Murder Flies the Coop

by Jessica Ellicott

She decided to take her leave of the landlady before she said something she would later regret. Mrs. Plumptree and Cyril escorted her back down the narrow corridor. As Mrs. Plumptree waved good-bye, Edwina thought again that the other woman really did look quite lonely. Despite the fact she personally did not like him, she was rather glad Mrs. Plumptree had Cyril.

  Chapter 28

  If Edwina had known what Beryl and Archie had been concocting as a plan, she would never have gone to the boardinghouse and left the pair of them to put their heads together. She knew she was in for something unpleasant when Beryl met her in the front hallway holding Edwina’s camera bag in her outstretched hands.

  “We’ve come up with the perfect plan,” Beryl said. “Isn’t that right, Archie?” Beryl elbowed Archie in the ribs. He looked just as excited as she did. Honestly the pair of them were like devilish children. Edwina could easily imagine how no long-term romance could have survived between them. They were simply too much alike.

  “You best tell me what it is then since obviously I am involved. Unless Archie has taught you how to use my camera in my absence,” Edwina said.

  “Archie is going to tell Constable Gibbs that he is writing an article on women constables and that she, with all of her success, and her groundbreaking position, has come to his attention,” Beryl said. She turned excitedly to Archie who nodded enthusiastically in agreement. Edwina thought if he nodded his head any more vigorously he was in danger of shaking his freckles from his boyish face.

  “I don’t see how this involves my camera,” Edwina said. She took her treasured possession from Beryl’s grasp and held on to it tightly. Beryl tended to talk with her hands and Edwina could imagine her camera flying from her grip and shattering to bits upon the floor. She clutched it soothingly to her chest and waited for Beryl to deliver her bad news.

  “You are going to pose as his photographer. She will be all the more willing to grant an interview if she thinks her picture will be in the paper,” Beryl said.

  “Why would she believe that I am a photographer for a newspaper?” Edwina asked.

  “I plan to tell her that I always hire local talent when I travel on special assignments. I thought I would say that this is an exclusive scoop and that we don’t want any of the other papers to get a whiff of it so I am traveling alone in order not to attract any unwanted attention to my activities. I thought I would tell her I’d come all the way from Australia in order to interview her,” Archie said.

  Edwina had to admit it would be difficult for Doris Gibbs to resist such flattery. While Edwina did not like the constable, or even respect her particularly, she did understand how much pride the other woman took in her position. It had been difficult for Doris to be taken seriously during the war years when there were no men to police the village. The fact that she had managed to hang on to her job when so many men were without work was a testament to either her tenacity or the unpopularity of the position.

  “But why is it that she would believe that I am the qualified person to serve as your photographer?” Edwina asked.

  “I plan to tell her the truth,” Archie said with a huge grin. “That I’m an old friend of Beryl’s and that when I asked her about local photographers she immediately suggested you. Naturally, I hired you at once.”

  “Why will my presence help us to find out if Martin Haynes is guilty or if he has Mrs. Ecclestone-Smythe’s jewelry?” Edwina asked.

  “Archie is an ace reporter,” Beryl said, giving the younger man’s arm a firm squeeze. Edwina felt slightly uncomfortable with the lingering glance Beryl cast his way. “But it must be said; he’s not actually a detective. One of us needs to be there on-site to pick the constable’s brain and find out what’s going on. We certainly can’t let Prudence Rathbone be the source of our information in the case. I do not take photographs so you are the obvious choice. And we need to question Martin Haynes if at all possible.”

  Edwina sighed. It was obvious there was no way of getting out of it. She was going to have to encounter Constable Gibbs. She did not look forward to what was sure to be a confrontational visit to the police station.

  “When did you plan to conduct this interview?” Edwina asked.

  “Immediately,” Beryl said. “Why do you think I met you in the hall with your camera all packed and ready to go?” Beryl spun Edwina’s shoulders around and pointed her towards the door. Archie stepped up and took her elbow.

  It was a testament to Beryl’s affection for the reporter that she had allowed him to use her motorcar to drive them to the police station. Beryl said it would look more like they were telling the truth about Archie knowing her if she allowed him to take the wheel. They parked in front of the station, drawing glances from up and down the street. Edwina could see Constable Gibbs peering through the large window at the front of the police station. Her perpetual scowl was fixed firmly on her face as they entered the small building.

  “I told you that you were not supposed to be involved with anything further to do with this investigation,” Constable Gibbs said, placing her fists on her hips.

  “Hello Constable Gibbs,” Archie said, stepping forward. “It’s a real pleasure and an honor to meet you again, ma’am.” Constable Gibbs dropped her fists and the furrow between her brows deepened.

  “You’re that man who came to tell me about finding Lionel Cunningham’s body,” Constable Gibbs said.

  “That’s right. But today I’m here as a reporter on special assignment all the way from Australia. I’m currently filing my stories with one of the newspapers up in London. I’m here especially to humbly request that you grant me the favor of an interview,” Archie said. Edwina noticed he had broadened his Australian accent as if to highlight the distance he had come in order to speak with the constable.

  “An interview? With me? What about?” Constable Gibbs said, her scowl deepening even further.

  “It is come to my attention, all the way over in Sydney, that there were a few superior sort of women in your fair land taking on the job of policing their communities. Your name was the first one mentioned,” Archie said.

  “You want to write an article on women police constables?” Constable Gibbs asked.

  “Indeed I do, ma’am. It’s a human interest story but one with real drama to it. I know that folks would like to see what it’s like for you brave ladies who have done such a bang-up job of things without the credit you deserve,” Archie said. With that, Edwina knew he had Constable Gibbs in the palm of his hand. If there was one thing Edwina knew about Doris Gibbs it was that she never felt she got enough credit. The idea of having her name splashed across a paper in London was something she could not possibly have dreamt of in her wildest fantasies.

  “I suppose I could spare you a few minutes. We are quite busy here in Walmsley Parva despite being such a small police station, but considering how far you’ve come, I suppose I could make the time,” Constable Gibbs said.

  “Your busyness is one of the reasons you’ve come to my attention,” Archie said. “It’s not every village constable who’s been instrumental in solving two murders in their small community. Which is why Miss Davenport has accompanied me. The newspaper has made it clear that not only do they want a front-page story, they require a photograph of you to accompany it.” Edwina watched as Constable Gibbs’ hand crept up to her head. She hurriedly patted her hairpins back into her untidy bun. She straightened her constable’s hat and turned to Edwina.

  “Did you want to take the photographs straightaway?” she asked, turning her attention to Edwina for the first time since they entered the police station.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather conduct the interview first. I find it makes the people I interview appear more relaxed and natural in the photograph if they’ve warmed up by telling me their story beforehand,” Archie said, turning to give Edwina a wink.

  “You’re the expert,” Constable Gibbs said. “Come on back here. We might as well sit and be comfortable.”

  Archie and
Edwina followed Constable Gibbs behind the counter that divided the unwashed public from the sanctity of Constable Gibbs’ private domain. There was a small table ringed by four chairs at the back of the room. A half-filled cup of tea sat in front of a pile of paperwork. Archie and Edwina took chairs at the table and waited for Constable Gibbs to settle into what was clearly her own favorite spot.

  Archie gestured towards the stack of papers. “It looks like we interrupted you while you are hard at work. I expect that concerns the case you’ve been investigating recently,” he said.

  “That’s right,” Constable Gibbs said. “I suppose Edwina and her famous friend have been filling your ears with a lot of speculation.”

  “They mentioned a bit about it, but I told them I’d much rather hear about it from you,” Archie said. “A good reporter always gets the story from the best possible sources.”

  Constable Gibbs’ posture straightened as her chest swelled visibly with pride. She gave Edwina a mocking glance. “I see that the Australian standard for truth is at least as high as that here in the British Isles,” Constable Gibbs said. “What is it that you wanted to ask me?”

  Archie started the interview with the sorts of questions Edwina would have expected if his article had no hidden purpose of assisting in her investigation. He asked questions about Constable Gibbs’ background, age, marital status, and whether or not she had been trained in any sort of police work prior to taking on the job. By the time they’d spent only a few minutes together, Edwina could tell that Constable Gibbs’ frosty exterior was melting. Truly, Archie had a gift for flattery. He was the sort of man who knew exactly what to ask to get the information he needed. Edwina was surprised that he had lost his job at so many different newspapers. But perhaps the sorts of charms he had exhibited on Beryl were amongst the reasons for his need to move from city to city.

  After complimenting Doris on her strict adherence to the local ordinances concerning the proper screening of pigsties, Archie turned the conversation ever so slowly and subtly to the current investigation. After the way he’d warmed her up, Constable Gibbs was happy to tell him anything he wanted to know. She had been deftly reduced to a twittering schoolgirl within fifteen minutes. In fact, it was not only surprising, Edwina found it rather nauseating.

  “So I understand the case you’ve just cracked was quite a knotty puzzle,” Archie said. “I’m sure our readers would be thrilled to be able to hear firsthand account of capturing a cold-blooded murderer.”

  “It’s not the sort of thing the average individual encounters, now is it?” Constable Gibbs said. “It took a fair bit of investigatory expertise to get to the bottom of it. This was not just a straightforward case,” she said.

  “You must need to know a great deal about the community you serve in order to get to the bottom of something like this, don’t you?” Archie said. “I mean an outsider couldn’t simply step into your role and solve a crime in a village, could they?”

  “Well, an outsider certainly wouldn’t have known who to ask about unusual sums of money appearing in town. You have to know who has money and who doesn’t before you can be following that sort of clue,” Constable Gibbs said. “It was just that sort of thinking that led me to Chester’s bookmaking scheme,” Constable Gibbs said.

  “You have a bookie right here in little Walmsley Parva?” Archie asked.

  “I’m sorry to say that we do,” Constable Gibbs said. “But in this case it ended up being a help rather than a moral blight on our community. I made enquiries about all sorts of unusual money being spent and turned up nothing in the usual places. No one bought an unexpected round for everyone down at the pub or went about throwing money away at the village shops.”

  “So that led you to check with the bookie?” Archie said. “That was clever thinking. You really have a gift for this job.”

  Constable Gibbs straightened her shoulders and smiled. “I’d like to think that’s why I’ve kept my position for so long,” she said. “You have to know the population you serve and where to ask the right questions. Chester needed a little convincing but I managed to get him to tell me about an unusual bet placed for just about the same amount that had gone missing from the pigeon racing club’s treasury at the same time Mr. Cunningham disappeared. He was the club’s treasurer, you know.”

  “And so you put two and two together?” Archie asked.

  “Exactly. As soon as I was certain the office would be open, I telephoned down to the colliery to check on Mr. Haynes’ schedule and it turned out he wasn’t on shift when we believe Mr. Cunningham met his end. I’ve got him dead to rights, so to speak,” Constable Gibbs said, glowing with pride.

  Edwina felt a tingle of excitement. She managed to keep herself from asking questions in order to allow Archie to extract the information from Constable Gibbs. She knew that any interruption from her would stop the flow of conversation.

  “His work schedule?” Archie said. “Is that the sort of deductive reasoning and dedication the public has come to expect from you?”

  “I’d like to think so,” Constable Gibbs said. She began waving her hands round him passionately as if to make her point. “I consider myself a public servant above all else and it is that belief that guides my relentless pursuit of justice.”

  “Tell me, do you believe this was a cold-blooded premeditated act or was it an opportunistic crime of passion?” Archie asked.

  “I am completely convinced Martin Haynes behaved with malice aforethought,” Constable Gibbs said. “I suggested that Mr. Cunningham foolishly made some sort of display of the money in front of Martin Haynes who was overcome with temptation. Clearly he decided to follow the victim to his pigeon loft early on the morning of the race. I surmised that he killed Mr. Cunningham and helped himself to the contents of his victim’s billfold. End of story,” Constable Gibbs said.

  “Did he admit he did that?” Edwina asked. She knew she should remain silent but the question just slipped out unbidden.

  “He hasn’t admitted anything other than placing a bet with the bookie. But mark my words, I’ll manage to get a confession out of him one way or another,” Constable Gibbs said.

  “Do you believe him to be a first-time offender?” Archie asked. He leaned towards Constable Gibbs, his face flushed with interest.

  “In my considerable experience, criminal types get their start early in life. Most start out nicking sweets at the village shop,” Constable Gibbs said. “It isn’t long before they graduate to housebreaking and worse. Murder is a final rung on a ladder they’ve been climbing for years.”

  Archie scribbled something furiously in his notebook and then he turned to Edwina.

  “Constable Gibbs has just the right look on her face. Do you think you could take her photograph now?” Archie asked. Edwina nodded and busied herself with her camera equipment. She positioned Constable Gibbs this way and that and snapped several photos in order to look convincing.

  “I have a few more questions I’d like to ask the constable,” Archie said. “I think that you’re free to go as I no longer have need of a photographer.” Archie gave the constable a wink and made a point to look as though he were dismissing Edwina. She took it as a good time to go looking for Martin Haynes herself.

  “Shall I wait for you in the motorcar to finish the interview?” Edwina asked.

  “I think that would be best,” Archie said.

  “Will you be long?” Edwina asked.

  “The constable is full of so many fascinating details that I’d like to pick her brain a bit longer. You don’t mind, do you, ma’am?” Archie said, turning to Constable Gibbs.

  “I would consider it a public service,” she said.

  “I should like to avail myself of your WC,” Edwina said to Constable Gibbs. “That is, if I’m going to need to wait much longer.” Constable Gibbs waved her off and Edwina found herself free to explore the back of the police station without supervision.

  Chapter 29

  Edwina made her way
quietly along the corridor towards the holding area at the back of the police station. A heavy lock kept the door firmly shut. But a window with bars across it allowed her to see in. Peering into the gloom she saw Martin Haynes, sitting on a wooden bench placed along the far wall. She stretched up on tiptoe to get a better look through the window.

  “Mr. Haynes, may I speak with you for a moment?” she asked in a low voice. He looked up in surprise and left the bench to join her at the window. Edwina thought he looked somewhat scared. She imagined that Constable Gibbs had been quite descriptive about the process of hanging. Doris Gibbs always did like the lurid and unpleasant. When they had been children Edwina remembered an occasion when Doris had stopped by the side of the road and pointed out a frog that had been trampled under the wheels of a passing cart. She ghoulishly and gleefully described the scene before her despite the fact that all of the other girls were horrified by what had happened to the small creature.

  “What do you want?” Martin Haynes asked. He wrapped his soot-encrusted hands around the bars of the window.

  “I wanted to ask you a question,” Edwina said.

  “I’ve already spent all night being interrogated by that other woman,” he said. “I got no sleep whatsoever. Unless you are a newly minted member of the constabulary I’m in no mood to answer any more.” Edwina thought his tone sounded defiant but as she stepped closer she decided the look in his eyes said he felt more frightened than he was attempting to show.

  “It won’t take long. I am quite certain I only have a moment before Constable Gibbs becomes suspicious of my absence and comes looking for me,” Edwina said.

  “I have already talked until I am hoarse. What good has it done me?” The haggard man looked over his shoulder at the narrow cot and unsanitary-looking chamber pot on the floor beside it.

  “It can’t make things worse, can it?” she said, pointing to the bars on the door window.

  “I don’t know about that. After all, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find you and your famous friend were the ones who hurried to tell the constable that you had seen me arguing with Cunningham by the river. That doesn’t make me think you are on my side,” he said.