Really, Miss Springer—poor Miss Springer, naturally it wasn’t her fault—but, illogically, Chaddy felt that it must have been her fault in some way. She didn’t know the traditions of Meadowbank. A tactless woman. She must in some way have invited murder. Miss Chadwick rolled over, turned her pillow, said “I mustn’t go on thinking of it all. Perhaps I had better get up and take some aspirin. I’ll just try counting to fifty….”
Before she had got to fifty, her mind was off again on the same track. Worrying. Would all this—and perhaps kidnapping too—get into the papers? Would parents, reading, hasten to take their daughters away….
Oh dear, she must calm down and go to sleep. What time was it? She switched on her light and looked at her watch—Just after a quarter to one. Just about the time that poor Miss Springer … No, she would not think of it anymore. And, how stupid of Miss Springer to have gone off by herself like that without waking up somebody else.
“Oh dear,” said Miss Chadwick. “I’ll have to take some aspirin.”
She got out of bed and went over to the washstand. She took two aspirins with a drink of water. On her way back, she pulled aside the curtain of the window and peered out. She did so to reassure herself more than for any other reason. She wanted to feel that of course there would never again be a light in the Sports Pavilion in the middle of the night.
But there was.
In a minute Chaddy had leapt to action. She thrust her feet into stout shoes, pulled on a thick coat, picked up her electric torch and rushed out of her room and down the stairs. She had blamed Miss Springer for not obtaining support before going out to investigate, but it never occurred to her to do so. She was only eager to get out to the Pavilion and find out who the intruder was. She did pause to pick up a weapon—not perhaps a very good one, but a weapon of kinds, and then she was out of the side door and following quickly along the path through the shrubbery. She was out of breath, but completely resolute. Only when she got at last to the door, did she slacken up and take care to move softly. The door was slightly ajar. She pushed it further open and looked in….
II
At about the time when Miss Chadwick was rising from bed in search of aspirin, Ann Shapland, looking very attractive in a black dance frock, was sitting at a table in Le Nid Sauvage eating Supreme of Chicken and smiling at the young man opposite her. Dear Dennis, thought Ann to herself, always so exactly the same. It is what I simply couldn’t bear if I married him. He is rather a pet, all the same. Aloud she remarked:
“What fun this is, Dennis. Such a glorious change.”
“How is the new job?” said Dennis.
“Well, actually, I’m rather enjoying it.”
“Doesn’t seem to me quite your sort of thing.”
Ann laughed. “I’d be hard put to it to say what is my sort of thing. I like variety, Dennis.”
“I never can see why you gave up your job with old Sir Mervyn Todhunter.”
“Well, chiefly because of Sir Mervyn Todhunter. The attention he bestowed on me was beginning to annoy his wife. And it’s part of my policy never to annoy wives. They can do you a lot of harm, you know.”
“Jealous cats,” said Dennis.
“Oh no, not really,” said Ann. “I’m rather on the wives’ side. Anyway I liked Lady Todhunter much better than old Mervyn. Why are you surprised at my present job?”
“Oh, a school. You’re not scholastically minded at all, I should have said.”
“I’d hate to teach in a school. I’d hate to be penned up. Herded with a lot of women. But the work as the secretary of a school like Meadowbank is rather fun. It really is a unique place, you know. And Miss Bulstrode’s unique. She’s really something, I can tell you. Her steel-grey eye goes through you and sees your innermost secrets. And she keeps you on your toes. I’d hate to make a mistake in any letters I’d taken down for her. Oh yes, she’s certainly something.”
“I wish you’d get tired of all these jobs,” said Dennis. “It’s quite time, you know, Ann, that you stopped all this racketing about with jobs here and jobs there and—and settled down.”
“You are sweet, Dennis,” said Ann in a noncommittal manner.
“We could have quite fun, you know,” said Dennis.
“I daresay,” said Ann, “but I’m not ready yet. And anyway, you know, there’s my mamma.”
“Yes, I was—going to talk to you about that.”
“About my mamma? What were you going to say?”
“Well, Ann, you know I think you’re wonderful. The way you get an interesting job and then you chuck it all up and go home to her.”
“Well, I have to now and again when she gets a really bad attack.”
“I know. As I say, I think it’s wonderful of you. But all the same there are places, you know, very good places nowadays where—where people like your mother are well looked after and all that sort of thing. Not really loony bins.”
“And which cost the earth,” said Ann.
“No, no, not necessarily. Why, even under the Health Scheme—”
A bitter note crept into Ann’s voice. “Yes, I daresay it will come to that one day. But in the meantime I’ve got a nice old pussy who lives with Mother and who can cope normally. Mother is quite reasonable most of the time—And when she—isn’t, I come back and lend a hand.”
“She’s—she isn’t—she’s never—?”
“Are you going to say violent, Dennis? You’ve got an extraordinarily lurid imagination. No. My dear mamma is never violent. She just gets fuddled. She forgets where she is and who she is and wants to go for long walks, and then as like as not she’ll jump into a train or a bus and take off somewhere and—well, it’s all very difficult, you see. Sometimes it’s too much for one person to cope with. But she’s quite happy, even when she is fuddled. And sometimes quite funny about it. I remember her saying: ‘Ann, darling, it really is very embarrassing. I knew I was going to Tibet and there I was sitting in that hotel in Dover with no idea how to get there. Then I thought why was I going to Tibet? And I thought I’d better come home. Then I couldn’t remember how long ago it was when I left home. It makes it very embarrassing, dear, when you can’t quite remember things.’ Mummy was really very funny over it all, you know. I mean she quite sees the humorous side herself.”
“I’ve never actually met her,” Dennis began.
“I don’t encourage people to meet her,” said Ann. “That’s the one thing I think you can do for your people. Protect them from—well, curiosity and pity.”
“It’s not curiosity, Ann.”
“No, I don’t think it would be that with you. But it would be pity. I don’t want that.”
“I can see what you mean.”
“But if you think I mind giving up jobs from time to time and going home for an indefinite period, I don’t,” said Ann. “I never meant to get embroiled in anything too deeply. Not even when I took my first post after my secretarial training. I thought the thing was to get really good at the job. Then if you’re really good you can pick and choose your posts. You see different places and you see different kinds of life. At the moment I’m seeing school life. The best school in England seen from within! I shall stay there, I expect, about a year and a half.”
“You never really get caught up in things, do you, Ann?”
“No,” said Ann thoughtfully, “I don’t think I do. I think I’m one of those people who is a born observer. More like a commentator on the radio.”
“You’re so detached,” said Dennis gloomily. “You don’t really care about anything or anyone.”
“I expect I shall some day,” said Ann encouragingly.
“I do understand more or less how you’re thinking and feeling.”
“I doubt it,” said Ann.
“Anyway, I don’t think you’ll last a year. You’ll get fed up with all those women,” said Dennis.
“There’s a very good-looking gardener,” said Ann. She laughed when she saw Dennis’s expression. “Cheer up, I’m on
ly trying to make you jealous.”
“What’s this about one of the mistresses having been killed?”
“Oh, that.” Ann’s face became serious and thoughtful.
“That’s odd, Dennis. Very odd indeed. It was the Games Mistress. You know the type. I-am-a-plain-Games Mistress. I think there’s a lot more behind it than has come out yet.”
“Well, don’t you get mixed up in anything unpleasant.”
“That’s easy to say. I’ve never had any chance at displaying my talents as a sleuth. I think I might be rather good at it.”
“Now, Ann.”
“Darling, I’m not going to trail dangerous criminals. I’m just going to—well, make a few logical deductions. Why and who. And what for? That sort of thing. I’ve come across one piece of information that’s rather interesting.”
“Ann!”
“Don’t look so agonized. Only it doesn’t seem to link up with anything,” said Ann thoughtfully. “Up to a point it all fits in very well. And then, suddenly, it doesn’t.” She added cheerfully, “Perhaps there’ll be a second murder, and that will clarify things a little.”
It was at exactly that moment that Miss Chadwick pushed open the Sports Pavilion door.
Fifteen
MURDER REPEATS ITSELF
“Come along,” said Inspector Kelsey, entering the room with a grim face. “There’s been another.”
“Another what?” Adam looked up sharply.
“Another murder,” said Inspector Kelsey. He led the way out of the room and Adam followed him. They had been sitting in the latter’s room drinking beer and discussing various probabilities when Kelsey had been summoned to the telephone.
“Who is it?” demanded Adam, as he followed Inspector Kelsey down the stairs.
“Another mistress—Miss Vansittart.”
“Where?”
“In the Sports Pavilion.”
“The Sports Pavilion again,” said Adam. “What is there about this Sports Pavilion?”
“You’d better give it the once-over this time,” said Inspector Kelsey. “Perhaps your technique of searching may be more successful than ours has been. There must be something about that Sports Pavilion or why should everyone get killed there?”
He and Adam got into his car. “I expect the doctor will be there ahead of us. He hasn’t so far to go.”
It was, Kelsey thought, like a bad dream repeating itself as he entered the brilliantly lighted Sports Pavilion. There, once again, was a body with the doctor kneeling beside it. Once again the doctor rose from his knees and got up.
“Killed about half an hour ago,” he said. “Forty minutes at most.”
“Who found her?” said Kelsey.
One of his men spoke up. “Miss Chadwick.”
“That’s the old one, isn’t it?”
“Yes. She saw a light, came out here, and found her dead. She stumbled back to the house and more or less went into hysterics. It was the matron who telephoned, Miss Johnson.”
“Right,” said Kelsey. “How was she killed? Shot again?”
The doctor shook his head. “No. Slugged on the back of the head, this time. Might have been a cosh or a sandbag. Something of that kind.”
A golf club with a steel head was lying near the door. It was the only thing that looked remotely disorderly in the place.
“What about that?” said Kelsey, pointing. “Could she have been hit with that?”
The doctor shook his head. “Impossible. There’s no mark on her. No, it was definitely a heavy rubber cosh or a sandbag, something of that sort.”
“Something—professional?”
“Probably, yes. Whoever it was, didn’t mean to make any noise this time. Came up behind her and slugged her on the back of the head. She fell forward and probably never knew what hit her.”
“What was she doing?”
“She was probably kneeling down,” said the doctor. “Kneeling in front of this locker.”
The Inspector went up to the locker and looked at it. “That’s the girl’s name on it, I presume,” he said. “Shaista—let me see, that’s the—that’s the Egyptian girl, isn’t it? Her Highness Princess Shaista.” He turned to Adam. “It seems to tie in, doesn’t it? Wait a minute—that’s the girl they reported this evening as missing?”
“That’s right, sir,” said the Sergeant. “A car called for her here, supposed to have been sent by her uncle who’s staying at Claridge’s in London. She got into it and drove off.”
“No reports come in?”
“Not as yet, sir. Got a network out. And the Yard is on it.”
“A nice simple way of kidnapping anyone,” said Adam. “No struggle, no cries. All you’ve got to know is that the girl’s expecting a car to fetch her and all you’ve got to do is to look like a high-class chauffeur and arrive there before the other car does. The girl will step in without a second thought and you can drive off without her suspecting in the least what’s happening to her.”
“No abandoned car found anywhere?” asked Kelsey.
“We’ve had no news of one,” said the Sergeant. “The Yard’s on it now as I said,” he added, “and the Special Branch.”
“May mean a bit of a political schemozzle,” said the Inspector. “I don’t suppose for a minute they’ll be able to take her out of the country.”
“What do they want to kidnap her for anyway?” asked the doctor.
“Goodness knows,” said Kelsey gloomily. “She told me she was afraid of being kidnapped and I’m ashamed to say I thought she was just showing off.”
“I thought so, too, when you told me about it,” said Adam.
“The trouble is we don’t know enough,” said Kelsey. “There are far too many loose ends.” He looked around. “Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything more that I can do here. Get on with the usual stuff—photographs, fingerprints, etc. I’d better go along to the house.”
At the house he was received by Miss Johnson. She was shaken but preserved her self-control.
“It’s terrible, Inspector,” she said. “Two of our mistresses killed. Poor Miss Chadwick’s in a dreadful state.”
“I’d like to see her as soon as I can.”
“The doctor gave her something and she’s much calmer now. Shall I take you to her?”
“Yes, in a minute or two. First of all, just tell me what you can about the last time you saw Miss Vansittart.”
“I haven’t seen her at all today,” said Miss Johnson. “I’ve been away all day. I arrived back here just before eleven and went straight up to my room. I went to bed.”
“You didn’t happen to look out of your window towards the Sports Pavilion?”
“No. No, I never thought of it. I’d spent the day with my sister whom I hadn’t seen for some time and my mind was full of home news. I took a bath and went to bed and read a book, and I turned off the light and went to sleep. The next thing I knew was when Miss Chadwick burst in, looking as white as a sheet and shaking all over.”
“Was Miss Vansittart absent today?”
“No, she was here. She was in charge. Miss Bulstrode’s away.”
“Who else was here, of the mistresses, I mean?”
Miss Johnson considered a moment. “Miss Vansittart, Miss Chadwick, the French mistress, Mademoiselle Blanche, Miss Rowan.”
“I see. Well, I think you’d better take me to Miss Chadwick now.”
Miss Chadwick was sitting in a chair in her room. Although the night was a warm one the electric fire had been turned on and a rug was wrapped round her knees. She turned a ghastly face towards Inspector Kelsey.
“She’s dead—she is dead? There’s no chance that—that she might come round?”
Kelsey shook his head slowly.
“It’s so awful,” said Miss Chadwick, “with Miss Bulstrode away.” She burst into tears. “This will ruin the school,” she said. “This will ruin Meadowbank. I can’t bear it—I really can’t bear it.”
Kelsey sat down beside her. “I kno
w,” he said sympathetically, “I know. It’s been a terrible shock to you, but I want you to be brave, Miss Chadwick, and tell me all you know. The sooner we can find out who did it, the less trouble and publicity there will be.”
“Yes, yes, I can see that. You see, I—I went to bed early because I thought it would be nice for once to have a nice long night. But I couldn’t go to sleep. I was worrying.”
“Worrying about the school?”
“Yes. And about Shaista being missing. And then I began thinking of Miss Springer and whether—whether her murder would affect the parents, and whether perhaps they wouldn’t send their girls back here next term. I was so terribly upset for Miss Bulstrode. I mean, she’s made this place. It’s been such a fine achievement.”
“I know. Now go on telling me—you were worried, and you couldn’t sleep?”
“No, I counted sheep and everything. And then I got up and took some aspirin and when I’d taken it I just happened to draw back the curtains from the window. I don’t quite know why. I suppose because I’d been thinking about Miss Springer. Then you see, I saw … I saw a light there.”
“What kind of a light?”
“Well, a sort of dancing light. I mean—I think it must have been a torch. It was just like the light that Miss Johnson and I saw before.”
“It was just the same, was it?”
“Yes. Yes, I think so. Perhaps a little feebler, but I don’t know.”
“Yes. And then?”
“And then,” said Miss Chadwick, her voice suddenly becoming more resonant, “I was determined that this time I would see who it was out there and what they were doing. So I got up and pulled on my coat and my shoes, and I rushed out of the house.”
“You didn’t think of calling anyone else?”
“No. No, I didn’t. You see I was in such a hurry to get there, I was so afraid the person—whoever it was—would go away.”
“Yes. Go on, Miss Chadwick.”
“So I went as fast as I could. I went up to the door and just before I got there I went on tiptoe so that—so that I should be able to look in and nobody would hear me coming. I got there. The door was not shut—just ajar and I pushed it very slightly open. I looked round it and—and there she was. Fallen forward on her face, dead….”
Cat Among the Pigeons Page 14
