‘I can’t say for certain, Inspector. But it sounded as though he’d thrown in the towel. That was my impression. I should tell you that things had been going from bad to worse for some time in Rex’s life. He was deeply in debt. This place is mortgaged to the hilt. He owes money left and right. I was just wondering how I was going to get him home when I remembered that my chauffeur, Ted Lennox, was outside with the car. I’d told him we’d be driving down to Hampshire later. Instead I got him to take Rex home and to see him inside his front door safely; which I believe he did. But you can ask him that yourself. He’s waiting outside.’
• • •
‘What will the police make of this, John?’
Jessup stood on the pavement looking about him. The crowd that had gathered in the street earlier, drawn by the police presence, had largely dispersed, and those bystanders still tempted to remain were being gently but firmly moved on by the uniformed officers posted outside.
‘What will they read into it? Will they take it as confirmation of their theory that it was probably Rex who killed Miss Blake?’
‘They might.’ Madden had come outside to accompany the other man to his car, where Lennox stood waiting with the door open. ‘They certainly regarded him as a suspect. I told you that. But they were some way from making a case against him. However, there’s still that woman in Hong Kong to be considered. They’re waiting for word from the police there. So far they’ve found no trace of her in their records. It’s possible she didn’t survive the assault she suffered at Garner’s hands and somehow her body was disposed of; and it’s equally possible that Wing knew that and could pin the crime on him. We don’t know what passed between them when they spoke on the phone yesterday.’
Jessup pondered in silence. Although he appeared to have recovered from the shock of seeing Garner’s body lowered to the floor, he still seemed troubled.
‘Will the question of Miss Blake’s murder come up at the inquest?’ he asked. ‘I expect I’ll be summoned to appear as a witness.’
‘It may well do.’ Madden nodded. ‘As Inspector Styles said, the coroner will try to establish Garner’s state of mind prior to his suicide, and your testimony will be crucial. He’ll want to know why he was so upset. There’s no way you can avoid the subject.’
‘And what will the police say about it?’
‘Not a great deal, I imagine, and not until they have either found Stanley Wing or are satisfied that he has left the country. At that stage they might issue a statement to the effect that the inquiry remains open, or, if they’re satisfied that Garner was Portia’s killer, that they’re no longer looking into the case.’
‘I just hope they tread carefully,’ Jessup said. ‘I don’t like the idea of branding a man as a murderer when he can’t defend himself. It’s not as though anyone will ever know for sure who killed Miss Blake.’
‘Not unless the police catch up with Stanley Wing,’ Madden observed. ‘He’s the one person who might be able to answer these questions.’
Jessup reflected on his words. Then he sighed.
‘I can’t help feeling I let Rex down. I should have done more for him.’
‘Perhaps he was past help, Richard,’ Madden said gently. He sensed the other man’s distress. ‘It looks to me as though he’d backed himself into a corner, and took the only way out.’
• • •
Having seen Jessup off, Madden went back inside the house to find that Billy had returned to the drawing-room and was standing to one side with Grace and Lily Poole. They were watching the pathologist, who was still busy. On his knees now, he was bending over the body and peering closely at the dead man’s throat.
‘Isn’t that Ransom?’ Madden asked. It was years since they had met, but he recognized the pathologist’s face and recalled that he’d been regarded by the Met’s squad of detectives as something of a card.
‘It’s him, all right.’ Billy chuckled. ‘Do you remember how he used to get the chief inspector’s goat? Mr Sinclair couldn’t be doing with his shafts of wit. I can’t say he’s changed all that much. We’re wondering what he’s going to come up with today.’
As he spoke, the burly figure shifted. Sitting back on his heels, he hoisted himself slowly to his feet and then turned to face them.
‘I see business is picking up, Inspector. Am I right in thinking this is your second corpse in . . . how many days? Three, is it? I’m only thankful I was spared the most recent offering: I understand the lady met an unpleasant end.’
His solemn expression changed; his face brightened.
‘Isn’t that Mr Madden standing beside you? Don’t tell me you’ve returned to the force, sir. I thought you were happily retired.’
‘And you were right.’ Madden smiled. ‘I’m here on behalf of Mr Sinclair, who I’m sure would send you his regards if he could.’
‘I very much doubt it. The good chief inspector and I seldom saw eye to eye. But you can give him my best wishes if you like. Now, Inspector, as to your body . . .’
He turned his gaze back on Billy.
‘Death was caused by strangulation, as you can see, and I would estimate that it occurred some twelve hours ago: say, between eleven o’clock and midnight.’
He bent to buckle the straps on his bag.
‘And it was quite straightforward, was it?’
‘Straightforward . . . ?’ Red in the face from bending over, Dr Ransom stood up. ‘Well, that depends on your definition of the word; but yes . . . straightforward . . . after a fashion.’
‘Don’t be like that, Doctor.’ Billy heaved a sigh. ‘Just give me the authorised version: did the man hang himself?’
‘Once again, I very much doubt it.’ The pathologist chortled. He seemed to be enjoying a private joke. ‘Seeing as how he was almost certainly dead at the time; strangled, as I said.’
‘Strangled . . . ?’
‘Prior to being strung up, I mean. And since he could hardly have done it to himself, I’m inclined to think he was murdered.’
• • •
‘How’s it going, Lil? Have you found anything?’
Billy went over to the foot of the staircase leading up to the gallery, where Lily Poole was down on her knees.
‘Yes, I think so, guv. There are scuff marks at the edge of the carpeting—do you see?’
She pointed. Billy bent over her shoulder to look, and Madden, who was standing on the other side of the young policewoman, followed suit.
‘It looks like something was dragged up the stairs.’
‘Like a body, you mean?’ Billy nodded. He saw where the grain of the carpeting had been brushed back. ‘He must have been pulled up by his armpits. He would have been quite a weight.’ He glanced at Madden. ‘What do you think, sir?’
‘I agree. The scuffing could have been caused by the heels of his shoes catching on each step.’
Billy straightened.
‘We know that the curtains were drawn, so I don’t suppose anyone outside noticed anything.’
Having listened to Ransom’s explanation, Billy had detailed Joe Grace to organize a house-to-house inquiry using the uniformed officers stationed outside.
‘Joe has already spoken to a woman who lives across the street and saw Garner come home last night,’ he told Madden. ‘She confirmed what Lennox told us: she heard a disturbance in the street and saw Garner, obviously drunk, being shepherded to his front door. But I want people asked about what they might have seen earlier in the evening as well, since whoever killed him may have already been in the house when he got back.’
The pathologist had been succinct in his depiction of how the dead man met his end.
‘To put it bluntly, he was strangled twice. There are two separate marks on his throat. They lie at different angles, and are quite easy to spot. I would say that the first one was caused when he was throttled from b
ehind. If Garner was standing or sitting when that happened, the mark would have been more or less parallel to the floor. And it’s thinner than the other one, which suggests he was first choked using a single strand of flex. The second mark, the one caused by hanging, lies at a quite different angle—it slants up towards his ears. I think he was either killed or rendered unconscious down here and then taken upstairs to the gallery and hanged by a double strand of flex from the balustrade. I will so state at the inquest.’
With the investigation headed in a different direction now, Billy had ordered the fingerprint specialists summoned from the Yard, who up till then had been standing idle, to go over the drawing-room inch by inch.
‘I want the bannisters and the balustrade covered in particular,’ he told them. ‘Lift all the dabs you can find. Take Garner’s prints before the body is removed.’
He glanced at Madden, who was standing beside him, observing, but saying nothing.
‘I’d say this was Stanley Wing’s work,’ he said. ‘It’s the only thing that makes sense.’
‘What I’m wondering is how it came about,’ Madden said. ‘Why exactly did Wing kill him—and why now?’
Billy pursed his lips. He gave the question serious thought before replying.
‘Suppose Garner had already seen the photographs, ones with his face in them, I mean, when he met Jessup last night. I didn’t mention it before, sir, but the chemist who developed the negatives told us he made two prints of each at Miss Cooper’s request. So Wing must have a spare set, and he could have put them in the post right away, that same afternoon, and they would have been delivered next day. We have to remember he’s pushed for time. Garner told Jessup that Wing had phoned him. If so, then Wing would almost certainly have demanded money from him, and that could explain Garner’s state of mind when he met Jessup later.’
Although Madden showed no reaction, Billy saw he was paying close attention.
‘And what if Garner told him there wasn’t any—money, I mean?’ He continued with his train of thought. ‘That he was broke? Maybe Wing decided there was only one thing left he wanted to do, and did it.’
At that moment Billy became aware of a figure hovering at his elbow. It was one of the detectives from the forensic squad, a DC named Travis.
‘I’ve got something to show you, guv.’ He nodded towards the far end of the room, where several armchairs were grouped around a fireplace.
Billy accompanied him to the spot, with Madden at his heels. Travis bent down. He had a pair of tweezers in his hand.
‘I noticed there were some ashes in the grate,’ he said, ‘and that seemed strange. I mean, lighting a fire in this hot weather. So I had a look at them. I reckon they were photos.’
He reached into the grate with his tweezers and extracted a triangular shape charred along its base. He showed it to Billy, who was bending down, peering over his shoulder.
‘That’s a piece of a photograph, all right. There’s part of a woman’s face there . . .’ Billy peered closely at the fragment Travis was holding. ‘And a bit of her arm, too. Hang on! I think I’ve seen this.’
He stood up straight, looking round as he did so.
‘Lil . . . !’ he called to her across the length of the room. ‘Come over here.’
Lily hurried over from where she was standing at the foot of the stairs watching the fingerprint crew at work on the bannisters.
Billy stood aside so that she could see what the detective held in his tweezers.
‘Isn’t that the same face that was in that painting at the back of Portia’s bedroom? You said you recognized it.’
‘The Nude Maja?’ Lily brought her eyes up close to the fragment. ‘Yes, that’s it, that’s her. . . . Nice one, Mike.’ She patted Travis on the shoulder.
Billy looked at Madden.
‘We can assume it was Garner who burned them,’ he said. ‘But if Wing rang him like Garner said he did, he would have told him that he still had the negatives and there was no way Garner was going to escape this time.’
Madden grunted. ‘What I’m wondering is how Wing gained entry to the house last night,’ he said.
‘I thought about that.’ Billy nodded. ‘I had the windows checked. They’re locked from the inside. They don’t seem to have been fiddled with. I reckon he simply knocked on the door and Garner let him in. Granted, he wouldn’t have been pleased to see Wing. But he might have thought it worthwhile trying to reason with him: to explain that he couldn’t pay up.’
‘What about the flex Garner was hanged with, though? That’s got me puzzled. Do you think Wing brought it with him?’
Billy scratched his head. He could see that the question was bothering his old chief.
‘It’s more likely he found it here, in the house,’ he said. ‘I sent a couple of men downstairs to the basement. They said there was a lot of stuff lying around, including some tools. I think Wing found what he wanted down there.’
‘Leaving Garner up here in the drawing-room on his own, do you mean?’ Madden was still dubious.
‘On his own, but most likely passed out, or close to it. That’s what we’re forgetting. Garner arrived back here dead drunk. It wouldn’t have been hard for Wing to deal with him once he’d been let in. He can’t have been pleased when he found all his efforts had gone for nothing; that Garner wasn’t going to pay. He may not have come here intending to kill him. But he wasn’t going to let him off.’ Billy shrugged. ‘And who knows? Perhaps in the end Wing did him a favour.’
‘Meaning what?’ Madden frowned.
‘If Garner was guilty of Portia’s murder—and Wing knew it, and could prove it—then it was odds on Rex was going to end up the same way sooner or later: on the end of a rope.’
21
CHARLIE CHUBB STOOD WITH his arms folded staring out the windows of his office. His gaze was fixed on the sky, where a mass of white clouds, tinged with grey, had been gathering in the west all afternoon.
‘I keep hoping we’ll get a storm,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘Something to break this heat wave we’ve been having. The clouds build up, but nothing happens. My lawn’s dying of thirst. You’re a gardener, aren’t you?’
He swung round to face Billy, who was seated in a chair in front of his desk.
‘I’ve got the same problem as you, sir.’ Billy looked glum. ‘My grass is turning brown. What’s more, I saw something in the paper the other day about a hosepipe ban being introduced unless we get some rain.’
Chubb snorted. Two days had passed since the body of Rex Garner had been found hanging in his drawing-room, and the chief superintendent had summoned the officer assigned to the case to report on the progress of the investigation.
‘I’ve got a meeting fixed with Cradock and the commissioner in half an hour,’ he announced as he took his own seat. ‘They’re not happy with the way things are going, and I can’t say I blame them. We’ve got the press practically accusing us of withholding information from the public, of trying to cover up our mistakes.’
He fumed.
‘They know who Garner is—or was. They know his name was linked to the Portia Blake murder and they know we’ve been looking into the case again. They’ve put two and two together and think he committed suicide because we were onto him. They want us to admit that the wrong man was sent to the gallows. I’m only grateful that they haven’t made the connection to Miss Cooper’s murder yet. But they will.’
Billy shrugged. ‘They won’t be quite so cocky when they learn that Garner didn’t kill himself: that he was topped. I wish we could put that out now, but we’ll have to wait for the inquest, and that won’t be till next week.’
‘And what then . . . ?’ Chubb glared. ‘They’ll be jumping up and down, wanting to know who killed him, and I don’t fancy the prospect of having to announce that our prime suspect has probably skipped the country. Speaking of which, have we
any idea where Stanley Wing is?’
‘Not for certain, sir. But I doubt he’s made any attempt to leave as yet. If he had, I think we’d have heard about it. His photograph and the names he’s using are in the hands of the immigration authorities and all ports have been warned to keep an eye out for him.’ He paused. ‘Of course, there are other, illegal ways of making himself scarce. It could be Wing will try to slip aboard a cargo vessel on the sly. He doesn’t know yet that we’re after him, but he must suspect that the Triads are on his trail and he may feel that that’s his best option. But it’s not something that can be arranged on the spur of the moment. He’d need time to set it up, and we’ve warned our snouts on the docks to keep their eyes and ears open.’
Chubb growled unintelligibly. He shifted in his seat.
‘I can tell you now—none of this is going to make the commissioner feel any better. He won’t accept the idea that a man wanted for two murders might slip through our hands. Perhaps it’s time we made his name public and gave his picture to the newspapers.’
‘We can if you want to.’ Billy weighed the question. ‘We still haven’t picked up any trace of him beyond the report Poole brought back from Brent Cross. Maybe if we show his picture to the public someone will spot him. But the drawback is it’ll tip him off and that might be enough to persuade him to skip the country while he still can. On balance, I think we should wait a little longer.’
‘A few days then, but no more.’ Chubb shook a warning finger.
Billy frowned.
‘And we have to think about the future, too. We can certainly arrest him, but can we make a case against him? As of now, the only hard evidence connecting him to Audrey Cooper’s murder is the identification provided by that woman who saw him run by her in the street. It was what any defence counsel worth his salt would call a “fleeting glance” and I doubt we could get a conviction on that alone.’
‘What about the constable who was stabbed?’
‘I’m glad to say he’s doing well in hospital, but he can’t identify Wing from his picture. It all happened too quickly. He heard the scream, saw the man run out of the house, tried to intercept him and got stabbed in the gut for his pains. He didn’t get a clear picture of his face.’
The Death of Kings Page 27