Anthem for Doomed Youth

by Carola Dunn

  ‘When you saw the body, did you touch it?’

  ‘Of course. I had to know whether he was in urgent need of medical care. I felt for a pulse. I couldn’t find one, and his arm was …’ She started to feel rather sick. ‘I’d really rather not talk about it.’

  ‘Was what, Mrs Fletcher?’ he persisted.

  ‘It was limp, and cold, and sort of heavy …’ She shuddered.

  ‘You lifted it?’

  He was obviously dying to be able to accuse her of interfering with the scene. ‘Certainly not. That’s the impression I got just from holding his wrist.’

  ‘You didn’t move the body?’

  ‘I didn’t move it, and I did my best to keep to the very side of the path so as not to make confusing marks. My husband may not want my help, but I do know that much. Besides, anyone who reads detective stories can tell you all about footprints and fingerprints and so on.’

  He looked sour. ‘Did you notice anything else about the body?’

  ‘Yes.’ Daisy hesitated. ‘If his hair wasn’t cut so short, I wouldn’t have noticed. It looked to me as if he had a bruise on the side of his head and possibly … possibly even a dent in his skull.’

  ‘Brandy!’ exclaimed Sakari. ‘You are as pale as a ghost, Daisy.’ She rose and went herself to ring the bell.

  ‘No, darling, truly, I don’t want any. I’ll be all right in a minute. I … It was just so vivid for a moment, but I’ll stop thinking about it.’

  Sakari, hands on ample hips, glared at Gant. ‘You will not badger Mrs Fletcher any further on that subject,’ she commanded.

  The inspector glared back. ‘You can’t tell me what to say. I’ll ask what questions I choose. As it happens,’ he added sulkily, ‘that’s all I wanted to know about that.’

  ‘How fortunate,’ said Sakari, ‘for you.’

  The interruption allowed Daisy time to recover. It also distracted Gant from asking how she had found her way out of the maze after seeing the horrid sight. If he ever started wondering, Lizzie’s part in the affair was bound to come out. As it was, he didn’t even realise he was confused about the order of events.

  He was chasing another hare. ‘Mrs Fletcher, when you spoke to the gardener, requesting his help to get the children out, was he reluctant to enter the maze?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Aha!’

  He suspected the gardener! If he pressed him hard enough, he might manage to squeeze a coherent account out of him.

  Daisy said quickly, ‘Don’t let that mislead you, Inspector. He would have been equally reluctant to show me the way to the …’ She racked her brains for the other attractions of the Garden, as detailed in the guidebook. ‘To the Poet’s Corner, or the Rose Garden. All he wanted was his dinner. In his opinion, it wouldn’t hurt the girls to wait till he was ready to return to work.’

  ‘By that time, they’d probably have found their own way out, so he wouldn’t have to go near the scene of the crime.’

  ‘I wasn’t about to allow any delay! If they’d gone on wandering … Just imagine the shock for a young girl of stumbling upon the corpse of someone she knew!’

  ‘I suppose you offered a big enough tip to change his mind, made it worth his while to risk—’

  ‘I didn’t offer him a penny, though naturally I tipped him afterwards. I just told him about the body.’

  ‘You hadn’t told him right away?’ Gant asked sceptically.

  ‘I thought the fewer people knew about it the better. But it was more important to get the girls out quickly and I hoped he’d understand, realise they mustn’t wander about at random in there. And he did.’

  ‘Did he seem surprised to hear about the body? What did he say?’

  ‘Nothing. He was walking towards the Walled Garden as I spoke and he just changed direction, towards the maze, without opening his mouth. I’m sure you’ve discovered he’s a man of few words.’

  ‘That’s one way of putting it!’

  ‘He also has a remarkably inexpressive face. I can only hazard a guess as to what he was thinking by his actions. He didn’t hesitate before heading for the maze, when I told him there was a body in there with them. Oh, wait a minute! That’s not quite right.’

  ‘Hah!’

  ‘I’d forgotten. He stopped walking and looked at me as if he wasn’t sure whether to believe me or not. So I told him my friend had gone for the police. At that, he – well, he spat – on the grass, not at me—’

  ‘He doesn’t like the police!’ Gant said triumphantly.

  ‘Plenty of people don’t,’ Daisy pointed out. ‘It doesn’t mean they’re criminals, let alone murderers. I can say that as the wife of a policeman.’ She immediately wished she hadn’t reminded him.

  ‘Is it not possible,’ Sakari said, having forgotten or abandoned her resolve to keep her lip buttoned, ‘that the man expectorated simply because he needed to clear his throat?’

  ‘Either way,’ said Daisy, ‘I don’t believe any conclusions can be drawn from it. Certainly not that he had anything to do with Harriman’s death.’

  ‘You leave the conclusions to me!’

  ‘Sorry, Inspector! I hate to think he might get into trouble because of anything I said, after he was so helpful.’

  ‘In the end,’ muttered Sakari.

  ‘He won’t get into trouble if he didn’t do anything. Well, I can’t waste any more time here. You may have found the body, Mrs Fletcher, but it’s obvious you can’t tell me anything useful. The school’s the place where I’m going to find out what’s been going on.’

  He bustled out importantly, the silent constable following in his wake.

  Daisy leant back in her chair. ‘Whew, I am properly put in my place! What a—’

  ‘Sshhh!’

  The constable reappeared. ‘Mr Gant was wondering,’ he said diffidently, ‘who’s the best person to ask for at the school. I mean, seeing it’s this funny religion and all, he doesn’t want to take any chances. What’s that, sir?’ He turned his head to look backwards. ‘Oh, sorry, sir. What I meant to say is,’ he said, turning back, ‘you’ve got to be careful not to offend people.’

  ‘Very true,’ said Daisy. ‘He’d better ask for … the headmaster, Mr Rowntree.’

  ‘Thank you, madam.’ He disappeared again, closing the door.

  Sakari snorted. ‘I would wager a good deal that the inspector did not instruct him to thank you.’

  ‘Probably not. Oh, Sakari, you’ve no idea how tempted I was to advise him to ask for the Great Panjandrum himself!’

  CHAPTER 19

  When Alec got back to the Yard from the abortive visit to the Barley Mow, a few new tips had come in.

  ‘None of them looks promising,’ Mackinnon reported.

  ‘Let Piper have a look. Have we heard from Newcastle yet?’

  ‘DS Miniver rang up just after you left, sir. Peter Chivers was dining out when he went round last night, so he tried again this morning, although it was his day off—’

  ‘I hope you thanked him appropriately.’

  ‘Och, aye. Wanted to be able to say he had his finger in the Epping pie, if you ask me. He caught Mr Chivers after church. Chivers served as a lieutenant under Pelham, in Flanders, but only briefly. He was wounded badly enough – which means he could neither stand nor shoot – that the colonel had no choice but to send him back to a field hospital. When he had recovered enough to return to the front, he wangled a transfer.’

  ‘Wise man.’

  ‘Pelham was a tyrant, Halliday went by the rule book, and Devine did what he was told, just what we’ve already heard about the three. Chivers did add that Halliday would remonstrate wi’ Pelham if he strayed too far from the regulations governing the men’s welfare.’

  ‘There wasn’t much welfare available in the trenches under the best of officers,’ Alec commented. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘The officers who went back to the burial site didn’t come up with anything last night so they returned this morning. They found a t
ree nearby wi’ three bullets in it. Same side, different heights, but all about heart-high. The bark shows signs of having been rubbed by tight ropes, more or less ankle-, waist-and armpit-high.’

  ‘Nasty,’ said Tom.

  ‘Aye. Looks as if the murderer waited for them to come round before shooting them.’

  ‘The bullets are being analysed?’

  ‘Aye, sir. The preliminary report is that they’re all from the same 9 mm Luger.’

  ‘Not a hope of tracing it, then. Tom, tell Mackinnon what’s going on in Tottenham, will you? I must have a word with Inspector Cavett.’

  The room was thinly staffed now. Cavett was shuffling papers, his bored expression suggesting that he was making work for himself. As Alec approached his desk, he sort of half-stood and half-saluted, saying eagerly, ‘What’s up, sir?’

  Alec gestured to him to sit, and pulled up a chair for himself. ‘No luck. The man we want to talk to wasn’t there. They say he’ll be back this evening at seven though, when his pub opens.’

  ‘I’m supposed to go off at five, sir. Inspector Lowe will be taking over. I could stay on, if—’

  ‘No, that’s all right. But I’ll rely on you to brief Lowe thoroughly. I’m going to take a few hours off, and so are my chaps, before we go back to Tottenham. Now, let me make sure you have all the information you’ll need to explain the situation to Lowe.’

  Half an hour later, he was rattling homeward underground.

  The Hampstead Tube platforms were very underground, the deepest of the entire system. Once, soon after the Fletchers had moved to Hampstead, Alec got fed up with waiting for the lift and decided to take the emergency stairs. Three hundred steps later, legs aching and knees wobbling, he had decided to save his energy for better things in future. The lift had beaten him to the top, anyway.

  He took the lift. Walking from the station, he hoped Oliver and Miranda were not napping. Absolutely nothing would make Nurse Gilpin permit them to be awoken until the allotted time had elapsed. He wanted to take them out on the Heath while it was fine. The sky had hazed over but though rain was probably on the way, the afternoon was still warm.

  He was in luck. Mrs Gilpin was actually preparing to take the twins out. She was even – grudgingly – pleased to delegate the outing to their father, provided, of course, he took Bertha, the nurserymaid, with them.

  ‘She wants to put her feet up,’ Bertha confided. She trotted alongside, holding Nana’s lead, as he pushed the double pushchair along the unmade lane connecting Constable Circle with Hampstead Heath. ‘Her bones are telling her it’s going to rain.’

  ‘Bones,’ said Miranda with ghoulish glee. ‘Out, Daddy. Mirrie get down!’

  ‘Down, down, down,’ chanted Oliver.

  ‘When we get to the Heath,’ Alec promised.

  The children had such a wonderful time rolling down a slope, in spite of having to climb back up each time, that Alec was almost tempted to have a go himself. It was probably just as well that far too many people were about, taking the air on this fine Sunday afternoon, for him to risk it. He exchanged greetings with several neighbours. What gossip he’d start if they saw a detective chief inspector indulging in so undignified a pastime! Though they might never mention it to him, Daisy would never hear the last of it.

  When it was time to go home for nursery tea if they were not to earn Nurse’s displeasure, Nana came at the first call but the twins were very reluctant to climb back into the pushchair. To Alec’s chagrin, in the end they obeyed Bertha rather than their father. At the Yard, he could command legions, but his own children were beyond his control.

  He really must make more effort to spend time with them, even if it meant battling Mrs Gilpin and her rules. Kissing them good-night in their sleep when he came home late was not good enough.

  Mrs Gilpin had dozed off during their absence. Alec helped Bertha with nursery tea, a messy occasion. He even wiped Oliver’s and Miranda’s jammy hands and faces clean afterwards, while the nurserymaid cleared the table and took the crockery and debris down to the kitchen. Then he helped them build towers of wooden blocks to knock down and, when they tired of that, read them a story. By the time Elsie called him for his own early meal, he was both exhausted and exhilarated.

  Yes, he must spend more time with the twins, but all the same he was very glad to be able to leave them to Nurse Gilpin’s care.

  Mrs Dobson, accustomed to odd hours and short notice, provided an excellent dinner. Much refreshed, he was picked up at half past six by a car from the Yard. After seeing the Barley Mow and hearing Tom’s description of the interior, he had concluded that they would do better without a uniformed presence, so Ernie was at the wheel. Tom sat beside him. Alec joined Mackinnon in the back.

  ‘You want me to tackle Shadd?’ Tom asked.

  ‘No, I’m going to talk to him myself. To all appearances, he’s a respectable householder with a wife and children, so if he bolted we’d find him in the end, but we can’t afford any more delay.’

  ‘Always supposing he hasn’t already scarpered, after the barman told him I was asking for him.’

  ‘We can only hope not. I want you guarding the back door. We’ll give you ten minutes after we arrive to find it.’

  ‘Right, Chief. I noticed there’s an alley behind the row, wide enough for lorries.’

  ‘With any luck they haven’t got a yard at the back, then. If they do, the gates may be locked, in which case you’ll have to wait outside them. If not, well, that’s a private part of the premises, so you’ll have to wait outside in any case, unfortunately.’ He hated to leave Tom outside when the dark sky presaged rain, but he was capable of handling just about anyone single-handed, whereas Alec wasn’t familiar with Mackinnon’s abilities in that capacity. ‘There’s glass in the doors between the front entrance and the two bar-rooms, you said?’

  ‘That’s right. And they’re connected by a swing-door behind the two bar counters. It was propped open at lunchtime, as they only had the one barman serving both.’

  ‘Good. Mackinnon, you’ll hang about just inside the saloon bar door, looking like a plain-clothes copper.’

  Mackinnon grinned. ‘Aye, sir.’

  ‘We don’t want to scare off any customers, but if it happens it can’t be helped. If Shadd makes a move towards the public, dodge back out so you can watch for him heading either way. Ernie, you’ll come with me, notebook very much in evidence. If all goes well, Shadd will take us to a private room, at which point I’ll send you to fetch the others. Not, of course, that I have any intention of trying to intimidate the man, but I do want him to think twice before refusing to answer all my questions fully, should he be so inclined.’

  ‘D’you think he won’t want to talk, Chief?’ Piper asked.

  ‘He hasn’t come forward of his own accord, laddie,’ said Tom. ‘That’s a bad sign.’

  ‘Maybe he was putting it off till tomorrow, so’s not to spoil his day at the seaside. He could’ve told us he didn’t find out the names of the victims till then, if it wasn’t for the bloke who snitched on him.’

  ‘If it wasn’t for the snitch, we might even have believed him, if he wasn’t a barman. What with the bodies being found just a few miles away, he’d’ve had a hard time making me believe the murders hadn’t already been talked to death – if you see what I mean – in the bar.’

  Alec laughed. ‘Very true. All the same, Ernie’s got a point. He could have just put it off. We don’t get so many fine weekends that anyone can afford to waste one.’

  As he spoke, the first drops of rain hit the windscreen.

  ‘Except coppers,’ said Tom gloomily.

  ‘Sorry, Tom. You’re the best man for that job.’

  Ernie turned on the windscreen wipers.

  They reached the pub just as the doors opened to a flood of thirsty customers. As they drove past it, Tom counted shops. Ernie parked round the corner, in the same place as earlier. The street lamps at the crossroads illuminated the entrance to the asp
halted alley, just ahead.

  ‘Five minutes, Chief,’ said Tom. ‘I’ll find the place, easy.’

  ‘No, wait here for a few minutes. We’ll let him serve the first rush before we go in. I’m going to look like a proper fool if we’re on a wild-goose chase, so the less we disrupt trade, the better.’

  ‘If you reckon the snitch was telling the truth, Chief,’ said Ernie, ‘you wouldn’t catch me betting against you.’

  ‘Instinct honed by experience,’ Tom said profoundly.

  ‘Blimey, Sarge, you’ve said a mouthful!’

  They all laughed.

  ‘I won’t ask whether you’d bet on me, Ernie, or how much. I’m just certain enough to put a bit of pressure on if Shadd makes difficulties.’

  ‘Which is why we’re all here,’ said Mackinnon, ‘wi’ orders to look like plain-clothes coppers.’

  That was good for another laugh.

  A couple of minutes later, Alec said, ‘All right, Tom, off you go, or the boozers will be ready for their second rounds. Five minutes.’

  They both checked the time. Tom got out into the rain, now coming down in a steady drizzle, then leant back into the car. ‘Don’t leave me out in this any longer than you have to, Chief!’ He disappeared into the alley.

  The second hand of Alec’s watch moved with agonising slowness. Both the others also kept their eyes on the time.

  ‘Four minutes, Chief,’ Ernie reported at last. ‘It’ll take us a minute to get round there. Save Mr Tring sixty seconds in the wet.’

  ‘Let’s go.’

  Alec entered the tiny lobby first. Two inner doors faced him, separated by a cigarette machine. The upper halves were glazed with small panes, none too clean. The one on the right was marked PUBLIC. Peering through, he saw a tall, thin man behind the bar, presumably the hired barman, whom Tom had described as a beanpole. Through the left-hand door he made out a shorter, burlier, red-faced citizen serving at the saloon bar. He looked to be in his late forties, thinning hair, a bit of a paunch but beefy with it. He was laughing at something a customer was saying, but when he stopped laughing, his face settled into an anxious expression and he glanced at the door.