‘You tampered with evidence?’
‘It wasn’t evidence, and it might have been misleading. One of the two persons who saw that I was not to be misled had a good but crude try at breaking into my London house a short time ago, whether with the intention of murdering me, terrifying me or of having a confidential chat has not been established.’
‘Tiny Fullalove!’
‘Yes.’
‘But why should he …?’
‘Exactly. Why should he give away the aspirin trick if it was the method he himself had used to get rid of his cousin? The inferences are either that he did not get rid of his cousin, but that he knew who did, or else that the aspirin method was not the method used, or else that Bill was not murdered at all but really did die accidentally or did commit suicide. In the last case, Tiny wanted to incriminate some innocent person.’
‘Well, what about the dog?’
‘I’m coming to the dog. On our way home from the Fullaloves’ bungalow we saw him. He was terrified of the gate at the top end of Groaning Spinney. Now I am not a subscriber to the belief that dogs can see ghosts. They may be able to do so, but until there is more evidence that they can, I prefer a rational explanation of some of their reactions. Well, Worry would not pass the gate until his owner came up. In Will North’s company the dog showed no more fear. Whatever was frightening about the gate lost its power in Will North’s presence. The obvious deduction is not that the dog saw the ghost, but that it had had some unpleasant experience which it connected with the gate when it was by itself. What that experience was we shall probably never know. Will North apparently had no knowledge of it, for he merely remarked that the dog was not usually silly, and passed on his way.’
‘You mean Tiny (we’ll say) may have kicked or thrashed the dog?’
‘We’ll not say Tiny, for a moment, if you don’t mind. It is much more likely to have been somebody else, but that someone I cannot (honestly) name. At least, not yet, because I haven’t named my proofs against him yet.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I tell you that I cannot explain yet, but this is what followed. After the gamekeeper and his dog had passed, I happened to look back. A man was leaning over the gate. I deduced at the time that it was Bill Fullalove, whom I had not then met.’
‘Leaning over the gate where he was afterwards found dead? Rather a queer coincidence, what?’
‘I suppose it might have been so regarded, but, from facts which have come to light since, I am not at all certain that the man was Bill. However, he was too far off for me to be certain. Whoever it was, I am pretty certain that it was not Tiny Fullalove. For one thing, we had just left him at the bungalow; for another, well, Tiny is a dog-lover, and, as I have just argued with my nephew, a man who loves his own dogs and is loved by them, is not the most likely person to ill-treat somebody else’s dog. Besides, Tiny, as the agent to the estate, would surely have a great sense of the value of a well-trained dog such as Worry, and would be one of the last persons to spoil his spirit by savaging him. Anyhow, that’s mere speculation, so far. The next part of the story, as it concerns Worry, is this: somebody coaxed him away and hid him for a time. I advanced the suggestion that it was so that the man who took a pop at Ed Brown could steal one of Will North’s guns, but this argument was very properly refuted by my nephew, who pointed out that the gamekeeper’s cottage was often enough left empty, with neither the man nor the dog in charge of it.’
‘What, then, do you suppose, was the reason for stealing the dog?’
‘To entice Will North either away from his own cottage, or into that occupied by this woman.’
‘How much easier it would have been,’ said the Chief Constable thoughtfully, (apparently ignoring both these theories), ‘if Mrs. Dalby Whittier had murdered Emming! There we’d have had a clear case. I mean, she’s bound to have been keeping him, don’t you think? He had no visible means of support except the very small honorarium which he receives as choirmaster. He must have been living on someone, and Mrs. Whittier was by far the most likely person, as she was his mother.’
‘So my nephew has suggested,’ said Mrs. Bradley. ‘But I’m glad you’ve mentioned Emming. He was the person I refused to mention just now. I believe him to be a murderer. There is only one difficulty. Why should Emming have killed his mother if she was his only means of support? That’s what we have to work out. I think I know the answer, and I believe that very soon I can prove it.’
‘So you’re certain that Emming’s our man? I’m not really very much surprised. But what’s all this to do with Worry? You found him, I gather, in the cottage now occupied by Bill Fullalove’s widow.’
‘In spite of the fact that she showed me a certificate of marriage——’ began Mrs. Bradley.
‘She did! Have you seen the trustees?’
‘No, I haven’t. Tiny Fullalove is bringing a case in his own interest to show that the certificate is a forgery.’
‘And is it?’
‘I’ve no idea. I should scarcely think so.’
‘Well, then …’
‘But I don’t think the woman is a widow.’
‘If she isn’t, then the certificate must be a forgery.’
‘Not necessarily. It could be somebody else’s certificate, that is all.’
‘But how the devil could she get hold of such a thing?’
‘Well, she might even have inherited it, you know.’ The Chief Constable shook his head.
‘Don’t be aggravating,’ he said. ‘You think that this woman inherited somebody else’s—in other words, the real Mrs. Fullalove’s—marriage lines? I say that that’s preposterous!’
‘Not under certain circumstances. I myself have a copy of the marriage certificate of my parents.’
‘Yes, but you’re not suggesting a relationship between the real Mrs. Fullalove and this woman, are you?’
‘Not a relationship exactly, no.’
‘Well, if this woman isn’t the real Mrs. Fullalove she’s going to have a pretty thin time when the trustees and their solicitors, and Tiny Fullalove and his, dig up their witnesses.’
‘Yes, of course—if the witnesses are still alive.’
‘You don’t mean … Mrs. Dalby Whittier and Bill Fullalove?’
‘I don’t think they were the witnesses.’
‘What do you mean, then?’
‘I think they were the married couple. Now that we know a little more, everything, in my opinion, points to it.’
‘Then what about young Emming? Is he Bill Fullalove’s son? I don’t believe it!’
‘No, he is either his stepson or Tiny’s son. Of that I am also convinced. His story, as he told it some weeks ago, is partly true.’
‘You can’t stop there, woman. I begin to see what you’re getting at, but for goodness’ sake tell me more!’
‘All in good time,’ said Mrs. Bradley. ‘Then there is this question of Will North. To the murderers Will North is dangerous. He saw the unaccountable heap of snow on the badger-watching platform.’
‘Why the devil didn’t he investigate?’
‘He was on his way to the bungalow and to help with——’
‘Oh, of course, yes. But, still——’
‘Therefore Worry was decoyed so that Will would follow. Will did follow, and would have found his dog, and would probably have been murdered in that cottage, but for the mistake that one of the murderers made.’
‘Emming?’
‘Emming. He affected to pop at Ed Brown, but I fancy Will North was the target.’
‘I’m off to talk to Ed Brown,’ said the Chief Constable decidedly. ‘You’d better come along, and bring Jonathan.’
‘Mr. Emming?’ said Ed, looking at his questioner with sly amusement. ‘Oh, him and me, us get on pretty well together mostly. Fond of birds, he is, and wanting to know their names and where to look for the nests.’
‘Is he to be trusted with nests?’
‘Oh, yes. He’s all right, like. Don
’t steal no eggs nor nothing. Oh, ah. He’s all right.’
‘Are you a member of his choir?’
‘I be, too and all. Tenor, I be.’
‘You really know him very well indeed, then.’
‘Well, no, I wouldn’t say that. He’m too much of a gentleman, like, for me to say as how I know him.’
‘A gentleman? What makes you say that?’
‘Well, I reckon he be. Wouldn’t you call Mr. Tiny a gentleman, mam?’
‘You mean that Mr. Emming is Mr. Tiny’s son?’
‘Stands to reason, I reckon. Not much doubt Mrs. Dalby Whittier was Mr. Tiny’s wife. If her weren’t, her were Mr. Bill’s wife. I couldn’t make no mistake she were wife to one on ’em, and Mr. Emming confess to being her son.’
‘Yes, but it might be very important to know which of the Fullaloves was Mrs. Whittier’s man, you know, Ed.’
‘Well, if I ’ad to guess, I’d say Mr. Bill. Stands to reason Mr. Bill wouldn’t have taken out no insurance, else. But I reckon, too, as this new young ’ooman, er’s Mr. Tiny’s.’
‘Why?’ asked Mrs. Bradley, deeply interested in this view.
‘It’s like this,’ explained Ed. ‘Living by myself I ’ave time to turn things over in my ’ead, like. And what I ben thinkin’ is this: Mr. Bill never should have died like that. There was summat wrong about it. I reckon as ’ow the two of ’em was going to ’ave the one insurance between ’em, so, payin’ only the one premium, either on ’em could benefit, no matter which one died.’
‘But the Christian names?’ said Mrs. Bradley, startled to hear her own theories proceeding from Ed. Ed shook his head pityingly.
‘When I was out in India,’ he said, ‘there was a bit of a case, see? Mr. Tiny, ’e was ’ad up for cruelty to an ’Indoo. That’s why he come ’ome. It was a real bad case and I ’ad to give my evidence. That’s when I found out ’is name’s William. Well, Mr. Bill bein’ called Bill, which ’is name may or may not ’ave been, it made it very orkard in front of the law. So I reckon Mr. Bill got ’imself insured, and Mr. Tiny was to ’ave the money if anything ’appended to ’im. Whereas, if, as it seemed most likely, it were Mr. Tiny as died first, well, nothing amiss about the name—it’s still down as William Fullalove. That’s why I reckon this wife is Mr. Tiny’s, and the policy were Mr. Bill’s.’
‘I agree with you entirely about the policy, Ed, but I still don’t see how you make out that the claimant is Mr. Tiny’s wife and not Mr. Bill’s wife.’
‘Stands to reason. Nothing ’aven’t ’appended to she,’ said Ed, with sombre realism. Mrs. Bradley nodded.
‘Who shot at you, Ed?’ she demanded. ‘And why were you expecting that someone would?’
‘That were Mr. Emming,’ said Ed. ‘Mr. Emming helped Mr. Tiny move Mrs. Dalby Whittier from Groaning Spinney to the place where she were found.’
‘How on earth can you know that?’
‘I watched the birds. I knowed there were something going on.’
‘But not murder!’
‘Not till I went and ’ad a look.’
‘What did you see, then? And where?’
‘Nothen but footprints.’
‘My nephew, Mr. Bradley, saw them, too.’
‘Then he knows as much as I do.’
‘Did you follow them?’
‘Didn’t need to. I see old Simon Crow a-flutterin’ hisself down along by Farmer Daventry’s field. He knowed a dead un, I reckon, and I knowed ’im. There wasn’t nothen else to it.’
‘Which day was this, Ed?’
‘Let me see, now … I reckon ’twud a-been Christmas Eve, all right.’
‘It couldn’t have been! The footsteps you saw were in the snow. It didn’t snow until Christmas night.’
‘Unreliable witness,’ grumbled the Chief Constable, leading the way to his car. ‘Home, Bates. Nothing more to be got out of him, I suppose?’ he added, as the big car slid over the bridge.
‘Nothing at all,’ said Mrs. Bradley, cheerfully. ‘But what he says confirms our own suspicions. Of course, the point about the footprints was rather interesting. They were first seen on Boxing Day. Miss Hughes, Mr. Mansell and Mr. Obury all saw them.’
‘They were seen after that, though, weren’t they?’
‘Well, perhaps not the same ones. My nephew saw long footprints on the twenty-eighth or twenty-ninth.’
‘In Groaning Spinney?’
‘Yes. He then found Mr. Bill Fullalove’s dead body. Presumably that also had been moved.’
‘But rigor mortis? And the position of the body as it leaned across that gate! Surely he must have died where he was found?’
‘There are plenty of gates around here,’ said Mrs. Bradley. ‘I should say that they moved him from one to the other, that’s all.’
‘Good Lord! That would upset the time scheme of the death completely!’
‘Yes, I know, but it is a theory I have held for some time.
‘The devil you have! Why, that means that Tiny——!’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Well, what do you make of Ed Brown?’
‘Lots of things, but nothing very helpful. What do you?’
‘Dashed if I know. He’s a natural, but he’s as sly and as cunning as only a natural can be.’
‘Do you think he knows more than he has said.’
‘Yes, I do. But how do we get it out of him?’
‘I cannot say. Perhaps we shan’t need to do so.’
‘All that stuff about birds,’ said the Chief Constable thoughtfully. ‘Never known such a chap for birds—and other wild things, too. And he does know a fair amount about this affair. Do you think a little bird told him?’
‘Nothing could be more likely. But it is extremely doubtful whether the same or any other little bird will tell us!’
‘Will you tell me something?—What about young Emming?’
‘Oh, Emming typed the anonymous letters, that’s certain. And Emming knew that his mother wrote the earlier ones. He must have been the person who posted the one that came to Jonathan about Deborah.’
‘Couldn’t that have been Tiny Fullalove?’
‘Well, yes, it might have been. Did you search Emming’s lodgings, though, for a typewriter?—And with that I must be going.’
‘No, you don’t. You’re coming indoors again. I want to hear more about all this.’
17. Point-to-Point
*
‘Behold him (priests) and though he stink of sweat
Disdain him not.’
George Gascoigne
* * *
‘DO GO ON,’ said the Chief Constable, when they were settled in his study in front of the fire. He looked lovingly at his pipe. ‘And don’t hurry. If I stir from this room I shall be expected to dispense tea to the Women’s Union. I don’t know how it is, but the parsons seem to have shed quite a few of their social duties since the war. Wiping Emming off the slate for the moment we are left with …’
‘Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego,’ said Mrs. Bradley. ‘In other words, with Mr. Obury, Mr. Mansell and the ghost of Parson Pile.’
‘Say on. This promises well.’
‘It fulfils its promise. Figure to yourself last Christmas Eve.’
‘Filled a bran-tub for my nephew’s kids. Nearly set the house on fire trying out the candles on the Christmas tree. Gave a tramp half-a-crown instead of setting the dogs on him. Was rung up about a burglary at Cirencester.’
‘Nothing of which affects my narrative. At the manor house we entertained two guests. They were not, properly speaking, my nephew’s guests, but were the friends of the Fullaloves. We put them up because the bungalow is small. Before midnight they went out for a walk …’
‘In heaven’s name, why? The night was as black as pitch!’
‘One went to see badgers, the other to debunk ghosts.’
‘And …?’
‘I don’t think there were any badgers, but there definitely was a ghost.’
‘An
other of these balloon things?’
‘Oh, you heard about that, did you? Well, I wasn’t there, but that may have been what it was.’
‘But what was the aim and object?’
‘It is impossible to say with any certainty.’
‘But they put the thing up again, later. That beastly balloon thing, I mean.’
‘To detract from the significance of the first occasion, probably, and to make the gate a special object of interest, knowing that on this second occasion it had no criminal connections. You see, I fancy that more than the official guests were present at the disinterment of Mr. Clarence Fullalove.’
‘Yes, but what about this ghost business on Christmas Eve?’
‘A rehearsal, I fancy, for moving the body of Bill Fullalove.’
‘Bill was still alive at that time.’
‘Yes. He had been got out of the way by Tiny. As a matter of fact, and as you probably already know, Bill Fullalove came to the manor house whilst his friends were out, and had a very short talk and a very short drink with my nephew Jonathan.’
‘Faking an alibi, I should say, for the time of Mrs. Dalby Whittier’s death.’
‘She must have died soon after lunch, you know. The belladonna would have acted fairly quickly. You won’t give up the search for those two dogs and the cats belonging to Tiny, will you?’
‘No, no. To find their bodies and show that they died of belladonna poisoning would be tantamount to proving that they were poisoned at the bungalow and by the curry. Even I can see that, and it would leave Tiny Fullalove with a good deal of explaining to do.’
‘I quite agree: may I go on?’
‘Do, do. You have a most constructive mind.’
‘Young Emming visited us on Christmas Day. Miss Hughes, from the College, came, too. Emming had a grievance against Tiny Fullalove. He accused Tiny of unkindness towards some of his choirboys who had trespassed on Jonathan’s land in order to gather holly.’
Groaning Spinney Page 18