A Javelin for Jonah (Mrs. Bradley)

by Gladys Mitchell

  “A dangerous, spiteful boy,” he said at its conclusion, “but why should he select James for this tale? James had nothing against poor Davy, had he?”

  “No. The fact is that James, at the beginning of his time here, had occasion to reprimand Kirk in a somewhat trenchant and forceful manner.”

  “Oh? Why was that?”

  “Kirk uttered an obscenity in front of a mixed class taking French.”

  “I see. I will speak to Kirk and order him to recant. We cannot have these slanderous accusations being bandied around the College. I need hardly say that I have every confidence in James. Nobody who knows him would place a scrap of credence in this wretched boy’s story.”

  “It might be as well for the police to hear it when they visit us again,” said Henry. He turned to Dame Beatrice. “Don’t you agree?”

  “I think you are right. It is better that they should hear it from us than that it should come to them in a roundabout way from a student.”

  “I think it might be better to let the story die a natural death, once I have interviewed Kirk and made him retract his accusation,” said the Warden.

  “In any case, nothing will be of very much importance until we know the verdict following the inquest,” said Dame Beatrice.

  “The verdict can be anticipated. It must surely be that of accidental death, followed by panic on the part of the student who caused it,” said the Warden. “All I am still hoping is that Dame Beatrice’s researches will uncover the unhappy culprit before the inquest takes place. It will save a great deal of trouble if we can help the coroner in such a way.”

  Dame Beatrice pursed up her little mouth and shook her head. The Warden’s expression changed. His unctuous look was replaced by one of concern and gravity.

  “You do not agree?” he asked.

  “I do not think it is our business to help the coroner. He would not appreciate our facing him with what he might regard as a fait accompli,” Dame Beatrice replied. “What is more, I feel certain that Master Kirk does know something important about Mr. Jones’s death, whether it concerns Hamish or not.”

  “Well, he’s an accomplished little snooper,” said Henry, “so it’s quite likely he’s seen or heard something, I suppose. He certainly knows that James and I went to the stoke-hole that night.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Speeches off the Record

  “I say,” said Martin to Hamish, when the meeting had broken up and they were back in Martin’s room, “is that handsome, fit-looking woman really your mother?”

  “So she has always told me. I am not at all flattered by your surprise and doubt.”

  “No offence. She doesn’t look old enough, that’s all. Tell me, what do you really think about this Jonah business?”

  “I think it was murder, premeditated, and carried out in cold blood.”

  “But by whom?”

  “Well, in a way, Medlar would be the likeliest suspect, I suppose, being next of kin and all that.”

  “That might be all right if it had been the other way about.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, I thought you murdered your rich relations, not your hangers-on. Jonah hadn’t a bean except his salary. He was always making indirect allusions to the fact that his sister had left every penny to Gassie.”

  “Well, being her husband, naturally Medlar would expect to come in for what she had to leave. I see no hardship for Jones in that.”

  “According to Jonah, she could have left him a few thousands and Gassie would never have missed them.”

  “Oh, well, if it was her money I suppose she had the right to do as she liked with it, and a husband or wife usually has the first claim.”

  “It was money which her parents had left her, though, and Jonah thought some of it—the bulk of it, in fact—should have come to him, not her.”

  “Why didn’t it? He was the son. It seems to me that it speaks for itself. I suppose the parents realised what a weak and vicious specimen he was.”

  “Vicious, maybe, but would you call him weak? He seems to have had Gassie well tied up. I mean, I know they were related and that Jones had done him some big favour or other in the past, but it isn’t Gassie’s style to let anything like that stand in the way of his reputation.”

  “You mean the reputation he gained through the College, I suppose. L’état, c’est moi. That kind of thing.”

  “Well, given a few more Berthas, Joynings’s name would soon be mud. It’s no longer the fashion to get the maids into trouble and then sack them.”

  “Was Bertha sacked?”

  “I don’t know, but she had to leave, so it comes to the same thing in the end.”

  “Well, hardly, but I see what you mean.”

  “Why does Gassie want that terrifying old lady to vet the students?”

  “That terrifying old lady is my godmother, so watch what you have to say about her. I think he meant exactly what he said. It will give the students something else to think and gossip about, besides Jones’s death.”

  “Funny that she and your mother should have picked this day of all days to visit you here,”

  “Coincidences do occur,” said Hamish, who had decided not to be drawn, even by his friend, into admitting that Dame Beatrice was at the College because he had asked her to investigate what appeared to be a case of murder.

  This was not the only conversation between members of the staff which was going on at the time.

  “I don’t much like it,” said Barry to Jerry.

  “Don’t like what?”

  “That old lady is a witch and, if you ask me, this is going to be a witch-hunt.”

  “That means witches being hunted. They didn’t do the hunting. As a matter of fact, I know all about her. She isn’t only a psychiatrist. She’s a brilliantly successful smeller-out of murderers.”

  “So what?”

  “Well, you don’t think Jonah’s death was accidental, do you?”

  “I most certainly do, and I suggest you begin thinking the same and convincing yourself that you’re right.”

  Jerry was silent and looked thoughtful. Then he said, awkwardly, “Well, anyway, I think you and Lesley both ought to watch your step.”

  Barry turned on him and angrily demanded, “Look here, what do you mean by that?”

  “All right. I’m talking as a pal, Barry, old man, so don’t take umbrage. Just cast your mind back a bit and think things over. You and Lesley have both opened your mouths a lot too wide, if you ask me,” said Jerry firmly.

  “But, good lord! I mean, nobody would think I’d do Jones in because of what happened to Colin!”

  “No, not because of that in itself, but you’ve made a few threatening remarks from time to time and people remember these things, particularly when the police begin questioning them.”

  “Oh, to hell with the police! All that we have to do is to stick to the theory of accident. A student, fooling about with a javelin, killed Jones and that’s the beginning and the end and the long and the short of it.”

  “What about the burial in the long-jump pit? Doesn’t that look like guilt?”

  “Put it down to panic, that’s the safest bet.”

  “Well, yes, one might get away with that. I can well understand that you don’t want your name connected with long-jump pits more than it is already.”

  “I’m damned if I can think what you mean!”

  “Well, think a bit harder. The police are going to hear all about Colin, you know, and they’re not going to let up until they’ve got to the bottom of what actually happened to Jonah. And what happened to Jonah was murder. I’m certain of that.”

  “Very well, stick your neck out and tell everybody, only don’t be surprised if you get your head chopped off. As for me, much as I detested Jonah, I don’t even know how to throw a javelin, damn it!”

  “That javelin didn’t have to be thrown,” said Jerry. “Don’t you realize that?”

  Barry stared at him, his fac
e whitening. “God!” he said. “Neither it did. Not with that head on it, no.”

  “What I’d like to know,” went on Jerry, “is when the point of the javelin was changed, apart from who changed it and why.”

  “With the workshops open until evening Hall, and often no supervision over the chaps who use them, it could have been done at any time during the past year or two, couldn’t it?”

  “No, it must have been done very recently, or Henry, or Ma Yale, or the students themselves would have spotted that a much heavier, sharper point had been put on one of the javelins. The fellow was a fool to put it back with the others. He should have taken damn good care to lose it.”

  “The students can’t get away from here, and, anyway, anybody carrying a dirty great spear about would look pretty conspicuous, wouldn’t he?”

  The third conversation between members of Gascoigne Medlar’s staff was carried on by Miss Yale and Lesley.

  “Well,” said Miss Yale, pouring hospitable drinks, “Celia is well out of this.”

  “Out of what?”

  “The hoo-ha over Jonah’s death and burial.”

  “Why is she? She couldn’t have had anything to do with it, even if she’d been in College at the time. She’s a swimming and diving expert, not a fancy spear-hurler. However the thing happened, and for whatever reason (unless it was an accident, and that’s what I’m perfectly prepared to believe), one of the students is responsible.”

  “Why are you so sure of that? Jonah was as unpopular with us as he was with them; even more so, perhaps, with some of us.”

  “Who, for example?” asked Lesley, staring hard at Miss Yale as she put this abrupt question.

  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  “Oh, well, I know I talked a bit wildly about those two girls of mine, but it was only to let off steam. You know that as well as I do. Come to that, I don’t think I’ve ever so much as touched a javelin, let alone knowing what to do with one if I got hold of it. If anybody on the staff chucked one at Jonah, I can think of far more likely people than myself who could have done it.” And she returned Miss Yale’s hard stare.

  “Me, for one,” said Miss Yale. “Actually, you know, I think we can rule ourselves and the women students out. A woman might use a dagger, but to stick a pig—well, it isn’t women’s work, say what you like. But, going back a bit, I don’t see why it shouldn’t have been an accident. Accidents do happen. One of the spectators at the sports last year was nearly killed by a hammer-thrower, and we’ve had quite a few near-misses with the discus at one time and another. All the same, though—”

  “What?” asked Lesley, looking anxious.

  “Whoever did it buried the body. Surely, if it had been merely an accident, the person responsible would have come charging into the senior common room for help?”

  “In any normal institution, yes, but supposing you’d already got something on your conscience? Some of the men-students have rather impressive records, haven’t they?”

  “Somebody did it by accident and simply panicked. Is that your idea?”

  “That’s what I’m going to think, and I advise you to do the same. It’s the hell of a nuisance that those two women had to turn up this afternoon.”

  “Why? The sooner Dame Beatrice can find out what really happened, whether Jonah was killed by accident or design, the sooner we can all forget about it and resume normal working.”

  “Much better if Gassie had decided to tell the tale to the authorities about a fatal accident which occurred at normal athletics practice, but that’s impossible now.”

  “He’d have had to find a scapegoat, even at that, though,” said Miss Yale, “and who’s going to own up to killing, however accidentally, an unpopular blackguard like Jonah? But why don’t you want a proper enquiry made? You haven’t got anything to hide, I hope?”

  “No more than you have,” said Lesley spitefully. “I shouldn’t think any of the staff (except the blameless James) want the police poking a nose into their affairs.”

  “You may be right, but there are degrees of guilt, I suppose.”

  “And what, exactly, do you mean by that?” Lesley’s hard stare had turned into a glare of hatred.

  “I’ll spell it out for you, although I’m sure there’s no real need,” said Miss Yale calmly, “by asking you a question. Why did you take a job here?”

  “Because I had the necessary qualifications and because the pay was good.”

  “Oh, yeah? And what about Sealcombe?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Hatred was replaced by alarm in Lesley’s lustrous eyes.

  “You do, you know—or shall I tell you?” asked Miss Yale.

  “If it comes to that, why did you take a job here?”

  “Same sort of reason.”

  “Does Gassie know about us?”

  “I daresay he does. We’re not the only ones who were glad of the chance to find a hiding-place. We’re here because he can trust us.”

  “You mean he deliberately employs people who…?”

  “Of course, we’ve still got to be first-class at our job. That goes without saying. Given that, however—yes, I think Gassie does deliberately employ us, as you put it. Gives him a fellow-feeling with us, I suppose.”

  “Do you mean that Gassie himself is…”

  “Officially, no. Unofficially, there was a lot of local stink about the death of his wife. Anyway, watch your step with this Bradley woman. It might be as well not to tell her too many lies. From all I’ve ever heard, she’s got second sight where liars are concerned.”

  “Thank you, I’m sure,” said Lesley bitterly.

  Henry and Dame Beatrice found Gascoigne Medlar in conference with Barry, Lesley and Miss Yale, for the conversation between the two women had been interrupted by a summons from the Warden.

  “So you may go ahead with the new landing-areas for jump and pole,” he was saying, “but please impress upon the students that they are very expensive items and must be treated with the greatest respect.”

  “I’m glad the landing-stuff for the high jump has come,” said Miss Yale. “I’ve a girl who will attempt the Fosbury Flop.”

  “I’ve got a lad who will do it, too,” said Barry. “Now that Colin’s sunk for the long-jump I can do with a good high-jump man, and if we have the landing-area our pole-vault may return to popularity.”

  “Well,” said Gascoigne, beaming upon his chief-of-staff, “you have Henry to thank for getting you the apparatus so quickly. Did you wish to see me in private, Dame Beatrice?”

  “Far from it, my dear Warden,” she replied. “We—Mr. Henry and I—have just received some disquieting news from a Mr. Kirk concerning my godson, Hamish Gavin. As I am convinced that the youth (although he is lying about Hamish) does have some knowledge of how Mr. Jones came to his death (or, more likely, to his burial), I should wish you to confront him and question him, if you will be so good.”

  “Kirk?” said the Warden. “Oh, yes, I know him. Not one of our most lovable characters, I’m afraid. What has he been saying about James?”

  “We would prefer that you heard it from his own lips, and that we were not present. I refuse to allow him to say that he was intimidated,” said Henry.

  “Ah, yes. I wonder, Barry, whether you will be good enough to chase the boy up and bring him over here?”

  “Certainly,” said Barry, smiling. “Coming, Lesley?”

  “I’ll come as well,” said Miss Yale grimly. “If this wretched youth does know something about Jonah’s death, there may be safety in numbers.”

  “Whatever do you mean by that?” asked Barry sharply. Miss Yale raised formidable eyebrows and did not answer. The three went off in search of Kirk and the Warden turned again to Dame Beatrice. “Am I to be given no clue to Kirk’s remarks concerning James?” he asked. “Perhaps I might hazard a guess. It is common knowledge that James re-catalogued my collection of trophies and mementoes. Does the misguided youth think that he removed my javelin
, daubed it with paint and placed it in the swimming-bath cubicle?”

  “What it amounts to,” said Henry, before Dame Beatrice could answer, “is that he suggests James killed Jonah.”

  “But that is too ridiculous a suggestion to be taken seriously,” said Gascoigne. “On the other hand, I do wish we could find out who did remove my javelin. I have the utmost confidence in James’s assertion that the key to my ante-room has been in no hands save his own and mine, so it is disturbing, to say the least, to realize that some unauthorized person has the means of entry.”

  “You might try Miss Yale’s key to the stoke-hole,” said Henry significantly. “I’ll go and get it, shall I? I know it has been returned to her, and I’ve an uneasy feeling that it may fit more than one lock in this place.” He went off upon his errand and had been gone less than two minutes when Miss Yale herself returned, but without her companions.

  “The students say that Kirk is down at the outdoor pool,” she said, “so Barry has gone over there to tell him to dress and report to you.”

  “And Henry has gone to impound your key to the heating-cellar,” said Gascoigne. “Do you happen to know whether it is a master-key of sorts? If so, I think you had better yield it up, unless you can think of a safer place in which to keep it. I cannot remember, at the moment, why you ever had a key to the heating-cellar.”

  “It dates from the time when we had the central-heating system altered,” said Miss Yale, “and we had to supply the foreman with a key so that he was able to let his men into the stoke-hole without having to bother the janitor or you for yours. When the job was finished he returned the extra key. I should have handed it over to you, I suppose, but I hung it on a hook with my lecture-room key and thought no more about it.”

  Henry returned with the key. It fitted not only the lock on the ante-room door, but the door of Gascoigne’s study as well.

  “Must be a master-key,” said Miss Yale. “Wonder what else it unlocks?”

  “Most perturbing. Most perturbing,” said Gascoigne. “I think we had better find out. Of course, whoever placed my javelin in that cubicle was acting merely in jest, but—oh, well, come along with me, Miss Yale, and let us test this Open Sesame of yours.”