Dover One
Page 22
Only this afternoon Miss Hoppold told Colonel Bing (one of my neighbours up here) that she had a nice large bone which might be suitable for Peregrine (Colonel Bing’s white miniature poodle-a charming little chap). Colonel Bing asked if it was the kind that splintered and Miss Hoppold said, NO!!
As a single woman living (for all practical purposes) alone, my suspicions were aroused immediately! Single women just do not buy large joints of meat containing unsplinterable bones, and Miss Hoppold (although I know for a fact she is a married woman) is living alone. This is a clue which Chief Inspector Lover as a man may well have overlooked! It is true Miss Hoppold from time to time takes her meals with Mr Bogolepov (another of my neighbours), but that young man appears to obtain most of his nourishment out of bottles (!) and I am sure has never sat down to what I call a square meal for years.
I shall endeavour, tactfully, to obtain this bone from Colonel Bing (or Peregrine!) and, if I am successful, I will send it to you for analysis. I should myself like to pursue my investigations further but fear that I may inadvertendy arouse the suspicions of Miss Hoppold and Mr Bondy. Having killed once, they will not hesitate to kill again, and my brother is not the kind of man who would be able to offer me much protection in the event of an attack on me because I know too much!
So I feel I shall now have to leave the matter in your capable hands! And I look forward to hearing from you in the near future.
Please give my kind regards to Nancy when next you see her and tell her that I still have a wee chuckle to myself about our amusing little misunderstanding at the Annual General Meeting of the W.I.!
With all best wishes,
Yours sincerely,
AMY FREEL (MISS)
P.S. Please treat this letter as highly confidential!
As Dover finished reading each sheet of the letter he passed it with a broad wink to Sergeant MacGregor. As he handed over the last page, the Chief Constable, who had been fidgeting restlessly in the background, spoke.
‘Well?’ he asked,
‘Well, what?’ replied Dover with a grin.
‘Well, is there anything in it?’
‘In that?’ Dover’s grin widened. ‘You must be barmy, sir! Load of rubbish from beginning to end.’
‘She got Eulalia Hoppold right,’ the Chief Constable pointed out stiffly.
‘Yes, and she got this Bondy fellow wrong, didn’t she?’ retorted Dover. ‘Bondy’d nothing to do with it at all. He’s never even come remotely into the picture. Though mind you, if we’d known he hadn’t spoken to Eulalia for a week we might have had our suspicions about him, eh, Sergeant?’
The two Scotland Yard men exchanged condescending smiles.
‘Yes’ – the Chief Constable’s face was red with embarrassment but he ploughed resolutely on – ‘but what about the motive ?’
‘Well, what about it?’ snapped Dover impatiently. ‘Cannibalism? At Irlam Old Hall? Don’t make me laugh!’
‘I don’t see why.’ The Chief Constable was now scarlet to the top of his ears. ‘It seems to fit the known facts better than the motive you’ve suggested.’
‘Now look here, sir.’ Dover assumed the air of a man who’s just about had enough. ‘You’ve had a letter from some old girl up at Irlam Old Hall who’s read a few too many of these detective story things and gone a bit off the old rocker. By pure chance she guesses one thing right – Eulalia Hoppold, Everything else is wrong! Cannibalism is wrong. William Bondy is wrong. The dog’s blasted bone is wrong.’
‘Oh, I agree Bondy is wrong, but what about Bogolepov?’
‘Oh dear me, sir, you’re not suggesting he was a cannibal too, are you?’ Dover’s ample stomach wobbled with mirth. T)’you hear that, MacGregor ? Mr Bartlett thinks Bogolepov’s a cannibal now!’
‘He spent years in that concentration camp. Some of the poor devils had to eat human flesh to survive. It’s a well-known fact. Strikes me he’s an even better candidate than Bondy. And look at the way the body was carved up and stored in the deep freeze!’
Dover liked a good laugh at somebody else’s expense, but this was going on too long. He looked pointedly at his watch and settled his bowler hat more firmly on his head.
‘Well, it’s up to you, sir. If you want to put your faith in the potty theories of crack-brained old biddies who write to you on green paper, you go ahead and do it! If you really believe that Hoppold and Bogolepov killed Juliet Rugg because they wanted to eat her, you can send a special report to the Director of Public Prosecutions yourself because, I can assure you, it won’t appear in my report! ’
‘Yes, I suppose it is a bit far-fetched,’ the Chief Constable agreed doubtfully, ‘but. . . ’
‘Far-fetched? Gawd, it’s enough to make a cat laugh! Look here, sir, I’ve investigated this case, and I’ve bloody well solved it. Juliet Rugg was killed because she was a blackmailer, and if I were you, sir, I’d bum that letter before anybody else gets wind of it. You don’t want to be the laughing-stock of the county, do you, eh? ’Strewth, can you imagine what the newspapers’d do to you if they ever found out you thought you’d caught a couple of cannibals?’ Dover laughed heartily. ‘You’d never live it down, sir, straight you wouldn’t! ’
The Chief Constable didn’t like being laughed at and his manner as he shook hands with Dover was rather cool.
The chief inspector was still chuckling as he took his leave. ‘We’ll be up for the trial I expect, sir,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you’d better warn ’em at the prison that Bogolepov and Hoppold’ll need a special diet! Long pig they call it, don’t they? Oh well, come on, Sergeant, or we’ll be missing our train.’
As he reached the door he couldn’t resist a final crack.
‘I don’t suppose you’ll be calling the Yard in again if you get another murder, will you, sir? Not when you’ve got your own “private eye” up at Irlam Old Hall, eh? Miss Sherlock Holmes Freel, the wonder woman detective. Cannibals? That’s a ripe one that is!’
[1]‘Inspector Dover and the Spilt Milk’ – this case has not been and will not be published at any price.