The super was walking up and down — an unusual thing for supers to do — and apparently, to judge by his ashtray, was in the process of chain-smoking.
His office looked smaller by night though it smelled exactly the same. Sitting on a chair at the corner of the desk, Inspector Griffin was examining his nails with a defensive intentness. The windows, partly open to the soft, after-rain air, wore their curtains in the same position as during the daytime.
‘Come in, Gently — accept my congratulations!’
The super rounded his desk to shake Gently by the hand.
‘You’ve done us a favour, I don’t mind telling you. I dare say you wouldn’t know, up there in the Central Office… but down here, one can’t ignore the personal element.’
Even opposite the office windows there were couples making love, some of them casting a furtive upward glance from time to time. The balmy air had spring in it, an elusive fragrance impossible to define. Winter had been washed away by that single Homeric downpour.
‘You can’t understand how relieved I feel, though I realize that there are some loose ends to be tied up. Griffin, I feel sure… especially with the fellow in a cell. Naturally, we shall obtain a remand tomorrow.’
Cars swinging round the corner by the St George sent the shadows of lovers criss-crossing over the square. Lynton again… but a different Lynton; would the faint odour of daffodils come from one of the covered-up market stalls?
‘There’s just one thing I’m not quite clear about.’
For supper Gently had had a cod steak and a lot of imported new potatoes with butter.
‘You left word that the recovery of the money was to remain secret for the moment, and that news of the arrest was to be withheld from the press.
‘Of course, you probably have a very good reason, and after the great service you have done us we are eager to cooperate. But in view of our position — I won’t be more explicit! — I should very much like to lift that phone and talk to Mr Pershore.’
Gently sighed softly to himself and turned a chair back to front. The taste of cognac and coffee still lingered gratefully on his palate
… also, just behind it, the flavour of rhubarb tart and cream.
‘You know what I’m here after.’
Wasn’t the real question whether he was ready for his pipe or not?
‘My business is Taylor’s murder, not incidental robberies. The recovery of Mr Pershore’s money happened to lie in the scope of the investigation.’
‘There’s some connection, you mean?’
A frown appeared on the super’s boyish brow.
‘I realize, of course, that this Blacker is an employee at the mill, but that, taken on its own-’
‘There’s a little more to it.’
‘It definitely ties in?’
‘It’s the nub of the whole affair.’
The super sat down, as though he realized it might be a longer job than he had taken it for. At the other end of the desk Griffin ceased to explore his nails and began to give his efficient attention. Gently, coming to a snap decision, produced his sandblast and tin of tobacco.
‘I’ll put you in the picture as briefly as possible.’
For some reason they both wanted to watch him rubbing the two slices of navy cut between his hands.
‘There are two angles to it — we’ll take Roscoe’s first. Roscoe, because just at the moment he still happens to be alive.
‘Roscoe went to Newmarket with Ames and Taylor. It was a two-day meeting, and they put up at a hotel. Somewhere, in the hotel, in the street, on the racecourse, they came by a certain piece of information, and that piece of information brought them hotfoot to Lynton.
‘Having got there, they put up at the best place in town, and almost immediately began spending money like hail. We know pretty well how much they’d got. Judging from Taylor’s bank book it was a flat five thousand pounds. But there had been no recorded robbery either here or at Newmarket, the money would appear to have been safe, and from evidence at the hotel they were expecting a further and larger supply. Something in the neighbourhood of ten thousand, perhaps!
‘We come to Thursday night. They spent the evening as usual, in the hotel. At approximately eleven-thirty Taylor went out alone, apparently for what was expected to be a shortish absence. When he hadn’t arrived back by one a.m. Roscoe and Ames, evidently anxious, questioned the night-porter. Then, after a conference, they went out looking for him, going in the direction of Fenway Road.
‘They returned nearly an hour later. They seemed angry as well as anxious. After a further conference they tipped the night-porter a pound, and left instructions for him to ring them the moment Taylor showed up.
‘Taylor, of course, didn’t show up — he was lying strangled in the flour-hopper — and in the morning Roscoe and Ames were overheard discussing him in angry terms. Towards lunchtime Roscoe went out and fetched the midday paper. It carried the news of the finding of the body in the stop-press.
‘They were too shaken by it to go in to lunch, and shortly afterwards they checked out of the hotel — taking steps, nevertheless, to prevent Taylor’s absence from being immediately reported to the authorities. They took a train to Ely from where it would be difficult to trace them, and then doubled back to a safe base near the scene of the operation.
‘Now, you will notice, they were in a position to bring irresistible pressure to bear. Taylor had been murdered, and they were aware of the identity of the murderer or murderers. They used this pressure. Roscoe received a letter which contained, without doubt, instructions as to the time and place for the pay-off. Ames, the muscle man, was sent to collect it, and a few hours later he was discovered floating down the river.
‘That brings us up to date from the point of view of Roscoe. This morning, once more, he was obliged to start on his travels. The question beside him is: will he carry on? — and personally, I don’t think he has much option.
‘The police are after him and so is the murderer, but there is a pretty big carrot dangling in front of his nose. If he can collect that carrot and come off unscathed, then there’s a chance for him to jump the country and give both of us the slip.
‘My hunch is that he’s doubled back again and is going to have one more try.’
Gently fished up his matches and relit his pipe. A lifetime of trying to do it had never yet convinced him that one couldn’t smoke while one talked. Across the square came two constables, walking satisfyingly in step. They were deep in conversation and paid no attention to the courting couples.
‘I still can’t see-’ The super cleared his throat. ‘You’re suggesting that somehow this money is connected, but the fact is that it was still in the bank at the time of the Newmarket meeting.’
‘That’s just what I was thinking, sir,’ put in Griffin. ‘Mr Pershore didn’t know he would need it until Tuesday or Wednesday of last week.’
‘But on Thursday several people could hazard a guess.’
Gently blew a casual smoke-ring.
‘Also, there was the preliminary five thousand — that was the initial gambit. Wherever it came from, it was safe and not likely to be missed.’
The super brooded over it with an expression of distaste. With the best will in the world, he felt on the defensive against Gently. Something was going to be pinned on to Lynton, he could feel it in his bones, but unless he was being denser than usual he failed to see how it was to be done.
‘In effect you are saying that these three men… on the first occasion they cleared up all the ready cash. Then, redoubling their demands, they forced their victim to a desperate act — and this person was aware that Mr Pershore had made a large cash withdrawal?’
‘Mmn.’ Gently nodded. ‘It could be something like that.’
‘But this Blacker scarcely fills the bill — he wouldn’t have had five thousand by him. And then again… well, he doesn’t, does he? How could this Roscoe lot ever have heard about him at Newmarket?’
‘Looks more like Fuller.’ Griffin was following shrewdly.
‘He might have produced five thousand at a pinch, and he would have seen Mr Pershore with his attache case.’
‘He did. I asked him.’
Gently shrugged indulgently.
‘Also, he happened to attend that meeting at Newmarket.’
‘Then surely, if there’s a tie-up-’
‘Let’s get back to the facts first. Up till now, we’ve only been considering them from Roscoe’s viewpoint.’
Both the super and Griffin looked as though they might have smart rejoinders up their sleeves, but neither of them hazarded one. Gently struck another match and tossed it into the super’s ashtray. Downstairs at the desk they could vaguely hear the duty sergeant asking somebody questions.
‘At the mill you’d got something going on which is happening every hour of the day and night — out there at the moment, as a matter of fact!
‘Fuller had fallen for the baker’s wife. They were neither of them people with much experience in conducting clandestine love affairs. At first it was just a kiss and cuddle in the office — the clerk having been sent out on an errand, no doubt. Then I dare say they laid plans for something more interesting, but they were stuck for an appropriate opportunity.
‘It came on the eve of Good Friday when two events coincided. One of them was Fuller’s stag party at The Spreadeagle, and the other the circumstance that the baker would be spending all night in the bakehouse. How long ahead they had been making arrangements I didn’t elicit, but what is certain is that they were very careless over them.
‘Blythely, the baker, had got wind of the assignation, and Blacker knew even the time and place. As a result, when they met outside the stable in the drying-ground, two people were stationed there to witness the fact.
‘Where Blacker was is conjectural, but he was certainly there. In the morning he used his knowledge to blackmail Fuller into making him foreman. Blythely, on the other hand, hid in a lean-to urinal. From there he could watch the stable but could see nothing of the yard.
‘And the times of these dispositions were roughly from half past eleven till half past midnight: at that critical time there were four people on the spot.
‘Fuller can tell us nothing, which is not surprising; nor, I imagine, can Mrs Blythely. They were in the hayloft busy with their own doings. Blythely, most unfortunately, could hear but not see, so we are left with Blacker as the solitary eyewitness.
‘What Blythely did hear, however, is very suggestive. He heard three or four separate sets of footsteps. Giving approximate times he heard the first set at eleven-forty. They entered the yard from the opening into Cosford Road, came down the yard and halted in the passage between the mill buildings and the bakehouse block. Five minutes later a second set followed them. Blythely says they were lighter and quicker, like a child’s, which suggests that they belonged to Taylor.
‘There was a short conversation between these two people which Blythely was unable to overhear, neither did he hear them leave the passage. A third set came down the yard at about ten minutes to twelve. They lingered in the passage and then came back running.
‘Finally there were steps from the passage at about twelve o’clock midnight — a little slow and hesitant, according to Blythely. Shortly after they had gone he may have heard a car started, but there was nothing further to report until the guilty party re-emerged at half past twelve.
‘Out of that timetable, I expect, you can begin to reconstruct the murder.’
It was not the implications but the completeness of the information which was making Griffin turn hot. You could see what he was thinking, with his neck growing scarlet. They’d both had their turn at it, he and Gently — about the same time each, but what a difference in their results! Surely there was an element of luck in the affair…?
‘You seem to have covered a lot of ground.’
The super, too, was sounding stiff, but in his case it may have been the guilty pair who rankled.
‘I suppose you’re sure of your facts — testimonies reliable and all that? In a case of this sort I should scarcely have expected…’
‘The evidence seems to dovetail fairly neatly.’
‘Oh, I’m not suggesting we can teach you anything!’
‘There’s always a possible margin for error.’
The super ground out a cigarette butt, himself getting heated. More than ever he had the feeling that Gently was building up something unpleasant and reprehensible. To hide his chagrin, Griffin was also fiddling with a cigarette. Over it he muttered:
‘As a matter of fact, I did suggest…’
Gently seemed lost in the dark world beyond the window.
‘If you don’t mind me saying so, it still isn’t clear-’
‘How the money ties in?’
‘Exactly! Up till now-’
‘Up till now the money has been a hypothesis — except that it was in Blacker’s possession by about half past twelve on the Friday morning.’
‘I agree that it’s a coincidence.’
‘Let me reconstruct what I think occurred.’
The super drew a deep breath and cradled his chin in his hands. On the square a mobile fish-and-chip saloon had drawn up, lending a scent of frying to the vernal atmosphere.
‘We’ll take it from Blacker’s angle — I think that’s most convenient. At some time between eleven and half past he secreted himself in the drying-ground.
‘He saw first Mrs Blythely arrive and wait outside the stable. Then Fuller joined her, and when they had gone into the stable, Blythely came out of the passage to take up his position in the lean-to. Ten minutes later X came into the yard.
‘X I am assuming to be the murderer. I don’t know whether Blacker recognized him — there wasn’t a lot of light. But he saw him go down the yard and stop in the mill passage, and it’s possible that he noticed the package X was carrying under his arm.
‘At eleven forty-five X was joined by Taylor. After a brief conversation X handed Taylor the package, and as Taylor was examining it to make sure of the contents, X slipped behind him and effected strangulation.
‘His plans were obviously made and he wasted no time about them. Immediately life was extinct he set about disposing of the body. How much of this Blacker witnessed is open to conjecture, but I think there is little doubt that it was he who Blythely heard come down to the passage a little later.
‘There he stumbled over the package — partly open, one supposes — and discovering what it contained, made off with it at a run. X, having shot the body into the hopper, returned to pick up the money: its absence must have been a shock to him, but there was nothing he could do about it and he didn’t hang around.
‘Unless I’ve overlooked something, that seems to me the inevitable interpretation.’
‘I don’t agree at all!’
Griffin was ready to jump in directly.
‘Surely there’s another alternative that fits just as well?’
‘There may be.’ Gently bowed his head. ‘It’s difficult to think of all the variations…’
‘Suppose it was Taylor in fact who committed the robbery — suppose he’d had to hide the money in the mill, for some reason. Then Blacker catches him collecting it — there’s a struggle, and Taylor is strangled — isn’t the hopper the very place where Blacker would get rid of the body?’
Gently shrugged without replying. Had he still to make himself plain? For most of the day he’d known the inexorable answer to all the questions…
‘At least it simplifies it, Gently.’
The super wanted to buy Griffin’s notion.
‘It gets rid of that “X” of yours, who’s likely to be a pitfall. And it gives us a clearer picture — the whole thing becomes more credible. This Roscoe lot had begun to dabble in burglary, and at Newmarket they heard of a likely crib to be cracked…’
Could neither of them see the facts which were staring them in the face?
‘There are four people, I think, who know the murderer’s identity.’
He would have to tell them in so many words.
‘Roscoe knows, and I’m sure Blacker does. Then there’s me, and of course, Mr Pershore.’
‘What!’
The super sat up with a jerking movement.
‘Mr Pershore… doesn’t that follow? The money was his and nobody else’s.’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’
‘Why, everything, I imagine! It was he whom Roscoe and the others were blackmailing.’
The super leaned back with an expression of dizziness. A crazy element seemed to have crept into the exchanges! On the one hand, Gently didn’t seem to be raving, but on the other… could he have heard him properly?
‘But that money was stolen!’
Gently shook his head slowly.
‘Ask Inspector Griffin what he found in the study at Prideaux.’
‘He — he found it had been broken into. Didn’t you, Griffin?’
‘That’s right!’ fired Griffin. ‘There’s no question about that. A window catch was forced and there were scratch-marks on the safe.’
‘Only’ — Gently paused to make sure they were following him — ‘there were no scratches or forced windows when I was there an hour earlier. They appeared between the time I left and the time when Inspector Griffin arrived.’
‘Then you are saying-’
The super looked sick. Out of seemingly nowhere, his nightmare premonition was developing.
‘I’m saying that Roscoe, Ames and Taylor came to Lynton to blackmail Pershore, and that he, very determinedly, has responded by killing two of them.’
Coffee was brought in by a woman from the canteen. It was none too warm and probably concocted from a powder. In the square the fish-and-chip saloon was doing excellent business; quite a group were clustering round it, eating from newspapers and greaseproof bags.
‘Don’t you see the improbability of it?’
At last there was a spell for Gently’s pipe. Having got rid of his coffee, he scraped out the bowl and refilled it. After food, it was usually the second pipe which tasted the best.
‘He’s been a figure here for twenty years. After all that time, and with never the slightest suspicion…’
Round and round the super was gnawing at it, trying his best to find a weak place. Against anyone else, yes, it was a case — but against Geoffrey Wallace Pershore, Esq…
‘We probably shan’t know until we get hold of Roscoe.’
‘Just ask yourself! What could they have dug up about him?’
‘It might be something from a long time ago — before he ever set foot in Lynton.’
‘He came from overseas.’
Griffin was childishly bent on getting his foot in somewhere.
‘It was South Africa, I believe. I can remember it quite plainly. It was while you were still at Cheapham, sir.’
‘South Africa, eh…?’
‘He was as brown as a berry — younger, of course, not much over thirty. There was a lot of gossip. He had a Bentley in those days. According to what they said, he’d made his pile out of palm oil or something.
‘Anyway, he took a liking to Lynton and started investing his money here. Then, just before the war, he bought Prideaux Manor from old Major Calthorpe. During the war he organized the local St John’s Ambulance, and turned Prideaux Manor into a nursing-home.
‘Everyone thought he’d get an Honours List mention.’
‘Should’ve done!’ wailed the super. ‘It was only damned favouritism…’
‘Since then he’s done a great deal for Lynton. His name has been at the head of every charity list. He came to the assistance of the football club when it looked like going broke, and started the Library Appeal Fund with a thousand guineas.
‘His brokerage business qualifies him for the council. He’s been an alderman six years and was sheriff two years ago. Now, as I expect you know, he is to be the next mayor.’
‘Quite a busy career, in fact!’
‘Whatever you think of him, he’s public-spirited.’
‘And after twenty years he wouldn’t want the good work blemished… especially by a trio of Stepney spivs.’
‘But can you be certain, Gently!’ the super moaned. ‘It’s such a fantastic idea — and if you happened to be wrong…!’
‘I’ll check off the points for you.’
Gently extended his clumsy fingers.
‘All in all, I think you’ll find they add up to a case.
‘First, Pershore attended the meeting at Newmarket. Second, he was the source of the money. Third, he inspected the mill on the Thursday morning and knew about the flour-hopper. Fourth, he would have a set of keys to the mill. Fifth, he has no checkable alibi for the Thursday night. Sixth, his story about the money being stolen is unsupported by fact. Seventh, he manufactured evidence in an attempt to support it.
‘Tomorrow, I hope, the bank will be able to tell us that he withdrew the first five thousand pounds a few days after the Newmarket meeting. As far as we’re concerned, that will just about clinch it.’
‘But it’s all circumstantial — a defence would make hay of it.’
Gently hunched a shoulder. ‘There’s Roscoe to come! Also we’ve got an eyewitness tucked away in the cellar. I think Blacker will talk if you put it to him nicely.’
The super got to his feet and began pacing the room again. His distress was genuine and Gently felt sorry for him. Griffin, toying with his coffee-spoon, seemed caught between two contrary currents. He wanted to be loyal to the super, but nevertheless, as a policeman…
‘Get Blacker up here!’
The super had made his decision.
‘One way or another we’ve got to settle this matter.’
He glanced defiantly at Gently, but Gently was busy going through his pockets. Surely, in some neglected corner, there ought to be a peppermint cream?