“Of course!” Dr. Harry exclaimed. “Brilliant!”
* * *
The police station at the Town Hall was quiet when they arrived, and Detective Chief Inspector Marsh was off duty. A baby-faced constable was at the desk.
Catherine addressed him, “I’m Miss Catherine Tregowyn. An attempt was made on my life two nights ago at Somerville College. I’m here to make a statement. I have the name and evidence for a probable suspect. He is dangerous, and I believe he needs to be brought in for questioning. Detective Chief Inspector Marsh is handling the case. It is related to the Chenowith murder, of which this man might also have been guilty.”
The constable was flushed red, and his eyes were round by the end of her statement.
“One moment, miss,” he said. He picked up the telephone and rang the Detective Inspector on duty, relating the essence of her statement.
Moments later, a tall, mostly bald man with a rim of red curls above his ears appeared at the front desk. “Miss Tregowyn?” he asked.
“I am Miss Tregowyn,” Catherine said.
“Would you step back this way, please? I am Detective Inspector Lawrence. My sergeant and I will take your statement.”
“I would like Dr. Henry Bascombe to accompany me. He also has evidence to give.”
“And this other young lady?” the detective asked.
“Miss Dorothy Nichols. She is here for moral support. The attack the other night left me with a concussion, and she has been my caretaker.”
“Very well. You may all come back.”
They traipsed back to the bowels of the building and found themselves in a small, featureless interrogation room. The Detective Inspector introduced them to Sergeant Hawkins.
After they sat down, Catherine asked, “Are you familiar with the crime?”
“I just grabbed the file. If you give me a moment, I will look it over.”
The three of them watched him as he read through the file and looked at the photographs of her wound.
“All right. You say this is also related to the Chenowith murder?”
“Yes. We believe so,” said Catherine. “I must say we have no proof, but we have enough motive that I think Detective Chief Inspector Marsh will want the man to be brought in for questioning.”
“All right. You may begin your statement. My sergeant will take it down.”
Catherine gave her account, trying to make it as straightforward as possible. She gave the DI Dr. Stephenson’s ARC as well as the copies of S’s poems she had kept in her safe.
While she was doing this, Dr. Harry said, “For a professor at Oxford, a charge of plagiarism is akin to a charge of murder. When this becomes known, not only will he lose his publishing contract and most likely be sued for costs by his publisher, he will lose his position at Merton college, and will lose his reputation to the point that he will be unable to secure another post. The degree of his panic should Miss Tregowyn make this connection to ‘S’ would certainly be a motive for an unstable man to commit murder. As long as he is at large, Miss Tregowyn’s life is in danger.”
Detective Inspector Lawrence cleared his throat. “Dr. Stephenson has a water-tight alibi for Dr. Chenowith’s murder. He was raising an unholy ruckus at the Somerville College Library when he was told that because he wasn’t a member of faculty, a graduate, or a student, he couldn’t check out one of your books, Miss Tregowyn.”
She was surprised, but said almost immediately, “That was most likely my book on Edith Penwyth. It had a quote in it from her lover, the anonymous ‘S’ of the poetry I gave you. If he knew about the book at that juncture, it all but proves Dr. Chenowith had just told him she had discovered his plagiarism.”
The DI thought this over. “You’re right. And while it clears him of the Chenowith murder, it does give him a powerful motive for yours. We will pick him up for questioning. Although, unless he was observed there is no proof.”
Dot intervened, “He must know by now she is still alive. She spent the last two nights in the Radcliffe Infirmary. He may come after her tonight. You need to pick him up now!”
“I will make a call to Detective Chief Inspector Marsh,” said the Detective Inspector. “He will decide. However, I can promise you that if we cannot find him tonight, he will be brought in tomorrow morning.”
“That’s not good enough,” said Dr. Harry. “I know Marsh. Let me speak to him.”
“Rather I suggest you take this young lady somewhere other than the dormitory to spend the night. She looks extremely tired.”
“I’ll go to the Randolph,” said Catherine. “I am very tired.”
“I will station a uniformed constable in the lobby if we can’t lay our hands on Stephenson tonight,” said the DI. “Now, on another matter, tomorrow is the inquest on the Chenowith murder, so Dr. Stephenson’s questioning will have to wait until the adjournment. And Detective Chief Inspector Marsh will want to speak to you in person, Miss Tregowyn, before he questions Dr. Stephenson.”
“I understand,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go now.”
“That will be perfectly fine. I believe you will be called as a witness tomorrow?”
“Yes. I was summoned by mail to be present,” said Catherine. “I discovered the body along with Dr. Bascombe.”
“I will see you tomorrow then.”
* * *
Catherine saw that Dr. Harry was relieved to note that the Randolph had a desk clerk on duty through the night, as well as a doorman and a lift operator. He cautioned them all with a description of Stephenson and warned them not to tell anyone her room number on the telephone or in person.
By the time Catherine settled in her bed next to Dot, the pain in her head was so great, she didn’t know if she would ever get out again. The pain medicine gave her wild but unremembered dreams, but other than that she passed an uneventful night.
Dot called the police station in the morning and determined that Dr. Stephenson was still at large. Apparently, he had fled.
Two men out there with motives to kill me.
She commenced to bathe and dress for the inquest.
* * *
Spectators and press crowded the Town Hall, but Catherine and the other witnesses sat sequestered behind a velvet rope in a section by an open window for which she was grateful. She was next to Dot on one side and Dr. Sargent on the other. Dr. Harry turned up at the last minute and showed her a wink before he sat down.
The coroner arrived, and they all rose until he was seated. He was a small man with an unusually skull-like head, his eyes deep in their sockets. He explained that the purpose of the inquest was to determine the cause of Dr. Agatha Chenowith’s death. Several witnesses were to be called who had associated with her that last night.
First, the pathologist was called to the stand. He swore that death had occurred as the result of strangulation which had taken place at the so-called new chapel at Somerville College. According to the physical evidence, the body had not been moved from elsewhere. The means of strangulation appeared to be the scarf she was wearing at the time. When the pathologist was asked how long it would have taken to commit the deed, he answered that depending on the strength of the assailant, he estimated it would have taken anywhere from a minute to three minutes at the outside. Dr. Chenowith did not appear to have been a very strong woman.
Catherine was next to be called and sworn in. After she had taken her seat, the coroner asked her to explain what she was doing in the new chapel at nine o’clock in the evening.
She explained about the sherry party for Dr. Sargent held in the Senior Commons Room at Somerville.
“There was a dinner afterward, held at The Mitre. When Dr. Chenowith proved to be missing during the toasts, the warden, Dr. Phillips, expressed alarm. We, along with Dr. Bascombe, another guest, decided to return to college to see if she was ill or injured
. The scouts had already begun a search for her by the time we arrived.” Here Catherine paused.
“It was my idea to have a look in the chapel as it was on the direct route from the SCR to where the cabs were waiting to take us to dinner. Also, it was one of the few buildings that would have been open. Dr. Bascombe accompanied me, and we began searching the pews.”
Catherine found it necessary to stop a moment to compose herself as she remembered her discovery of the flaccid hand in the beam of her torch.
“I found her there.”
A murmur swelled among the onlookers, and the coroner hammered his gavel.
“Now, Miss Tregowyn, please tell us who among those seated here attended the sherry party and dinner at The Mitre.”
Catherine looked at those behind the rope and gave their names. “Dr. Anthony Stephenson was also there, but I don’t see him in the courtroom.”
“Thank you, Miss Tregowyn. Now, how and in what order did these various parties traverse from Somerville to the restaurant?”
“Miss Dorothy Nichols, Dr. Phillips, and Dr. Sargent and I walked from the SCR to the cab together immediately after the sherry party broke up. We took the first cab in line which had been called to wait for us. The other guests all followed eventually, though I don’t know firsthand how they traveled there.”
“Could any of the later arrivals have had sufficient time to commit this murder?”
Catherine’s hands turned clammy, and a bead of perspiration traveled from her neck down between her shoulder blades. “I would rather not speculate on something so dire. There was one other cab, but there was not room for everyone in it. Its passengers arrived later than we did. I could not say with any accuracy how much later.”
“Thank you, Miss Tregowyn. You may stand down.”
Dr. Harry was called next. He was able to add the occupants of the second cab: himself, Mrs. Anne Tomlinson Stuart, and the professors Williams and Stephenson. He also gave an estimate as to the time the cab left. When asked if any of the occupants of the cab would have had time to commit the murder, he said he would rather not speculate on anything so damning.
“Isn’t it true, Dr. Bascombe,” asked the coroner, “that Dr. Chenowith gave a scathing review of your latest publication?”
Dr. Harry replied with his piratical grin. “These things happen. She was entitled to her opinion. I don’t mean to sound like sour grapes, but Dr. Chenowith was not the best of friends with male professors in her field. She had yet to give any of us a glowing review.”
He was told to stand down.
Both the dean, Dr. Andrews, and the other remaining guest, Lady Margery Wallinghouse, were asked to account for, in detail, their late arrival at the dinner following the sherry party. They both claimed to have had telephone calls to make—Lady Margery to her husband, and Dr. Andrews to her mother’s nurse who was caring for her that evening in the dean’s absence. The nurse, when summoned, confirmed the telephone call.
Sir Herbert Wallinghouse, a very handsome and appealing man, made a good witness for his wife’s benefit. “She was calling to set my mind at rest. For various reasons, I hadn’t wanted her to attend the dinner without me, and I was unable to go.”
Catherine was interested to hear these new pieces of information, but could not quite bring herself to rely upon them—a spouse and an old family retainer? Not the ideal alibis.
The coroner, also, appeared to be skeptical, at least of Margery. He recalled her to the witness stand after hearing from her husband, and asked, “Is it true that you and Dr. Chenowith had a troubled history over a book of poems you wrote?”
Margery, dressed in sober black with an unimaginative hat (not at all her normal style), replied, “Yes. That is true.”
“Perhaps you would enlighten the court,” the coroner invited.
“I had a contract for a book, which Dr. Chenowith agreed to review at my publisher’s request. I was quite shocked when, after reading the review she wrote, my publishers decided to revoke my contract. She had written scathingly of my work, which was a great surprise. She had read many of the poems individually and gave me to understand that she admired them.”
“What action did you take? You must have been very angry.”
“More hurt and puzzled. It was my husband who was angry. He sued the publisher. In the end, they arrived at a cash settlement.”
“It puzzles me that you would attend this function for Dr. Sargent, knowing Dr. Chenowith would be there.”
“I owe Professor Sargent quite a lot. And I didn’t know for certain that Dr. Chenowith would attend. I wouldn’t have thought she’d have the nerve for it, knowing that I would be there.”
The coroner looked at Margery steadily as he asked, “And how did she treat you?”
“She gave me what used to be called ‘the cut direct.’ Fortunately, I had good friends there, as well as Dr. Sargent. My husband asked me to call after sherry to let him know if Dr. Chenowith was there, and if so, how it went.”
“Thank you, Lady Margery. That is very clear.”
The rotter! He thinks she did it, I’ll wager. Catherine exchanged glances with Dr. Harry. He, signaling her with a raised eyebrow, evidently thought the same.
The coroner adjourned the court for luncheon, saying they would reconvene in two hours’ time.
Dr. Harry shouldered himself over to where she stood. “At least our canoodling didn’t come into it,” he said, looking down into her face. For the first time, she realized that he was quite tall. Since she was almost an average man’s height, not many men looked down into her eyes like that.
“He’s a beast. He thinks Margery did it. We shall have to prove him wrong,” said Catherine.
“At least coroners no longer have the power to convict. He hasn’t even called the police to give evidence. There’s been no mention of Dr. Waddell, his strange appearance, and even stranger disappearance,” said Dr. Harry.
“He hasn’t even asked the members of your cab party to account for their missing ten minutes,” she fumed. Turning to Dot, she asked, “What do you think?”
“I think they should check on Sir Herbert’s whereabouts at the time. They are assuming he was home in Somerset. The exchange would have a record of a trunk call. He seems the more likely murderer to me.”
“Brilliant!” Catherine gave her friend a quick hug. “Now, where shall we lunch?”
“Come,” said Dr. Harry, “Be my guests at Christ Church.”
“You won’t find me turning down that lovely food,” said Dot.
Over luncheon of roast beef, potatoes, French beans, and grilled tomatoes, they discussed the case against Dr. Stephenson.
“The police haven’t been able to arrest him because he’s disappeared,” said Catherine.
“Yes. But it is rather a shame he has such a good alibi for the murder. I hope they can come up with some evidence that he was your attacker,” said Dr. Harry.
“He seems like such a timid little man. It’s difficult to imagine him swinging a cricket bat,” said Catherine.
“He had a lot at stake,” said Dot. “And remember that he raised quite a ‘ruckus’ at the library.”
“Yes. He obviously has a violent side when threatened,” said Dr. Harry.
“Dr. Chenowith herself wasn’t above a spot of wickedness,” said Catherine thoughtfully. “Remember Anne’s first editions.”
“She wasn’t above doing things that weren’t according to Hoyle, that’s for sure,” said Dot.
“It wasn’t just men who found her a nasty bit of goods,” said Dr. Harry.
After an excellent trifle for pudding, Dot and Catherine were led back to the inquest—one on each of his arms. Catherine’s head was pounding out the rhythm of her heart by the time she took her seat.
During the afternoon, the court finally heard from the police, who told of the strange
behavior of one Dr. Christopher Waddell. Catherine was glad of their evidence as it seemed to take the spotlight off Margery, save for the fact that there was not a scrap of motive to be had for Dr. Waddell.
In the end, the coroner said, “It is not my place to name Dr. Chenowith’s assailant, but I feel we have heard plenty of evidence to declare that the woman met her death unlawfully by a person or persons unknown. The facts gathered in these proceedings will be handed over to the Crown’s prosecutors, and charges will be brought in the future when a case is built, and a trial is held.”
He banged his gavel and adjourned the court.
Chapter Twelve
As spectators and participants filed out of the Town Hall, Catherine spied Dr. Williams making for the cab queue on St. Aldate’s Street. She knew that Detective Chief Inspector Marsh would want to speak to her, but it occurred to Catherine that now might be a good time to latch onto Professor Williams before he got back to his hush-hush job in London.
Notifying Dot and Dr. Harry of her intent, she told them she would meet them at the Eagle and Child after she had spoken to the professor.
“I say, Dr. Williams, what did you think of the proceedings?” she asked once she had said hello to the professor as he stood in the queue. “Have you ever heard of that fellow Waddell? There’s at least a possibility that he might have been the one who coshed me.”
“Coshed you?” The dapper little man raised his eyebrows. “Did I miss something in there? I must say it was deuced warm.”
“I guess you haven’t heard about my little adventure,” she said. “I was hit over the head with a cricket bat in the Somerville quad.”
“My dear! I’m so sorry. Whatever for, do you think?”
“I don’t really know if it was Waddell. Others have motives, too.” She refrained from getting into the case against Dr. Stephenson as it didn’t serve her purpose at the moment. “I don’t know why he would want to, or even what he has to do with this crazy situation.”
An Oxford Murder Page 10
