by Joyce Porter
‘Blimey!’ said Dover, putting on quite a good act of extreme surprise. ‘That’s a funny sort of attitude to take, isn’t it?’ He caught Superintendent Underbarrow’s eye and after some elaborate head jerking and eyebrow wiggling got the message over. Very quietly the superintendent closed the door.
‘Whether it is funny or not depends entirely upon your sense of humour,’ replied Wing Commander Pile, as unbending as ever. ‘Frankly, I am not very much concerned with what you think.’ He turned round to find the door shut and Superintendent Underbarrow leaning casually but solidly against it. His eyes narrowed as he turned back to address Dover. ‘May I ask what you imagine you are playing at?’
‘I’m not playing at anything,’ said Dover smoothly and twirled a chair round so that he could sit astride it with his arms resting on the back. ‘Me, I don’t think two murders is a game. You won’t either, you know. Twenty years in the nick sewing mailbags ain’t no picnic.’
Wing Commander Pile’s face softened into a granite smile. ‘You are not being so stupid as to accuse me of murder, are you?’
‘Yes,’ said Dover.
‘You must be mad!’
‘I’ll tell you exactly what happened,’ offered Dover obligingly, ‘then we’ll see how mad I am.’
Wing Commander Pile’s eyes flickered uncertainly round the room. ‘I refuse to say another word without my solicitor.’
‘Very wise,’ agreed Dover blandly. ‘In your position, I’d do the same. But nobody’s asking you to say anything. We just want you to listen, that’s all. Why don’t you sit down?’
‘I prefer to stand, thank you.’
‘Suit yourself.’ Dover ground out his cigarette stub with his boot and lit himself another. ‘We’ll take the murder of Walter Chantry first because that’s where it all started. Now, Chantry rescues you and your daughter from your house. No argument about that, is there? It’s my guess that you’d have liked to have done for him there and then but it was too risky. There were other people beginning to knock about and a dead body on your own doorstep might have led to a few too many awkward questions. Then there was your daughter. You wouldn’t have wanted her to be a witness to murder, would you? Apart from anything else, you couldn’t rely on her to keep her mouth shut. I know you do your utmost to keep her away from other people but you can’t keep guard twenty-four hours a day. Sometimes there’s a slip-up. Like this lunch-time with Lickes. So, for the moment, you had to let Chantry go.’
Wing Commander Pile changed his mind. He sat down, calmly crossing his legs and folding his arms. ‘What utter nonsense!’
‘Your first concern was to get rid of your daughter. Mrs Lickes obliged and brought the girl back to the hotel here. That left you free to go after Chantry. You couldn’t afford to wait. Chantry had to be killed either before he’d time to put two and two together or before he’d had the opportunity to tell anybody else that the answer was four. The earthquake had spelt disaster for you, but you’re sharp enough to turn disaster into advantages. In all that confusion and upheaval you reckoned you’d got a fair chance of murdering Chantry and getting away with it. And so’ – Dover preened himself – ‘you would – if they hadn’t sent me down. Bad luck for you, but that’s life, isn’t it? Right – well – you tell Lickes and the Hooper lad that you’re going back to your house to get some clothes and things before joining in with the rescue work. That gets them out from under your feet and they clear off towards the Sally Gate. Now, the next bit I’m guessing but I reckon you did go back to your house and get some clothes. It would be the sensible thing to do before you went after Chantry. You knew roughly where he’d gone because that son-in-law of his had told you. You followed after him, caught up with him and croaked him. That’s where you made your first mistake.’
‘Really?’ said Wing Commander Pile with a sneer.
‘If you’d bashed his head in or held his face down in the mud, nobody would ever have known it was murder, would they? In the conditions after the earthquake, anybody could have had an accident and no questions asked. Just you remember that, laddie, when you get to thinking you’re infallible.’ Wing Commander Pile yawned elaborately behind his hand. ‘Is this going to take much longer?’ he asked.
Dover ignored the interruption. ‘As soon as you were satisfied that Chantry was dead, you nipped off double-quick and joined in with the rescue work like any other public-spirited citizen. All you had to do now was act normal and keep quiet. Everything was going your way. The rain kept pouring down so, if you’d left any traces, they’d all be washed away. And then you got a real bonus – the ground you’d left Chantry on started slipping away down the side of the hill in a sea of mud.’ Dover shook his head sadly. ‘If only you hadn’t been such a fool as to strangle him! It was such an amateurish mistake. We’d neither of us be sitting here now if only you’d used your loaf.’
Wing Commander Pile looked annoyed but said nothing. ‘So there it is,’ said Dover, opening MacGregor’s tin of cigarettes again. ‘And you made nearly as big a botch-up of killing Mrs Boyle, apart from the fact that you murdered the wrong person. I mean, fancy leaving that wire and the screws for forensic to get their greedy paws on! It may take a bit of time but they’ll trace ’em back to you, don’t you worry.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Wing Commander Pile.
‘Think you’ve covered your traces, do you?’
‘There are no traces to cover.’
‘Don’t you kid yourself! With your ham-fisted way of going on, a two-year-old baby’ll be able to pin ’em on to you.’ Dover leaned forward, sociably exhaling a mouthful of smoke in the wing commander’s face. ‘Do you know, if I put my mind to it, I could tell you a dozen ways of making somebody trip down those stairs without writing murder in big letters all over it. And I wouldn’t have turned that landing light out, either.’
‘Wouldn’t you?’ said Wing Commander Pile indifferently.
‘’Course not! I’d have found a dud electric light bulb and switched ’em over. ’Strewth, you didn’t even try to make it look like an accident.’
‘I didn’t try to make it look like anything for the simple reason that I had absolutely nothing to do with either the death of my dear friend, Walter Chantry, or of Mrs Boyle. I have, I am afraid, comparatively little knowledge of the law but it is my guess that you would not even obtain a warrant for my arrest on such flimsy grounds. Wild speculation is not evidence – and of this latter commodity you have not so far produced one scrap. If you intend to charge me, go right ahead. I understand one can extract extremely heavy damages from the police in cases of wrongful arrest.’
Superintendent Underbarrow squirmed. What a fool he’d been to let himself get mixed up in this. Pile was keeping as cool as a cucumber. He wasn’t going to crack, not in a month of Sundays he wasn’t. Superintendent Underbarrow had visions of himself being left holding a very nasty baby indeed.
Dover, on the other hand, was quite unperturbed. Admittedly, he hadn’t got Wing Commander Pile grovelling at his feet and begging for mercy but it was early days yet. He confidently anticipated a very different attitude when the going got really dirty. ‘So,’ he said, cocking his head at Wing Commander Pile, ‘you’re not prepared to sign a full confession?’
Wing Commander Pile looked back with a perfectly steady gaze and laughed.
‘It’d be to your advantage,' insisted Dover. ‘Save us raking all that muck up in open court.’
The sardonic twist faded from Wing Commander Pile’s lips. Even from behind, a pessimistic Superintendent Underbarrow could tell that Dover had at last struck oil. The wing commander cleared his throat. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Aw – come off it!’ advised Dover with gruesome good humour. ‘You must take me for a complete Charlie. You shouldn’t have tried to polish me off, you know. In fact, of all the mistakes you’ve made in your life of crime, I reckon that was your biggest. Started me thinking, you see.’
Wing Commander Pile stood up abruptly. ‘I am not goi
ng to listen to any more of this.’
Dover grinned unpleasantly. ‘No?’
Wing Commander Pile addressed himself to Superintendent Underbarrow. ‘Kindly stand aside!’
The superintendent eyed him shrewdly and gave Dover the benefit of what little doubt remained. He glanced at the candlestick to make sure that it was within easy reach and then, slowly and deliberately, shook his head.
‘Well, that’s that,’ said Dover as his hapless victim sat down again. ‘Now we can start discussing your motive. We needn’t bother our heads about why you had the infernal cheek to try and kill me because that’s obvious. You knew it was only a matter of time before I nabbed you so you hadn’t much choice.’ Wing Commander Pile gritted his teeth and tried, with decreasing expectation of success, to dominate the interview. ‘If it will speed things up at all, I am quite prepared to concede that whoever killed Mr Chantry probably tried to kill you for the reasons you mention. I can only repeat that it was not me.’ He looked at his watch. ‘My daughter is alone in her room. If anything happens to her, I shall hold you entirely responsible.’
‘I’ve told you you can bring her up here,’ said Dover.
‘No!’
‘Suit yourself! I shan’t be keeping you much longer but, I’m afraid, if you think you’re going to be reunited with Miss Pile, you’re in for a big disappointment.’
‘We’ll see about that. So far, all I’ve heard from you is a lot of vague talk. When are you going to produce some facts?’ Dover began to count on his fingers. ‘Fact number one: you murdered Walter Chantry. Fact number two: you murdered him because he was the man who dug you and your daughter out of the ruins of your house.’
‘A gesture of gratitude, I suppose?’ sneered the wing commander.
‘No,’ said Dover, refusing to be drawn, ‘a gesture of pure self-preservation. If there was one thing Walter Chantry was, it was strait-laced. Everybody says that. Being a chum of yours wouldn’t have counted for anything. He’d have done his duty and exposed you without batting an eyelid.’
Wing Commander Pile sat very still. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I don’t know exactly what or how much he saw,’ Dover went relentlessly on, ‘because we’ve only got your version of the actual rescue. My guess is that at the very least he saw you in bed with your daughter.’
There was a tense silence, relieved only by the deafening squeak of Superintendent Underbarrow’s boots as he leaned expectantly forward.
‘Do you realize what you are saying?’ In spite of all his efforts, Wing Commander Pile’s voice came out cracked and strained.
Dover didn’t answer.
Wing Commander Pile tried again. ‘You can’t prove it.’
‘That’s better!’ said Dover. ‘I’m glad we’re not going to waste time on any protestations of innocence.’ He lit another of MacGregor’s cigarettes and once again let the smoke drift into the wing commander’s face. Dover never missed the chance of kicking a man when he was down. ‘Now, proof!’ He dropped the match on the floor. ‘Your daughter’s bedroom was round at the back of the house, wasn’t it? Overlooking Sidle Alley?’
‘I refuse to answer any more questions!’ shouted Wing Commander Pile with such unexpected violence that both Dover and Superintendent Underbarrow jumped nervously.
‘All right, all right!’ said Dover, keeping a wary eye on his prey. ‘You don’t have to say anything. I shall call Mr Lickes as a witness. You stopped him taking his evening exercise along Sidle Alley, didn’t you, because you said he was spying on the girl when she was getting undressed. I dare say there are plenty of other people in the village who could swear to where her bedroom was so we shan’t have any difficulty there. You get the point, don’t you? If your daughter had been in her own room at the time of the earthquake, she’d probably have been killed because that part of the house collapsed immediately and was totally destroyed. As it was, she didn’t suffer more than a few scratches and Chantry rescued her from the front of the house. He never went near Sidle Alley because by the time he arrived on the scene all that part was already half-way down the hill. Any comments?’
Wing Commander Pile clenched his hands together to hide their trembling. ‘I don’t have to explain anything. I deny categorically that what you say is true but, even if it was, it wouldn’t prove anything. Linda could have been frightened by the earthquake and run into my room.’
Dover shook his head. ‘That won’t wash. She wouldn’t have had time. The earthquake struck without warning. Everybody says that. Besides, if it was all as innocent and above board as that, what did you kill Chantry for?’
The wing commander was not too distraught to spot the weakness in that particular piece of reasoning. ‘But you’re arguing in circles!’ he protested. ‘You say I murdered Mr Chantry because . . . because of what he saw and then you say he must have seen something because I killed him. It’s so illogical.’
‘It’ll do to fix you!’ rasped Dover, beginning to get cross.
‘I can’t believe you’re serious. You still haven’t produced one single scrap of evidence. I think you’re bluffing.’
Superintendent Underbarrow looked anxiously at Dover. The wing commander was proving an uncomfortably tricky customer and it was unnerving to hear him producing exactly the same arguments that the superintendent himself had raised earlier on. The moment had now come for Dover to produce the ace which he was supposed to have up his sleeve. Superintendent Underbarrow, a regular churchgoer and bridge player, offered up a fervent prayer that it wasn’t going to be trumped.
Dover was beginning to sweat a bit, too. If he’d realized it was going to be all this trouble, he’d never have started the blooming thing. When you’ve actually solved a murder case, the least you expect is that the guilty party will chuck his hand in after a decent interval. He glared resentfully at Wing Commander Pile. Oh well, off with the kid gloves. ‘You don’t think I’d get a conviction?’
‘Not in a thousand years!’ came the scornful reply.
‘So I’ll need a confession from you, won’t I?’
‘I should like to know how you propose to get it. What are we in for now? Brain washing? Torture? Third degree?’ Dover shook his head. ‘You’re going to give me one. Oh, you will, mate! I’ve got the whip hand – see? Now, I agree with you. I don’t think I’ve got enough evidence to persuade a jury to convict you of murder.’
‘At last!’
‘But I reckon I have got just about enough to charge you and bring you to trial.’
Wing Commander Pile frowned. ‘What would be the point of that?’
‘Oh, come on, laddie! Use your brains! There’s more ways of killing a cat than skinning it. I’m going to throw you to the lions. What do you think the newspapers are going to do to you, eh? They’ll flay you alive! An ex-officer having it off with his own mentally retarded daughter? ’Strewth, your name’ll stink from one end of the country to the other. This may be a permissive society, mate, but there are still some things the Great British Public won’t stomach.’
The wing commander shrank visibly from his chair. ‘You can’t do that,’ he muttered.
‘And think what they’ll do to your daughter,’ continued Dover with a ghastly chuckle. ‘They’ll question her, you know. Ask her if she ever slept in the same bed as daddy, what sort of things he . . .’
‘Stop it!’ screamed Wing Commander Pile. ‘You filthy, disgusting swine!’
‘Look who’s talking!’ jeered Dover. Now that he’d got his man on the run, his only concern was to pile on the pressure. ‘People who live in glass houses shouldn’t go around calling the pot black. You . . .’
The wing commander clamped his hands over his ears. ‘I won’t listen!’ he moaned. ‘I won’t listen to another word!’
‘You will, you know,’ retorted Dover, leaning across and dragging the wing commander’s arms down. ‘And don’t start any of the rough stuff! Mr Wheelbarrow here and me’d love to have an excuse for giving you a going-over
, you lousy punk. Besides, I’m offering you a way out, aren’t I? You wouldn’t want to miss that.’
‘A way out?’ gasped Wing Commander Pile, not sure that he had heard correctly. He clutched at Dover with shaking hands. ‘What do you mean, a way out?’
Dover unclasped his hands from his lapels and pushed the wing commander back in his chair. ‘I thought that’d interest you!’
‘What do I have to do? Just tell me! I’ll do anything, I promise you.’
‘Just sign a full confession admitting to the murders of Walter Chantry and Mrs Boyle.’
Wing Commander Pile stared at Dover in dismay. ‘Oh, no! No, I can’t do that! What good would it do?’
‘It would get you of! the hook, mate. I’m striking a bargain with you. You give me a signed confession and I’ll give you a guarantee that the question of motive won’t come out in open court.’
Wing Commander Pile gazed from side to side like a trapped animal. ‘I don’t quite understand.’
‘Look, if you plead guilty to Chantry’s murder, the court’s not going to go digging around just for the hell of it, is it? Give or take die odd word, they’ll accept your version of what happened. You can make up some sort of motive if you want. On the other hand, if you plead not guilty, it’s no holds barred. We’ll come out with the whole sordid story. Your daughter will certainly be questioned and she may even be called as a witness for the prosecution.’
‘My God!’ groaned Wing Commander Pile. ‘Oh, my God!’ He buried his face in his hands.
Superintendent Underbarrow stared at the heaving shoulders in front of him and felt rather sick. Poor devil. Whatever he’d done, you couldn’t help feeling story for him. It was somehow strangely humiliating to see a man being broken like this. The superintendent cancelled his plans for telling his wife all about the big moment when they caught the Sully Martin murderer.