“Do the police expect to make an arrest pretty soon?” asked Ferdinand, referring to what, to him, was the practical side of the business.
“In answer to your question, my dear Ferdinand, I am bound to admit that, so far, we have nothing to put before a jury, I’m afraid, although there are one or two interesting points which might repay investigation, for, as you will see, we may venture to suggest where that lethal steel head could have been put on the javelin, and through whose agency.”
“Good Lord!” said Laura. “But that’s the thing in a nutshell, isn’t it?”
“Not quite, although Ferdinand’s researches, which I do hope have not taken up too much of his time…”
“Oh, no, I put a very experienced firm of private jacks on to it,” said Ferdinand. “They ferreted out most of what I’ve told you.”
“Well, they have occasioned in me some serious misgivings,” said Laura. “I thought, from Mrs. Croc’s hints”—she fixed an accusing eye on her employer—“that I’d begun to get a pretty clear idea of various possible murderers, and that it only remained to pick the right one, but now…”
“What were your conclusions, then?” asked Dame Beatrice, with an eldritch cackle.
“Medlar might have taken a chance, I thought,” said Laura, “if Jones was blackmailing him.”
“There is no evidence that Jones was blackmailing him to any serious extent. Jones had fine rooms and a large salary and seems to have been a law unto himself in many ways, but there is no evidence that he was ‘bleeding’ Mr. Medlar.”
“There was the Bertha Potts business.”
“What was that?” asked Ferdinand.
“She claimed that she was pregnant by Jones.”
“But, my dear Laura, that wouldn’t induce Medlar to murder him! After all, which would damage the College more—a bit of scandal of that sort, or a murder?” demanded Ferdinand.
“Brings us back to Potts himself, you think? Well, we can’t do anything about that. Potts is dead.”
“But not murdered, I think,” said Dame Beatrice. Laura looked at her in surprise.
“I thought that was a very open question,” she said.
“I thought so, too, at first, but I have altered my opinion since we talked to Ferdinand, although, of course, the javelin was taken to the forge with a request that it be altered.”
“Well, we know it wasn’t altered there.”
“And never could have been, as we also know.”
“Do go on,” said Ferdinand to Laura. “I always find your deductions interesting.”
“I didn’t really make any more. I’d thought of Barry, of course, for the reason I gave you. He must have been livid when Colin was injured through Jones’s malicious stupidity. It wasn’t only that he was fond of the boy—over-fond, perhaps, judging by his previous reputation, now that we know what it was—but he had hopes of turning out a really first-class long-jumper. I suppose Colin will be able to take up athletics again?” Laura added, turning to Dame Beatrice.
“I do not know. The young and fit have marvellous powers of recuperation, but his injuries will take some time yet to right themselves.”
“But what about the other boy?” asked Ferdinand.
“Kirk? Well, I suppose, whoever the murderer was, if Kirk was blackmailing him and making him bring those drinks to the College under threat of exposing him to the police, well, there’s as good a motive as any.”
“Yes, that’s obvious, of course, but I still don’t know who the murderer is.”
“I’d also wondered about Miss Yale,” went on Laura. “Hamish said in one of his letters that he’d asked Miss Yale why she was content to look after a few wretched little maladjusted females at Joynings instead of taking on what he considered would be a worthwhile job for a woman of her capabilities. Of course we know the answer to that now, but I didn’t at the time.”
“But why should she murder Jones?” asked Ferdinand. “There would have to be a reason.”
“There could have been, as I saw it. Jones was known to be a pest with women. I think that if Miss Yale had thought Jones was making a set at any of her wretched chicks she would have murdered him quite cheerfully.”
“I think she might have been inhibited, you know, so far as causing the death of another person was concerned,” said Dame Beatrice. “She already had two deaths on her conscience.”
“Yes, it turned out that she had been warned, before she set out on that mountain scramble, about unfavourable weather conditions,” said Ferdinand, “but decided she knew better and so refused to change her plans and took a calculated risk which ended in tragedy and also ended her chosen career.”
“I did just toy with the thought of Lesley, too,” said Laura, “because Jones probably tried to make himself a nuisance there as well.”
“Dear me!” said Ferdinand, laughing. “In your opinion, the female of the species is indeed deadlier than the male! However, you argued pretty logically, I would say, except that, as my mother has pointed out, it was not to any of these people’s advantage to bring scandal and, no doubt, subsequent ruin on the College.”
“People don’t always think about things like that,” retorted Laura, “when they really get desperate.”
“Very true,” said Dame Beatrice. “Well, let us sleep on it. We may need to be up betimes in the morning. Meanwhile, my dear boy, I should like to use your telephone, if I may.”
“The inspector has arrested a man on suspicion of having removed property from enclosed premises with the intention of converting it to his own use?” asked Henry. “The police wish to have a confrontation in the presence of the whole staff? But why, Dame Beatrice? Nobody, so far as I know, has reported anything missing.”
“Perhaps not, Mr. Henry. Nevertheless, concerning this arrest, the inspector and I both feel that we shall be in a stronger position if any of the staff can supply corroborative evidence.”
“I think you will find we shall be loyal to one another, Dame Beatrice.”
“But disloyal to the truth, and disloyal to the innocent?” asked Dame Beatrice. “I think you should realize, Mr. Henry, that, since the deaths of Mr. Jones and the lad Kirk, everybody here, whether student or lecturer, has been, to some extent, under suspicion.”
“I don’t care, all the same, for the criminal to be unmasked in public.”
“His trial will take place in public.”
“Well, I’ll see what Gassie has to say, but I don’t think he will be any keener on a staff-meeting show-down than I am.”
“Your scruples do you infinite credit, and I share your sentiments, Mr. Henry. Nevertheless, justice must be seen to be done, and, when it is done, I am sure that you and Mr. Gascoigne will be the last to regret it.”
“Anything which touches the good name of Joynings is a matter for regret, Dame Beatrice, and enough harm has been done to the College already by the reports—exaggerated, in many cases—of these terrible murders.”
“Suppose I told you that the College will benefit from what you call this show-down?”
“I hardly see how that can be, unless it proves that none of us was involved.”
“Well, that may be possible, up to a point. You have had your failures as well as your more numerous successes with your students, I take it?”
Henry looked perplexed.
“I thought you had decided that the murderer was not a student,” he said. “I thought the fact that no student could get at a key to the steel-fronted store-cupboard which houses some of the apparatus for the field events proved that.”
“The murderer was already in possession of a key, Mr. Henry.”
“Jonah’s key, do you mean? Oh, no, that’s impossible. He might have got hold of it for the shot which killed Kirk, but not for the javelin, surely!”
“You are right. Forgive me for not enlightening you further, but the inspector and I have an agreement that nothing beyond what I have told you is to be disclosed until the meeting.”
�
��Where am I to ask Gassie to hold it? In the senior common room? In one of the lecture rooms? In his office or his sitting-room?”
“Well, as the inspector will already have made his arrest, we think that the only place is the local police station. We shall not require the presence of Hamish, Martin, Celia and Jerry, but everybody else should put in an appearance.”
“Including Miss Yale and Lesley? A police station is hardly the place for ladies!”
“I shall be there in the role of duenna,” said Dame Beatrice solemnly.
It was a subdued and somewhat apprehensive group of two women and three men who, given seats, awaited the confrontation which they had been warned to expect.
“Have you any idea of what is going to happen, sir?” asked Barry. Gascoigne coughed.
“Gassie, my dear fellow,” he said. “Not ‘sir’ but ‘Gassie.’ We are all friends here until the criminal is unmasked. That is what we have been promised—that the criminal will be unmasked. Needless to say, I have the utmost confidence in all of you.”
“That’s as well,” said Miss Yale, who was seated next to him, “because I don’t think I ever in my life felt less confidence in myself.”
At this moment there was a slight but mysterious interruption. A uniformed policeman opened the door and ushered in Jerry.
“Hullo,” said Henry. “To what are we indebted?”
“We thought you were one of those without a stain on your character,” said Lesley. “Why have you been thrust in with all of us gaolbirds?”
Jerry found a vacant chair and sat down.
“I’ve no idea why I’ve been sent for,” he said. “I had a phone call, about ten minutes after you lot had started for the town, telling me to get my car out and join you here. I say, what’s on? Does anybody know?”
The inspector came in and counted heads.
“Everybody present?” he asked. “Right.” He turned his head towards the open doorway. “Very good, Ryder. You can bring him in.” As a police constable and a tall young man entered, Gascoigne exclaimed, in a startled, incredulous tone,
“Good heavens, Merve! What are you doing here?”
“You recognize this man, then, do you, Mr. Medlar?” asked the inspector.
“Certainly. This is Mervyn, who was once one of my students and, later on, joined my staff.”
“Quite so, sir. Now, does anybody recognize this?” The inspector laid on the table a pistol.
“Looks like one of my starting-guns,” said Jerry, bending forward to inspect it.
“You may handle it,” said the inspector. “We’d better be quite sure.”
“Oh, yes, it’s mine all right,” said Jerry. He handed it to Henry. “What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s the Webley Conversion .38, of course,” said Henry. “We’ve got a fire-arms certificate for it,” he added. “Where did you get it, Inspector?”
“From Mervyn Sharp, alias Harper, here, when we frisked him.”
“But where did he get it?” asked Jerry.
“From the same cupboard as he got the javelin and the shot, sir.”
“You’re a liar!” snarled the prisoner, speaking for the first time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ryder?” said the inspector, turning to the impassive young constable.
“Taken from Sharp when Police Constable Bellairs and I frisked him upon arrest, sir.”
“Well, why shouldn’t I have a starting-gun?” demanded the prisoner. “It isn’t loaded.”
“Neither is it yours,” the inspector pointed out. “These two gentlemen have declared that it is the property of Mr. Jerry Wicks here.”
“The property of Joynings College, as a matter of fact,” said Gascoigne primly. “Jerry is not the owner.”
“Ah, yes,” said the inspector. “That means that the charge on which I’m holding Sharp is of being on enclosed premises with intent to rob and, further, with intent to murder, both of which intents he has carried out. I shall now formally…”
Before he could finish the sentence, Sharp had leapt from the side of the young police-constable, seized the pistol, which Henry had put down dangerously near that end of the table, and had shot himself in the chest.
“Oh, hell!” said the inspector. “You young fool, Ryder! You ought to have known it was loaded. Quickly! Get a doctor! No. Get Dame Beatrice. She’s in the waiting-room. She’s a doctor!”
They were back in the senior common room at Joynings. Lunch was over and coffee was being served.
“Oh, yes, Sharp will live to stand trial,” said Dame Beatrice. “His attempted suicide was tantamount to a confession, which is just as well, since the evidence we have is not as complete as the inspector would wish.”
“But how did you come to fix on Merve?” asked Miss Yale. “Of course, he’s the obvious choice, when one comes to think of it, but I never even thought of him.”
“The idea that an outsider was the murderer first came to me when Mr. Henry told me that the whole College was in Hall for Thursday dinner. That fitted in very well with the estimated time of death. I must admit, though, that it was a long time before I thought of Sharp,” Dame Beatrice modestly replied. “I think the first clue I received was when I was told that Sharp, having been advised that he was not to return here when he was discharged from hospital, had been given a post in his uncle’s steel works. That tied in with the lethal head which had been put on that javelin. Then there was the question of motive.”
“Several of us might be thought to have had a motive for murdering Jonah,” said Barry, grimly. “Myself, for one.”
“Yes, you were on my short list for a time,” said Dame Beatrice equably; “so was Mr. Medlar.”
“I?” cried Gascoigne, aghast. “Oh, but, really!” Dame Beatrice fixed on him a basilisk eye. “I had my reasons for suspecting you,” she said, “as you should know, Mr. Medlar. It was abundantly clear that, to some extent, you were being blackmailed by your brother-in-law.”
“I grudged poor Davy nothing!” cried Gascoigne.
“Well, you and Mr. Barry were my chief suspects, as I say,” Dame Beatrice went on, “but what with the steel works, plus Sharp’s previous reputation and the fact that he had been a student here…”
“And so knew all the ropes, even before he came on to the staff,” said Jerry, “and was a bad hat, anyway…”
“And might, I thought, have retained his key to the store-cupboard. Then he could also have found out that Miss Yale had a key which would open the heating-cellar. He had a motive for hating Jones and Mr. Medlar. One had been given the gymnastics post which he had expected would be his, the other had not only given that post away, but had subsequently dismissed him from the staff altogether. He fully intended, when opportunity offered, to kill the one and ruin the other.”
“But how did he know that the students had shut Jonah up in the stoke-hole?” asked Martin. “That’s what’s been such a mystery to me, and that’s why my private opinion had always been, until now, that one of the students must have killed Jonah.”
“I think, but cannot prove, that Sharp had kept in touch with one of the students,” Dame Beatrice replied.
“Paul-Pierre, for my money,” said Celia. “They were as thick as thieves when Merve was on the staff. Merve spent most of his time coaching P-P. That’s why his swimming has come on so well, I expect.”
“You mean that the French youth was an accessory to murder?” asked Henry.
“I do not suppose Paul-Pierre thought of murder,” said Dame Beatrice, “but he knew that Sharp hated Mr. Jones and he probably decided that it would add a little more excitement to the so-called rag if Sharp got into the cellar and attacked its unwilling inmate.”
“But the javelin,” said Miss Yale. “Merve couldn’t have got the job on the javelin done in that short space of time. Jonah was only in the cellar a couple of days before he was killed, I thought.”
“Oh, I think Sharp had stolen the javelin long before he
killed Mr. Jones with it,” said Dame Beatrice. “Mr. Henry has made it clear that not more than six javelins were ever in use at any one time, and that, under his somewhat lax supervision, the javelin-throwers always chose their own implements. The fact that one was missing for a time seems to have gone unnoticed. It was a mistake on Sharp’s part to put it back on the rack.”
“So you think that was Merve,” said Martin. “I thought the students who buried the body put the javelin back.”
“So did I, at first,” Dame Beatrice admitted, “but as it became clear that they had no possible access to that particular cupboard, I was compelled to change my mind.”
“But why did he return the javelin to store,” asked Lesley, “if it was such a stupid thing to do?”
“Once he had committed murder with it, his only idea was to get rid of it in a way which did not give any lead as to his previous possession of it, I suppose,” said Henry. “How did you come to spot it so quickly, Miss Yale?”
“Because I had known for some weeks that one of your javelins was missing,” the redoubtable woman replied, “but, as it was one of your eight, and not one of my four, I did not bother about it. However, as soon as the emphasis was on javelins, I thought of the missing one, and, of course, there it was, new steel point and all, the perfect weapon for murder. A long, sharp spear, eight and a half feet between killer and victim, one good shove, and Bob’s your uncle.”
“And that little rat Kirk—sorry, didn’t think!” said Lesley.
“Yes. Kirk was on his way—or so he thought—to the women-students’ quarters after dinner that night and saw Sharp, I think,” said Dame Beatrice. “He knew him well, of course, since it was only a matter of weeks since Sharp had left the College, first to go into hospital and then to be dismissed. When Mr. Jones was found dead, Kirk, who was under no illusion about Sharp’s antagonism against the man who had usurped his gymnastics post, put two and two together and began to blackmail Sharp into providing the drinks and cigarettes.”
“And Paul-Pierre, I suppose, tipped off his former swimming-coach, so that Sharp knew where Jonah was incarcerated,” said Miss Yale, “and I expect he was also the student who terrorized Kirk into going on providing the drinks after Jonah’s death. What a nasty bit of work he is! Shall you keep him here, Gassie?”
A Javelin for Jonah (Mrs. Bradley) Page 19