By further questions Pollard elicited the information that Wendy had refused to meet again, but Geoff had announced that he was coming up to see her on the following evening, when she would be alone. She had replied that she would not let him in.
‘To save time,’ Pollard said, ‘we have proof that you did go up to the bungalow, at about ten o’clock. Did you see Wendy? This isn’t a trap: the police are not allowed to make false statements when questioning people.’
‘No, I didn’t see her. I can’t prove it, of course. Are you going to arrest me?’
‘If I were, I should have cautioned you. What I want from you now is a detailed statement of how you spent Friday evening, say from six onwards.’
He listened to a series of disjointed statements on the late return from Starbury Bay due to a misunderstanding with the coach drivers, the special last-night dinner, the hold-up over the Fortnight film while Paul King finished editing the last part, and the showing of one of his bird films while the audience waited. Because of this, the show had dragged on until ten minutes to ten.
‘Are you sure of the time here?’ he asked.
‘My God, yes. I thought the damn thing was never going to end.’
‘Why didn’t you slip out?’
‘There’d already been remarks about my cutting evening fixtures by some of my colleagues.’
‘How long did it take you to get clear of the school building and drive up to Uncharted Seas?’
Geoff Boothby changed his position impatiently.
‘Hell, I don’t know to the minute! How should I? I waited until a few chaps had slunk off to the pub as soon as the show ended. Then I followed on, but found I couldn’t get my car out.’
‘Out of where?’ Pollard asked, trying to keep the keen interest out of his voice.
‘Where I’d parked her. Mike Jay, the OG of the Fortnight, had reserved a place for staff between the front porch and where the first big bay of the front sticks out on the right. There was just room for three. I was up against the side of the bay, if you follow, and some clot had parked in front of the bay, and overlapping me a bit.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I had a couple of shots at getting out. The second time I just touched Mike. Then I tried to shift his car, but he’d locked it. So had the chap who was blocking me, but the passenger window wasn’t quite up, and after a bit I managed to get it down enough to put my arm in and take the brake off.’
‘Surely it would have been much quicker to go in and find either Mr Jay or the owner of the car?’
‘Couldn’t stand the thought of the jabbering crowd and the fuss.’
‘Go on, then.’
‘Well, I got out at last, and streaked up to the bungalow.’
Pollard paused deliberately.
‘Now, I want you to take your time before you answer this, Mr Boothby. How long do you estimate that it took you to get there from the ending of the film show at ten minutes to ten?’
In the silence which followed he was conscious of Toye’s pen expectantly poised over his notebook, of the smooth ticking of a carriage clock on the mantelpiece, and of the tiny impact of a rose petal dropping on to a table.
‘Fifteen minutes, near enough,’ Geoff Boothby announced suddenly.
‘What did you do when you arrived?’
‘Rang the bell. Several times.’
‘Did you try the door?’
‘Yes. It was locked.’
‘And then?’
‘I lifted the flap of the letter box, and looked in.’
‘Did you see or hear anything of Wendy Shaw?’
‘No. At least, I could hear the telly in the lounge, so I thought she was in there.’
‘Did you call to her?’
‘Yes.’
‘But there was no answer?’
‘None.’
‘Did you do anything else to attract her attention?’
‘I hammered on the door.’
‘I put it to you,’ Pollard said slowly and deliberately, ‘that you then went round to the garden door on the west side of the bungalow, found it unlocked, and went into the inside, and along the passage to the lounge.’
‘And found Wendy there, and strangled her? Go on, why don’t you say it?’
‘They’re your words, not mine, Mr Boothby. You deny having got into the bungalow by any means?’
‘Absolutely. Try to prove it.’
‘We try to get at the facts, not to establish unsupported possibilities. What did you do next, then, if you didn’t gain entry to the bungalow?’
‘I cleared off. I could see it was no go. I thought I’d go to the pub.’
‘Did you meet anyone on the way there?’
‘I was coming out of the drive a bit fast, and just missed a chap on the port side. He followed me into the pub and started bellyaching, but I shook him off. I had a drink. Didn’t notice any of the Fortnight people, though.’
‘And then?’
‘I went back to the school.’
‘Did anyone see you come in?’
‘I don’t think so. I slipped into the library, and sat in the dark a bit. I wanted to think things out, and it wasn’t likely anyone would butt in.’
‘How long were you there?’ Pollard persevered.
For the first time Geoff Boothby seemed ill at ease, and hesitated.
‘I wasn’t tight, so I suppose you’ll think I’m nuts, or am making it up. I didn’t stay long, because I felt I was being watched.’
Pollard looked at him sharply.
‘Do you mean you thought someone you couldn’t see was also in the library?’
‘Dunno what I thought. Only that it got under my skin, and I pushed off to bed after about ten minutes. Somehow I wasn’t keen on switching on the lights.’
‘Someone must have noticed you going upstairs, surely?’
’There wasn’t anyone around as far as I remember. Thin, isn’t it?’
Without replying, Pollard sat thinking.
‘When does your term begin?’ he asked at last.
‘Seventh of September.’
’If you leave here before then, please notify Superintendent Bostock of your address. And I must ask you for your passport, please.’
The word ‘fantastic’ floated back as Geoff Boothby left the room. Through the open door came the sound of footsteps going upstairs. Pollard and Toye exchanged glances. There was a distant opening and shutting of drawers, and the footsteps began to return.
Accepting the passport held out to him without comment, Pollard checked it and put it into his briefcase.
‘Anything you want to ask Mr Boothby before we go, Inspector?’ he asked, turning to Toye.
‘Did you happen to notice the make of the car that was blocking your exit, sir?’
‘Good Lord, yes. Cars are my thing. An Austin 1100.’
As they glanced back on reaching the drive gate, he was standing by his car with bent head, absently kicking the offside rear tyre.
‘No,’ Pollard said in reply to Toye’s unspoken question, ‘I don’t think he did it. Whether we can get confirmation of that hold-up over getting away after the film show is another matter, though. Also that he really was at the show the whole time.’
‘Pity they’ve all scattered,’ Toye remarked gloomily.
‘Well, we know where the other lecturers are, anyway. It looks like a trip over to Crowncliff tomorrow. But I’m in no state to make plans until I’ve eaten, are you? Let’s drop in at the station, and then track down some food.’
Later, having set in motion enquiries about Geoff Boothby at Birmingham University and Warhampton, on Superintendent Bostock’s advice they made for the grill room of one of the Winnage hotels. After a satisfactory meal they settled in a corner of the lounge. Pollard threw himself into a chair, and for some time smoked in silence, his eyes closed.
Toye, who seldom relaxed unless officially off duty, eyed him at intervals.
‘They’ll ring us from the station
if anything comes through from Pike about those three other chaps, I suppose?’ he ventured at last.
‘I’m not asleep,’ Pollard remarked. ‘In fact, what brain I’ve got has been ticking over steadily. You know, we aren’t clear about the lie of the land at St Julitta’s — literally, I mean. I suppose there’s a school hall, and they’d have had the films in it. How easy would it have been for Boothby to slip in and out of it without being noticed? Was the schemozzle with the cars visible from inside the building? Is it really likely that with between eighty and ninety people milling around, no one ran into him as he went into the library, and finally came out again and went up to his room?’
‘Depends on which bits of the places are used for what, doesn’t it?’
‘Yea. We’ll apply to Mrs Makepeace. That suggests another run down to Kittitoe as the next thing on the list, and I’ve also had a thought about the Stubbs-Glover-Medlicott trio.’
Toye looked at him enquiringly.
‘My Aunt Is. Before she retired she was a big noise in social welfare. She’s had a good deal of experience of offbeat types. And she’s got a link with all those three: Stubbs and Glover are fellow governors, and Medlicott is employed by the school. If I can get her to chat off the record, it might be very useful. Another pointer to Kittitoe tomorrow. But on the other hand, Boothby’s the centre of the picture at the moment, and the most Boothby-conscious people at Kittitoe would be the bunch of Horner staff over at Crowncliff. They’re more likely to have noticed him around — or not around — than anyone else.’
‘Then there’s that statement of Boothby’s that he ran up against Jay’s car when he was trying to get his own out,’ Toye said thoughtfully. ‘If he did, you’d expect something in the way of a scratch or a dent. We could have a look.’
‘And it’s possible Jay may have noticed that Austin 1100, and knows who it belongs to. It would save time. If Boothby did force its window, he probably damaged it. All told, it’d better be Crowncliff first.’
Pollard yawned and stretched.
‘Do you swallow all that about Boothby falling flat for Wendy Shaw, more or less on sight?’ Toye asked, after a pause. ‘Shouldn’t have thought she’d have bowled a chap over like that from her photo, and what we’ve heard about her.’
‘Not most chaps, perhaps,’ Pollard agreed, ‘but Boothby isn’t exactly run of the mill. Unconventional on the surface, but he’s got definite values underneath. Remember what Mrs Makepeace said about him? She stressed how kind he’d been to these Fortnight people, the dim types particularly. I think pity for Wendy probably came into it in a big way … it mightn’t have worked in the long run, you know…’
On their return to Stoneham a piece of the complicated jigsaw slipped satisfactorily into position. The forensic laboratory reported that the fragment of scarlet material salvaged in Beckon Cove was, beyond doubt, from Wendy Shaw’s anorak.
9.
Here a little, and there a little.
Isaiah. Chapter 28 verse 10
The Horner Hotel, Crowncliff, correctly conveyed the impression that the guiding principle behind its construction had been to cater for as many inmates as possible with the minimum of labour. It was an uncompromising cube of white stucco, chromium and glass, in a recently developed area on the outskirts of the town.
On arrival Pollard and Toye found immediate evidence of a Horner Discovery Fortnight in full swing. The available parking space was crowded with cars, most of which had recently experienced rough going. As Toye edged his way into a gap, a party emerged from the hotel armed with prawning nets, glass jars and notebooks. Its members were brick red from sunburn, and wore sunglasses and sexually indistinguishable clothing. Arguing animatedly among themselves, they set off in the direction of the shore. Another group stood silently round a car, contemplating a small object on its roof. As Pollard and Toye walked past, a man with a beard picked the object up reverently between finger and thumb.
‘Indisputably an artefact,’ he boomed.
Inside the hotel the foyer was lined with notice boards mounted on stands. Two of these supported a huge large-scale map of the locality. Others proffered information about lectures, discussion groups, expeditions, film shows, and local attractions ranging from church services of all denominations to pop concerts. There were hastily scribbled items under LOST and FOUND. Two notices in heavy black type urged Fortnighters to be on time for meals, and to park their cars with consideration for others. After a thoughtful survey Toye remarked that it wasn’t his idea of a holiday.
There were distant sounds of a single voice raised didactically, and the clattering of crockery, but no sign of life or of any means of summoning attention.
‘We’d better try a spot of discovery ourselves,’ Pollard said, heading for a corridor.
As he spoke a door opened, and a man appeared who came quickly forward on sighting them.
‘Sorry!’ he exclaimed. ‘Superintendent Pollard, isn’t it? I hope you haven’t been hanging around long. I’m Jay.’
‘Good morning,’ Pollard replied. ‘No, we’ve only just arrived. It’s an inconvenient visit, I’m afraid. There seems to be a good deal going on.’
‘It hasn’t been too difficult to switch things round so that you can meet the four of us who were at Kittitoe,’ Michael Jay told him. ‘Shall we go along to my office?’
The improvised office was business-like, but with welcoming touches of fresh flowers and gay posters. As the three men sat round a table neatly stacked with files and folders, it occurred to Pollard that the room reflected its tenant. The Fortnight’s Director was comfortably solid in build, with a pleasant face, but his competence and authority was also apparent.
Having declined refreshment, Pollard came straight to the point.
‘Mrs Makepeace,’ he opened, ‘told me that it was on your advice that she made a statement to me about Mr Boothby.’
‘That is correct,’ Michael Jay answered. ‘I want to say, though, that knowing Geoff Boothby as I do, I find any idea of him being involved in a murder sheer fantasy. My motive in advising Mrs Makepeace was to get his acquaintance with Wendy Shaw — for what it was worth — out into the open, rather than wait for you people to ferret it out.’
‘A very sensible line to take, if I may say so, Mr Jay. I now have to tell you that we have already interviewed Mr Boothby. He freely admits having met Wendy Shaw on a number of occasions during the Kittitoe Fortnight, and also that he drove up to Uncharted Seas after the film show at the school on the night of Friday, August 20.’
Michael Jay’s head jerked up, but he said nothing.
‘He went in the hopes of seeing Wendy Shaw,’ Pollard went on, ‘although she had told him when they were out together on the previous evening that she did not want a further meeting. He states that he was not admitted, and we have a witness who saw him coming away from the drive of Uncharted Seas at approximately ten-fifteen.’
He watched Michael Jay make a rapid calculation, and look relieved.
‘All the same,’ he continued, ‘you’ll appreciate the importance of our establishing the exact time at which he left St Julitta’s. Did you by any chance see him drive off? I understand that his car, yours, and one other were parked immediately to the left of the front door as you go out.’
‘Yes, they were, but I was nowhere near the front entrance at that time, damn it.’ Michael Jay pushed aside a portable typewriter, and rested his elbows on the table, cupping his chin in his hands, and frowning as he talked. ‘You see, the film show was in the school assembly hall, down at the west end of the building — that’s the Beckon Head end, if you haven’t got your orientation. I watched the films from the gallery, and as soon as they were over, went down to congratulate Paul King, who’d made them. Then I helped move people along to the common rooms for tea and coffee. We were running late, and I knew Mrs Makepeace was anxious about her women getting off. The common rooms are next to the hall, and I stayed in one or other of them with the crowd until nearly elev
en.’
‘I see,’ Pollard said, concealing disappointment. ‘Then we must count you out as far as the time Mr Boothby left goes. Did you notice him in the hall during the film show?’
‘He wasn’t in the gallery, but I was sitting in the back row, and couldn’t see who was downstairs, except for people in the very front. He wasn’t among those, as far as I remember.’
Leaving this topic Pollard turned to Geoff Boothby’s return to the school. He learnt that at ten-thirty most of the Fortnighters were still in the common rooms, in one of which community singing had started up. A few of the more elderly had departed, presumably to their rooms.
‘Mr Boothby says that on coming in, he went into the library for about ten minutes, and then went up to bed. During this time he states that he met no one at all. Does this surprise you?’
‘That’s a difficult question to answer. As I said just now, most people were still in the common rooms. It doesn’t seem likely that anyone was using the library, and all books taken out had been checked in on Thursday. I think I’d say there was a fifty-fifty chance of him running into somebody when he went upstairs, but the sick bay where his room was is a bit off the map.’
‘Can we go back to the film show?’ Pollard said. ‘Did you notice anyone come in or go out while the show was on?’
‘Mrs Makepeace came into the gallery about twenty minutes late, when she’d had her own dinner after ours,’ Michael Jay replied with studied casualness. ‘I’m sure nobody else came or went in the gallery, but I can’t answer for downstairs. There was taped music going on, and a fair amount of applause and laughter at intervals.’
And I bet your attention was pretty fully occupied other than with the films, Pollard thought. He asked some questions about the later part of the evening, and heard that the common room parties had broken up by soon after eleven. After taking a look round, Michael Jay had gone to his office to deal with some paperwork, and at ten minutes past twelve had locked the front door and gone up to his bedroom in the sick bay. There was no light under his neighbours’ doors, so he had assumed that both of them had turned in. The custom was that anyone intending to be out after twelve left a note in his office, and he had found none. Asked about the extent of his final look round, he said that he went into the ground floor rooms used that evening, excluding the kitchen premises, which were Mrs Makepeace’s province. No, she had not been in her office when he made his tour of inspection. It had a glass door, and he would have noticed a light there. Besides, she had said good night to him and gone up to bed earlier on.
No Vacation From Murder Page 11