‘You’re not in the way. Plenty of room for people on lawful business. It’s the general public you’ve got to watch out for. Nobody’d believe the cheek and sauce of ’em, once they get on four wheels. Come this way, if you please.’
Mr Wright shot these staccato utterances over his shoulder as he led Pollard and Toye into the building from which he had erupted, and down a passage to his office.
‘Seats there.’ He indicated a couple of chairs drawn up in front of his desk, at which he installed himself, hands resting palms downwards on its top, and his bright eyes under bushy eyebrows fixed on his visitors.
‘I understand,’ Pollard began, ‘that this firm provided coaches for expeditions from St Julitta’s School during the Horner Discovery Fortnight that was recently held there?’
‘Correct.’
‘I further understand that on the afternoon of Friday, August 20, there was some misunderstanding about the time of departure from Starbury Bay on the return journey?’
Mr Wright raised a hand and brought it down on his desk with a resounding smack.
‘Then, with respect, sir, you’ve been misinformed. There was no misunderstanding whatever. We had our instructions, and we carried them out. To the letter. As always. Wright’s Right On The Dot. Our Slogan, sir.’
With a wave of his hand he indicated the phrase in bold red lettering, framed and hanging on the wall, and added that it appeared on every item of the firm’s stationery.
‘Excellent,’ Pollard replied gravely. ‘I’m sure you live up to it. How were the coaches ordered for these Horner expeditions? All together in advance, or from day to day, so to speak?’
‘Why, you couldn’t run a business like ours on a day-to-day basis, not in the season, you couldn’t,’ Mr Wright told him. ‘It’s all we can do to meet the demand with planning well ahead. Now, I’ve been dealing with Mr Jay over these Discovery Fortnights ever since they started up at the Horner Hotel here, the one that was burnt back in the spring. He’s careful and methodical. Writes in good time, gives all the information, and asks for a quote. We quote fair and reasonable terms, and ninety-nine times out of a hundred he’ll write back accepting for the lot. That’s how it was this time, and everything went like clockwork till the last trip, the one to Starbury Bay on August 20. The two drivers — absolutely dependable men — came back in a real taking.’
Pollard managed to stem the torrent of Mr Wright’s indignation by asking to see the correspondence. A folder was handed to him, in which he found the various items in perfect order. Michael Jay’s initial letter had been written in early May. The Wright quotation had followed promptly, and the terms accepted, clinching the inclusive deal. A fourth document was a typed list of the expeditions, each with its date, times and allotted driver. Clipped to this was a memorandum of a telephone call, which Pollard read with heightened interest.
IMPORTANT
HORNER’S HOLIDAYS
Phone message from Mr Jay, St Julitta’s School, received 9.15 am 19 August 1972.
Coaches to return from Starbury Bay at 3.45 pm instead of 2.30 pm, please. Charge up extra time to Horner account.
S.E.B.
‘There you are!’ exclaimed Mr Wright triumphantly. ‘Rings to make an alteration, and then turns on us when it starts raining after dinner.’
‘Who took this call?’ Pollard asked.
‘Mrs Banks, in the outer office. Perfectly reliable—’
‘Is she around, by any chance?’
‘Sure she is. This Bank Holiday’s one of our busiest days.’
Mr Wright pressed the bell push on his desk, and told the youth who answered it to ask Mrs Banks to step in for a moment.
A small brisk woman with auburn-tinted hair promptly appeared.
‘These two gentlemen are from Scotland Yard, dear,’ her employer began. ‘They are making enquiries—’
‘Just a moment, Mr Wright,’ Pollard cut in firmly. ‘We’re checking up on this phone call, Mrs Banks. Did you take it yourself?’
Looking puzzled, she took the paper from him.
‘That’s right,’ she said at once. ‘I remember it quite well. Those are my initials — Shirley Eileen Banks. It’s all in order.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ Pollard replied. ‘Did you speak to Mr Jay himself?’
‘The gentleman said he was Mr Jay, of Horner’s Holidays, speaking from St Julitta’s School.’ A defensive note sounded in Mrs Banks’s voice.
‘Had you ever spoken to Mr Jay before?’
She stared at him, and he could see it dawning on her that something serious was afoot.
‘I believe he did ring in once a year or two back,’ she said, ‘But I didn’t remember what his voice was like in the very least, if that’s what you mean.’
‘So you can’t say whether the voice which gave this message was his or not?’
‘No, I couldn’t possibly,’ she said. ‘I just took it for granted.’
‘Would you recognize the voice again, do you think?’
Mrs Banks thought deeply, with furrowed brow.
‘I suppose I might,’ she said doubtfully. ‘I wouldn’t like to have to swear to anything, though. There wasn’t anything special about it — not an accent you’d notice, I mean. And there’s always a good bit of noise in the front office, with people in and out, and the traffic. I do seem to remember that the caller sounded as though he was in a hurry.’
‘Was he calling from a box?’
She thought again.
‘I don’t think so, but there again, I couldn’t be sure. The phone’s going all the time.’
Pollard thanked her for her help, and let her go. He asked if either or both of the drivers on the Starbury Bay expedition were available.
‘One of ’em is,’ Mr Wright replied. ‘He’s due to take out a trip at two pm. I’ll send round for him. He only lives a couple of streets away.’
As they waited, Pollard learnt at some length that the driver in question, Will Hannaway, was an employee of long standing, and exceptionally reliable, even on the Wright standard.
When he appeared, he struck Pollard as a sensible man in his late fifties or early sixties who was clearly under a sense of grievance. It transpired that the expedition to Starbury Bay was the standard one for the last day of the Discovery Fortnight, and that he had taken parties there for several years. The practice was to spend three or four hours there, and with Mr Wright’s knowledge and consent, Will Hannaway’s brother-in-law who farmed in the area collected both drivers, and took them along to share the family’s midday meal, driving them back to Starbury in good time for the return home.
‘Hold on a minute,’ Pollard interrupted. ‘Did the Horner staff know about this arrangement?’
Mr Jay certainly did, Will Hannaway told him, and Mr and Mrs King had chaffed him in the coach going out, saying they’d rather have a farmhouse lunch than a picnic on the beach.
‘Trouble was, sir, my brother-in-law’s name not being the same as mine, they didn’t know where to ring. Not that it would’ve have made much difference, because of the accident.’
With some difficulty Pollard got the facts straightened out. By two o’clock the weather was looking so threatening that Hannaway had insisted on breaking up the family party, and starting for Starbury, in case Mr Jay wanted to leave at the original time after all. Unfortunately, his brother-in-law’s Land Rover had collided with another car in a narrow lane.
The driver of this car had been slightly hurt, and as the accident had happened on an unfrequented minor road, it took some time to get help, and transport to Starbury for the two drivers. They did not, in fact, get back to their coaches until just on 3.50 pm. They were greeted by a furious Michael Jay, who accused them of being an hour late. He had refused to look at their schedule, and announced that Mr Wright would be hearing from him.
‘Never ’ad such a thing ’appen to me before,’ the outraged Will Hannaway concluded. ‘We were on time: down in black an’ white, it was.’
r /> Pollard sat thinking for some moments.
‘Wasn’t anything said about the time for starting back when you arrived in the morning, and people were getting out?’
‘No, it wasn’t. Mr Jay, he always just checks up, but he didn’t travel in one of the coaches this time. Came in a young chap’s car. They’d got there ahead of us, an’ gone to the beach caff. Mr King, he didn’t say nothin’, and seein’ I’d got me schedule, it didn’t matter, like.’
‘How long do you allow for the Kittitoe-Starbury Bay run?’
‘Normal time’s ’our an’ a ’alf.’
‘You took a good bit over that coming back.’
‘The weather’d come in real dirty. There was mist over the moor, and it wasn’t no manner o’ good to try makin’ up time, ’owever late we was.’
‘My drivers acted in a right and proper way all through,’ Mr Wright asserted. ‘The two coaches were locked and left in a public carpark, and ran to schedule, as per instructions, as you can see from the file. As to who gave the instructions, it’s not my business.’
‘No one’s blaming you or your drivers for what happened,’ Pollard assured him. ‘I must ask you to let me have that file and its contents for the moment, though. I’ll give you a receipt, and everything will be returned to you in due course.’
The file was reluctantly handed over, and after warning Will Hannaway that he might be required to give evidence in court at some future date, Pollard brought the interview to an end.
Over a hurried meal Toye remarked that King had left the phone call to Wright’s surprisingly late.
‘I don’t suppose he knew for certain until the evening before that Jay was going to Starbury by car. He may have wangled it, by offering to go by coach himself. If Jay had been on board it’s a virtual cert that he’d have spoken to Hannaway about the return time.’
‘But the hold-up over getting the film editing finished was vital to King’s whole scheme,’ Toye objected.
‘So vital that he must have had several alternatives to fall back on. If the coach plan had turned out unworkable — as it nearly did, because of the weather — he would probably have given it out that the tape stuff for piecing the film together was faulty, and he’d got to go in to Winnage and get some more. Something on those lines, anyway.’
Pollard suddenly pushed his plate away, his portion of plum tart unfinished. Toye was tactfully silent, and went on eating unobtrusively.
‘What’s so riling about this bloody case,’ Pollard went on, after a pause, ‘is getting all this evidence, and yet not being able to pin anything on King. Take that phone call, for instance. There was a call box outside the kitchens at the school for general use, and desk phones in Mrs Makepeace’s and Medlicott’s offices. Possibly elsewhere. What price asking about ninety people if anyone saw King coming away from any of these places at about 9.15 am on the morning of August 20?’
Toye wisely made no attempt to belittle this daunting prospect, and shortly afterwards they took to the road once more, and drove in a depressed silence to Uncharted Seas. This time they were admitted by Mrs Barrow, hatted and coated in sober black, and apparently on the point of departure, having washed up the lunch things.
‘This way, please,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell Mr Horner you’re here. They’re on the terrace.’
She led them to the sitting room, and vanished through the French windows.
A spectacle case went flying across the crazy paving, and there were sounds of someone struggling up out of a low chair. Eddy Horner, obviously roused from post-prandial slumber, came in and blinked at them.
‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr Horner,’ Pollard said, ‘but there have been some developments, and I think you may be able to help us.’
Eddy Horner surfaced abruptly.
‘Siddown, won’t you?’ he said.
‘First of all,’ Pollard told him, ‘I want to ask you an important question. Have you had any threatening letters or telephone calls lately?’
‘Not for a couple of years, at least. Nothing really serious, even then.’
‘And there haven’t been any threats,’ Pollard went on, slowly and deliberately, ‘that an attempt would be made to kidnap your grandson?’
There was a frozen silence during which he watched the pupils of the little man’s blue eyes narrow to vanishing point. Eddy Horner sat absolutely immobile, gripping the arms of his chair.
‘So that was it?’ he mouthed, almost inaudibly.
‘I think so,’ Pollard told him, ‘and also that Wendy’s murder was incidental. She probably surprised the kidnapper in the act.’
He allowed a further pause to develop so that these two monstrous ideas could be fully assimilated.
‘We have a considerable body of circumstantial evidence,’ he went on, ‘but nothing conclusive enough to justify an arrest at the present moment. As I said just now, we need help from you at this stage.’
‘D’you imagine I’d hold back?’
‘No, but you will have to take a good deal on trust, and realize that I can’t answer any questions. Not easy for anyone of your standing.’
‘Get on with it, for God’s sake, and don’t waste any more time talking. What do you want me to do?’
‘In the first place to help with what is bound to be an unsuspecting interview with your daughter. I think she may have valuable information which she doesn’t realize she possesses.’
‘Penny may fly off the handle, but she’s always all right on the night.’
In the event, Penny Townsend’s immediate reaction to the idea of an attempt having been made to kidnap her son was to stifle a scream with a hand to her mouth. She dashed out on to the terrace again, and began to drag the pram in which he was sleeping into the sitting room. Toye went to her assistance.
‘Now then,’ her father said, when this operation had been completed, ‘the kid can’t come to much harm with a bodyguard of four of us. Go ahead with your questions, Super. Keep at it as long as you like.’
‘It’s just the same old ground again, I’m afraid,’ Pollard told them.
He stated his conviction that traces of some kind must have been left by Wendy’s murderer, but overlooked in the confusion of the return from Stoneham. Father and daughter sat listening with a kind of agonized intentness, a curious heightened physical resemblance seeming to manifest itself as an expression of their shared distress. Presently, at Pollard’s suggestion, they all moved to Penny’s bedroom, where she put the still sleeping baby into the carry-cot which stood on a low table by her bed.
After outlining what he believed to have taken place in the room shortly after 8 pm on the evening of August 20, Pollard began to question her minutely about any disarrangements of bedclothes, furniture or miscellaneous objects.
‘For instance,’ he said, ‘you didn’t find one shoe of a pair you’d left on the floor lying some distance from the other, as though someone had tripped over it?’
By now on the brink of tears, Penny shook her head.
‘I just can’t remember noticing anything,’ she said tremulously.
‘Some people have a very keen sense of smell. They can tell if a person has recently been in a room when they enter it, especially if the windows are shut, as I’m sure they must have been that night because of the weather.’
She swallowed.
‘I know what you mean. I’m like that myself. But when I was changing to go up to Stoneham, I knocked over a bottle of perfume, and the room just reeked of it for ages.’
Suppressing a surge of despair at the fruitlessness of his questioning, Pollard took a long look round the elegantly furnished bedroom, ending with a survey of the carry-cot. King must have been standing beside it, surely, when Wendy came in… It was decidedly lush — in a different class from the pair acquired for Andrew and Rose. Was it remotely possible that a hair or a thread had caught on the outside?
‘Mrs Townsend,’ he said, ‘I should like our forensic experts to have a look at that carry-cot. C
an you manage without it for a few days?’
‘Why, of course. I could turn one of my suitcases into a bed for him.’
‘If that little padded quilt was over him, I’ll have that too, please.’
‘It wasn’t this quilt, actually. I noticed a mark on it, and gave him a clean one.’
Incomprehensibly, Pollard felt a sharp tingle of excitement go through him.
‘Has the one you took off been washed?’
‘No, it hasn’t. It’s been quite a job coping with everything singlehanded.’
On learning that the quilt was in the soiled linen bin in the bathroom, Eddy Horner went out. A few moments later he returned with a blue plastic cylinder, and proceeded to empty its contents on to the floor. Penny sorted through the crumpled heap, and extracted another tiny quilt like the first.
‘This is it,’ she said. ‘I’ll find a bag to put it in.’
Pollard took it from her and shook it out, holding his breath. There was a small discolouration on it, rather than an actual stain. He sniffed at it, and rolled the quilt up again tightly.
‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘that will be fine. I wonder if you could spare a big plastic bag which would take the whole cot? Inspector Toye will help you pack it up.’
He caught Eddy Horner’s eye, and the two of them returned to the sitting room.
‘A small quantity of the dope meant for the little chap got spilt,’ he said. ‘I now hand over this line of enquiry to my forensic colleagues, and take up another. I want to see the last part of the Fortnight Film, which was shot in Winnage on August 18, but it’s absolutely vital that you get hold of it for me in a way that is perfectly natural, and arouses no comment whatever. Can you do this?’
Completely rigid, Eddy Horner stood staring up at him without speaking.
‘Yes,’ he said briefly, after a long interval.
14.
…those damned dots…
Lord Randolph Churchill
Sergeant Boyce was explaining enthusiastically that the photographs had been magnified two hundred times.
No Vacation From Murder Page 18