by Andrew Garve
There was an alternative possibility, a variation. Dancy’s association with Shaw could have been a forced one. Shaw might well have discovered that Fresher was Dancy, just as I had. He’d known about Fresher’s prison record, which would have given him a hold over Dancy. He might have blackmailed him into writing the letter. Blackmail would have been in line with Shaw’s tendencies, and it was a powerful motive for murder. But on reflection I doubted if a threat to expose a twenty-year-old prison record would have sufficed to bring a tough customer like Dancy to heel. Whom would Shaw have threatened to tell? The obvious answer seemed to be Lavinia, in view of Dancy’s sharp reaction to the possibility of her learning the truth about him. Yet I found it hard to believe that Dancy was so attached to Lavinia that he’d have submitted to blackmail because of her. He might be, of course, even though she was so dreadfully unattractive. He certainly gave every appearance of being devoted. It was a curious engagement, altogether. I wondered if by any chance Lavinia had a bit of money tucked away somewhere. She hadn’t given that impression, with her dowdy clothes and decrepit car and ugly little bungalow, but you could never tell with these eccentric spinsters. It was definitely worth looking into.
There was nothing I could do about it on a Sunday, but sharp at nine next morning I drove round to Somerset House to check up on Lavinia’s father’s will. If there was money in the family, there should be some indication of it there. I had all the information I needed to get the will traced and in a few minutes the file was brought to me. I paid my inspection fee and turned up the details.
For a moment I could scarcely believe my eyes. The figures were enormous. Gross value of the estate, £165,423. Net value, £159,027. Duty paid, £79,543. Fascinated, I ran my eye down the list of bequests. Most of them had been to faithful servants and they were all quite minor until I came to the last one. There was nothing minor about that. “The residue to my daughter, Lavinia Mabel Hewitt, absolutely.’’ The residue! The best part of £80,000!
I closed the file and walked slowly out to the car. The Lavinia-Dancy engagement no longer seemed curious—and the hold I imagined Shaw might have had over Dancy no longer seemed slight. Dancy, obviously, was a fortune hunter. Somehow he’d discovered that Lavinia had money, a lot of money, and he’d gone all out to get her to the altar. Then Shaw had found out that Dancy was Fresher and that he’d been jailed for obscenity. A word in Lavinia’s ear would almost certainly have ended the engagement, and the eighty thousand pounds would have been lost. Shaw would have been in a position to dictate terms. Dancy, as I now saw it, had been blackmailed.
My theory had been given a tremendous boost, but it still needed a great deal of work done on it. So far it was scarcely more than an outline. Back at the flat, I started to go through the whole case again, looking for facts to fill out the picture. I’d barely begun when I hit a fearful snag. In my eagerness to develop the Shaw-Dancy aspect, I’d completely overlooked a vital batch of old evidence—the parcel of Shaw’s effects that Mrs. Green had sent me. At the time, I’d taken those things as conclusive proof that Shaw had thought up his own story. And what was proof then was proof now.
I still had all the stuff in a cupboard. I fished it out and had another look at it. It was horribly convincing. I tried Mary’s method, refusing to allow myself to be swayed by mere evidence! If my theory was right, I told myself, these exhibits—whatever the appearance to the contrary—must have been faked. But how? I examined the underwater diving books again. It didn’t take me long to decide that they could have been faked. Shaw could have bought them after Galloway’s book had been published and inserted the marginal comments and cross-references afterward. The same thing applied to the notebook and the draft chapter. There was nothing there that couldn’t have been fabricated afterward by a clever and industrious crook. But the newspaper cuttings were a different matter. All but one had the original date of the paper incorporated in the cutting, and the dates preceded the publication of Galloway’s book by more than a year. Would Shaw have been able to select and acquire these cuttings twelve months after the papers containing them had appeared? He certainly wouldn’t have been able to get much help from the back numbers departments of the newspaper offices themselves after all that time. As a librarian, of course, he might have had access to back files of newspapers—but would he, with his criminal plan in mind, have wanted to cut articles on underwater diving from public files in his own care? I very much doubted it.
The newspaper cuttings had unsettled me and I no longer knew what to think of my Shaw-Dancy theory. Looking at it again with normally skeptical eyes I had to admit that it was almost pure supposition. I knew that Shaw had discovered the truth about Fresher, but I didn’t know for certain that he’d identified Fresher with Dancy. Even if he had, I couldn’t prove that he’d ever used his knowledge. It was significant, I thought, that he’d been so anxious to hang on to Fresher’s photograph—as an instrument of blackmail it would have been invaluable, as a collector’s piece it would have been puerile—but significance wasn’t proof. I couldn’t prove that Shaw had known about Lavinia’s fortune. I couldn’t prove that Shaw had met Dancy. I certainly couldn’t prove that Dancy had killed him. In fact, I couldn’t prove a thing. I had a theory which, up to a point, made sense. That was all.
So what was I going to do about it? As things stood, it was hard to see what I could do. I hadn’t nearly enough evidence to go to the police and seek their co-operation. With Galloway convicted and sentenced and the case, from their point of view, closed, they’d never take me seriously. I’d have to be much more sure before I could bring them in. But how could I become surer? How could I test my theory? Where could I go for new facts?
I’d been living with the case so long I was beginning to get desperate. I wanted to finish with it, one way or the other. In the end I decided the boldest course was the best. I’d go to the fountainhead. I’d confront Dancy and put my cards on the table. I had one card that might turn out a trump. I’d use that, and see how he reacted. His nerve was probably good—but a guilty man suddenly faced with an accusation of murder might well make some mistake. It seemed the only hope. It would be a tough meeting, but I couldn’t see that I’d anything much to lose. The way things were, I’d already lost what I cared about most.
Chapter Fifteen
I called on Dancy at noon the next day, without an appointment. He came down in his shirtsleeves, smoking a pipe. He seemed surprised to see me. I said I’d be glad of a few words with him and he asked me to go up.
“You don’t want more stuff for that interview, surely?’’ he said, as he showed me into his study.
“No, it’s not that.… As a matter of fact, I’m afraid the interview’s off.’’
“Oh?’’ He looked disappointed. “Why?’’
“The usual thing—change of mind at the top.… Perhaps it’s just as well, actually—readers are fussy people and some of them have long memories.’’
He gave me a sharp glance. “I don’t get you,’’ he said.
“I checked up on that bit of trouble you had with the police. You weren’t exactly frank with me, were you? According to my information, you were given a jail sentence.’’
There was a little pause. Then he said, “Oh, you found out about that, did you? I thought perhaps you might.… Yes, the fact is I had the bad luck to come up against a narrow-minded judge. It should have been a fine, of course.’’
I said, “It was a pretty bad case, Dancy. I’m not surprised you were so anxious to keep it from Miss Hewitt. It would certainly ruin your chances of marrying her if she got to know about it and I’m sure you wouldn’t like that. I understand she’s a very wealthy woman!’’
I saw the muscles of his forearms tighten. There was a moment of dangerous quiet. Then he said, “You know, I’m beginning not to like you very much, Rennie. In fact, I’ve a good mind to throw you out on your neck.’’
“You can’t afford to throw me out,’’ I said. “You wouldn’t want a
big scene and the police brought in, would you? I mean, Miss Hewitt would want to know what the brawl had been about. Then it would probably all come out—about Fresher.’’
Dancy’s pink face grew pinker. “Now look here,’’ he said, “I don’t know what your game is, but I can tell you this—if you’re thinking of trying a bit of blackmail you’ve picked the wrong man. It could be very dangerous for you.’’
“That I can believe!’’ I said. “But as it happens I’m not thinking of trying a bit of blackmail.’’
“Then why are you so damned interested in my affairs?’’
“I’m interested,’’ I said, “in Shaw and Galloway. I told you—I’m writing up the case.’’
“What on earth’s my past career got to do with Shaw and Galloway?’’
“It could have a lot to do with them,’’ I said. “You see, it seems quite possible that it wasn’t Galloway who killed Shaw, after all.’’
He stared at me. “You mean you’ve found some new …’’ He broke off, puzzled. “I still don’t see what it’s got to do with me.’’
“It seems quite possible,’’ I said, “that you killed Shaw!’’
His jaw dropped, his blue eyes regarded me in wonderment. For a moment he didn’t say anything. Then his plump face creased, and he suddenly threw his head back and gave a huge guffaw.
It was most disconcerting. I told myself that a man who could simulate passion for Miss Hewitt could simulate anything, but he looked and sounded genuine enough. He was fairly rocking with laughter. I watched him coldly.
Presently he drew a deep breath and wiped the tears from his eyes. “God,’’ he said, “I haven’t had a belly laugh like that in years …! You mean you came here to accuse me of murder—not to make trouble about Lavinia?’’
“That’s right.’’
“Oh dear, oh dear …!’’ For a moment I thought he was going to start all over again. “Well, that’s a relief, I must say—now I can relax.…’’ He went to a cupboard. “This calls for a drink, I think.’’
“Not for me, thanks.’’
“Oh, come on, old boy, there’s no need to be huffy.… No? Well, I will, if you don’t mind.…’’ He poured himself a glass of sherry. His equanimity seemed completely restored. “You know, the trouble with you newspaper chaps is that you’re always trying to make headlines whether the facts justify them or not.… Do sit down.’’ He dropped into a chair. “Now tell me, what is this extraordinary idea you’ve got hold of?’’
I told him. I didn’t accuse him—I just outlined the possible case. I described in detail the frame-up plan that Shaw could have worked out and I explained how Blundell’s letter could have been faked. I went on to deal with Shaw’s visit to the publisher, his discoveries about Fresher, his possible discovery that Fresher was Dancy, his need of a second letter about his manuscript, his opportunity for blackmail because of Miss Hewitt, and the conceivable outcome on the towpath. As I marshaled the points and developed the argument, it seemed to me that I was making quite a case. Yet I still didn’t know whether I believed it or not.
Dancy listened intently till the end—I’d never had a more interested audience. He seemed absolutely fascinated, and I could have sworn it was all new to him. He didn’t interrupt me at all, but at the end he slapped his hands together almost with jubilation. “Well, I can tell you one thing,’’ he said. “That would make a first-rate plot for one of my books.’’
“If it turns out to be true,’’ I said, “it will make an even better plot for someone else’s!’’
He laughed. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid it’s not true. I’m not exactly a plaster saint, as you’ve gathered, but I do draw the line at murder.… Mind you, it’s an incredibly ingenious theory—I hand it to you for working all that out. But the plain truth is, I never met Shaw in my life, so it all falls to the ground.’’
“The last time we talked,’’ I said, “you told me the plain truth was that you’d been fined for an indiscretion. You sounded most plausible—but the fact was that you’d been jailed for obscenity. Can you really expect me to take your word for anything? I’m afraid I’ll have to do quite a bit more checking before I abandon my theory.’’
His face clouded. “Now see here, Rennie, you’ll agree I’ve taken this nonsense in good part—I’ve sat here quietly while you’ve accused me of bashing a man on the head, which some chaps might have resented. I didn’t mind, simply because it was such nonsense. But if you’re going to start talking to other people, it’s not going to be long before something leaks out about the Fresher business, and that’s a very different matter. My fiancée might hear—and I can’t let that happen, you know. You’d better watch your step.’’
“I’ll watch it,’’ I said, “don’t worry. But I’ve gone too far now to turn back.’’
Alarm showed in his eyes. “You mean you’ve already talked about this to someone?’’
“Not yet,’’ I said, “but I’ll have to.… Unless, of course, you can prove in some way that you had nothing to do with the Shaw affair.’’
“I would if I could,’’ he said, “like a shot—anything to keep you quiet! But how can I?’’
I played my one card. “You could tell me where you were the night Shaw was murdered.’’
“My dear chap, how can I possibly tell?—for one thing, I don’t remember when he was murdered. Even if I did, I wouldn’t know where I was—it was months ago.’’
“It was last Easter Saturday,’’ I said. “You ought to know where you were at Easter. Perhaps you were with Miss Hewitt?’’
“Easter!’’ His face suddenly cleared. “Why, of course, I remember now, I was …’’ He broke off. “Look, are you planning to check this?’’
“I might.’’
“Then I’m damned if I’m going to tell you. I was with good friends, and I’m not going to have them worried with a lot of slanderous nonsense.’’
“If I do check,’’ I said, “there’ll be no slander. I’ll cover up with some harmless story. I’m used to it, you know.’’
“Is that a promise?’’
“It’s a promise.’’
“Right—then this is where you say goodby to your theory. I was in Wales, staying with a couple named Corbett, an artist and his wife. I left London—let me see—about midday on Saturday, and I got there just after dark. And if it’s of any interest to you, it rained the whole weekend!’’
“Can I get these people on the telephone?’’
“No, they don’t have one—it’s just a cottage on a mountainside, very isolated. They spend all their time painting and fishing. When they want to be sociable they come to London.’’
“They’re not in London now, I suppose?’’
“No, they’re up in Wales—I heard from Corbett only a fortnight ago. But you’re wasting your time, old chap, if you’re thinking of going up there. They’ll only tell you what I’ve told you.’’
“Where is the cottage?’’ I said.
“It’s about four miles from Dolgelly. It lies back off the A.487 road—that’s the road to Ffestiniog—and it’s called Tan-y-Groes.… If you like I’ll drop a line to the Corbetts and tell them you’re coming. I’ll tell them you’re a friend of mine!’’
“Don’t bother,’’ I said. “If I go, I’ll probably get there before a letter could.’’
He looked at me sardonically. “Going to rush straight up there before I can get in touch with them, eh …? Well, you must be a glutton for punishment, that’s all I can say. I assure you it’ll be a pointless journey—but if I keep on saying that you’ll probably think I don’t want you to go!’’
“Probably.’’
“Well, it’s up to you.… The place is quite easy to find—you turn up a track to the left just past the fourth milestone from Dolgelly, and you’ll see the white gate of the cottage about fifty yards along the track.…’’ He got up, grinning. “And I hope it keeps fine for you!’’
&n
bsp; “Thank you,’’ I said. “If I get your story confirmed I’ll come back and apologize.’’
“Don’t worry about that, old boy. Just keep your mouth shut about my murky past until I’m safely married—that’s all I ask.’’
I gave him a bleak nod, and left.
Chapter Sixteen
I dropped into a pub for a sandwich and a beer and sat thinking about the interview. There was nothing encouraging about it. Dancy had revealed himself more clearly than ever as a cynical and conscienceless adventurer, but that was all he had revealed. On the surface, at any rate, he couldn’t have been less concerned about the murder charge. Either he was innocent or he was an incredibly cool customer—and my guess was that he was innocent. If he hadn’t been in Wales over Easter I couldn’t believe he’d have been so forthcoming. And if he had been in Wales he couldn’t have killed Shaw.
All the same, I told myself, that alibi of his might have been a bluff. If in fact he had killed Shaw, and hadn’t had an alibi, he’d naturally have tried to tell as convincing a story as possible in the hope that I’d drop the whole thing. Now that I’d got so far it seemed absurd not to check. Yet the thought of a solitary all-day drive to Wales and a solitary all-day drive back, with no result except finally to clinch the fact that Galloway was a murderer was almost more than I could face. Not for the first time I wished I’d left the whole thing alone, for I’d done no good to Mary or myself or anyone else.
I sat there for half an hour, trying to make up my mind what to do. If I was going to Wales it would mean groveling to Ames for some extra days off, because I’d no more leave due to me for a while. He’d be sure to take a dim view, particularly as I hadn’t turned in any very bright stories lately. The fact was, I’d been neglecting my duties shockingly. Next thing, I’d probably find myself fired …! With an effort, I switched my mind back to Dancy. One way or the other, I’d got to decide. Perhaps what I needed was a fresh opinion—I’d been mulling over my theory so long I couldn’t judge its strength any more. I might go and see Mary. Until now I’d deliberately refrained from telling her what I’d been up to because I hadn’t wanted to raise her hopes again when they’d probably only be dashed to the ground—but what I had to tell her now wouldn’t raise her hopes much! I wasn’t due in the office till four so I had plenty of time. I went to a phone and rang her and she’d just come in and was having lunch. I said there was something I wanted to discuss with her rather urgently and she said she’d be there all afternoon. I drove over to Kew straight away.