by Carola Dunn
‘The second body, sir, in chronological order by apparent date of burial,’ the tall, lean redhead reported, his Scots accent in abeyance apart from a slight roll to the Rs, ‘would appear to be a Martin Devine, of Guildford, Surrey. The right height, hair colour and general build, age thirty-three, which accords with Sir Bernard’s opeenion, as does the date on which he was last seen: the twenty-first of November.’
‘Sounds like a fit. And the other?’
‘Two possibles. Edwin Surtees and Lieutenant-Colonel William Pelham, retired. Both in their late fifties and the right height. Surtees resided in Kent, near Maidstone, and the colonel in Tunbridge Wells. We’ve checked only the Home Counties reports, as you instructed.’
‘It’s a place to start. It seems unlikely that anyone, however mad, would move a murdered corpse very far just for the sake of burying it in Epping Forest, especially if his only transport is a horse-cart.’
‘Verra true, sir.’ The Scots was creeping in as he became involved in what was being said and stopped worrying about the impression he was making on his fellow officers. ‘There were a few matches for age and height who disappeared in London and the suburbs and were never accounted for, but none that wad hae been wearing handmade shoes.’
‘Handmade shoes?’
‘Mr Piper?’ Mackinnon deferred to his junior’s command of the details rather than grabbing all the credit, Alec noted with approval. The Scot might be as ready for promotion to inspector as Piper was to sergeant.
‘It’s one of the links, Chief,’ said Ernie eagerly. ‘All three were wearing good shoes and tailored clothes. There wasn’t all that much left of the clothes on the first body, but the shoes survived pretty well. Buttons, too, only you can’t be sure with buttons. They could be on second-hand clothes.’
‘Both the colonel and the other chap—’
‘Surtees, sir.’
‘They wore the same size shoes?’
‘Yes, Chief, with the left foot half a size larger.’
‘No maker’s name?’
‘Unreadable,’ Piper said regretfully.
‘We’re leaning towards yon colonel, wad ye no agree, Mr Piper?’
‘On what grounds?’
‘It’s another link, Chief, which applies to Halliday, Devine and Colonel Pelham, but not to Surtees. All three of them vanished after leaving their local public house, which they visited regularly. Surtees left home for London, where he intended to stay a couple of days on business. He never turned up for his various appointments, nor at his club, where he was expected to stay.’
Alec considered this for a moment. ‘It’s a rather tenuous link,’ he said, ‘and probably sheer coincidence. Worth following up, though. Still, I presume we have dental information by now. It’s a good job dentists aren’t half so secretive about their patients as doctors are. With the names, we should be able to find the dentists concerned and get definite answers.’
‘Och, sir,’ said Mackinnon reproachfully, ‘hae I no had DC Burton working on yon already?’
‘Burton?’
‘I’ve rung up all the dentists in Guildford, Maidstone and Tunbridge Wells, sir. Found Devine’s and Surtees’. They both agreed to take the charts home with them and wait for a copper to show up with the information to compare.’
‘I didna care tae send anyone out wi’out asking you first, sir.’
‘Good work. We’ll send a uniform on a motorbike, I think.’ He scanned the listening group and called on the most senior uniformed officer among them, ‘Sergeant Vane, get the information from Burton and set it in motion, please. Tell the rider to go to Maidstone first and send a wire with the dentist’s answer. A discreet wire, no names.’
‘What if there’s no motorcyclist available, sir?’
‘Then call a man in. This case has a very high priority, as you can tell by the number of you in here. Are you all listening? The Great White Chief is going to get all hot and bothered if we don’t clear this up quickly, and more important, so is the Great British Public.’
A murmur of amusement ran round the room but they’d take it seriously all the same.
‘Yes, sir.’ Vane consulted Burton, and hurried from the room with a sheaf of notes.
While all this was going on, phones had occasionally rung and been answered. Now a constable announced, ‘Sir, it’s for you. Superintendent Crane.’
Alec hoped no one heard his groan. He nodded, and the man switched the call through to the telephone on his desk. Mackinnon had them all working surprisingly smoothly.
‘Fletcher here.’
‘One moment, sir.’
‘Fletcher? I hope I’m not interrupting … ?’
‘Actually, sir …’
‘I’ve got the AC on my back. Unfortunately the Home Sec read about the murders in the evening paper and wants to know what’s being done about it.’
‘Ten minutes, sir? No, make that fifteen.’
‘I’ll be here. Fletcher, your good lady’s still not … ?’
‘Absolutely not, sir. I’ll be with you shortly.’
Crane grunted. ‘Do what you need to do. And while you’re about it, think about which inspector you’d like under you.’
‘DS Mackinnon is doing a good job, sir.’
‘I dare say, but we need not only to do a good job but to be seen to be doing a good job, and that requires someone of higher rank backing you up.’
Damn politics! Alec thought. Mackinnon’s nose was going to be out of joint. But the super hadn’t specified a detective inspector. If Alec requested a uniformed man, he could be left to run the Yard end of things. Then Mackinnon would be free to join Alec and Tom in the field.
‘Yes, sir. I’ll be with you shortly,’ he repeated.
‘Right you are.’ Crane rang off.
Alec returned his attention to the dental question. ‘So, we haven’t found the dentist of one of the possible victims?’
‘The colonel, sir,’ said Mackinnon. ‘Colonel Pelham. Tunbridge Wells.’
‘I talked to two dentists in Tunbridge Wells, sir,’ said Burton. ‘One of them said he thought the colonel went to a London man. Sounded a bit disgruntled about it.’
‘And how many dentists are there in London?’ Alec queried rhetorically.
‘Lots,’ said Ernie, waving a directory.
‘Let’s hope we get a positive from Surtees’s dentist, even if it spoils your pub link, Piper. Otherwise, we’re going to have to trouble Pelham’s family even though we have virtually no evidence that he might be the first victim. We don’t even know for certain that the body originated in the Home Counties.’
‘Could have been someone from elsewhere visiting London,’ Tom suggested.
‘It’s going to take some doing to persuade Mr Crane to allow us to disturb the Pelham household, so Piper, you’d better try to convince me there’s a good chance we’ve got the right man.’
‘One of two possibles,’ Piper reminded him. ‘Could be the pub angle is just coincidence and it’s Surtees.’
‘Yes.’ Alec sighed. It was beginning to look, against considerable odds, as if they might to be able to identify all the bodies. As yet, he had no idea how they were to set about finding the killer. He hoped this case was not going to end up as a blot on his record.
‘All right,’ he went on, ‘let’s go over everything we know, quickly, before I go to see the super. Oh, by the way, he wants an inspector in charge here – no reflection on your capability, Mackinnon, just a matter of being seen to be doing everything possible. Besides, I can make better use of you elsewhere. I’m going to ask for Cavett.’
‘A uniform?’ said Tom. ‘Good idea, Chief. He won’t get any fancy notions about really being in charge of the case and he’s a good solid man.’
‘Not half as solid as you, Sarge.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment, laddie, or you’d be for it!’
CHAPTER 5
Daisy ate dinner in solitary splendour. It was all very well popping into the
kitchen for elevenses, or even afternoon tea on Elsie’s day off, but the servants would not appreciate her presence in the evening. At least it left her free to read the Evening Standard in peace – or rather the article in the Standard about the ‘Epping Forest Massacre,’ as they’d decided to call it. A leader on the subject focused on the fact that one body had been there for many months.
Daisy wondered how the reporter had found out that particular detail. She was sure Alec would not have willingly released it. The writer demanded to know why the police had not discovered the burial ground sooner.
Did they really expect that a permanently undermanned force would run a weekly bloodhound patrol through the Forest on the off-chance that someone had been burying bodies somewhere in its thousands of acres?
To her disappointment, the paper didn’t actually seem to know any more than Alec had already told her, cagey as he had been.
Right at the very end of the article, came a brief mention that Scotland Yard had put one of their best detectives, DCI Fletcher, on the case. Alec had said the top brass promised to try to keep his name out of it. Perhaps the Essex police had been less reticent.
One of their best! she thought indignantly. He was absolutely the best.
She reluctantly refused a second helping of gooseberry fool. ‘I’ll have coffee in the small sitting room, please, Elsie.’ The room at the southwest corner of the house, with corners on two sides, caught the last light at this time of year. Having already packed for the weekend, she could watch the sunset at leisure.
As she stepped out of the dining room, the telephone rang. ‘I’ll get it,’ she told the parlourmaid. ‘With any luck, it’s Mr Fletcher to say he won’t be late after all.’
‘I’m sure I hope so, madam, if it means the master’s caught the nasty crook that did in three people!’
But it was Sakari, or rather her butler.
‘Oh dear,’ said Daisy, when Sakari came on the line, ‘don’t tell me you’re not able to go to Saffron Walden after all?’
‘By no means, my dear Daisy. I have read in the newspaper about the case you mentioned, and I am expecting that Alec is busy elsewhere this evening. I thought you might be lonely.’
Daisy laughed. ‘So you want to pick my brains.’
‘Such a horrid expression! But yes, I am nosy. I hope you may be able to tell me more of this terrible crime.’
‘Not really. But if you’d like to come round for coffee—’
‘That will be delightful. Even if you can provide no news, we shall study the guidebook to Saffron Walden that I bought today and decide what we want to do with the children.’
‘In that case, why don’t you ring Mel and see if she’s free to come with you?’
‘An excellent idea. Twenty minutes if I come alone, half an hour if I pick up Melanie on the way.’
Daisy told Elsie to bring a Thermos flask of coffee with all the doings.
‘Oh no, madam, I couldn’t. If you’ve got guests coming, I’ll bring the proper coffee pot and all when they arrive.’
‘It’s time for you to go off duty and eat your dinner.’
‘Don’t you worry, madam, I’ll eat before they come. I’m sure I don’t know what Mrs Dobson would say if I was to ask for a flask when you’ve got guests coming, specially if it’s that Mrs Prasad that’s so grand.’
Admitting that it was indeed the grand Mrs Prasad, Daisy gave up. Sakari’s chauffeur, Kesin, would undoubtedly visit the kitchen and he and Mrs Dobson were quite friendly. She wouldn’t want to let the side down in front of him.
‘Thank you, Elsie, that will be very nice. Oh, and put out the Drambuie, too, and liqueur glasses of course. I think there’s half a bottle left.’
Daisy went to the sitting room to write down everything she could remember that Alec had told her about the triple murder. She had to work out which bits were strictly in confidence and try to find a few snippets she could safely pass on to satisfy Sakari’s insatiable thirst for knowledge.
He hadn’t sworn her to secrecy till Thursday morning, when he asked her to ponder the paper targets with Justice! Revenge! pasted to them. She had been too busy all day to give them much thought. If her subconscious had been working on the question, it hadn’t yet come up with an answer.
Presumably everything he had said on Wednesday evening was fair game. Daisy knew from experience that neither Sakari nor Melanie would tattle to anyone else if she asked them not to. So what could she tell them?
About the uncooperative Essex police, for a start. What was the inspector’s name? Something short but unusual – it would come to her. Doubtless Alec had been unwise to name him, but Daisy could see no harm in passing it on. It wouldn’t mean anything to either of her friends.
By the time Elsie announced Mrs Prasad, Daisy had realised how little, in fact, Alec had let drop. He really was maddeningly discreet.
‘Sakari, that was quick. Melanie couldn’t come?’
‘You know our Melanie, Daisy,’ said Sakari indulgently, kissing her cheek. ‘She claims she is not interested.’
‘To be fair, darling, I don’t think she is.’
‘Also, she must pack for our journey tomorrow.’
Melanie Germond was the wife of a bank manager. Like Daisy but unlike Sakari, she had no personal maid. Sakari had once confided that both she and her husband came from rich and influential families, without whose influence they would not have been in London. Daisy, who had obtained her first writing commission because of her family background, had no quibble with that. Some things were the same the world over.
She was sorry that Mel hadn’t come, however. Though unable to deter Sakari’s outspoken curiosity, her mild protests would have acted as a reminder to Daisy to mind her tongue.
The parlourmaid brought in coffee and the liqueur and set out everything on a table. Among the rest was a folded sheet of paper with Daisy’s name printed on the outside. She reached for it.
‘What’s this, Elsie?’
‘Enid brought it, madam, just a couple of minutes ago.’ Elsie’s sister was the next-door neighbours’ parlourmaid. ‘She’s waiting for an answer.’
‘Do you mind?’ Daisy asked Sakari.
‘But of course not. I can guess what it says, however. The Jessup ladies are as eager as I to hear as much as you are permitted to tell.’
Skimming the note, Daisy laughed. ‘You’re right, of course. They want me to pop over for coffee. Elsie, tell Enid I have a guest but if Mrs Jessup and Mrs Aidan would like to join us, they’ll be very welcome.’
The Jessups could play the part she had intended for Melanie. Their more restrained interest would help her parry Sakari’s questions. She hoped.
They arrived a few minutes later, just as Elsie brought in more cups and glasses and a fresh supply of coffee. Having met Sakari before at the Fletchers’, they were not discomposed to find a dark-skinned lady there before them. Mrs Jessup was a small, silver-haired woman, elegantly dressed and made up, with alert blue eyes and the slightest hint of an Irish accent. Her daughter-in-law, Audrey, in her late twenties like Daisy, was equally elegant as to her evening frock. Flaxen-haired, she rejoiced in a perfect complexion that required no cosmetics, not to mention – in spite of two children – a slender figure perfectly suited to the hipless fashions of the past few years.
Daisy, constantly battling the assault of excess poundage, usually felt an involuntary pang of envy at the very sight of her. Daisy was a sylph, however, in comparison with the generously endowed Sakari, who was quite oblivious of such matters.
‘Oh, what a beautiful sari, Mrs Prasad!’ said Audrey. ‘That’s the right word, isn’t it?’
Daisy, her mind running on murder, hadn’t even noticed the green and gold splendour. Besides, she was more accustomed than the Jessups to Sakari’s spectacular embroidered silks. Now she joined in the admiration and the exchange of civilities.
Sakari’s mind, however, was also running on murder. It wasn’t long before, setting down her
empty cup and taking a sip of Drambuie, she said, ‘I hope you have come on the same errand as I, to extract as much information as possible from Daisy about this alarming crime?’
Audrey smiled, leaving it to Mrs Jessup to say, ‘Naturally. You must forgive our inquisitiveness, Daisy. Neither of us took the slightest interest in crime before you came to live next door.’
‘So I’m to blame, am I? Alec’s been very close-mouthed, so I doubt I can tell you much you haven’t read in the papers. I don’t think you need be alarmed, Sakari. I dare say it’s just some East End gang feud.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Audrey. ‘Didn’t they say, Mama Moira, that the victims, or at least one of them, was wearing expensively tailored clothes? It doesn’t sound like East-Enders, does it?’
‘Where did you read that? It wasn’t in my Evening Standard.’
‘Aidan came home from work late and brought the latest edition of the Evening News.’
‘Mine was the afternoon edition. I wonder what else you know that I don’t?’
They compared notes, but the clothes seemed to be the only tidbit Daisy had missed.
‘Alec did not tell you this?’ Sakari enquired. ‘I hope he has told you something we did not find out from the newshounds.’ She produced this colloquialism with her usual enjoyment of her mastery of vernacular English or the occasional Americanism. ‘What have you to relate, or did you bring us here on false pretences?’
‘I warned you Alec hasn’t been very forthcoming. Not that he ever is, but he seems particularly anxious in this case that some of the details shouldn’t get out.’
‘I expect having three bodies adds complications we can’t imagine,’ Mrs Jessup proposed.
‘It wouldn’t surprise me. More coffee, anyone? Drambuie?’ Everyone had had sufficient of the sweet liqueur. Daisy refilled coffee cups before she continued, ‘I suppose they have to work out how the three are connected.’
‘Apart from being buried close together,’ said Sakari, ‘and wearing good clothes.’
‘I bet Alec’s furious that that got about. I wonder if Inspector Gant is trying to sabotage his investigation!’ That was the name she’d been trying to recall. It reminded her of John of Gaunt.
