Motives For Murder

by J F Straker

  ‘Eh? But what other way is there?’

  ‘None, old boy. I turned round and came back the way I’d gone.’

  ‘Quite a lengthy trek,’ Colin said cheerfully, trying not to expose his growing suspicion. ‘You didn’t hear J.C. shouting for help, did you?’

  ‘You’ve asked me that before.’ Chris sounded somewhat testy. ‘You or Anne, I can’t remember which. What’s all this in aid of? Why the interest in my comings and goings that morning?’

  Colin decided to give a little. A show of confidence might be reciprocated.

  ‘I’m intrigued by the number of unusual things that happened that morning,’ he confessed. ‘Tony Cuttle heard a man who had lost his voice shouting for help, and then got knocked down by a car and was taken to hospital; J.C. broke the methodical habits of a lifetime by leaving his clothes all over the place and forgetting to take off his wrist-watch; you turned back and retraced your steps when it would have been so much quicker to come by the bridge; and the three of you — J.C., Tony, and yourself — must have been within a few yards of each other and didn’t realize it because of the mist.’ He lowered his voice confidentially. ‘And here is something you don’t know, old man. J.C.’s keys are missing. They should have been in his trousers’ pockets, but they weren’t. What’s more, Anne is certain that someone was in the Lodge later that day; she didn’t mention it at the inquest because she forgot about it. So you can see now why I’m slightly curious about what happened that morning.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ said the other. ‘Of course, Tony was knocked down by the car because J.C. called for help. That’s cause and effect. There may have been cause and effect in J.C.’s death too; perhaps he was drowned simply because he wasn’t his methodical self that morning. But the keys — that’s queer, I agree. I suppose Anne couldn’t have been mistaken in thinking someone got into the house?’

  He did not, as Colin had hoped, volunteer any further information on his own behaviour that morning.

  ‘She seems quite confident about it,’ Colin said.

  ‘What’s all this leading up to? You’re not suggesting there was any funny business, are you?’ asked Chris, his voice low.

  ‘That’s what I want to find out. Did you meet anyone on your walk? That might be important, you know.’

  ‘Not along by the river,’ Chris said slowly. ‘There was a chap on a bike near the bridge — the far bridge, not the Tanbury road one.’

  ‘Anyone else?’

  ‘Only Mrs Smelton.’

  ‘Mrs Smelton? What the devil would she be doing so far from home at that hour? I’m told she never gets out of bed until after nine.’

  ‘Well, there she was. She turned up the track leading to the Lodge. When I passed the house a few minutes later her bike was leaning against the hedge, but the lady herself had vanished.’

  ‘Well! Well! Well!’ said Colin. ‘If you ask me, Chris, that’s just about the oddest of all the odd things that happened that Saturday morning.’

  When they entered the common room the staff were already sitting down to dinner, and he had no opportunity to tell Anne the news of Mrs Smelton. Several times during the meal he caught Chris eyeing him speculatively, and wondered. Was Chris merely curious — or was he uneasy? Whichever it is, thought Colin, I bet he could tell me a bit more if he wanted to. There’s something he’s keeping to himself.

  James Latimer came in to speak to Smelton, who was on duty. They had asked James to sound his father on Diana’s suggestion that a new swimming-pool should be built with the boys’ legacy, it being generally agreed that this was the most sensible way of spending the money.

  ‘He doesn’t object,’ said James, ‘provided you convert the duckpond and don’t start excavating elsewhere.’

  Smelton frowned. ‘The contractors say it would be cheaper to build on a fresh site,’ he protested.

  ‘Sorry. It’s the duckpond or nothing. He won’t have it anywhere else.’

  The frown deepened. ‘If you’ll forgive my saying so, James, your father is being unnecessarily obstructive over this,’ Smelton said irritably. ‘We didn’t frame the blasted will, and a new swimming-pool would improve the property, duckpond or no duckpond. He’s taking it out of us simply because he can’t get at J.C.’

  ‘He certainly can’t do that,’ James agreed. ‘That has been done already.’

  Something in his voice caught their attention. ‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Diana.

  ‘Simply that, according to Russell, J.C. was murdered. By one of us, too.’

  He looked maliciously at Colin. The others looked at Colin also, too astonished to speak.

  Miss Webber was the first to recover.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ she asked. ‘I’m sure Colin doesn’t think anything of the sort. Do you, Colin?’

  Colin said nothing. Flabbergasted at this betrayal, red in the face with anger, he sat glowering at James.

  ‘He does, you know,’ said the latter, never taking his eyes off his victim. Colin Russell was broad and solid, and had a reputation for preferring action to words. Anne watched them both, fearful of what Colin might do.

  ‘Is this true, Russell?’ Smelton demanded.

  ‘Yes,’ Colin said bluntly. His wrath was too great to attempt to appease them. ‘I don’t know who killed him, but it was someone from Redways. I’m sure of that.’

  ‘Well! Well! Well!’ said Diana. ‘What a snake in the grass!’

  Smelton stood up, pushing his chair back so that it rasped along the floor. ‘I demand an explanation of this foolery,’ he said curtly. ‘And I warn you, Russell, that slanderous statements such as that are highly dangerous.’

  Colin took no notice of this outburst. He was watching James, he did not care about Smelton or the others. Anne looked at them each in turn, hoping to see on one or another of those staring faces something that might give her the information Colin wanted. James, delighted with the success of his bombshell, was still smiling. So was Diana: it was a situation, thought Anne, which would appeal to Diana’s rather peculiar sense of humour. Miss Webber was goggling; Miss Dove, who was rather deaf, had placidly picked up her knife and fork and resumed her meal. Smelton was unmistakably angry, the more so because his anger was ignored. Only Chris Moull gave a seemingly guilty reaction, his restless eyes darting uneasily from one to another of the people round the table.

  If I were a detective and I had to make an immediate arrest, thought Anne, it would have to be Chris. But I do so hope he didn’t do it.

  ‘It’s partly my fault, I suppose,’ James said. ‘I put the idea into his head.’

  That he should seek to take credit for a perspicacity that was wholly Colin’s made Anne gasp. She did not suppose that he was endeavouring to mitigate Colin’s offence in the eyes of his colleagues by shouldering some of the blame, since to Anne Colin’s behaviour warranted praise, not blame. ‘You did nothing of the sort,’ she said furiously. ‘It was entirely Colin’s idea.’

  All eyes turned to her.

  ‘So you’re in it as well,’ Diana murmured. ‘We might have guessed.’

  James Latimer shook his head.

  ‘I hate to contradict you, Anne, but you’re wrong, you know. Only a few days after the accident I remarked in Russell’s hearing that it was too good to be true. Somebody must have bumped him off, I said; J.C. was too unpopular to die unaided. A poor joke, perhaps — but it was a joke. And I don’t see why I should hold myself responsible if some brainless ass takes me seriously.’

  Anne glanced quickly at Colin, but his eyes avoided hers. So it’s true, she thought; James did put the idea into his head. Furious with both of them, she fell silent.

  Colin stood up. He had had enough.

  ‘I don’t joke about murder,’ he said to James, his voice cold with venom. ‘And maybe you won’t think it’s so funny by the time I’m through. But right now I propose to have a few words with your father. It seems that he doesn’t know when to hold his damned tongue any
more than his son does.’

  He marched out of the room amid a shocked silence. Whatever they might think or say among themselves, the staff were careful to utter no disrespectful word about the headmaster in James’s hearing. Even Smelton allowed himself no more than an occasional mild criticism.

  James flushed. To Anne’s surprise he began to make excuses for Colin.

  ‘He’s right, you know. I did talk out of turn. I never can resist pulling his leg when the chance offers. But I think it might be better if you all forgot about this — otherwise complications may ensue.’

  As if they could forget, thought Anne.

  Smelton was of the same opinion. ‘You know damned well that’s impossible,’ he said. ‘Nobody is going to accuse me of murder and get away with it.’

  ‘He didn’t accuse you. Not specifically. He probably thinks I did it.’

  ‘But why murder?’ asked Miss Webber, thrilled. ‘And why one of us?’

  ‘Goodness knows.’ James frowned at their persistence. ‘I suppose it was because so many of us benefited, directly or indirectly, from J.C.’s death. But forget it — he’ll get over it. Lay off the topic for a few days and it will die a natural death.’

  ‘Like J.C., eh?’ commented Diana, still smiling.

  ***

  Joseph Latimer knew he was unpopular with the staff. The knowledge did not perturb him. Popularity bred familiarity, and familiarity led to incomplete control and lack of discipline. But although in the past he had had to cope with dissatisfaction and dissent, even with indignation, he had never before been confronted by a member of his staff in the full flood of a righteous and uncontrolled wrath. In no uncertain terms Colin told Mr Latimer exactly what he thought of him and his offspring. He went on for so long, his language was so violent and his bearing so threatening, that the headmaster became slightly apprehensive; and when Colin eventually paused through sheer lack of further material Mr Latimer forgot his dignity and abandoned the scathing reply he had intended making. It was an occasion, he hastily decided, when soft words should be given a chance to prove their efficacy.

  ‘I appreciate your annoyance, Russell,’ he said, with masterly understatement. ‘But you must understand that I had to consult James. He is a director of the school as well as being my son. Naturally I had no idea he would be so foolish as to repeat what I told him. He had no right to do so, and I apologize on his behalf as well as on my own.’

  This restrained, conciliatory, and unexpected reply tended to deflate his accuser. His anger having spent its first full flush, Colin began to wonder at his own temerity in speaking thus to his employer. Not wishing to show weakness now, he resorted to bluster to supplant his wrath.

  ‘That’s fair enough as far as it goes,’ he conceded. ‘But what happens next? Thanks to James, my name is mud with the rest of the staff. There’s going to be a pretty grim atmosphere in the common room when I’m around.’

  Mr Latimer said he appreciated that, but could offer no solution. ‘And yet well, isn’t this what you wanted?’ he asked, bending his long body forward to look more searchingly at his listener. ‘You asked me this afternoon for permission to question the staff. I couldn’t give it then and I cannot give it now — and I still think you are behaving foolishly. But now that the gloves are off and they know what you have in mind there is nothing to prevent you from asking as many questions as you wish. Whether they will answer them is, of course, another matter.’

  Somewhat doubtfully Colin acknowledged the truth of this. So did Anne when he consulted her later. ‘If they are not too angry with you you might get the truth from those who have nothing to hide,’ she said. ‘If there are any such persons in the school, that is — which I very much doubt.’

  Her voice was cool. ‘What’s up now?’ he asked. ‘Is it me?’

  ‘Of course it’s you. I’m furious with you, Colin. Why didn’t you tell me at the beginning that it was James who started you off on this inquiry? You made me look an absolute fool at dinner.’

  He flushed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But what difference does it make? The truth’s there. He didn’t see it and I did.’

  But it did make a difference, although she was not certain where the difference lay. As a second-hand theory it became less valuable, it detracted somehow from Colin’s honesty of purpose. Into her mind flashed the dread thought that he might have adopted it in self-defence, to lead the war into the enemy’s camp before it was taken to his. But the conclusions to which that thought might lead were frightening, and she forced herself to ignore it. She could not begin to doubt him now.

  A cocktail party at the Smeltons’ the next evening gave her the desired opportunity to speak to Dorothy. Anne was the only member of the staff to be invited, and she suspected that, had Philip Smelton had any say in the choice of guests, she certainly would not have been on the list. The lack of enthusiasm with which he greeted her on arrival confirmed this suspicion.

  Most of the guests were strangers to Anne, and she did not greatly enjoy the party. Smelton at first seemed to enjoy it even less. He drank heavily and talked little, standing moodily alone and glowering at those who tried to engage him in conversation. He is probably reckoning up what all this costs, thought Anne, and has taken fright at the figures.

  But as the gin took effect Smelton’s tongue loosened and his mood changed, and presently Anne noticed that he was engaged in a heavy flirtation with an under-dressed and over-decorated blonde. Anne was surprised — she had never envisaged him in that guise. He did not make a dashing Don Juan, she thought; he was no Apollo for looks. His suit was ill-fitting and he needed a haircut, and wisps of ginger hair stood out like a fringe above his collar.

  The guests began to drift away, and Smelton and the blonde disappeared together. ‘He’s taking her home in the car,’ Dorothy told Anne; she had completely ignored her husband’s flirtation. ‘Stay for another drink, and I’ll drive you back when he returns. He won’t be long.’ She went into the hall with the last of the guests. When she returned she said, ‘Now, tell me all about this boyfriend of yours. Philip is absolutely furious with him. He says he’s been accusing all and sundry of murdering J.C.’

  Anne tried to make light of it; she did not want Dorothy to connect J.C.’s death with the questions she intended to put to her. There was nothing to it really, she said; the murder theory had been mooted simply because so many persons seemed to benefit, but it still remained just a theory. So far as she knew it was unlikely to proceed further than that.

  ‘No smoke without fire,’ said Dorothy. ‘I suppose your young man has put us on his list, eh? Or Philip, rather. Personally, I’m not in the least interested in what becomes of the Lodge. I refuse to live in a poky flat on the school doorstep, with a lot of hearty young men creating merry hell above. I told Philip so, too.’

  ‘It’s not poky,’ Anne told her. ‘Have you been inside the house?’

  ‘No. But I had a look at it from the outside the other day. That was enough for me.’

  It was an ideal opening. ‘That was the morning J.C. was drowned, wasn’t it? The Saturday before last,’ said Anne. ‘One of the masters told me he’d seen you there about seven o’clock.’

  ‘I dare say. I don’t remember.’

  Anne got the impression that Dorothy did not want to remember. ‘Pretty early for you to be abroad,’ she said with a laugh. ‘And Chris said you were on a bicycle. I didn’t know you rode one.’

  ‘I don’t if I can help it. I loathe the things. But it’s the only way I can get around when Philip has the car.’

  He had had the car that Saturday morning, Anne reflected. And the evening before. ‘You must have to cycle quite a bit, then,’ she said. ‘He uses it every morning to come to school, doesn’t he?’

  ‘He does, blast him!’ The expletive sounded good-humoured, not vindictive. ‘I have to do my gadding about of an evening.’

  ‘What happens if he wants it in the evening also?’

  ‘He seldom does, tha
nk goodness. I don’t think he’s stirred out after dinner for months.’

  ‘We saw him about ten days ago,’ Anne said. ‘Colin and I. Colin was seeing me home. It was getting on for ten o’clock, and we wondered where he could be going in such a hurry at that hour.’

  ‘He wasn’t going anywhere.’ Mrs Smelton’s voice had an edge to it. ‘He was here. I told you, he hasn’t been out of an evening for months.’

  ‘But we saw him, Dorothy.’ Anne realized that her persistence was out of place, but she did not greatly care. This was important, Colin had said. ‘We were standing by the side of the road as he went past.’

  ‘At ten o’clock? Don’t be silly, my dear. At that time of night you couldn’t possibly recognize anyone in a closed car.’

  ‘She’s right, too,’ Colin said the next day. ‘We didn’t actually see him. We assumed it was Smelton because we recognized the car; but it might have been his wife.’

  ‘She didn’t say so.’

  ‘There wasn’t any reason why she should. How about the next morning? Get any gen on that?’

  ‘No. She wasn’t anxious to talk about her dear Philip after that.’

  ‘If her dear Philip killed J.C. it seems he did it to no purpose,’ said Colin. ‘I mean, if she refuses to move to the flat. Maybe that explains his present gloom.’

  ‘Maybe. Did you speak to the others?’

  ‘Only Diana and Chris. The two matrons are obviously out of it, and I hadn’t the nerve to tackle James or Smelton. But as Diana seemed to treat the whole thing as a joke I reckoned I was on fairly safe ground with her.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘What you might expect, knowing Diana. She said she had not been over-fond of J.C., but that her idea of a free weekend was to get up late and take life easy. It did not include rising in the small hours of the morning in order to drown a more or less harmless old gentleman. When I asked if she could prove she was in bed at the time she pretended to be shocked.’

  ‘I don’t blame her. It was a stupid question. What about Chris?’