‘No, you wouldn’t,’ said Felix, taking out his notebook. ‘I wonder if you can just talk me through what happened Sunday night? Especially anything that seemed a bit queer at the time. How were you alerted to the fire?’
‘I don’t know that I was what you’d call alerted,’ said Jackman, indicating that Felix should sit down. ‘We was just about to turn in when there was this sort of “whump” noise across the lock. I looked out the window and the boatshed was fully ablaze, the whole thing, no warning. I immediately telephoned to the fire station, though I doubted they could do much; there just wasn’t the time. Then Mr Noble came banging on the door.’
‘You weren’t aware of him before that?’
‘No. We might’ve heard his car I s’pose but cars pass over the bridge fairly often, even at night, and you don’t notice them after a while. Are you thinking he might have come from somewhere else?’
Felix shook his head. ‘Not particularly. It’s just the sort of question we have to ask. So then what did you do?’
‘Rushed to the shed. The doors were locked and I had to grab a spade out of the garden to lever it open. That took a minute or two and by then it was solid flame inside. We got that coxed four out, the one that’s lying there now, and then I spotted the body.’
‘It was you that saw him first?’
Jackman briefly considered. ‘Yes, it must’ve been because I had to point him out to Mr Noble. I dashed in to grab him, fool that I was, and Noble came after me. We took a leg each and dragged him out. I shouldn’t think it took thirty seconds but it was half a minute too long. It was like sticking yer head in a bread oven.’
‘How long before the others arrived?’
‘Moments really. We’d chucked ourselves into the river by then. It was so darned hot we couldn’t tell which bits of us were alight even.’
‘Well it was a very brave thing to do. Now, this is important. While all this was going on, right from when you dashed out of this house, did you see anyone else? Or even think you may have done. A passer-by perhaps, or someone on the bridge or by the shed. Anyone at all.’
‘Why yes, I did,’ said Jackman, ‘and I told someone I did. Now who was it?’ He shook his head. ‘Can’t remember. No matter. Do you know the other gate into the school grounds?’
‘What, the one by the lodge?’
‘No, not that. Imagine you’re coming from the bridge and just as you start along the towpath towards here there’s a little iron gate in the railings. Easy to miss, I s’pose. You can walk up the slope through the wood, it’s not steep there, and turn along the edge of the playing fields until you get to the school. It avoids all those steps at the other end. Anyway, there was someone going in at that gate. Don’t ask me who it was except it may have been a woman, and they was carrying something. That’s all I can tell you.’
‘What made you think it was a woman?’
‘I don’t know. The way she moved maybe. I was a bit busy!’
‘No-one else?’
‘No. There might’ve been but I didn’t see ’em.’
Felix was minded to return by this new footpath but as he came out of the lock-keeper’s house he met the man from the river launch he’d noticed earlier. ‘Sorry to trouble you,’ he said. ‘Are you from the school?’
‘No, I’m a police officer. There was a murder here on Sunday and I’m investigating it.’
‘Ah, good. Thought you might be. I saw it in the newspaper. I don’t know if this is of any interest to you but we were here last Sunday morning. We’re putting the old lady ashore for the winter,’ he indicated the launch, ‘but we thought we’d take a final run down-river and back and we tied up here last Saturday night. It was when we went to unmoor next morning that we saw this fellow hanging around the boatshed. He was strolling about with his hands in his pockets as though he was waiting for someone. Any good to you?’
‘Very much so, sir. At exactly what time was this? Any idea?’
‘Just after eleven. Call it a quarter past.’
‘Can you describe him to me?’
‘Yes, I think so, and my wife will certainly be able to. She misses nothing. Come aboard a minute.’
The owners of the Lovely Nancy were Gerald White, a retired stockbroker, and his wife Rosie. Five minutes later, Felix was enjoying a cup of tea in the wheelhouse.
‘I’d say he was about my husband’s height,’ said Mrs White, ‘so five foot ten or eleven, light brown hair, no hat, wearing a black and white houndstooth sports jacket, grey flannels and black shoes. He was quite good looking, I suppose, if you like that sort of thing, with very broad shoulders. I particularly noticed that.’
‘You would,’ said Mr White, and they laughed.
Felix opened his case and drew out the photograph provided by the Headmaster. ‘That him?’
‘That’s the fellow!’ Her eyes grew wide. ‘Might it be the murderer, do you think?’
‘Would you say that he looked like one?’
‘I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s got a cruel face, hasn’t he?’
Felix smiled. ‘Actually, he’s the victim.’
Chapter Nine
The next morning found them back at Scotland Yard, awaiting the results from the fingerprinting.
‘So Willoughby was there earlier,’ said Rattigan, packing his pipe. ‘Maybe the person he was expecting didn’t turn up and that’s who he was looking for when he stuck his nose into the staffroom.’
‘Well it’s possible, even likely,’ said Felix, ‘thought that was an hour or so later, don’t forget. It’s interesting that according to Mrs White he was wearing the clothes he had on when he was dragged out of the fire that night. So why did we find his scruffy old games clothes scattered on his bed?’
‘Change of mind? Selecting stuff for the laundry? Shouldn’t think they’d seen one for a while.’
‘Possibly. Or did he have something to do during the day that required him to wear them. If so, what and when? If we could discover that it might take us closer to the time of death. However, coming back to the mysterious woman, if woman it be. If it was someone who lives at the school, which at that time of night it very likely was, we really only have Mrs Gibbs, Lizzie Armitage and young Emily as possibilities. There are no other female residents, as far as I know, except Mrs Wayland at the lodge, and she would surely have come to the main gate. One feels instinctively it must have been Emily.’
‘She’d have been coming back from visiting her sister, no doubt,’ said Rattigan, ‘and the something she was carrying was probably her overnight case.’
‘Yes, that seems likely. It would have been too late for the last bus and I don’t see her as a walker, do you? Taxi from the railway station probably. But why drop her at the back gate? It’s quite a step from there through the wood. Why not bring her to her door, or at the very least to the lodge? And why, if she was there, did she not stop to investigate the fire? She must surely have seen it. You know, I’m wondering, what with her and Noble both away for the weekend, if they might have been together. She admits she was disenchanted with Willoughby and as you suggested yourself, those two would probably be attracted like a pair of magnets. He might even be the reason why she went off Willoughby.’
‘So they return together in the Alvis,’ said Rattigan, ‘Noble stops to deal with the fire, and Emily scuttles the rest of the way on foot. Neither of them wants her fiancé to catch her with Noble and cause a scene and they can’t know he’s lying dead in the boatshed. It certainly fits.’
‘Trouble is, that would be our prime suspect washed out.’
‘Prime suspect because of the letters and dummy?’
‘Yes. He can hardly blame us for that.’
Rattigan struck a match. ‘I’m glad you agree.’
‘Agree?’
‘Without an alibi for the whole afternoon and evening he stays a su
spect in my book, notwithstanding the attempted rescue. What are a few burns if you can get away with murder?’
‘Quite so, though he could hardly have planned it that way. Emily would get him off the hook, of course, assuming they were together and could prove it.’
‘Have another word with her?’
‘I think I’ll have to, though I may have to bluff a little to get her to admit it. Let’s see what the lads come up with first.’
‘Here they are now,’ said Rattigan.
The dabs team appeared, looking pleased with themselves. They were followed in by Chief Superintendent Polly. ‘Don’t mind me,’ he said, settling on the edge of a desk.
‘Nothing very exciting on Willoughby’s door sir,’ said Yardley, making sure to include their exalted visitor. ‘It looks like the cleaner had been having a go at it – before it was sealed, I mean – unless it was someone more sinister. As for the crossbow, there are three people’s dabs on that. Firstly, there are some rather nicely defined ones, bit on the small side, possibly belonging to an older boy. Those are all over the place.’
‘Perhaps suggesting he was the maker of the thing,’ said Nash, handing one of his enlargements to Polly.
‘Though it might be a woman,’ said Yardley, with professional caution. ‘Not that it seems very likely. The other two are Arthur Noble and Dr Albert Armitage.’
There were expressions of surprise.
‘Noble again!’ said Rattigan. ‘Keeps turning up, like a bad penny.’
‘And the Headmaster.’
‘The pattern of dabs suggests they all of them held the thing as if aiming it,’ said Yardley.
‘Wouldn’t you?’ said Polly.
‘That’s very true, sir. It’s something you feel compelled to do.’
‘The question is,’ said Felix, ‘who felt compelled to make a St Sebastian out of poor old Willoughby?’
‘Assuming, of course, that it was the weapon used,’ cautioned Polly. ‘May I look at it?’
‘It’s across the way, sir,’ said Yardley. ‘I’ll show it to you.’
‘No, it’s all right. You stay here. I only want a peek.’
‘He just wants to play with it,’ whispered Nash. ‘Second childhood.’
‘Seriously though,’ said Felix amid the chuckles, ‘it doesn’t have to have been any of those people. The murderer is very likely to have worn gloves. It’s almost proof that they didn’t do it.’
◆◆◆
‘There’s a perfectly rational explanation, and it’s this,’ said Arthur Noble somewhat wearily. ‘Every now and then we check the boys’ lockers for unauthorised contents: cigarettes, booze and so on. It’s one of the first jobs I did when I arrived here. It feels a bit underhand but I suppose it’s justified, seeing as we’re in loco parentis and all that. Anything we remove goes into the “confiscated” cupboard, to which, I might point out, all masters have access. It’s in the staffroom so it’s not even locked.’
‘And it was you that confiscated the crossbow?’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘Can you prove it?’
‘Yes, to the extent that I’ll have added it to the clipboard that hangs in the cupboard, with the date.’
‘There’s nothing on it now,’ said Felix ‘We’ve looked.’
‘Oh, I see. Well I can’t then. Maybe Mrs Andrews has got it.’
‘Do you know whose locker it was?’
‘Yes, it’s a sixth-former, name of Quigley. Clever blighter, I’m told. I don’t have anything to do with the sixth form, unless they’re in the play, so I scarcely know him.’
‘Do the boys get their things back eventually?’
Noble shook his head, wincing again. ‘Mostly not. It’s usually things they shouldn’t have had in the first place.’
‘All right, I’ll accept that explanation for the time being.’ He turned to his other interviewee. ‘Now then, Miss Armitage. You were away with Mr Noble last weekend. May I ask you again where you went?’
The couple started in surprise, then sighed resignedly at each other. ‘I’ve already told you,’ said Emily crossly, ‘I went to visit my sister and brother-in-law.’
‘With Mr Noble?’
‘Yes, if you must know.’
‘Will they confirm it?’
‘Of course they will. And it was all perfectly respectable.’
‘I’m sure it was,’ said Felix, ‘and if it hadn’t been, it would have been none of my business. I only want confirmation that you were away from Thirkettle, with witnesses. Were you together all the time?’
‘No, Arthur drove over to see his father on Saturday night and came back Sunday morning.’
‘I must tell you that Miss Armitage has done me the honour of consenting to become my wife,’ said Noble stiffly.
Felix smiled. ‘Then hearty congratulations to both of you. I hope you will be very happy. Did you murder Mr Willoughby, Mr Noble?’
Arthur Noble burst out laughing. ‘No, I did not! Did you really think I did?’
‘It had crossed our minds,’ said Felix dryly. ‘Whichever way we turn, you seem to crop up. Has either of you formed any notion of whom it might really have been?’
‘No, I’m afraid not,’ said Noble, answering for both of them. ‘Would you like my dossier on Willoughby, the one I told you about? It might provide inspiration.’
◆◆◆
‘I did more than hold the thing,’ admitted the Headmaster, colouring a little, ‘I fired a bolt. It came equipped with several.’
‘Where did you do that?’
‘In my garden, at a blameless cherry tree.’
‘Any witnesses?’
‘Yes, Brian Wayland.’
‘I see. And did he have a go too?’
‘No, he didn’t. He thought it rather infra dig. Perhaps he was right. Needless to say, I should never have done it if I’d known it would become a murder weapon.’
‘We’re not even sure that it did,’ said Felix. ‘What can you tell me about the boy who made it?’
‘Quigley? A brilliant mathematician and natural engineer. One of those maverick boys that crop up from time to time. They plod along quietly, more or less educating themselves, then leave without fanfare and achieve great things. I don’t suppose it even occurred to him that anyone would disapprove. He couldn’t be allowed to keep it of course.’ He turned at a tap on the door. ‘Please excuse me. Yes, Mrs Andrews?’
‘Sir Arnold, sir.’
‘Ah, good. Chief Inspector, Sir Arnold Longbottom, our chairman of governors, has arrived. I expect he’d like to meet you, as you’re here.’
Beefy, bull-necked and with an air of mild belligerence, Sir Arnold seemed to typify a certain type of successful businessman of the “risen from humble beginnings” variety. Somehow one expected the Yorkshire accent, even before he spoke.
‘How do you do, Sir Arnold?’ said Felix. ‘I’m sorry we have to meet under such tiresome circumstances.’
‘That’s exactly what it is — tiresome,’ agreed Sir Arnold wholeheartedly. ‘What happened to that Puttick fellow?’
‘Inspector Puttick is from the local force, sir. The Chief Constable decided to pass the case to Scotland Yard.’
‘Why is that?’
‘He believes we’re best equipped to deal with a complex murder investigation, sir. For one thing, we have the experience.’
‘You personally?’
Felix smiled. ‘I spend much of my time doing just that.’
‘I see. Getting anywhere, are you?’
‘We’re making progress.’
‘They have discovered that Willoughby was probably shot with a crossbow, Sir Arnold,’ said Dr Armitage. ‘Some boys found it hidden.’
‘A crossbow! Do you think a boy did this?’
‘It’s too early to te
ll, sir. My instinct is that it was an adult.’
‘Why?’
‘Boys don’t generally have the self-discipline required to plan and execute a murder of this kind, though it can’t be ruled out.’
‘And how long might this investigation take? Our parents are getting restless, as you may imagine.’
‘That’s impossible to say, sir. We have four men working on it full-time.’
Sir Arnold turned away from them. ‘Humph! Better get on with it then.’
They had been dismissed.
‘Not a very likeable specimen,’ said Rattigan. Odd sort to be mixing with judges and bishops.’
Felix smiled. ‘That’s where money gets you, Teddy. I should imagine it was his idea to buy the original Thirkettle School, don’t you? Not illegal of course, but not quite cricket either, especially as it’s rather glossed over in the prospectus.’
‘Thereby acquiring at a stroke two hundred years of history.’
‘Rather a good investment if you’re not too fastidious. I’m a little surprised that the likes of Sir Arnold should put several thousand into a school but it does perhaps explain that little deception. There is also Armitage’s lack of judgement regarding the crossbow. It’s only small things I know.’
‘You wonder what else they might have been up to? Not likely to remain a secret, whatever it is, with the likes of Campling around.’
‘That’s true. Something else to bear in mind though, given Willoughby’s notebook.’
◆◆◆
They found Owen Quigley working alone in the oak-panelled library; a handsome, room, as Ernest Crockford had intimated, with a cosy open fire.
‘Why a crossbow, Owen?’ asked Felix.
The boy shrugged. Seventeen years old, he was thin, spotty and bespectacled, which unlike Sir Arnold, was exactly what they would have expected. ‘I saw a diagram in an old book,’ he said. ‘It looked interesting. I realised I could improve on it so I knocked out a prototype. There’s a fascination – isn’t there? – in old weapons.’
An Education in Death (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 9) Page 8
