by Jim Eldridge
‘Mr Radley. What are you doing here?’
‘I’ve come to hand myself in. To you, Miss Scott, and then I’ll go to the police. I want to tell you everything. I swear I’m innocent. I did not kill Raymond Simpson, nor this other man the newspapers talk about.’
There was the sound of muffled footsteps approaching.
‘We can’t talk here,’ said Scott. ‘Come inside.’
She was just taking Radley by the arm and guiding him towards the museum entrance, when Daniel and Abigail appeared out of the fog.
‘Mr Radley,’ exclaimed Daniel.
‘I’m innocent,’ Radley burst out, plaintively.
‘We’re just going to my office,’ said Scott. ‘Mr Radley says he needs our help.’
‘And hopefully we’ll be able to provide some,’ said Abigail.
The four entered and were met by Herbert Sharp. ‘Ah, Miss Scott,’ he said, with a smile of relief. ‘I wondered if you’d be able to get in with this fog. It’s a real old particular.’ Then his smile vanished as he saw Mason Radley. ‘Mr Radley?’ he said, in alarm.
‘It’s all right, Mr Sharp,’ Scott reassured him. ‘Mr Radley is here to talk to us.’
‘But—’ began Sharp, obviously worried.
‘I’m innocent, Mr Sharp,’ pleaded Radley.
‘Did the cleaners manage to get in?’ asked Scott, changing the subject back to everyday business.
‘They did,’ said Sharp. ‘Fortunately, they live nearby. As have most of the rest of the staff, although Mrs Smith isn’t here yet.’
‘Thank you, Mr Sharp,’ said Scott. ‘If anyone needs me, I shall be in my office with Mr Radley, Mr Wilson and Miss Fenton. Perhaps you could arrange for someone to bring up coffee for us. I’m sure we’re all in need of it.’
‘Of course,’ said Sharp, and he departed.
Once in Scott’s office, the curator gestured them to take chairs. ‘We’ll let you tell your story first, Mr Radley,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ said Radley. ‘To begin at the beginning, Raymond Simpson was blackmailing me. He’d managed to get hold of a document that was potentially lethal for my business.’
‘Over the deaths at your plantation in India,’ said Abigail.
‘You know about that?’ asked Radley. When Abigail and Daniel nodded, he gave a groan of misery and added: ‘His demands coincided with some unfortunate financial pressures in India. Because of the deaths there have been costs to pay. I’d told Simpson this and said I couldn’t pay the extortionate amount of money he was demanding for his silence, but he was adamant that unless I paid up he would publish the incriminating letter. If that happened it would be a disaster: the name of our company would become tainted; a huge amount of business would disappear. Things are hard enough in business as it is.
‘I came in early that morning in the hope of striking a deal with Simpson. Tell him that I’d pay, but over time. But then I heard that he was dead, and when Mr Turner said he’d seen me earlier at the museum, which was true, I was sure the police would find out about the deaths in India and make the connection between me and Simpson.’
‘So you fled,’ said Daniel. ‘Your housekeeper told us you’d gone to India.’
‘I had to tell her something to explain my absence, but in fact I went to a cousin of mine in Kent, and I’ve been staying with him while I wondered what to do and how I could prove my innocence.’
‘Why did you come back?’
‘When I saw my picture yesterday in the national newspaper saying the police were looking for me over the death of this man, Petter, I was concerned that someone in the neighbourhood would report they’d seen me. So, for my cousin’s sake, I decided this was the only way. I want to prove my innocence. I can assure you that I never came back to London at all once I’d left the city on the day that Simpson was killed. My cousin can prove it. Please check with him. He’ll confirm what I’ve said is true.’
‘Whereabouts in Kent?’
‘It’s a small hamlet called St Mary’s Platt, which is about a mile outside the village of Borough Green. My cousin’s name is Dick Cartwright. He’s a woodsman and has a cottage in the woods there. Woodman Cottage in Platt Common, which is a lane that leads to Platt Woods.’
There was a knock at the door, then it opened, and an attendant appeared carrying a tray with a jug of coffee, milk, sugar, cups and saucers, and a plate of biscuits.
‘Thank you,’ said Scott. She waited until the attendant had left before resuming the conversation. ‘I’m afraid we’ll still need to involve Scotland Yard,’ she said.
Radley nodded. ‘I understand. But I wanted to explain things to you first.’
‘Can I suggest that Miss Fenton and I accompany you to Scotland Yard?’ said Daniel. ‘We know Superintendent Armstrong and Inspector Feather very well, and there is a chance that they may listen to us.’
‘We have some information that may help to back up your plea of innocence in relation to the murder of Erskine Petter,’ added Abigail.
‘You have?’ exclaimed Radley. ‘What?’
‘Mr Petter was in hiding. On the day he was killed the one person who knew where he was staying was bribed by a respectable-looking and wealthy gentleman to reveal his secret address.’
‘But I’m respectable and considered to be wealthy,’ moaned Radley. ‘How does that help me?’
‘Because the gentleman who got hold of Petter’s hideout address can be described as “nondescript”. Almost anonymous. With respect, Mr Radley, your appearance is distinctive.’
‘Distinctive?’ echoed Radley, puzzled. ‘In what way?’
‘Let’s just say, you are once seen not easily forgotten, but in a very nice way,’ said Abigail.
‘So, you think this anonymous gentleman may be the person responsible for Mr Petter’s murder?’ said Scott.
‘Certainly, that is the suspicion,’ said Daniel. ‘At the very least, we’re sure he is involved in the murder somehow.’
‘And you have no idea who he might be?’
‘Not at this moment,’ admitted Daniel. He hesitated, then shot a look at Abigail, who nodded in silent agreement. ‘Miss Scott, would you mind if I stayed here in your office with Mr Radley while Miss Fenton has a private conversation with you?’
‘About me?’ asked Radley, anxiously.
‘No,’ said Abigail. ‘But we have an idea that may help to prove your innocence once and for all. But for the moment we feel it can only be shared with Miss Scott.’
Scott got to her feet. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘We shall use Mrs Smith’s office. Mr Sharp said she is yet to arrive.’
Abigail gave a look of warning at Daniel, who said: ‘There is always the chance that Mrs Smith may arrive during your conversation, and our feeling is that no one else should be involved at this time. So, I suggest I escort Mr Radley downstairs, where we can look at the exhibits together and wait there for Miss Fenton.’
Scott frowned, puzzled, but nodded. ‘Very well, if that is your preference.’
Daniel rose and asked Radley: ‘Are you ready, sir?’
‘I am, and I promise I will not attempt to escape,’ Radley assured him.
Abigail waited until the two men had left and the door closed, before saying to Scott: ‘We’d like you to send out invitations to all the trustees to the event on Wednesday evening.’
‘I’m sure that most of them will be coming anyway,’ said Scott.
‘Yes, but we’d like to ensure that they all come,’ said Abigail.
‘May I ask why?’ asked Scott.
‘There is a possibility that this mysterious gentleman we’ve learnt about may be one of the trustees.’
‘But you don’t know who,’ pointed out Scott. ‘You don’t even have a description of him.’
‘No, but we do have access to the person who met him and can identify him,’ said Abigail. ‘The plan is for us to have our witness secreted somewhere in the museum on the evening of the talk and to identify the gentleman he spoke to.’
‘No,’ Abigail admitted. ‘At this moment it’s just a suspicion of Mr Wilson’s, but he’s rarely wrong.’
‘But he could be,’ insisted Scott.
‘Indeed, he could be,’ conceded Abigail. ‘But we both feel this is the best chance we have of discovering the identity of the murderer.’
‘The murderer of Mr Petter, but not of Raymond Simpson,’ said Scott.
‘Daniel feels the two are connected.’
Scott fell silent, thinking this over. ‘How sure are you this witness of yours will agree to come to the talk that evening?’ she asked.
‘He will be escorted here by Inspector Feather,’ said Abigail.
‘And Inspector Feather agrees with this plan?’
‘We haven’t yet had a chance to discuss it with him,’ said Abigail. ‘We came to you first. We’ll talk to him about it when we accompany Mr Radley to Scotland Yard and hand him over.’
‘You believe Mr Radley to be innocent?’
‘We do,’ said Abigail.
‘And what will happen if this witness identifies one of the trustees?’
‘Inspector Feather will take him somewhere for questioning. As we’ll be here at the museum, we suggest your office, if you agree.’
‘Not Scotland Yard?’
‘We may be wrong,’ said Abigail. ‘The gentleman may be innocent of any crime; he may have wanted to talk to Petter about something else. In which case we’ll be able to ascertain that without causing embarrassment the museum.’
Scott nodded, thoughtfully. ‘I understand. I’ll get Mrs Smith to send out the invitations as soon as she comes in.’
‘One other thing,’ said Abigail. ‘We’d rather you didn’t tell her our suspicions.’
‘Why not?’ asked Scott.
‘We’d rather it was kept between us at this moment in case we’re wrong. There’s a danger that Mrs Smith may inadvertently let something slip to one of the trustees.’
Scott regarded her, quizzically. ‘You think there might be something going on between Mrs Smith and one of the trustees?’ she asked.
‘At this stage we can’t make any accusations,’ said Abigail. ‘It may have nothing to do with the case we’re looking into. But we’d rather take precautions to make sure the real reason for the invitations remains only between us.’
Scott hesitated, then said, awkwardly: ‘I hope you’re wrong about Mrs Smith, but I must admit I’ve been concerned that lately she seems to disappear from the office at various times. It’s often because she has had to go to the British Museum, or on an errand of some sort, but I have begun to wonder if there might be something else happening.’
‘An assignation?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Scott. ‘But, for the moment, we’ll agree to keep the true motive for the invitations between us.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
As they left the museum and stepped into the outside world, Daniel, Abigail and Radley saw that the fog had finally begun to disperse. It still hung ominously above them but at enough of a height from pavement level that meant people were able to once more walk about without bumping into fences or lamp posts, or falling over kerbs. As a result, with cabs once more able to negotiate the streets, they hailed a hansom, which Radley insisted on paying for. Once at Scotland Yard, they made their way to Feather’s office and found the inspector and Sergeant Cribbens looking out of the window.
‘Yes, John, the fog is lifting,’ said Daniel. ‘A great relief to all.’
‘To all except the muggers and thieves who use the cover to commit all kinds of mayhem,’ grunted Feather. He regarded Radley with sudden surprise and recognition. ‘Is this …?’
‘Inspector Feather and Sergeant Cribbens, allow me to introduce Mr Mason Radley,’ said Daniel. ‘He’s handing himself in and has asked us to escort him here to show his good faith.’
‘I didn’t do it,’ blurted out Radley. ‘I didn’t kill anyone.’
Feather gave a look of concern to Daniel and Abigail. ‘I’m sure this is well meant,’ he said, doubtfully, ‘but I shall have to bring the superintendent in.’
‘Of course,’ said Daniel. To Radley, he said: ‘It’s procedure, Mr Radley. The senior officer in the case has to be kept fully informed.’
Feather turned to Cribbens. ‘Sergeant, go and tell Superintendent Armstrong that Mr Mason Radley has handed himself in and is in my office.’
‘And tell him that I’m innocent!’ Radley called desperately after Cribbens as he left the office.
‘Please sit down, Mr Radley,’ said Feather, gesturing towards a chair.
‘I came here at my own volition,’ said Radley, and Daniel could tell from his air of agitation that, now he was actually inside Scotland Yard, he was beginning to have second thoughts about the wisdom of surrendering himself.
‘I can assure you that you will be treated fairly by both Inspector Feather and Superintendent Armstrong, Mr Radley,’ said Daniel, doing his best to calm the panic that was rising in the unhappy trustee. Inwardly, Daniel thought cynically: Possibly not as fairly by the superintendent as you will be by John Feather.
The door burst open and suddenly the bulky figure of Superintendent Armstrong was inside the office, a look of satisfaction on his face as he regarded the unhappy man.
‘So,’ he thundered in delight. ‘The guilty party has handed himself in. Excellent.’
‘I’m not guilty,’ protested Radley, rising to his feet.
‘There is good reason to doubt his guilt, Superintendent,’ said Abigail.
‘There is also good reason to support it,’ retorted Armstrong.
‘Tell them about the other man,’ Radley appealed to Daniel and Abigail. ‘And the fact that I was in Kent.’
‘What other man?’ asked Armstrong.
‘We were just about to update Inspector Feather on something we learnt this morning,’ said Abigail. ‘A man went round to Jones the butcher on the day Petter was killed and bribed him to tell him where Petter was hiding out. Jones describes him as a “toff”, obviously wealthy enough to pay him twenty pounds for the information.’
‘A wealthy toff?’ said Armstrong. ‘That could have been Radley.’
Daniel shook his head. ‘I think you’ll agree, Superintendent, that Mr Radley is very singular in his appearance. This man didn’t have any distinguishing features about him, according to Jones. Except the fact that he was a gentleman.’
‘And who is this mysterious toff?’ asked Armstrong.
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Daniel. ‘But surely it’s worth looking into. It strikes me as more likely that this man was the person who killed Petter. The timing fits. He got the address from Jones before Petter was killed.’
Armstrong shook his head. ‘It’s more likely some dodgy business pal of Petter’s who either owed him money or was owed money.’
‘And could have killed him,’ insisted Daniel.
Armstrong fixed Daniel with a firm glare. ‘This is all just chasing shadows. Ifs and buts. Mysterious strangers. Anyway, even if what you say turns out to be true about the murder of Erskine Petter, we’re also looking for Mr Radley over the death of Raymond Simpson, and now we’ve got him.’ He turned to Cribbens and said: ‘Take him down to the cells, Sergeant. Remanded in custody on my orders.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Cribbens, who reached out and put a hand on Radley’s arm.
‘No!’ howled Radley. ‘I’m innocent! I didn’t kill anyone!’
‘That’ll be for a judge and jury to decide,’ said Armstrong.
With a last hopeless look of appeal at Daniel and Abigail, Radley was hustled out of the office by the sergeant.
‘Well done,’ said Armstrong. ‘I can report to the commissioner we’ve got our man.’
‘We believe there are good reasons to doubt Mr Radley’s guilt in this case,’ said Daniel. ‘Radley insists he didn’t kill either Simpson or Pett
er.’
‘Of course he does,’ said Armstrong. ‘They always deny it.’
‘But why hand himself in?’ asked Daniel. ‘He could have fled. Really gone to India instead of staying in this country.’
‘Guilty conscience,’ said Armstrong.
‘If he had a guilty conscience he’d admit to the killings,’ pointed out Abigail.
Armstrong gave a scowl of irritation. ‘All right, he’s playing a clever game of some sort, trying to make us think he’s innocent,’ he snapped. ‘Who knows? Like I said, it’s for a judge and jury to decide. As far as I’m concerned we’ve got the man we were looking for.’
With that, he swept out of the office.
Daniel gave a heavy sigh and cast a look at Feather. ‘Well?’ he asked.
Feather returned Daniel’s rueful look with one of his own. He sighed. ‘Armstrong’s the boss.’
‘We believe Radley isn’t our man,’ said Abigail. ‘He handed himself in because of his picture appearing in the papers, but we don’t feel he committed the killings.’
‘You favour this mysterious toff?’
‘We do.’
‘Who could be anyone. Why would this toff want to kill Petter?’
‘Mrs Simpson told you that one of the people Raymond was blackmailing was a trustee at the museum.’
‘Yes. Radley. He’s admitted Simpson was blackmailing him.’
‘But say he wasn’t the only one,’ said Daniel. ‘There’s more than one trustee, and I suspect a few have guilty secrets.’
‘You’re talking about William Watling again,’ said Feather, archly.
‘Why not?’ asked Daniel. ‘Or any of the others.’
‘You don’t know this mysterious toff is a trustee,’ pointed out Feather. ‘He could be, as the superintendent said, some business pal of Petter’s and nothing at all to do with the museum.’
‘This all started with the smashed dinosaur skeleton at the museum, which we know Petter was involved with somehow, and the murder of Raymond Simpson at the museum the next morning. For me, that links it with this mystery man looking for Petter just before he died.’
‘But you don’t know his name or even what he looks like.’