‘Fixed it myself,’ Don Glover said briefly.
With a curt nod he strode out of the room. A minute later the Capri roared into life, gave a bucketing leap and shot off.
‘Worth a week’s pay, that was,’ Pike remarked unexpectedly, and promptly reddened at having spoken out of turn.
Pollard sat down astride an upright chair, clasping the back with both hands.
‘Tell us all about the bellicose but rattled Mr Glover,’ he said.
He listened with keen interest to an account of numerous and financially successful business enterprises, and determined attempts to climb the social ladder.
‘A governor of St Julitta’s?’ he exclaimed in some surprise.
‘That’s right, sir. They’ve had a lot of building done up there, and he’s had the contract most times. Mind you, his work’s good, and I reckon he’s often been a help to them with advice over the place. I’d say that’s how they came to take his daughter as a day scholar. They only have a few of those — just the local gentry. Then he gave a big sum to their appeal fund, and, well, they more or less had to have him on the board, by the look of it.’
‘What do you suppose he was up to on Friday night?’ Pollard asked. ‘Could it be a bird over at Biddle Bay?’
Pike scratched his head.
‘I wouldn’t think so, sir. Very devoted couple, Mr and Mrs Glover, for all that she’s a quiet little mouse of a woman. He’d go blasting around twice as much again if it weren’t for her. I can’t figure out what he was so het up about. That yarn about his windscreen wiper didn’t ring true, not to me, it didn’t. He’s that reckless on the road I don’t see him turning back for a thing like that.’
Pollard considered.
‘If you’ll excuse me, sir, there’s a report I’d like to make. I called on a Mrs Coates this morning. Her husband’s a bank manager in Winnage: very reliable couple, they are, living next to the Vicarage. They went over to Biddle Bay last Friday night, to dinner with some friends, and were driving back into the village just on half-past eleven. They saw a man come out of either the drive entrance to the school, or Mr Horner’s, but were too far away to say which. Then the man started walking in their direction, and when they got close, they saw it was Mr Medlicott, the gentleman that does the accounts at the school. He lives in one of the new bungalows out on the Biddle road.’
Pollard raised his eyebrows, and looked at Toye.
‘Surprisingly popular, that end of the village last Friday night, from the look of things. It’s time we put you in the picture, Pike.’
He summarized their visit to St Julitta’s, the finding of the strip of scarlet cloth in Beckon Cove, the coastguard’s opinion on the disposal of Wendy Shaw’s body, and the evidence of Jack Nancekivell and Mr Stubbs.
‘You must be thankful that Mr Stubbs goes over your head with his complaints against all and sundry,’ Pollard concluded. ‘How does Winnage take it?’
‘They soon got him sized up, sir, after he’d been in to see the Super once or twice. They just pass whatever it is on to me, and if it’s anything to take up, I make enquiries, and report back.’
‘Is there a Mrs Stubbs?’
‘Why, yes, sir, and some holds she’s worse than he is about what they call conserving the village. She drives folk up the wall at the WI, my wife says.’
‘Who else is there in the household?’
‘There’s only the two of them. Their son’s gone to live in Australia.’
‘Wise man, from the sound of it. So it’s not going to be all that easy to get satisfactory confirmation of the time Stubbs started out on Friday night, is it? You see how my mind’s working, Pike? What’s your reaction to the possibility of him being involved in the murder?’
Rather to Pollard’s surprise, Pike showed no astonishment, but considered the question carefully for several seconds.
‘I wouldn’t rule it out right away, sir,’ he replied cautiously, scratching his head again, and frowning heavily. ‘Mind you, I’ve no reason to think he’s a violent man, but you wouldn’t believe the state he gets into over litter, say, or a bit o’ rowdiness, holiday times. Proper steamed up and all of a sweat. And if he comes on a young couple having a go, you’d think the world was coming to an end, the way he carries on. I reckon he’s a bit of a Peeping Tom. If I was Chairman up at the school in Mr Cary’s place, I’d a lot rather have Mr Glover on the board than Mr Stubbs, for all that he’s for ever shooting off his mouth.’
‘How many more possible suspects are connected with that school, do you think?’ Pollard asked Toye. ‘The best thing that could happen from my point of view would be for my aunt to have been seen hanging around on Friday night. Then I could ask to be relieved of the blasted case!’
8.
It shall be what o’clock I say it is.
The Taming of the Shrew, Act IV Scene I
On their way to Winnage to interview Geoff Boothby, Pollard and Toye turned down a minor road and parked in a gateway. Here they drew up a timetable for the night of Wendy Shaw’s murder, at first working independently as their habit was, and finally pooling results. Using the back of his briefcase as a writing desk, Pollard made a fair copy.
‘How’s that?’ He handed it over to Toye, who propped it on the steering wheel, and instantly became immersed.
Unemployed for the moment, Pollard got out of the car and rested his arms along the topmost bar of the gate. The field inside had been down to oats, already harvested and carried. The stubble was laced with vivid green weeds, and starred here and there with the scarlet of persistent poppies. After an overcast morning the sun had broken through, and soft white clouds moved slowly over a pale blue sky. There was a tang of autumn in the air, and from far above filaments of lark song drifted down, treble to the steady bass of a combine crawling over a neighbouring field. Pollard let out a contented sigh, letting it all wash over him. At a movement in the car behind him he turned reluctantly.
‘Nothing left out that I can see,’ Toye said.
Pollard got in and sat beside him. With the timetable between, them, they lit cigarettes.
FRIDAY AUGUST 20th
PM
7.00 Horner and daughter leave by car for Stoneham.
8.00 Wendy Shaw takes a telephone call: caller Aunt Is.
9.45 Stubbs claims to have started out in car.
9.50 Film show ends at St J’s. Boothby goes out.
10.15 approx. Horner rings Uncharted Seas from Stoneham and gets no answer. Stubbs claims Boothby’s car comes out of UC’s drive.
10.20 approx. Boothby enters bar of King William, followed by Stubbs.
10.25 approx. Stubbs says Glover drove past pub heading for Biddle Bay Road. Glover confirms this.
10.30 approx. Boothby leaves pub.
10.45 Glover thinks he arrived home.
11.30 approx. Coates see Medlicott coming out of either Horner’s or St J’s drive.
11.40 Horner and Townsends return to bungalow.
11.55 Horner rings Mrs Makepeace.
SATURDAY AUGUST 21st
AM
12.10 approx. Michael Jay goes up to bed.
QUERIES
(1) Did Stubbs actually leave home earlier?
(2) Was he parked alongside the Biddle Bay road from the time he arrived until a few minutes before 10.15, as he claims?
(3) Where did Boothby go when he came out of the pub?
(4) Where was Glover between 10.25 pm and his return home?
(5) Where was Medlicott coming from at 11.30 pm?
‘At the moment,’ Pollard said, after a pause, ‘we’ve got to leave these queries for Pike and Co to work on. Let’s try a different approach. I’ll think up a case against each of these blokes, and you try to knock it down. Our usual roles, in fact. Here goes with Boothby. On your reckoning, and allowing, say, a couple of minutes for getting away after the film show, he could have got up to Uncharted Seas several minutes before ten. Fifteen minutes to strangle the girl, heave the body over into
Beckon Cove, collect the handbag, and have a near miss with Stubb’s car by 10.15. Tight, but just possible.’
‘Barely,’ Toye objected. ‘Doesn’t it assume she had her coat and bag all ready to go out with him, which doesn’t tie up with the sort of girl she seems to have been. And could he have got clear of the school in two minutes?’
‘Assume objections granted, then. Did he pay a return visit after having a stiffener at the pub, and get rid of the body then? Or even do the job then?’
Toye gave this suggestion careful consideration, referring to the timetable.
‘It’s possible on paper. Glover said he didn’t see anybody on his return trip, and they could easily have missed. Boothby may have sat in his car for a bit.’
‘Yes, they could. And the fact remains that Boothby’s known to have been in touch with Wendy, while we don’t so far know that of any of these other chaps. Let’s go on to Stubbs. See Queries (1) and (2). Surely this dog-exercising on a pouring wet night’s a bit thin, especially for anyone getting on a bit?’
Toye was doubtful. It was staggering what people would do for their dogs. Give him a cat any day. Leads its own life, and doesn’t thank you for butting in.
‘We’ll give him the benefit of the doubt, then. But there’s Pike’s opinion of him, which is interesting. I’d say there were some hefty repressions there, wouldn’t you, and sex could quite well come into it. On the other hand, there’s no evidence so far that he’d ever met Wendy. If not, and he went up to the bungalow for some other reason, what was it?’
‘Might have wanted to see Horner about litter, or something. Could he have come on Boothby and Wendy Shaw going the pace in the sand dunes sometime, or in Boothby’s car? That would’ve knocked him for six, according to Pike.’
‘You’re getting quite imaginative,’ Pollard remarked. ‘It’s an idea. But if it was Boothby and Wendy, it must have happened on Thursday, at least, because of that expedition on the Friday, and I can’t see Stubbs waiting all that time to break the news to Horner. If it was just litter, or something of that sort, wouldn’t he have rung Horner? Perhaps not. You can be choked off more easily on the blower. Make a note to ask Horner if he had any dealings with Stubbs, though.’
Toye made a careful entry in his notebook.
‘Now for Glover,’ Pollard resumed. ‘It’s just struck me that we don’t know what time he started out on the trip through the village, or how he spent the earlier part of the evening, say from eight onwards. What do you think about Glover having committed the murder earlier, and gone back to dump the body in Beckon Cove? Not much, do you? Your face is an open book.’
‘This going back idea doesn’t make sense to me, sir. Much too risky.’
‘You know, I think Boothby might have killed her on impulse, panicked and then pulled himself together and made a move to save his skin after his double whiskey. I agree the idea doesn’t tick where Glover’s concerned. And if he’d done the whole job earlier on, I don’t see him revisiting the neighbourhood so soon. But all the same, what was he doing over there? That story about a trip to see a chap on business and the windscreen wiper just stinks. We’d better look into where he was from eight o’clock onwards.’
Toye made a further note.
‘Finally, Medlicott, the chap who wasn’t at all pleased to see us this morning. According to Mrs Makepeace, even if he was at the film show, he didn’t stay on for the eats afterwards. So why was he coming away from the school as late as eleven-thirty?’
‘Meaning he was more likely to be coming away from Horner’s?’ Toye asked. ‘Mightn’t there have been quite a lot of bookwork to do as the Fortnight affair was winding up the next day?’
‘So pressing that it couldn’t wait till the next morning? And if he went to work in his office, it seems odd that Mrs Makepeace didn’t know about it. I’m sure she would have mentioned it when his name came up this morning. But of course, he might simply have gone over to St J’s to fetch a book or something. Here again, there’s no known contact with Wendy Shaw. Boothby’s much the most likely candidate, isn’t he? I suppose we’d better push along and see him…’
Toye turned the car, and edged out on to the main Kittitoe-Winnage road. Pollard was silent for some miles, having suddenly been seized with qualms at not having contacted the Winnage police as soon as Boothby had been mentioned by Marcia Makepeace. Perhaps it had been a mistake to wait until Nancekivell and Stubbs had seen the photograph. Suppose the chap had done a bunk? On the other hand, one mustn’t go into an interview with the outcome prejudged… It was a relief to learn on arrival at the police station that Boothby was at his parents’ home, with the engine of his car partly dismantled.
Over cups of tea Superintendent Bostock provided some background information. The Boothbys were highly respectable, and quite comfortably off. Mr Boothby Senior was the Town Architect, and Mrs Boothby a leading light in local good works. The son had gone to Winnage Grammar School, and won a scholarship to Birmingham University. He was now a teacher at Warhampton Comprehensive. There was nothing against him locally, except a minor motoring offence a few years back. No drugs, or getting mixed up with cranks. He’d had one or two girlfriends, but nothing had come of it. He seemed more interested in cars than girls. Went to rallies, and so on.
‘Thanks very much,’ Pollard said. ‘All that’s very useful when it comes to tackling him. If he won’t play at all, we may bring him along here, and put him through it. We may want to play it cool at this stage, but have an eye kept on him. Could you fix that?’
Superintendent Bostock thought this could be managed.
The Boothbys lived in a moderate-sized modern house, standing in a well-kept garden. A short drive curved round to the front door, sending a branch to a double garage. A sports car had been backed out of this, and a pair of legs in grimy blue jeans were protruding from the driver’s seat.
‘Triumph Two,’ Toye muttered. ‘Quite a nice job.’
As he approached with Pollard, the legs became animated, and the owner’s body rose into view. A young man somewhere in his middle twenties confronted them. Mentally divesting him of a good deal of untidy light brown hair, Pollard registered a good brow and a pair of intelligent hazel eyes. In these a quick surmise was replaced by defensiveness. ‘Mr Geoffrey Boothby?’ Pollard asked.
The young man nodded without speaking.
Pollard introduced Toye and himself with the usual formula.
‘We are conducting the enquiry into the murder of Miss Wendy Shaw,’ he added, ‘and think you may be able to help us with some information.’
Geoff Boothby remained poker-faced.
‘Better come inside,’ he said gruffly. ‘Everybody’s out.’
He put down the spanner he was holding, and led the way into the house, and what appeared to be the family sitting room. The exaggerated contrast with that of the Shaw family flashed through Pollard’s mind. Here was freshness and colour, comfort, flowers, photographs, and a litter of people’s belongings: books and periodicals, a chessboard with a game in progress, some knitting and a dog basket with a rubber bone in it. A large television set occupied one corner. It struck Pollard that grubby and unkempt though he looked, Geoff Boothby seemed perfectly at home in this setting. Not all that way out, he thought, and going to play it dumb.
‘Mr Boothby,’ he opened, ‘I propose to ask you some questions about your movements last Friday night. It is my duty to tell you that you are entitled to have a solicitor present if you wish to send for one.’
Geoff Boothby flung himself back in his chair, his arms behind his head.
‘No thanks,’ he replied.
‘Very well. It’s entirely up to you. When did you first meet Wendy Shaw?’
The question was unexpected. The young man wrinkled his brow for a moment.
‘Sixth of August,’ he said.
‘Where was this meeting?’
‘At old Horner’s place at Kittitoe.’
‘How did you both come to be there?�
�
‘Wendy was working for Horner’s daughter. He’d asked the staff of the Fortnight up to drinks the night before it started.’
‘Was anyone else present?’
‘Mrs Makepeace, the school housekeeper. The chap who does the accounts for them, and his wife. Another man came in later. Glover, I think the name was.’
Pollard sensed Toye’s interest.
‘Did you see much of Wendy Shaw at this party?’
‘Depends what you mean by much?’
‘Let’s put it another way, then. Did this first meeting lead to others?’
Geoff Boothby stared at his dirty canvas shoes.
‘We met again, yes.’
Laboriously Pollard extracted admissions to outings in the car, and a couple of drinks at the King William.
‘Why did Wendy tell Mr Horner and Mrs Townsend that she was going out with a girl friend from home?’ he asked.
‘Because of her mother.’
‘OK,’ Pollard said, ‘I’ve met Mrs Shaw.’
For the first time Geoff Boothby showed signs of recognizing him as a human being. Their eyes met.
‘Enough said, then.’
‘Perhaps I’d better fill in,’ Pollard replied. ‘Stop me if you don’t agree. Mrs Shaw, for reasons connected with her past life, was abnormally demanding and possessive towards Wendy, who had so far found it impossible to break away. Am I right?’
‘If you can call an understatement like that right. The woman’s a bloody vampire. Wendy hadn’t even begun to live…’
‘I suggest,’ Pollard went on, ‘that almost from your first meeting with Wendy, you tried to persuade her to make a break with her mother and start having a life of her own.’
‘All right,’ Geoff Boothby muttered, after a pause. ‘If you must know, I wanted to marry her.’
‘Did she agree to this?’
‘No. The bitch of a mother had conditioned her into thinking she’d got to stick with her.’
‘When was the last time you saw Wendy, Mr Boothby?’
‘Thursday evening. The night before she — she died.’
No Vacation From Murder Page 10