by Jim Eldridge
‘Oh?’
‘His name is Dr Ahmet Madi.’
‘A doctor?’
‘Not a medical one. A doctor of history, I assume.’
‘Another academic,’ grumbled Drabble.
‘Our guess is he arrived from Egypt just two days before he was killed. We think he may have arrived on the same ship that brought the latest consignment of artefacts for the Fitzwilliam last Monday, but we won’t know for sure until we check the passenger list.’
‘Where did the ship arrive?’
‘Tilbury, in Essex, on the day before, the Sunday.’
‘It could be a wild goose chase,’ said Drabble doubtfully.
‘It could, but the evidence points to it. Madi took on the rent of the cottage on Monday, the day after the delivery arrived at Tilbury from Egypt. The carters who brought the delivery from Tilbury arrived in Cambridge on Monday. I don’t know how frequently ships from Egypt arrive in England, but it seems quite a big coincidence.’
‘It’s worth a try.’ Drabble nodded. ‘Right, I’ll send a note to Tilbury police asking them to get hold of the passenger list and send it over.’
Daniel stared at Drabble, stunned.
‘You’d do that?’ he asked.
Drabble looked back at him, obviously offended. ‘As you say, it seems like a strong lead, and that’s my job as a policeman.’
‘Yes, but …’ began Daniel. Then he shut up. He was about to remind Drabble of how antagonistic he’d been towards Daniel at first, how competitive, and that this offer seemed out of character. But then he reflected that of late the inspector seemed to have mellowed towards him. The fact that Drabble had brought Hughes in showed that he seemed to be open to Daniel’s opinions on the case.
‘Thank you,’ said Daniel.
‘So what are we looking for on this passenger list?’ asked Drabble.
‘Dr Ahmet Madi,’ said Daniel, ‘and other names, in the hope we might be able to find out if he came with anyone else.’
‘You think he might?’ asked Drabble.
‘We’re sure of it. We went to the address where Madi was staying, and it had been cleaned out. Everything taken. That suggests an accomplice who took everything to stop anyone finding out about the doctor, and what he was after.’
‘Or the killer did it?’ suggested Drabble.
‘He arrived on Monday and was killed on Tuesday night,’ said Daniel. ‘We’re not sure if that would have given the killer time to find out where he was staying.’ He passed Drabble a piece of paper with the address of the cottage. ‘This is where Madi was living.’
‘Thank you,’ said Drabble. ‘You say “we”. I assume you’re talking about Miss Fenton?’
‘Yes,’ said Daniel.
‘So she really is part of this investigation?’ asked Drabble. ‘She’s not just involved to keep the Fitzwilliam happy?’
‘She is definitely part of it,’ said Daniel. ‘In fact, it was she who first learnt of the address where Dr Madi was staying.’
Drabble scowled.
‘I’m not sure I approve,’ he said. ‘Frankly, police work is no job for women.’
‘I can think of many men who are unsuited to it,’ said Daniel blandly. ‘And, sadly, some of them are in the force.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ demanded Drabble.
‘Nothing.’ Daniel shrugged. ‘Just an observation. Shall we talk to Professor Hughes?’
As the two men rose and headed out of the office towards the interview room, Drabble said, ‘I understand you were attacked and badly beaten the other day?’
‘Yes,’ said Daniel.
‘But you look alright to me.’
‘A cracked rib and a gash on the back of my head,’ said Daniel. ‘I’ve had worse.’
‘Any idea who it was?’
‘A pretty good one.’
‘Want me to arrest them?’
‘No, but thank you,’ replied Daniel. ‘If it’s who I think it is, I’ll be able to get more out of them in unofficial ways.’
‘I don’t want any vigilante stuff,’ warned Drabble.
‘There won’t be,’ Daniel promised him.
Drabble stopped in the corridor by a door, opened it, and walked in, Daniel following.
The room was windowless, light coming from the gas lamps. Professor Hughes was sitting at a table. A uniformed constable stood against the wall just behind him. Two chairs were on the opposite side of the table to Hughes.
The professor didn’t stand up or show any sign of welcome as Daniel and Drabble entered the room. Instead, he glared angrily at them.
‘Professor Hughes, this is Daniel Wilson,’ said Drabble. ‘He’s the one who’s made the allegations against you, so I’m allowing him in his role as a police officer to carry out the questioning, while I supervise. If you feel he has overstepped the mark in any way I will intervene on your behalf.’
So, Drabble is making very sure he protects himself, thought Daniel.
‘I do consider he has overstepped the mark!’ snapped Hughes. ‘Ordering me to be escorted back to Cambridge by a police constable, like a common criminal!’
‘Hardly a common criminal, Professor,’ said Daniel gently, sitting himself down across the table from Hughes. ‘Might I ask why you told Mrs Loxley that you had been summoned to see a sick relative?’
‘Because I had,’ said Hughes.
‘Could you let us have the name of this sick relative?’ asked Daniel. ‘Just in order to confirm it. It was your sister who was ill, I believe.’
Hughes’ mouth clamped shut.
‘I am saying nothing more,’ he said.
Daniel nodded in sympathetic understanding.
‘As is your right,’ he said. ‘However, the thing is, Professor, we are not here to accuse you, but to protect you.’
‘Protect me?’ echoed Hughes, frowning.
‘Your reputation.’ Daniel nodded. ‘As an esteemed author and expert on Cromwell and the Civil War.’
Hughes frowned even more, puzzled at this. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Someone reported to me that you had made a deal to purchase something from Joseph Ransome, a nightwatchman at the Fitzwilliam Museum. A relic connected to Oliver Cromwell.’
‘Nonsense!’ exploded Hughes.
Again, Daniel gave a sympathetic nod. ‘The problem is, Professor, that this person approached me and said they were going to sell this story to the newspapers. And, following the recent murder of Joseph Ransome at the Fitzwilliam, you can see why the newspapers would be interested.’
Hughes stared at Daniel, shocked. ‘What … But … This must be stopped!’
‘I agree,’ said Daniel. ‘But there’s little we can do to stop it without knowing the facts.’
‘I shall sue any newspaper that prints such a libel!’ said Hughes, trembling.
‘I’m sure you shall, but alas, by that time the story will be out there for the public, casting doubts on your reputation as an honest scholar. Because, according to this person, the item you were going to purchase from Joseph Ransome had been stolen from the Fitzwilliam collection.’
Hughes looked at Daniel, and now Daniel saw a look of panic in the professor’s eyes. Got him! he thought.
‘I’m guessing you didn’t know that this particular item was stolen, sir,’ said Daniel.
Hughes swallowed, then said faintly, ‘No.’ Then suddenly he went on the defensive in the same aggressive manner as before. ‘And because of that, no paper can publish such a lie without risking a very expensive lawsuit!’ And he sat up straight, a smirk of triumph on his face.
‘I agree, sir,’ said Daniel. ‘But that is not what they will be printing about you. As I understand it, they will be writing to infer that you had a part to play in the murder of Joseph Ransome because you discovered that he had fooled you over this item. You thought you were buying something in good faith, but when you found out that it was irregular, you lost your temper with him.’
‘That’s a
lie!’ Hughes burst out, and the look of panic had returned to his face.
‘I’m sure it is.’ Daniel nodded. ‘But the papers are clever, to avoid a lawsuit they will hint at the connection between you and Joseph Ransome over this item, while at the same time giving good mention to the fact that Ransome was murdered. It’s called trial by newspaper.
‘You can imagine the effect on your good reputation, and especially its effect on the book you are currently writing on Cromwell. With that kind of scandal, it’s possible that most reputable publishers may be averse to being associated with it.’
Hughes sat and looked at Daniel. His face had gone ashen.
‘There must be something you can do about this,’ he whispered.
‘I’m sure there is, but before we can decide the best course of action to take to protect you, we need to know exactly what happened between you and Joseph Ransome, and how this transaction went. Then we can counter these accusations and put pressure on the press to spike the story.’
‘Spike?’ queried Hughes.
‘Cancel it,’ explained Daniel. ‘They put it on a spike on the editor’s desk, and it’s taken away and destroyed.’
‘And that’s what will happen to this?’
‘Once we know the full story.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
‘What was the relic that Ransome said he had for sale?’ asked Daniel.
‘A leather cap he claimed belonged to Oliver Cromwell,’ said Hughes. ‘He said it wasn’t on show at the Fitzwilliam, but was kept in a store, along with other articles that were waiting to be displayed.’
‘And how did he make this offer to you?’
‘He approached me late one afternoon, at the Fitzwilliam. I’d been doing some research there, and he said he worked at the Fitzwilliam as a nightwatchman. He said he’d noticed my interest in the Civil War exhibits and wondered if I might be interested in getting hold of something that had belonged to Oliver Cromwell.
‘I must have shown my excitement. The truth is that such items are rare. After the Restoration, many of Cromwell’s possessions were destroyed in retribution for the execution of Charles I. As I’m sure you know, Cromwell’s body was exhumed and hung in chains, even though it was falling apart. His head was put in a cage and hung outside Westminster Hall in London. So the opportunity to actually lay hands on something of Cromwell’s was too good to resist.’
‘You believed that it was genuine?’
‘I did,’ said Hughes. ‘But that was before I actually viewed it.’
‘And when you did get the chance to look at it, did you still think it was genuine?’ asked Daniel.
‘I never got that chance,’ said Hughes. ‘Ransome said he would deliver it to me at Mrs Loxley’s on the Saturday, but he never arrived. And then I read about his murder in the newspaper.’
‘When I mentioned that to you, you claimed you didn’t know about it,’ said Daniel.
‘I lied,’ admitted Hughes, shamefaced. ‘The truth was I was worried that the investigations into his death might turn up something about the leather cap, and me.’
‘So you never went to see Ransome at the Fitzwilliam on the night he died?’
‘No. It’s not my practice to roam the streets in the early hours.’
‘Why did you vanish so suddenly?’ asked Daniel. ‘That story you told Mrs Loxley about your sister being gravely ill …’
‘Another lie,’ said Hughes, looking more ashamed than ever. ‘I panicked. When I realised you were a detective investigating what had happened to Ransome, I decided to get out quickly.’
Daniel nodded. ‘I’m fairly sure that Inspector Drabble and I can protect you, now that we know the whole story,’ he said.
Hughes stared at him, a light of hope appearing in his expression. ‘You mean I can go? Return home?’
Daniel gave a thoughtful frown. ‘Can I suggest, Professor, that for the moment you return to Mrs Loxley’s. After all, you’ve paid up, and I’m sure she’d be delighted to welcome you back. That way, I can keep you informed of developments, and you’ll be able to resume your researches again.’
‘Won’t she find it suspicious my coming back like this?’
‘Not at all, sir. You can tell her your sister wasn’t as ill as you’d been led to believe.’
Drabble and Daniel accompanied the relieved professor to the street and each shook his hand, with Daniel promising to keep him abreast of any developments.
‘Very clever,’ Drabble commented, albeit reluctantly, as they walked back into the station. ‘Getting him to cough up that business over the relic.’
‘It was just a question of probing at his weak spot,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m sure you do the same, Inspector, when faced with a difficult situation.’
‘Of course.’ Drabble nodded.
‘Sir!’ A constable had appeared, hurrying towards them. ‘We’ve got another dead body!’
‘Another!’ groaned Drabble. ‘Not at the Fitzwilliam?’
‘No, sir, at Magdalene Bridge.’
Or, as the constable said it, Maudlin Bridge. That was another thing about Cambridge, Daniel reflected. So many places seemed to be pronounced differently to how they were spelt.
‘It was in the Cam,’ continued the constable. ‘Someone discovered it as they were punting.’
‘Well, what’s that got to do with us?’ demanded Drabble. ‘Suicide or accident. Happens all the time.’
‘Yes, sir, but this body seems to be Hector Blades.’
‘That reporter!’
‘Yes, sir. And it looks like his head’s been bashed in.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
A crowd had gathered on the bridge, and there were also people in punts on the far bank of the river, eager to get a glimpse of what was going on.
‘Damned circus!’ grumbled Drabble as Daniel followed him across the grass to the river’s edge. A tarpaulin had been thrown over a shape on the grass and Daniel saw a boot poking out from beneath it. Two constables were standing by the tarpaulin, and as Drabble and Daniel reached it they peeled one end of the tarpaulin back to reveal the upper part of the body.
It was Hector Blades, weed from the river still caught in his hair and tangled in the collar of his jacket. There was a gash at one side of his forehead.
Drabble crouched down to examine it, Daniel joining him.
‘What do you think?’ asked Drabble.
‘At this stage, I’m not sure,’ said Daniel. ‘It could be the result of a blow before he died, or he could have been bashed against something. What’s the current like here?’
‘Depends on the amount of rain we’ve had,’ said Drabble. ‘Lots of rain, the river runs faster.’
‘There hasn’t been that much rain lately,’ Daniel commented. ‘But then, anything else could have caused it. The edge of a punt coming into contact with him as he was floating.’
Drabble nodded. ‘I wouldn’t rule out suicide,’ he muttered. ‘By all accounts Blades was a heavy gambler, deep in debt.’
‘You know him well?’
‘No, not personally, but I’ve been interested in him since he started bad-mouthing me and the Cambridge police in his rag of a paper.’
‘What sort of people did he owe money to?’
‘All sorts. His tailor, and he was always running it close with his rent. That sort of thing gets to a man after a while.’
‘It depends on the man,’ commented Daniel. ‘Some seem to have no conscience about money they owe other people.’
‘Yes, well, that was certainly true of Blades,’ said Drabble.
‘But some people who are owed money can get very upset,’ continued Daniel. ‘And I’m not talking about his tailor or his landlord. His gambling, for example. Bookies don’t take kindly to being stiffed for their money.’
‘Yes, it’s possible,’ said Drabble. ‘Give him a roughing up to try and get some cash out of him, and in the event he falls in the river.’
‘Do you know who he owed money to? An
y particular rough type of bookie?’
‘I might,’ said Drabble. ‘Anyway, we might as well get Dr Keen to take a look at the body. He seems to have an eye for working out how people die.’ He gave a sigh. ‘It’s all this science stuff these days.’ He stood up and turned to the constables. ‘Get it loaded onto a wagon and take it to Gonville and Caius, for the attention of Dr Keen. I’ll go on ahead and make the arrangements with him.’ He turned to Daniel. ‘Would you like to come with me, Mr Wilson, seeing as how you now know Dr Keen?’
‘Thank you, Inspector. I appreciate the invitation, but there’s something else I need to look into.’
‘Oh? What?’
‘The person who attacked me.’
‘You said you thought you knew who it was,’ said Drabble.
‘Yes.’
‘And you’re going to see them?’
‘Yes.’
‘D’you think that’s wise? Like I said before, I don’t want any vigilante stuff. And you’ve already had one bashing. The next one could be worse.’ He hesitated, then offered, ‘If you like, I can send a constable along with you. For your protection.’
Daniel gave him a grateful smile.
‘Thank you, Inspector. I really appreciate that offer, but unless I’m very wrong, I don’t think I’m in any great danger.’
Drabble shrugged. ‘Have it your own way.’ He looked down at the dead body of Blades. ‘But I’m sure Blades here felt the same way. As did the nightwatchman at the Fitzwilliam. And the bloke in the sarcophagus.’
‘Point taken, Inspector, and I’ll be very careful.’
‘Very well.’ Drabble nodded. ‘And, if you’re right, you’ll tell me who it was?’
‘If it turns out to be related to the murders,’ said Daniel.
‘Surely he did it to stop you investigating them,’ said Drabble.
‘Yes, but I don’t think that was the whole reason,’ said Daniel.
‘Well, you’ll find out soon enough if you’re right,’ said Drabble. ‘But take a warning: if you ain’t, it could be your body we’ll be fishing out of the Cam.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN