‘I wasn’t here myself at the time,’ went on Drimwade, ‘so I don’t remember the details. But it would be well worth your looking at it.’
That means he remembers it and knows there’s a crucial fact in it. Coins, he thought, a coin ring. Who’d have thought it?
‘How did the coin society come to be suspected?’ he asked.
‘Ah, that’s interesting in itself,’ said Drimwade. ‘ No one talked about the society, which seemed harmless enough. I mean who suspects numismatists of evil-doing? But one of the club, society, or whatever, was involved in a car crash and documents were found in his car. Lists of names, all assumed but one or two men from Cheasey were identified and people started to wonder. I understand that’s how it came about; he ended carefully. ‘But as I say, I was not here myself.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Those who could be identified – were arrested.’
‘How long ago was this?’
‘About eight years.’
Charmian said: ‘I was doing a course in London about then … Still, I ought to have caught up with it.’
In a careful voice, Drimwade said: ‘At least one of the men convicted had what might be called high connections. Nothing was hushed up, but everything was low profile, if you get me.… Couldn’t do it now, but then you just about could.’
Charmian said: ‘The search of the building will be held up by the discovery of the bones. I’ll get away, there’s plenty I can be doing, then I’ll come back.’
‘I’ll tell you what I’m going to do as well,’ said Drimwade. ‘I’m going to check the movements and alibis of all members of the numismatists’ club, all those that we can find, for the time of Doby’s death.’
‘Good idea,’ said Charmian. ‘And run over the people who work in Leopold Walk as well. There aren’t too many so it shouldn’t be a great task.’
In the car Rewley said: ‘Do you think he knows who we’ll turn up in this report?’
‘No. He’s too good a policeman for that. But he thinks there’s someone there we might identify.’
Rewley made a doubtful noise, indicating that Drimwade’s expression suggested he knew more than he was saying.
‘He’s got the sort of face that looks as if he knows something,’ said Charmian thoughtfully. Been an asset in his career. ‘ It’s his eyebrows and that thin smile. I don’t believe he’ll get much from checking the alibis of the survivors of the coin-collecting club, even if they can be found. I don’t think that’s the way forward.’ Routine police work had to be done or questions would be asked. ‘And he’s going to include Leopold Walk. I want to ginger them up a bit there.’
Rewley studied her face, but it gave nothing away.
‘Traffic’s heavy, isn’t it?’ she said, and he took that as a final mark on their conversation.
As she drove on she remembered that she needed food for the cat again, and the dog too if he was coming home from his stay with Birdie Peacock and Winifred Eagle. He was with them most days when she had to be out. There was food but more was needed. A husband ought to do that sort of shopping, she mused, turning left in the main shopping street, but Humphrey, although willing in theory, was never home enough to shop. He must shop for his clothes, she supposed, choose shirts and shoes but she never saw him at it. Probably he had a large wardrobe which rarely needed replenishing.
There was a supermarket, which she patronized in this street but parking was impossible; cars lined the street on either side. Then a small car loaded with a woman, two dogs and a big box of shopping moved out.
‘I’m going to stop here,’ she told Rewley. ‘I need some cat food. Will you wait here, or come in?’ Then she saw his expression, ‘No, you go back to Waxy House. You want to, don’t you? I’ll get hold of the report on the coin collectors of Merrywick.’ Dolly could do it. The days were gone when she went running around on such errands herself. She half regretted it, you learnt a lot on errands like that.
‘I do want to go back, I want to be on the spot.’
‘You can walk from here. Call me when they get back to searching the house. I want to be there.’
She soon finished her shopping, carefully selecting the tins of food that the cat liked and which the dog would also consent to eat. On occasion the cat ate dog food with no ill result. Fortunately, neither had learnt to read, although they knew the shape of the tins and the sound of them being opened.
She was making her way to the check-out desk, working out which queue it would be best to join, when she heard a commotion.
Running feet and voices raised.
Two boys were being led away by a security guard. She recognized one of them: it was Angus Cairns. That was not good, that was definitely not good, because surely this was the second time. She had seen this before here. Only that time he had got away.
She raised an eyebrow at the check-out girl. ‘Oh,’ said the girl, taking her money. ‘ If it’s their first time and they haven’t nicked too much the manager will give them both a ticking-off and tell them not to do it again. But we’ve had a lot of trouble lately, so he might threaten them with the police. He’ll tell the parents too.’
Charmian walked out to her car. No, not good. She judged Dr Cairns not an easy or a forgiving parent.
She frowned. I must be getting old, she told herself. I’m more on the side of the child than the parent. Ten years ago I would have said wretched boy, poor father. Not now.
Dolly, of course, was out of the office. Amos was there, hunched over a pile of papers on his desk. ‘She’s gone to London, I think. She finished her work on that fraud case, you’ll find the papers on your desk, I saw her put them there – and she said she’d be off to London to talk to the sergeant there. She thought she could get more out of him than he was passing along.’
But when Charmian told him about the report, he stood up, young and eager. ‘I’ll go, ma’am.’
Charmian got down to some of the other work that she had pushed aside for too long. She worked on, concentrating and, for a while, the disappearance of Alicia Ellendale and the murder of Arthur Doby receded into the middle distance.
When Amos came back he was smiling. ‘I think I’d call that a well-read report,’ he said, putting a brown file on her desk. ‘ Everyone who could invent a reason for having a look must have done so.’
Charmian opened the file. ‘Yes, it does look well thumbed.’
‘Breathed on with hot breath,’ said Amos, ‘and handled with sweaty fingers. I have to admit that I had quick look myself as I came over … It’s the photographs.’
‘Well, that’s it for you for now,’ and Charmian shooed him away. He went off, grinning. Amos was a good and very promising young officer, but sometimes she wanted to pat him on the head like a dog and say good boy. All the same, he had been with her for over two years now. Time soon to move on. He deserved promotion; it was her duty to see he was set on the path.
She was still bent over the file when Rewley walked in.
The photographs so diverting to her colleagues had not held her attention for long. She passed them over quietly to study what really interested her: the list of names and pseudonyms of those belonging to the club.
She looked up at Rewley, half abstracted: ‘Well? Time to go?’
‘Don’t hurry. They’re stuck. Pity those bones turned up in a way, as they complicate it all. Can’t be ignored and must be dealt with according to the rules. No police surgeon. The one on call is held up with family problems. Drimwade is not pleased.’
‘I know what the trouble is,’ said Charmian. ‘It’s his boy, shoplifting. But if I have Dr Cairns aright he won’t waste too long on tears and sympathy, he’ll be along to Waxy House.’ His work was where his heart was, not in family life.
Rewley stared over her shoulder. ‘I see what you’ve got there …’
‘Yes, look: two lists. First the names of those identified, assumed names in brackets, and, underneath, those whose disguise was never penetrated. T
hose who got away with it. I’m not interested in the first group,’ said Charmian absently.
Rewley was, and he pointed to one name in the top list. ‘I know that name, an old Cheasey name. Checkwinder, pseudonym: Cheater. He was that all right.’
Charmian ignored this. ‘These are the names I’m interested in.’ She pointed to the group of pseudonyms whose identity had never been established.
J. Birthday
T. Candleman
S. Claus
She pointed to a name. ‘I find that one illuminating. Surprising, too. Shows how mistaken one can be.’
‘You less than most,’ said Rewley, picking, up the sheet and studying the names.
‘Thanks. I hope the vote of confidence is justified.’
‘Going to tell me what you think?’
‘Later. I want to consider it. I may not be right.’
‘Don’t I remember that Frank Felyx called Harry Aden Daddy Christmas?’
Charmian tidied up the file, then locked it in a drawer. ‘I’d like to keep that safe. Yes, I remember what Frank said. Not one of his better jokes, but descriptive. Aden is plump and can be quite jolly. It suits him.’
She stood up. ‘I’m going round to Leopold Walk to see if I can hurry things up. Drimwade still there?’
‘He was when I left. Drinking coffee in the van. He had just refused to be interviewed for the local TV news. Nothing to say yet, he told them.’
‘Let’s go.’ Drimwade had pointed her in the direction of the names in the report on the coin society. Interesting, that; it might be that Drimwade himself was someone she had been wrong about.
They passed Amos in the outer office. He stood up as she went past and murmured, ‘Ma’am.’
‘Rewley.’ They were just going to the car. ‘Take Amos out for a drink when you have time and get it across to him that he need not call me ma’am all the time. Once a day or once a week will be enough. It makes me feel like the Queen and even she must get fed up with it.’
‘He’s a good chap.’ Rewley liked Amos and, being able to lipread, he had a better knowledge than Charmian of how Amos talked when he felt authority was elsewhere. Not that he had ever been critical of Charmian. Too sensible, too prudent, but one or two other colleagues had come in for some sharp comment.
‘Very good and he ought to move on soon so as to keep up his career momentum. He must get experience outside of SRADIC.’
When they got to the car, Charmian gave him the keys. ‘You drive, I want to think.’
She found herself thinking aloud: ‘At first, when Alicia Ellendale – oh, I do dislike that name, it’s so phoney – when she first disappeared, it put Frank under suspicion. Then the shoe turned up in the coach station and so I turned my mind to Arthur Doby … Is there anything from forensic on that shoe, by the way?’
‘No, nothing. No fingerprints and no fibres or particles to match. The shoe is new and plastic.’
‘Doby then got himself killed. And for a mad moment it looked as though Alicia might have done it …’
‘Some character togged up in black and limping did do it.’
‘Yes, so naturally, once I stopped thinking about a dead woman coming back or an undead one with one foot gone going into the kill, then I thought perhaps it was Frank dressed up.’
‘Can’t see that myself,’ said Rewley. ‘Frank may be many things, but I don’t see him as a killer.’
‘No, I agree. I think I agree, although I do feel he was a bit more into the porn side of the coin collectors than he admits. I don’t say he was a member but once he found out about it, when he was asked to look into it, then he was interested, very interested indeed.’
‘I can understand that,’ said Rewley charitably. ‘It’s one of those things.’
‘Then, and I don’t know what to make of this, but when I visited Frank he suggested, quite cleverly, that Mrs Fenwick might be a bisexual killer who dressed herself in black.’
‘Ask her, have a look at her.’
‘So I will as soon as I get the chance. But meanwhile …’ Charmian rubbed her head. ‘I think I must be in a very suggestible state … Drimwade told me about this report and I could tell it was not an idle suggestion; he meant something. He meant that one of those names might be the killer. And one of those pseudonyms did start me thinking.’
‘I know. I saw that.’
‘You’re a good listener, Rewley.’
‘Gave me some ideas, too.’
Charmian hesitated. ‘I won’t ask you. May not match with mine, and I’ll keep mine to myself until we see what Waxy House has to offer us.’
The afternoon had turned dark and rainy and the lights were on in the house. The electricians had trailed a cable across the pavement so that strong lighting was beamed inside the house and up the stairs.
Rewley found a spot to park the car further up the road and out of the light. ‘If I believed in spooks I would wonder how they liked being floodlit.’
‘The spirits in this house need more than artificial light to drive them out.’
Rewley looked at her in surprise. ‘That’s a thing to say.’
‘Yes, I know. Not like me to go in for intuition. Well, logic is coming in too.’
Drimwade met them at the open door, where they could see into the hall, bright with light. The floor was up and a figure was kneeling by the hole.
‘We’re bogged down here for a bit,’ said Drimwade. ‘ Doc has just arrived. He says the bones are so old he can’t be sure if it’s a baby or a monkey … Joke, not that he’s in a jokey mood. It’s a baby but it’s been there too long to concern us; it seems no case for the coroner.’
‘So what’s happening now?’
‘Now the lighting is fixed up, and that took some doing, the whole house is being photographed in case the dummies have to be moved.’
‘They will have to be moved,’ said Charmian crisply. She turned to Rewley. ‘In the first place, they are interesting historically, and secondly, Fanny says she’s thinking of opening the place as a museum, so she tells me.’
‘Thought she was going to knock it down.’
‘Changed her mind. She sees a hope of profit.’
Dr Cairns had risen from his knees. He was talking to one of the uniformed men in the hall.
‘The doc is about finished. I know the signs. We’ll be able to push on. He’s brought the boy with him,’ commented Drimwade to Charmian. ‘ Said it was that or chaining him to the bed post.’
‘Where is he, then?’
‘In the van. I left a WPC with him. She’s giving him a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit, if I know her.’
‘May be what he needs, a bit of comfort,’ said Charmian. ‘He’s the boy who found the shoe and started all this off.’
In a quiet voice, Drimwade said: ‘I know that. And between finding that shoe with what was in it and having the doc for a dad, I don’t altogether blame him for a bit of shoplifting … Know what he was taking? Shoes, trainers. I don’t know if that’s a symbol of something or not. Second go, too. The store said he’d tried once before, helped by a friend.’
Charmian turned to Rewley. ‘You go into the house and start things up: I particularly want that big looking-glass on the landing looked at. I’m going to the van to talk to the boy.’
Angus and the woman police officer were sitting together by the open door of the van, staring out at the rain. Both held mugs, and, yes, there were chocolate biscuits.
The WPC stood up when she saw Charmian and took up her duties. ‘Like a cup of tea, ma’am?’
‘No, thank you, but I would like to talk to Angus.’
Angus turned nervously from woman to woman. ‘It’s all right, Angus,’ said Charmian gently. She glanced towards the woman, who said at once: ‘ I could do with a breath of fresh air, if that’s all right by you, ma’am?’
Angus watched her retreating back. ‘She’s nice. The police in the supermarket weren’t as nice as her.’ He put his head on one side. ‘You know abou
t it?’
‘I know about it all. How’s your father taking it?’
‘Horrible,’ said Angus with sad conviction.
‘He’ll calm down, I expect.’ But she didn’t believe it.
‘Not him. He can’t understand. He likes corpses; it’s work to him. I hated finding …’ He hesitated. ‘What I found,’ he said obliquely.
‘Better to think about it clearly,’ said Charmian. ‘Face it out. We all have to.’
‘It eats you up. Nibble, nibble, nibble.’
‘Bite back.’
He laughed. A better sound, Charmian thought, than the shaky voice he had used. ‘I’m frightened. That’s why I wanted the shoes, to run with. So I could run and run if I had to.’
‘Why steal them?’
‘Dad wouldn’t buy them,’ he said simply. ‘Just wouldn’t. So Jaimie, my friend, said steal them. He steals everything.’
‘I’d drop that friend.’
‘You don’t drop friends. And Jaimie’s in trouble now; he’s been caught so often before.’
Dropped himself off, Charmian thought. Just as well, really. ‘What were you frightened of?’ As if I didn’t know.
‘I think I saw who put the shoe where I found it …’
‘Go on.’
‘I didn’t tell quite all the truth.’ He stopped there.
‘Tell it now,’ instructed Charmian.
‘I found the shoe because I knew it was there … It was there the day before. I was walking by the river, it was something I often did, on my own, or with my father, and my mother when she was with us … She’s dead, you know. Father says she has gone away but I know she’s really dead. It’s just his way of putting it.
‘I saw someone put the shoe into the river – not throw, just gently let it plop in.… I wondered what it was. It didn’t sink, it got sort of stuck on a little raft of plants. I got it out, I thought it might be treasure.’
Charmian raised an eyebrow.
‘Oh well, not treasure,’ he amended. ‘But I wanted to see what it was. When I saw, it didn’t look nice, you know, kind of bloody and chewed. The rats hadn’t had it, although they would have done, if I’d left it. I didn’t know what to do. So I hid it. And then, next day, when I was out walking, Dad wasn’t far away, I pretended to find it.’
The Woman Who Was Not There Page 17