The Fossil Murder

by Evelyn James

  Park-Coombs groaned to himself, looking miserable.

  “You know, if I don’t have the killer under arrest by the time this exhibition closes, I shall have to insist everyone involved remains in Brighton. I can’t have the murderer waltzing off to another part of the country, and that means the exhibition will have to stay here. I don’t like to think about the reaction to that.”

  Clara felt very sorry for Park-Coombs. He was in a difficult position.

  “I shall do everything in my power to help, Inspector,” she promised. “I think it is time we expanded the scope of our search. Supposing this is not about the exhibition at all, but about John Morley? Maybe someone took an opportunity to kill him.”

  “Inside the town hall, while he was sneaking about?” Park-Coombs looked unconvinced.

  “We have to try, and we need to look at the town hall again,” Clara suddenly paused and glanced at her wristwatch. “It is approaching ten o’clock, about the time John Morley broke into the town hall.”

  “And?” Park-Coombs looked puzzled.

  “Why don’t we follow his route? Recreate the crime as it would have happened? That might give us an insight into how the murder was committed,” Clara explained. “It may even clarify that it was impossible for anyone else to have murdered Morley, then we shall know we have to look to Dr Browning, as remarkable as that may seem.”

  “Very well,” Park-Coombs uncertainty had evaporated, he stood up a little taller. “I’m game if you are.”

  Clara turned and started to head in the direction of the town hall. Abruptly she came to a halt, so the inspector nearly stumbled into her.

  “We can’t be arrested for this, can we?” She asked him.

  “Who would do the arresting? I am the senior police officer in Brighton,” Park-Coombs snorted. “Anyway, the town hall is part of an ongoing investigation and I can enter it at any time I wish to look around. I have been given my own key.”

  Clara relaxed.

  “Yes, of course,” she smiled. “I just wondered for a moment.”

  “And since when have you been concerned about breaking and entering into somewhere while trying to solve a case?” Park-Coombs remarked.

  “Since I am breaking and entering with the police inspector watching,” Clara laughed in response.

  “That’s all right,” Park-Coombs said with a glint in his eye. “I’ll just keep my eyes shut, then I can’t see you breaking the law.”

  “Really, Inspector!” Clara said in mock indignation.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The town hall was dark, not a single light glowing behind the windows. It looked shut up and empty. Anyone passing would not be aware that a worried academic was sleeping inside, one uneasy eye on his most prized exhibit.

  Clara and Park-Coombs approached from the front. The town hall was flush with the road and on one side it abutted a large building that consisted of offices for various businesses, including a dentist and an accounting firm. The building was also unlit and apparently empty.

  On the other side of the hall there was a narrow alley that led to a yard at the back. There was no gate and it was a simple matter to slip down the side of the building. At the rear of the town hall there was another set of doors, smaller than those at the front. The yard was fenced, with large gates locked with a chain leading onto the road at the back. Clearly the intention was to prevent vehicles being driven into the yard without permission rather than people, since the alleyway provided easy access on foot. When events occurred at the town hall, any deliveries would come to this yard and be unloaded here.

  “It was that window Morley broke,” Inspector Park-Coombs pointed to a small window close to the corner of the building. It had been boarded over where the pane had been smashed. “Unfortunately, the ground beneath the window is covered in concrete. No trace of a footprint or something useful like that.”

  Clara took a look at the broken window.

  “Where does this lead?”

  “Into a cloakroom,” Park-Coombs explained. “It is used to hang up coats and store cleaning materials. I think there is a sink in there too. Nothing exciting.”

  Clara turned her back to the window and looked around the yard.

  “What are you up to?” The inspector asked curiously.

  “Wondering about witnesses,” Clara replied. “No one from the road could see what was happening, the fence is too high. They might have heard a noise, if they were passing.”

  Clara was scanning the buildings behind the town hall. Most of them looked empty like the offices to her left. They were shops or business premises that at this time of night were deserted. As she looked to her right, she was suddenly distracted by a light flickering on in a top storey window.

  “Look at that building, Inspector,” Clara pointed it out to him. “Someone is in that top floor.”

  The building had three storeys and the top had a miniature bay window, where the light now glowed. Clara thought she saw someone moving about in the room.

  “What are the odds they were looking out of their window at the right moment?” Park-Coombs said pessimistically.

  “Greater than you may think, Inspector. There is something in that window, like a chair. I can’t properly make it out, but let’s hope the person in question sits at that window a lot.”

  “Hmm,” Park-Coombs was sceptical. “Shall we go inside now?”

  He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the back door. Clara placed a hand on his wrist before they went in.

  “Let us be quiet and see how alert Dr Browning really is,” she whispered.

  The inspector nodded.

  They went in and Park-Coombs silently motioned to the cloakroom where Morley had entered. Clara crept to the door and peered inside. The smashed glass from the broken window had been cleared up and, apart from the board across the missing pane, there was no obvious sign that anything had happened. Clara stepped back out and pushed the door closed. She noted it moved perfectly on its hinges, not a single creak or squeak that might have otherwise given them away.

  The cloakroom led onto a back hallway with the rear doors at one end. In the other direction the hallway led off on the left to various small rooms related to the functional side of the town hall – offices, a kitchen, a larger storage room for chairs and tables. On the right was a set of double-doors which led into the main room, the heart of the hall. This took up the majority of the right side of the hall, with a smaller foyer at the front. Clara walked to the double doors and noted that they did not have a lock, no one had ever considered it necessary to secure them. It was simple to depress the handle slowly and push open the door. The hinges here were well-maintained too. The caretaker at the hall was obviously a very thorough man, which was rather unfortunate in some regards.

  The main room had no curtains over the tall windows, therefore moonlight streamed in and provided enough illumination to enable Clara and Park-Coombs to see where they were going. They slipped past the glass cases and found themselves before the Archaeopteryx within moments. Clara stood in the spot she thought Morley must have been before he died. She could see the camp bed Dr Browning was using against the wall behind the display case. She could also hear him snoring.

  Clara nudged Park-Coombs and nodded in the direction of the sleeping academic. For a while they stood observing him, then the inspector gave a quiet cough. Dr Browning did not even stop snoring. Park-Coombs coughed louder. There was still no reaction from the sleeping man. Clara tapped lightly on the case of the Archaeopteryx, then she stamped her feet a little. Dr Browning mumbled in his sleep, but did not rouse. Clara shrugged at the inspector and he motioned that they should leave. They slipped back out into the hallway without Dr Browning rousing.

  Outside again Clara paused to consider what they had learned.

  “You know, it seems to be that if John Morley slipped in here with just a modicum of caution, Dr Browning would not have heard him.”

  “The man sleeps deep enough,” Pa
rk-Coombs nodded. “You know, I once had a fellow who slept through a murder. He was a little deaf and once he was out for the count, that was it. He was in this railway carriage, when two of his fellow passengers went for each other and one ended up stabbed. The other fled. The sleeping man never knew a thing about it until he woke up and saw the mess. Lucky for him we caught up with the murderer, because he looked like the killer for a while.”

  “Just like Dr Browning,” Clara noted. “It strikes me, Inspector, that we can’t be sure how long John Morley had been dead before Dr Browning realised. Morley was struck from behind and probably made little in the way of noise. If the killer caught him as he fell, then he would have made hardly a sound. All that being so, it must have been some other noise that roused Browning and in his startled state he spotted John Morley’s body and assumed it was the killing of that man that had alerted him.”

  “Another noise?” Park-Coombs considered. “Like someone leaving in a hurry and being careless? There were metal buckets in that cloakroom, a man could trip over those in error and it would make a lot of noise.”

  “Exactly,” Clara was growing excited. “All of which would mean Dr Browning would never see the man, never even realise where he had gone. How many of us wake from a deep sleep completely alert? It takes us all a moment to come fully to our senses. Dr Browning would have seen the body, panicked and easily missed any sounds of a person quietly slipping away in his confusion.”

  “It is all very plausible,” Park-Coombs agreed. “I wish we could find that murder weapon. It would help a lot.”

  Clara was taking an interest in a row of large packing crates that had been neatly stacked at the side of the yard. They were obviously the containers for the fossils. They had been stood to one side, ready to be repacked when the exhibition moved on. Clara walked over and lifted the lid of one. It was filled with wood shavings. Another was the same, but a third had been used to stash tools. Clara noted there was a crowbar, several hammers and a hefty mallet. Carefully she pulled it from the crate.

  “It looks clean,” she said to the inspector as he walked up behind her.

  “Always possible someone wiped it down before they left. Equally possible the murderer took the mallet he used to kill John with him,” Park-Coombs leaned into the packing crate and examined the contents. “Now, that’s odd.”

  “What is?” Clara asked.

  “The mallet you pulled out is a metal one, but I was here when the exhibition arrived and was being unloaded into the town hall. I was asked to keep an eye on things, to make sure no one stole or damaged anything while everyone was busy. I could have sworn I saw a mallet with a rubber cover among the tools being used.”

  Clara glanced over the mallet she had lifted from the crate.

  “There are different types of mallet?” She asked.

  “Oh lots. You can have wooden mallets, solid metal ones, like the one you are holding, and then metal ones with a rubber cover. They are heavy enough to work, but the rubber means they don’t cause so much damage to a pin or nail head as the uncovered metal ones,” Park-Coombs explained. “The rubber covered one was obvious because the rubber was black. This metal one is grey.”

  “A rubber-coated metal mallet would certainly cause a compressive injury to the skull, but I am guessing it would leave the wound with softer edges than a solid metal one,” Clara hefted the mallet in her hand, assessing its weight. “This one has obvious edges which would dig into the skull. Do you think Dr Deáth could tell us if the wound was made with a rubber-coated mallet?”

  “Maybe,” Park-Coombs didn’t look sure. “What is really bothering me is whether I saw that rubber-covered mallet or whether I am imagining it. If I did see it, and now it is missing, then we may have our murder weapon.”

  “Best we check the other crates,” Clara suggested.

  They went through the other crates. Clara found one that contained a bucket of long nails and two more crowbars, but there was no sign of a rubber-coated mallet. Park-Coombs was still not convinced he had seen the mallet, or whether he was imagining it, but he felt it was something he needed to explore.

  “Lots of mallets in Brighton,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Supposing a mallet was taken from this crate,” Clara said. “That would imply the killer knew they were here. Someone from the exhibition for instance?”

  “Maybe I need to find out if that hammer John Morley was carrying came from this crate, or whether he brought it from home as we first surmised,” Park-Coombs scratched at his head.

  “Either way, it is starting to look likely that someone deliberately followed Morley to kill him. It was not a chance thing. They picked up a weapon with the intention of killing him.”

  “No, Clara,” Park-Coombs shook his head. “They still might have been carrying these tools for the purpose of breaking the glass cases. Maybe Morley decided he needed an accomplice? Maybe he wasn’t brave enough to do it alone. Both men would have picked up tools suitable for smashing the cases, once inside the town hall something happened that caused the second man to strike out at Morley.”

  “Like what, Inspector?” Clara argued. “Are we supposing the two men had a falling out inside without making a note of noise to disturb Dr Browning? Something sparked a man to lash out and kill John Morley. You don’t hit a man with a mallet without intending to cause serious harm. I think it far more likely whoever else was in that room went with the intention of killing Morley.”

  Park-Coombs made a noise under his breath, but he didn’t disagree.

  “That still leaves us with the big question of, who?” He grumbled.

  “We need to know more about Morley’s associates and if he had any enemies. Quite frankly, I expect he had a few. I have seen his house, and someone battered down his door recently and broke a window.”

  “Then people were angry with him,” Park-Coombs said. “And angry people sometimes kill.”

  “We mustn’t rule out other possibilities, but that seems the likeliest option at the moment,” Clara returned the mallet she was holding to the crate. “Unfortunately, I can think of one man who would want him dead almost at once.”

  “Unfortunately?” Park-Coombs asked, confused.

  “The man is John Morley’s brother-in-law, and a very nice fellow indeed. John Morley was cruel to his wife and that is easily reason enough for her brother to detest him. He has not been shy about stating he is glad Morley is dead.”

  “Then he might have followed him and killed him?” Park-Coombs mused. “Maybe John even asked for his help?”

  “That’s unlikely, besides, he works nights at the railway station. He would have been unable to get here,” Clara was not sure why she had mentioned Harry Beasley at all. She just felt this niggle about him, and she could not hide it from Park-Coombs. It would be wrong to avoid mentioning Harry’s name just because she liked the man and did not want him to be the killer. After all, she was not actually tasked with solving the murder of John Morley. That was the inspector’s job.

  “At the railway station?” Park-Coombs’ mind was making a similar leap to the one Clara’s had. “Is he an engineer?”

  “I’m not sure,” Clara admitted.

  “Lots of mallets around railways. You need them to hammer down those huge pins that keep the sleepers and rails in place. And for repair work on the trains,” Park-Coombs’ eyes were glistening. “Would be worth searching the place, just in case.”

  “Inspector, I feel awful now, I don’t think Harry Beasley is a killer,” Clara insisted. “I should not have mentioned it. I just don’t like to hide things from you.”

  “I would have followed up on him anyway,” the inspector reassured her. “You always look to family first when it comes to murder.”

  “Well, I really hope it was not him,” Clara added. “I like him.”

  “I won’t let your name enter the equation,” Park-Coombs promised. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I would like to get home to my bed.”


  Clara glanced one last time at the town hall, then she concurred. They walked down the alleyway, Clara noting as they left that the light still burned in the top window of the house behind.

  “I’ll follow that up too,” Park-Coombs spotted her interest. “At least you have solved your case for Dr Browning. You know who hired John Morley and why.”

  “I don’t feel like I have solved anything,” Clara said grimly. “If anything, I feel as if I have more questions than ever before.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next day Tommy beat a retreat to Captain O’Harris’ home, hoping for sympathy for his plight. When he had told Clara about his problem with Miss Holbein, she had laughed so hard she couldn’t speak for a minute or two. He felt her response lacked understanding. Annie was still giving him cold glances on occasion, though Clara had stepped in to defend him, at least. She had promised Annie it was all her fault for sending her assistant out to try and get information from Miss Holbein. Tommy was not sure if he should be grateful for her defence, or feel slightly insulted.

  Tommy felt the only person who would really understand the inexplicable situation he found himself in was another man – thus he sought out O’Harris.

  “Old boy, what a pickle!” Captain O’Harris remarked after he had finished laughing at Tommy’s story.

  “I thought you might be a bit more compassionate on the matter,” Tommy grumbled.

  “Oh, you have my compassion, don’t fear,” O’Harris wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “I just can’t help picturing you being fawned over by that alarmingly unpleasant woman, and your abject horror at the situation. Then I picture you fleeing her house and I start to laugh.”