sure when that was. I’m not very good at being woken up and had a little trouble pulling myself together. There was a good deal of milling about looking for buckets. I think we all realised it was pointless; you could see the flames through the trees, and hear the crackling. Damned brave of Noble to go into that.’
An Education in Death (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 9) Page 4
