[Mrs Bradley 41] - Three Quick and Five Dead

by Gladys Mitchell

  ‘How did the police find out where she came from?’ asked Dame Beatrice.

  ‘They recovered her handbag from the water. It had been gutted, but the murderer had overlooked the fact that in a tiny pocket inside the otherwise empty notecase was the return half of a railway ticket to Swansea. After that, of course, it was a routine check, a long, boring sort of job, like most police work, but they also issued a description and her Welsh landlady recognised it and came along. Said the girl had answered an advertisement for a children’s nurse, but it was only for a fortnight while the parents were on holiday. The pay was good, so the girl took her own holiday by exchanging dates with another typist in the same office, and hoped to combine business with pleasure, as it were.’

  ‘So that accounts for the return ticket,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘Had the landlady been shown the advertisement?’

  ‘Yes. One clause in it struck her as peculiar, although not suspicious. It was that an application from a young woman of Irish extraction would be preferred to any other.’

  ‘But the advertisement had been sent to a Swansea local paper?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘What had the paper to say about it?’

  ‘Nothing helpful. It had been paid for at their usual rates, there was no explanatory letter and the notice was to be displayed for a week unless it was cancelled earlier.’

  ‘Did the paper file the application?’

  ‘Oh, yes, and turned it up for us. It was typewritten and signed in ball-point T. H. Edon (Mrs). It bore the address of an empty bungalow near Ringwood, a place with one of those enormously long front gardens with a postbox on the front gate. The chaps have tried to find somebody who saw this postbox being rifled, but the bungalow is remotely situated, so the chances are that, if the murderer was careful, nobody saw anything of him.’

  ‘The girl must have answered the advertisement and received a letter back.’

  ‘Yes, she did, and showed it to the landlady. Again, the letter telling her to come along was typewritten, with the same signature, but, as I told you, everything in the handbag was missing except the return ticket, and all the ticket did was to save my chaps a bit of time, as the landlady assured them (and there’s no reason to disbelieve her – she’s a motherly soul and seems to have been quite fond of the girl) that she would have made enquiries at once if the girl had failed to return at the end of the fortnight and had not written to explain her prolonged absence.’

  ‘So the fortnight was not up when the body was discovered?’

  ‘It had eight days to run. The inference is that the murderer met the girl at Bournemouth and murdered her that same night. Well, you know what tremendous crowds get off the Bournemouth trains as soon as the holiday season starts. The chances are one in a thousand that anybody at the station remembers any particular traveller or notices who met her. There’s always a rush for taxis, and any number of private cars are parked in the road outside. Of course, the chaps are still trying, but it’s a forlorn hope that anybody will come forward with a useful bit of information, especially by this time.’

  ‘Did the landlady remember what the girl was wearing when she left Swansea?’

  ‘Oh, yes. She went to see her off. She was wearing exactly the same outfit as the one she had on when the body was found. That’s why we are pretty sure she was murdered almost as soon as her killer met her.’

  ‘What about her luggage?’

  ‘She had only one suitcase, bought at Marks and Sparks, and it hasn’t been traced. It may still be in the murderer’s possession, of course, but the chances are that he dumped it somewhere else in the Forest. If so, it will be found sooner or later, but it won’t help us, so far as I can see.’

  ‘I suppose the newspaper which accepted the advertisement had not kept the advertiser’s envelope?’

  ‘Oh, no, they merely filed the application, which had this bogus address on it, so there’s no help from the postmark. Even if we had it, it wouldn’t tell us much. The chances are that the murderer posted it in Bournemouth or Southampton, both of which are probably miles from where he actually lives.’

  ‘Well, something’s got to be done,’ said Laura. ‘This can’t be allowed to go on. Five murders in a row makes the police look pretty silly.’

  ‘Was there a note attached to the body?’ asked Dame Beatrice.

  ‘Yes, I’ve seen it. What it said (in Roman capitals, like the others) was: ln Memoriam P.431, which makes no more sense than the other messages. This one was fastened to the back of the girl’s coat by a large safety-pin, so it had not been affected by the water and was plain for all to read.’

  ‘Why should a girl of Irish extraction be preferred, I wonder?’ said Laura. ‘There ought to be a clue to the murderer in those probably pregnant words, and, if there is, I may be able to spot it, but P.431 sounds like the page of a book …’

  ‘A very long book, then. We thought of that ourselves, but it’s like all these secret codes – easy enough to work out, once you know which book, but there’s the rub. I’d think it meant dates if any of the dates made sense,’ he went on, ‘but what can you do with March 4th, 1901, for example?’

  ‘Or, as some others might read it, April 3rd,’ said Laura. ‘Obviously the date of somebody’s death, if that’s the correct reading of the numerals, but it would take a lifetime to go through all the files, and, at that, the figures may not be dates at all. Mrs Croc, and I are of the opinion that they are dates, but …’

  Gavin interrupted her.

  ‘They’re so wide apart, though. The first one – what was it?’

  ‘In Memoriam 325.’

  ‘That’s right. Well, if we’re reading the figures English fashion, that would be the third of Feb., 1905. The second one …’

  ‘380 – which could be the third of August, 1900, if your hunch is right, and, of course, it may be. It’s not as farfetched as ours. Well, let’s see. The next was 1155.’

  ‘First of Jan., 1955 – half a century later, which seems, on the face of it, unlikely – or, of course, the eleventh of May, 1905, which, taken in conjunction with the other two, seems more sensible. But what do we do with the fourth bulletin, dated 1208?’

  ‘We use your same reasoning process which, as I admit, could make more sense than ours …’

  ‘I don’t dispute it,’ put in Gavin, grinning.

  ‘Well, that would make it the first of Feb., 1908.’

  ‘Oh, that won’t do! If we use the same reasoning process, dear heart, the figures should be 198. What’s the zero doing in there?’

  ‘You’re splitting hairs!’

  ‘Maybe. Have you any ideas, Dame Beatrice?’

  ‘Yes, but they are far-fetched and unlikely, as Laura has tried to point out.’

  ‘So are these bizarre and seemingly motiveless murders. Another thing: if this dates thing we’ve hit on is going to work out at all, the murderer has waited a hell of a long time to get his revenge on these girls.’

  ‘Oh, it could be a vendetta,’ said Laura. ‘Passed down from father to son. Why don’t you begin with the death of the Italian maid, and work back and forth from there?’

  ‘I’d rather hear what Dame B. has thought up.’

  ‘I have not crystallised my ideas sufficiently to expose them to the cold air of argument and disbelief,’ protested Dame Beatrice, ‘but I will work upon them and test them and then you will probably laugh at them and resolve them into the state of liquifaction wherein, at present, they lie.’

  (2)

  ‘We’ve never had a case like this, have we?’ said Laura, when her husband, who was on a flying visit, had returned to London. ‘I mean, our murders usually come in single spies or, at the most, a twin-pack, but this time they’ve certainly come in battalions, haven’t they? Look here, now that Gavin has left us, will you tell me how we can work out our hunch? I’d hate all my sweat about heresies and things to be wasted.’

  ‘We must tackle our suspects. I wish Mr James would consent to see m
e.’

  ‘Pity we can’t make him. Can’t we tell him we know something to his disadvantage, and threaten him either into coming to see us or having us go to his lodgings?’

  ‘I fear not. Apart from the disinclination I have for using threats, Mr James, I fancy, is a cool and resourceful person who would refuse to be intimidated and would probably summon me for attempted blackmail, or something of that sort. Mrs Schumann, of course, is different.’

  ‘There’s no doubt in my mind, though – and the more I think about it, the more certain I am – that if we’ve got to choose between Edward James and Mrs Schumann as our murderer, James is the one. Mrs Schumann would never have worked out all that stuff about heresies and the different nationalities and so forth.’

  ‘You underestimate the German capacity for thoroughness, but, unless another candidate appears on the scene, the choice must be between these two, with my personal conviction that Mrs Schumann is our murderer. Incidentally, do you feel equal to visiting the library once more and checking our latest figures?’

  ‘If it’s anything like the job I had in tracking down Priscillian, it will probably take me all day, but I’m willing to have a go, if only to prove Gavin wrong.’

  ‘Before you go, perhaps we should clarify our thoughts. Now, in any case of murder, we need to know motive, means and opportunity. In the cases under review, we know, with any certainty, nothing but the means.’

  ‘Agreed. So what?’

  ‘What would you say is the primary approach by the police to a case of murder?’

  ‘That’s an easy one. They try to find out who, if anybody, gains (especially financially) by the death.’

  ‘Exactly. Let us then approach the subject, bearing this intelligent gambit in mind.’

  ‘I see what you mean, of course, but it’s not going to help.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well, it might work in the case of Karen Schumann. We think of three people who might benefit by her death, but, after that, we come to a full stop.’

  ‘Elucidate.’

  ‘Well, Karen seems to have won some money on Ernie …’

  ‘Five thousand pounds.’

  ‘Chicken-feed to the Rothschilds, but possibly a goodly sum to the Schumanns.’

  ‘Proceed.’

  ‘Right. If and when Karen died, three people, or any one or any two of them – we must preserve a broad outlook – could benefit from what she left. These people are her fiancé James, her mother, and her brother Otto.’

  ‘Who claims that half the money belonged to him by right.’

  ‘So, other things being equal, which they weren’t, I’d suggest that Otto, to get his share of the cash, murdered his sister.’

  ‘Which we know he could not have done.’

  ‘If I were the police, I’d have a second, yes, a forty-second look at that alibi of his. He’s just the type, I would have said, never to entertain scruples, and the second murder – the Spanish girl – keeps him right in the picture, you know.’

  ‘Sad, but true. Well, now, Otto has murdered his sister. Unfortunately for him, all her money has been willed to her mother, as Mrs Schumann herself has told us.’

  ‘She didn’t mention the five thousand.’

  ‘I wonder what Edward James thought of the arrangement that the death of his fiancée would benefit nobody but her mother?’

  ‘Thought the will would be changed once they were married, don’t you think?’

  ‘Then the last thing he would want to do, surely, would be to eliminate his fiancée before they were married.’

  ‘You mean Pass, James, all’s well, do you?’

  ‘Well, I feel that I have stated my conclusions already. Let us go further.’

  ‘And fare worse? Right – if you think so. Let’s consider the case of Otto Schumann in further detail. Now, it doesn’t seem as though he can possibly have actually murdered his sister, but can he have murdered her by proxy?’

  ‘My dear Laura!’

  ‘Well, such things have been known. I don’t want to refer to recent cases, but …’

  ‘Very well. Otto Schumann could have prevailed upon a third person to kill his sister. The motive for his desire to take her life is clear and, to some minds, acceptable. And then?’

  ‘Well, the police haven’t found this substitute, and neither have we, but it doesn’t prove his non-existence.’

  ‘True. This brings us to the death of Maria Machrado.’

  ‘Well, it still seems to me that Otto could have had a motive there, all right.’

  ‘If Otto were like Edward James, I could agree with you, but, as I see it, they are men of widely different character.’

  ‘The girl was pregnant.’

  ‘Apparently it is impossible to show that Otto was responsible for that. She seems to have been a young woman of many lovers.’

  ‘Still, he seems to have been the current issue.’

  ‘You ignore the passage of time. Otto was probably on the high seas when the girl conceived. Are you suggesting that her pregnancy was also by proxy?’

  ‘Don’t press your advantage! I’m being serious. Apart from anything else, James couldn’t have had anything against her, could he?’

  ‘Not so far as we know. One cannot say more than that. He must have met her at Mrs Schumann’s cottage, of course. We concluded that such was the case.’

  ‘We know she was going to have a baby, and I still believe it was Otto’s. You said he was probably on the high seas when she conceived, but it came out that they’d known one another quite a bit before she ever came to England, and he admits she travelled on his ship.’

  ‘Granted. I agree, therefore, that the baby might have been Otto’s.’

  ‘Well, the Spaniards being what they are, her brothers would have killed him if ever it had come out. He murdered her to stop her telling them who the father was. What do you say to that?’

  ‘Most plausible. Otto killed his sister by proxy, either because he expected that she would have mentioned him in her will, or out of revenge because she refused to give him half of the five thousand pounds which he claimed was his own; then he killed Maria Machrado for the reason you have stated. The trouble is to account for the other deaths, if all the murders were committed by the same person. That is where I think the case against Otto Schumann breaks up. We have found no shadow of connection between him, the Italian maid Lucia, Mrs Castle and now this Irish girl who came from Swansea. Indeed, I think this last death exonerates Otto almost completely.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Swansea is a port. His ship must sometimes have called there. We could find that out.’

  ‘You mean he could have got to know her there? Granted. But he may have preferred to murder her somewhere else.’

  ‘We had better find out whether she was pregnant, whether by proxy or otherwise,’ said Dame Beatrice.

  ‘All right, all right!’ said Laura, grinning. ‘I still think Otto stays in the picture. Well, tomorrow morning I renew my studies of heresy. I shall be able to write a book on it by the time I’ve finished. The odd thing about these heretics, you know, is that they all seem to have been so well-meaning. They were in advance of their time, that’s all.’

  ‘Well in advance of it, in some cases,’ commented Dame Beatrice, ‘although even the most advanced of them have not caught up with some of our modern theories concerning the nature of the Deity. But let that pass. We are concerned with an Irish heretic who had some connection with Wales.’

  ‘I don’t believe there, ever were any Irish heretics, but we’ll see. If we really do get a tie-up, I shall consider our theory proved, and we will go gunning for James and Mrs Schumann in the biggest possible way.’

  She returned on the following evening in high feather.

  ‘There’s no doubt Otto’s out of it,’ she said. ‘He’d never go to all this bother, I’m perfectly certain, but whether the answer is James or Mrs Schumann I wouldn’t care to say. The two of them in col
lusion is the other answer, of course.’

  ‘What have you unearthed this time?’ asked Dame Beatrice.

  ‘Enough to make your hunch a certainty. It can’t be coincidence. You remember the P in front of the 431? Well, listen to this: it’s all about a heretic named Pelagius. He was born in Britain and, although there’s no certainty that he was either Irish or Welsh, there’s a strong tradition that he was of Irish origin and settled in Wales. He was a student, not a priest, and he attacked some of the other heretics, notably the Arians and the Manichaeans, but he fell foul of Saint Jerome at Bethlehem after Saint Augustine had also objected to his opinions. Unfortunately for him, his followers seem to have perpetrated acts of violence, and in the year A.D. 418 the Emperor Honorias ordered him to be exiled, and Pope Zosimus, who had some sympathy with his views, (which rejected the doctrine of original sin, among other things), was persuaded to condemn him. The church by no means rejected him, however, and, although nobody knows for certain what happened to him, he wasn’t executed, but is thought to have died in exile some two years later. But – this is the point – his opinions were finally ditched by the General Council of Ephesus in 431.’

  ‘Well,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘I am very much obliged to you for your researches. Unfortunately, it seems to me that these extraordinary murders could continue until the supply of heresies gives out. I imagine there are others?’

  ‘Good gracious, yes! I got interested and looked up a book on the history of the early church. There were Docetism, Gnosticism (which came in three waves, all a bit different from one another, so far as I can make out), Macedonianism, Donatism, Manicheeism, not to mention downright paganism. This carries us up to about the year A.D. 500 and is probably not an exhaustive list, at that, and there were still the heresies of the Middle Ages to follow, not to worry about the Reformation itself, and the teachings of Calvin and John Knox, and so forth.’