‘I will, Mr Bartlett. Always glad to be of help to you. Good bye.’
Immediately Enrico had left, the desk sergeant knocked and entered with two sheets of paper.
‘Superintendent Greet would like you to deal with this, sir.’
He handed Bartlett the papers.
‘What now?’
Bartlett scanned the information in front of him.
‘But this is just an assault – probably a drunken brawl. I haven’t got time for this.’
‘He was very insistent, sir.’
‘All right. Thank you.’
Bartlett handed the papers to Boase who had been listening from his corner of the office. The younger man looked at them.
‘This looks quite serious, sir. Arthur Pouch is in hospital. He’s a very old man.’
‘What? I didn’t see that bit. Do you think it’s something to do with him telling us about Sheila’s acquaintance and the night at the pub?’
‘I don’t know, sir, but Mr Trewavas said he saw that man heading up Jacob’s Ladder which is in the direction of Pouch’s place earlier on. Could it all be linked in?’
‘Right. You get up Jacob’s Ladder now and I’ll go up to the hospital and see if Arthur knows anything.’
‘He might still be unconscious, sir.’
‘But he might not. I’ll see you back here later.’
The two men left and went in opposite directions.
Boase walked quickly up Jacob’s Ladder enjoying the exercise. As he reached the top, he crossed into the small lane which ran along the back of the row of houses, including Arthur Pouch’s. Reaching the old man’s house, Boase stopped to look around. He walked along beside the garden wall and noticed some stones had fallen from the Cornish hedge. Boase thought it looked like someone had stood there and dislodged them. Then again, they may just have fallen out of place. He walked further along the lane and stopped, startled by what he saw at the very end. It was the man he had seen following Sheila Parsons at Killigrew. He was sitting on a wall, smoking a cigarette. Boase shouted out.
‘Hey … you! Stop. Stay where you are.’
The man looked up and, seeing Boase, ran along and out of the lane. Boase chased after him, almost knocking over a pram which had been left by the back gate for the baby to get some fresh air. He reached the end of the lane and looked up and down but the man had vanished. Boase ran up a small flight of stone steps and came out on Wellington Terrace. No one. He was furious with himself. How could he let him get away? Was that the man that attacked Arthur Pouch – but why would he come back here? None of it made sense.
Bartlett approached a nurse in the waiting area at the Killigrew Hospital.
‘Excuse me, nurse, could I please see Arthur Pouch?’
‘Well, I don’t think so … he’s very unwell. The doctor says he’s not to have any visitors. You’re Inspector Bartlett, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Well, the doctor certainly won’t want you asking Mr Pouch any questions if that’s what you’re expecting.’
‘I had rather hoped …’
‘Well, I’m sorry, it’s out of the question. You know he’s mute, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘So he would have to indicate or write for you and there’s certainly no chance that he would be capable of that.’
Seeing Bartlett’s disappointment, the nurse softened.
‘I’m sorry, Inspector Bartlett. Look, why don’t you look in tomorrow if you’ve got time? He may be rather better then.’
‘If that would be all right, then, yes. I’ll look in tomorrow. Thank you, Nurse. Good bye.’
Bartlett replaced his hat and left the hospital.
Jane Cornelius held her mother’s hand.
‘Mummy, I’m sure whoever it was won’t come back here again. Inspector Bartlett will find whoever has done all this.’
‘But Jane, dear. I have felt safe in this house ever since your father died. I’ve so enjoyed living here but I really feel it’s time to move on now. Maybe we could get a smaller place.’
‘Mummy, you’re really not thinking straight. All this business has been upsetting for you, I know, but you mustn’t let this person win.’
‘Jane, a vile murderer has been in our home. How else could that finger have appeared? The finger of a dead man!’
‘Well, maybe, but you must try to put that behind you now, both of us must. Anyway, we don’t know the man is dead. Whoever it was has no reason to come back. Please, Mummy, don’t be hasty.’
‘Whatever you say, dear, but my nerves really won’t stand up to much more, really they won’t.’
Jane took her mother out into the garden and they drank lemonade, sitting in the shade of the trees.
As the light faded, Jim Penfold sat on the garden wall and thought about Sheila. Why wouldn’t the police let her go? What did they mean by ‘it was for her own safety?’ Sheila could never be involved in anything so terrible as murder. No, not Sheila. That was just nonsense. Walking back into the house he went upstairs and checked on Stephen and Angela. They were both fast asleep, Angela cuddled up to Dora and Stephen lying on a tin train. Jim went across to his bed and gently lifted the boy, carefully removing the train. He put it on the little table next to the bed and left, quietly shutting the door. He went to his own room, undressed, and got into bed. Five minutes later, feeling too warm, he removed his pyjama top and went across to the window. He pulled back the curtain slightly and raised the window a little way. Looking down onto Bar Terrace, he saw a young couple walking along hand in hand by his front wall. They stopped and the man lit two cigarettes and handed one to the girl. She kissed him on the cheek and, linking arms, they walked off in the direction of the town. Jim sat on the chair under the window. The air was a little cooler now. An old man was walking a small terrier on the opposite side of the road. The man was dragging the lead and the dog, having found something curious in the bushes, seemed reluctant to follow. The man tugged harder and the two continued their walk. As Jim was about to return to bed, his eye was drawn to the bushes in which the little dog had been so interested. The shrubbery there was quite dense but Jim was sure he could see a tiny light. There it was again. Someone was in the bushes, smoking. He watched a moment longer then decided it was probably another young couple saying goodnight and he smiled to himself. Well, they weren’t doing any harm. When he had courted his wife they found it so hard to be alone and everywhere they went his future mother-in-law accompanied them. Yes, he knew how they felt. Giving a final glance to the bushes, he got back into bed and was soon asleep.
Jim Penfold wasn’t sure what woke him up. He didn’t think he had been asleep for very long though. He lay in a daze thinking he should get up. Exactly what had woken him? Well, maybe he had had a dream – he was having too many of those lately, and they weren’t good ones. Suddenly he heard a scream and a voice.
‘Daddy. DADDY!’
Jim leapt out of his bed and ran to the door. As he opened it, smoke billowed through from the landing. He could hear Angela’s voice more clearly now.
‘Daddy. Daddy.’
‘Stay there, Angela. I’m coming. Stay there.’
Jim ran back into his room and grabbing his previously discarded pyjama top, he wrapped it around his head and mouth, tying it at the back with the sleeves. He ran to the door again. He successfully reached Angela’s bedroom. The girl was sitting inside the bottom of the wardrobe, sobbing. He ran to her and grabbed her to him. Back on the landing, holding his precious daughter, he could see the door to Stephen’s room was ablaze. He paced back and forth, still holding Angela.
‘Stephen. Stephen. Answer me. For God’s sake. STEPHEN!’
There was no sound from the room. Jim pulled the pyjama top from his head and draped it over Angela. He ran down the stairs with her and to the front door. Withdrawing the bolts and turning the key in the lock, he reached the front garden. He sat Angela by the gate, well away from the house. Glancing up at St
ephen’s window he could see huge flames starting to burn the wooden frames. He ran back inside and upstairs again. He couldn’t get near the bedroom door. He collapsed on the landing. Oh, no. Not Stephen. His precious son.
‘Mr Penfold. Mr Penfold. Jim.’
Jim blinked and looked up. He didn’t know where he was.
‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Nurse O’Malley. You’ve been in a fire but you’re going to be fine.’
‘My children. Stephen. Angela. I must see them.’
‘You must rest now.’
‘No. No, you don’t understand. I must see them.’
The curtain was drawn around the bed and Nurse O’Malley was gone.
Bartlett lit his pipe. Using it as a spare finger, which he always did, he pointed at Boase.
‘Get Sheila in here.’
Sheila Parsons was brought into the office.
‘Sheila. Something terrible has happened and I’m sorry to have to tell you.
‘Oh, Gawd. Wot’s ʼappened?’
‘There was a serious fire at Jim’s last night.’
Sheila screamed and fell back onto a chair.
‘Oh, no. Are they all all right?’
‘I don’t think so. I’m sorry.’
‘All of them … all three?’
Sheila was sobbing and Boase handed her his tea.
‘Drink this, Sheila. It’ll make you feel better.’
Bartlett looked at her and couldn’t help feeling sorry.
‘Well, what we’ve heard this morning is that Jim is in hospital. He’s very poorly and has some burns but he’ll be OK. Angela was lucky that her father managed to get to her and bring her out … it was her screams they think that alerted him.’
‘And … and … Stephen?’
‘I’m sorry, Sheila.’
Sheila let out a long wail and rocked backwards and forwards on the chair.
‘No, please no, not Stephen. He’s such a lovely little boy. No!’
‘Look, Sheila, the firemen are there now going through the house. We’ve heard that the fire probably started near Stephen’s bedroom door but we have to wait to find out. If that’s true then Jim couldn’t have stood a chance at getting inside the room to get Stephen out. I’m sorry to tell you such terrible news, truly sorry.’
Bartlett and Boase walked along to Bar Terrace. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing. There was barely anything left of the top floor of the house. They walked along and into the front garden. Two firemen were sifting through some debris that had fallen from the windows.
‘Excuse me. I’m Inspector Bartlett. Do you have any news of the boy?’
The two firemen looked at him and one spoke.
‘Boy? No. What boy?’
‘There was a boy asleep up in that bedroom last night. Didn’t you find him?’
‘No. We’ve still got a lot to do but I don’t hold much hope of anyone coming out of that room alive.’
‘Yes, all right, all right. But it’s a small boy.’
Bartlett didn’t much like this attitude. Boase just thought it must be the fireman’s way of dealing with the things he saw regularly.
‘I’m sorry, Inspector Bartlett. We’ve got lots of work to do here – you can see that. I can tell you that, so far, we haven’t found anyone in the house.’
‘Well be sure and let me know when you find him. And don’t forget, we need to know as soon as possible if this looks like it was set deliberately.’
The fireman nodded and pointed to the front bedroom.
‘Well, sir, it’s not official yet so you didn’t hear this. All the signs are pointing to the fire having been set deliberately up there.’
‘What? Up there in the boy’s bedroom?’
‘Well, if that’s his room. We found this by the door.’
The man picked up a petrol can and showed it to Bartlett.
‘We need to investigate further, obviously, but this isn’t the sort of thing you’d normally keep outside a child’s bedroom.’
Chapter Eleven
Arthur Pouch was sitting in a chair beside his hospital bed. He slowly drank a cup of tea and looked out of the open window. He saw Bartlett coming across the lawn and stood up and waved. Bartlett, pleased to see the man up and about, waved back. Presently, Bartlett was knocking at the door and Arthur opened it to him.
‘Good morning, Arthur. I’m so pleased to see you back on your feet. You feeling all right now?’
‘Yes, thank you, Inspector Bartlett.’
At this Bartlett fell on to the bed and stared at the man.
‘What did you just say?’
‘I said, “yes, thank you, Inspector Bartlett”.’
‘Yes. I know. But … how … how did …?’
Arthur laughed.
‘You’re as astonished as I am. The doctor thinks the bang on the head has cured my condition – he says he’s heard of it happening before.
Bartlett stared.
‘Well, I never – that’s a miracle if I ever saw one. I couldn’t be more pleased for you, Arthur, really I couldn’t. Now I don’t want to take advantage of your good fortune but I came here to ask you about what happened to you. What can you tell me?’
Arthur stared out of the window again and thought.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t really think I can tell you anything. I came out of the back garden gate and I heard someone jump down from the wall behind me and, well, that was all I know. The next thing I was in here. I’m so sorry. Do you know why anyone would do this to me, Inspector Bartlett?’
‘I might, Arthur. But I can’t be absolutely certain yet – but you can be sure of one thing … I’m going to find out who it was. Yes indeed. Thank you, Arthur – and I’m so happy for you. Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye, sir.’
‘Irene’s sent you a billet-doux, Boase.’
Bartlett pulled a small blue envelope from his pocket and pushed it across Boase’s desk.
‘For me?’
Boase tore open the envelope and read the contents.
‘Did you know about this, sir? Irene has asked me if I’d like to come for lunch with you on Sunday.’
‘Yes, she did say she’d like to see you. You coming?’
‘If that’s all right with Mrs Bartlett, then, yes, I’d love to. Oh, but that’s tomorrow – I was going to come in here to do a bit extra.’
‘Well, yes, but you’ve been working very hard – why don’t you come in early then leave at twelve and come to the house. I’ll be here so I’ll leave with you.’
‘Yes, thank you, sir. Thank you very much.’
Bartlett stood beside Boase’s desk.
‘Have we heard anything about Stephen Penfold yet?’
‘Don’t think so, sir – I’m hoping there’ll be some news today. Doesn’t look good though, does it?’
‘No, I’m very much afraid it doesn’t. I did have some good news this morning which you’ll be very interested to hear.’
‘Oh? What’s that then?’
‘I looked in on Arthur Pouch on my way here. You’ll never believe this … he can speak.’
‘What do you mean – he can speak?’
‘Just what I said. He said “Yes, thank you, Inspector Bartlett,” it’s as true as I’m standing here.’
‘Are you serious? I can’t believe that.’
‘It’s true – I heard him with my own ears.’
‘Well, good for him.’
‘Yes, not good for us though – he couldn’t tell me anything about his being attacked. He didn’t see anything.’
‘Don’t be discouraged. We’ll find out what’s going on here soon. I’ve just got a feeling.’
Dinner at the Bartlett house was, for Boase, an exciting event as usual. He put on his decent shirt and second-best trousers and, glancing at himself in the hall mirror, went out through the front door and headed for Penmere Hill. As he lifted his hand to knock at the front door, Topper let out his usual ‘it’s a friend’ bark. Boa
se could see Irene through the frosted glass and his heart leapt. She opened the door and stood there with Topper.
‘Hello, Archie. Come in.’
‘Thanks for inviting me, Irene. You look nice.’
Boase thought Irene looked different this evening – even more beautiful than usual, if that could be possible.
‘Mum and Dad are in the garden – it’s still so warm. We wouldn’t have heard you if it wasn’t for Topper.’
The two, together with Topper, walked through the house and out into the back garden where Bartlett and Caroline were sitting on a wooden bench.
‘Good evening, Archie. I’m so pleased you could come.’ Caroline stood up.
‘Thank you for inviting me – please don’t stand up.’
‘I was just going in to pour you a cup of tea.’
Bartlett leaned forward and pulled a bottle of beer from underneath the bench.
‘Boase doesn’t want tea – here, Boase, have a bottle of Leonard’s. Come on now, here’s a glass.’
‘Thank you very much, sir.’
Boase took the bottle and poured the contents into the glass.
‘Cheers, all.’
Boase sat on the lawn next to Irene and Topper. The three of them looked at each other.
‘Come on – you sit up here.’
Caroline got up from her place and walked across the lawn.
‘George – help me with the plates, will you?’
‘I was just about to tell Boase …’
‘George!’
Bartlett considered himself told and rose from his seat, taking his precious beer with him. He followed Caroline into the kitchen.
‘I just wanted to tell Boase about …’
‘Yes, well I just want them to be alone. They don’t spend much time together as it is and I’m sure when they do they don’t want us looming over them. Don’t you remember when we were trying to get rid of my mother, bless her? When we wanted to be alone together, George?’
‘Well, yes. Anyway, stop that sort of talk now – they’ll be in here in a minute.’
Caroline smiled at her husband. It always made her laugh how he felt embarrassed to display any affection in public and yet he was such a romantic at heart.
‘Go and call them now, George, will you? Oh, no wait – look.’
Too Many Cooks Page 13
