Motives For Murder

by J F Straker

  Pitt guessed something of what the Sergeant was thinking. ‘You think I’m crazy, don’t you?’ he said. ‘But Moull isn’t the only one of this bunch whose behaviour hasn’t been according to the book. Granted he’s spun a few lies; but so have most of the others if you ask me — including our friend Russell. They all seem to have a skeleton in their own particular cupboard; but who’s to say which skeleton is a corpse and which a dose of cyanide? True, Moull has decamped. You say that implies guilt. Well, maybe it does; but, alternatively, it might merely imply a thinner skin than the others. He may have killed Connaught and he may have tried to poison Russell. I’m not saying he didn’t. But, until we know, I’m not going to ignore the opportunity to find out if someone else did.’

  It was a long and, for the Inspector, an almost impassioned speech. Maddox, impressed, grinned at him genially. ‘I’m with you, sir,’ he said.

  James Latimer seemed aware that something serious was toward; perhaps Russell, stricken by conscience, had warned him what to expect. He exhibited none of his former cynicism, but politely inquired the reason for his being summoned.

  Pitt showed him the IOU.

  ‘It explains itself doesn’t it?’ James said. ‘What more do you want to know?’

  ‘I see the document is dated October the twenty-first, sir, the day before Mr Connaught was drowned. Did he give you the money that evening?’

  ‘He gave me a cheque, yes.’

  ‘Have you cashed it?’

  ‘Yes. I handed it in to my bank the next morning. There was no difficulty; Mr Connaught also banked there, and he had warned the manager that it would be presented. I can assure you, Inspector, that there is nothing sinister about this loan. It just happens to appear so because it was made at that particular time.’

  ‘And why was it made at that particular time, Mr Latimer?’

  ‘Because I was hard up, and Mr Connaught agreed to help me out. Since he had known me all my life, that isn’t very surprising, is it?’

  ‘No. But the wording of the document is rather surprising, don’t you think?’

  James Latimer frowned. ‘You mean about the shares, eh?’ he said. ‘Yes, that surprised me too. When J.C. and I first discussed the loan some weeks ago there was no mention of any proviso such as that. He sprang that on me when he gave me the cheque. I knew what he was after, of course; he had always hankered after a share in the school. It was probably also meant as a slap in the face for my father, whom he heartily disliked. But beggars can’t be choosers, Inspector, and I needed that money badly. So I signed.’ He smiled faintly. ‘Between ourselves, it did occur to me that the document might not be legally binding if the worst came to the worst.’

  I’m sure it did, thought Pitt. ‘May I ask why you needed this money so urgently?’ he said.

  ‘You know, Inspector, I rather fancy that’s my business, not yours.’ James spoke politely, but with a hint of annoyance. ‘I don’t wish to be rude or obstructive, but — well, it is, isn’t it?’

  ‘As you wish,’ Pitt said tranquilly. ‘I presume you left this document with Mr Connaught?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then how does it come to be in your possession after his death?’ The other flushed and Pitt went on, ‘Before you answer it is only fair to warn you that —’

  ‘Be damned to you and your warnings!’ All pretence of politeness had vanished. ‘I know what you’re thinking. Why don’t you ask straight out if I killed the old man?’

  ‘And did you?’ Pitt asked obediently.

  ‘No. Nor did I burgle his house afterwards. I haven’t been near the place since he died.’

  ‘Then what about this?’ said Pitt, indicating the IOU.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Nothing the incredulous expression on the detective’s face, he added, ‘Oh, I can tell you how I got it. It came by post a few days later. But who sent it, or why — well, your guess is as good as mine.’

  ‘There was no covering letter?’

  ‘No. And the address was typewritten. And, since I had no premonition that I should shortly have to explain to the police, I didn’t keep the envelope.’ There was bravado in the words, but he looked worried, even frightened. ‘My immediate reaction was that Miss Connaught was responsible. I thought she had found it in the old man’s desk and had returned it to me anonymously to spare my blushes. A generous gesture, I thought.’ His brow puckered. ‘But now — no, I don’t think it was her. I don’t know who it was.’

  ‘Did you ask her?’

  ‘Not in so many words. But I hinted at it, and she obviously hadn’t a clue.’

  Pitt subjected the man to another of his long and impersonal scrutinies, reviewing in his mind the evidence that seemed to be piling up against him. Connaught’s death and the recovery of his IOU had virtually turned the loan into a gift and had prevented what might later have become a very nasty situation. No one had a stronger motive for wishing to dispose of Russell. And the maid had said —

  ‘Will you recognize me next time?’ James asked irritably.

  Pitt’s eyes did not waver. ‘You have already told us you were away on the night of the twenty-first, Mr Latimer,’ he said. ‘What time did you return the next morning?’

  ‘Goodness knows. You must credit me with a damned good memory, Inspector, if you expect me to give the exact time of something that happened over a fortnight ago.’

  ‘I don’t. But was it before or after seven?’

  ‘Before. Somewhere around 3 a.m.’ The Inspector pulled thoughtfully at his chin.

  ‘And you left the Lodge at around ten o’clock the evening before. “Away for the night” was somewhat misleading, wasn’t it? Why was it necessary for Miss Connaught to take your prep that morning?’

  ‘Because I didn’t expect to be home until much later, that’s why. Aha!’ James raised a warning finger as Pitt was about to speak. ‘Don’t waste your breath, Inspector. I told you before that where I went is my own business. Well, it still is.’

  Pitt shrugged his shoulders. ‘We may decide to make it ours.’ He held up the IOU. ‘I’ll keep this for the present if you don’t mind.’

  ‘As far as I’m concerned you can keep it for ever, so long as my father doesn’t set eyes on it.’ Relief was evident in his relaxed bearing, in the bantering note that had crept back into his voice. ‘And don’t be too sure that I’m the answer to a policeman’s prayer. A thousand quid is nothing to what I might have had if J.C. had lived. He was all in favour of my marrying his granddaughter, you know — a happy event which, without his support, is now unlikely to take place, I fear. I’m not such a fool as to kill the goose that was all set to lay me a beautiful golden egg.’

  ‘I am becoming allergic to Latimers,’ Pitt said to Maddox, as James, his good spirits restored, walked jauntily from the room.

  ***

  There was still no news of Moull when, for a brief period, the two detectives stood talking on the terrace after lunch. The sun was warm after the heavy rain of the previous night. On the playing-fields a few boys were kicking a football about, and behind them the trees rose up out of the valley, partially obscuring the farther view. In the far distance was the blue haze of a line of hills.

  ‘I wonder what it costs to send a boy to a place like this,’ the Sergeant pondered aloud.

  ‘Why? Thinking of sending yours?’

  Maddox grinned. ‘On my pay? No ruddy fear.’

  A bell rang loudly inside the building. Pitt looked at his watch. ‘Twenty-past two,’ he said. ‘What could that be for?’

  Slowly the boys drifted in from the field. They seemed in no hurry, kicking a ball along the paths between the bushes, chasing each other and wrestling. They cast frankly curious glances at the two policemen as they passed. Dicken and Rodgers, bolder than most, came up to them, followed at a distance by three smaller boys.

  ‘What’s the bell for?’ asked the Inspector.

  ‘Scripture,’ said Dicken. ‘We have a lesson at half-past two. It’s a beastl
y swiz, having to work on a Sunday.’

  ‘Have you caught the Mule yet?’ asked Rodgers.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The Mule. Mr Moull.’

  ‘Oh! No, not yet.’

  ‘What’ll happen when you do catch him?’

  ‘We’ll just ask him a few questions. Oughtn’t you boys to be getting in?’

  ‘There’s bags of time yet,’ said Dicken. ‘Have you caught lots of criminals?’

  ‘Quite a few. But a detective’s life isn’t always as exciting as I dare say you boys think it is. Much of the time it’s just honest-to-goodness hard work — and pretty dull at that. I don’t think you’d fancy it.’

  ‘I bet I would. And I bet it isn’t really dull; not like swotting at lessons or working in an office.’ He sighed. ‘This has been a wizard term. I almost wish we weren’t going home tomorrow.’

  The three smaller boys, emboldened by the friendly reception accorded to their elders, had crept closer. One of them ventured to join in the conversation.

  ‘I’m going home today,’ he said. ‘My mother’s coming for me in the car.’

  ‘And where do you live?’ asked Maddox.

  ‘At Tanbury. It’s only six miles away, so I can easily ride over here on my bicycle. I shall, too. Then p’raps I’ll see you catch the murderer.’

  Pitt frowned. ‘You boys are letting your imagination run away with you,’ he said. ‘There isn’t any murderer that I know of.’

  ‘Mr Russell said there was. I heard him talking to Miss Connaught.’

  ‘Do all you boys live near here?’ asked the Sergeant. He disapproved of the way the conversation was going.

  ‘Gosh, no!’ said Dicken. ‘I live in High Wycombe, and Rodgers lives in Colchester. Lots of us have to go even farther than that. There’s one boy comes from Scotland.’

  ‘I live in London,’ volunteered another small boy. ‘In Kensington.’

  ‘That’s nothing,’ said Trent, the third small boy. He had the most upturned nose that Pitt had ever seen, with startlingly blue eyes set in a face smothered with freckles. ‘I live in Bradford. That’s in Yorkshire. I’m going home this afternoon too.’

  ‘You certainly spread yourselves around,’ said the Inspector. ‘But I suppose a change of environment is a good thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked the first small boy.

  ‘Environment? Well — surroundings, really. A change of environment means a change of air, different scenery, fresh faces. It means you won’t be meeting the same people in the holidays that you meet at school.’

  ‘I do,’ said Trent. ‘Layman lives in the same street as us. I see him every day.’

  ‘Well, that’s only one. He can’t do you much harm.’

  ‘And last hols Miss Connaught came to stay with us,’ the small boy continued imperturbably. ‘And Mr Connaught. He’s the man who was drowned. He was a friend of Daddy’s, he used to teach Daddy when he was here. We saw Mr James too. And once we spent a week at Scarborough in the same hotel as Oakes.’

  ‘And where did you see Mr James?’ asked Pitt, refraining from referring to a small world. ‘In Bradford?’

  ‘Oh, no. We had a bungalow by the sea, near Whitby. Mummy and I had gone into the town to do some shopping with Mr Connaught, and Mr James was coming out of a hotel, but he went back when he saw us. Mummy said there was a ginger horse,’ he added inconsequently.

  ‘A ginger horse!’ exclaimed the astonished Inspector.

  ‘Yes, that’s what she said. I didn’t see it, but Mr Connaught did. He said he’d seen it the last time, too. He looked quite cross.’

  ‘I expect Mrs Trent meant a roan,’ Rodgers suggested. ‘My father’s got a roan. I ride it sometimes, but I’m having a pony for Christmas.’

  ‘A roan doesn’t seem to make any more sense than a ginger horse,’ said Pitt. ‘Not under those circumstances. Where was this horse, young feller-me-lad?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Trent. ‘I told you, I didn’t see it.’

  A male voice shouted imperatively from the school. With hurried farewells to their new friends the boys ran off, Trent and another waving energetically until they disappeared from sight.

  ‘Nice kids,’ said the Inspector. ‘A pity they had to get mixed up in all this.’ The two men walked round the east side of the building towards the front door. As they turned on to the gravel the Sergeant gave a throaty chuckle.

  ‘What’s the joke?’

  ‘I was thinking of what those kids said. First a Mule (nice way to describe a teacher, eh?) and then all that talk about a ginger horse.’ He laughed again. ‘I wouldn’t mind betting his ma never mentioned a horse at all, let alone a ginger one.’

  ‘No,’ Pitt said thoughtfully, ‘I don’t suppose she did.’

  In the hall Joseph Latimer and Diana Farling were talking to a parent, who eyed the two detectives with interest. Diana smiled; Mr Latimer ignored them. Pitt wondered how he would explain their presence. Were they being palmed off as parents — of new boys, perhaps — or did they look too much like what they were?

  As soon as he could he drew the headmaster into the library.

  ‘You have a small boy named Trent here, sir, and I want a word with his mother. The boy tells me she is collecting him this afternoon. Is that correct?’

  Latimer was startled. ‘Yes. But what can you possibly have to discuss with Mrs Trent, Inspector?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that, sir. But I should be obliged if you would let me know when she arrives.’

  Mr Latimer did not hesitate. ‘No,’ he said firmly, ‘I most certainly will not. I have no wish to defeat the ends of justice; but since Mrs Trent — or any other parent, for that matter — can know nothing of the reason for your presence here, I will not have her pestered by the police.’ He leaned forward, staring hard at Pitt. ‘Did Russell put you up to this?’

  ‘That is a most improper question, sir,’ Pitt said sternly.

  ‘Yes, I suppose it is. I apologize. But I regret that I cannot accede to your request.’

  ‘In that case, sir, I shall station a constable at the front door with orders to establish the identity of every visitor until Mrs Trent is found.’

  The headmaster winced, licked his dry lips, and decided, much against his inclination, to plead his cause.

  ‘You are putting me in a very difficult position. I assure you, Inspector, that if Mrs Trent discovers why you are here it will jeopardize the whole future of the school.’ He paused hopefully. But Pitt made no comment, and he went on, ‘The Trent family has been connected with the school for years. Mr Trent was here, and his eldest son left last term. There is another boy to come, and it was through the Trents’ recommendation that other parents —the Laymans, Mrs Fisher, the Brownwells, to name only a few — have sent or entered their boys here. So you see the importance of the connection. Yet at the beginning of this term Mrs Trent hinted that she might be severing this connection; I cannot think why, for our relations have hitherto been most friendly. I had hoped to talk to her this afternoon; I am sure that if anything has upset her it can easily be rectified. But if she is confronted by a policeman on her arrival ... if she is questioned ...’ The headmaster shuddered at the prospect. ‘You see why I have to refuse your request, Inspector?’

  Pitt shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I must speak to the lady. I won’t tell her anything she doesn’t need to know. But if you won’t produce her — well, the constable will.’

  Mr Latimer capitulated. Pitt, much as he disliked the man, felt sorry for him. ‘It’s a hell of a position he’s in,’ he said to Maddox. ‘I don’t blame him for trying to hush it up, but he’s a fool to think he can. Here! What’s biting you?’

  Sergeant Maddox was staring hard at the closed library door. Now he turned to face the Inspector, his eyes troubled.

  ‘I’ve just thought of something, sir.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You remember yesterday evening, when I was telling you about how Moull had been se
en on his bicycle? Well, when I went to fetch Doris I had a feeling something was wrong; but I couldn’t place it, and I thought I must be imagining things. You know how it is. Sometimes a job gets on your nerves so that you scent a mystery in the most ordinary occurrence. I thought it must be like that with me.’

  ‘I didn’t know you had any nerves,’ said Pitt. ‘But cut out the philosophy. What are you trying to tell me?’

  ‘That the door wasn’t properly shut when I left the room. Yet I’m sure I shut it when I came in.’

  ‘And you think Moull may have overheard our conversation, and decided to go while the going was good?’

  ‘Yes. Either that, or someone listened in on his behalf. There was no one in the hall when I left to fetch Doris, but both Miss Farling and James Latimer were there when I arrived. I thought they were having a bit of an argument. Latimer cleared off when he saw me, but the girl didn’t.’

  ‘Miss Farling, eh? Yes, that’s possible. Even if she isn’t sweet on Moull she may feel sorry for him. If she suspected you were on to something’ — Sergeant Maddox fidgeted, remembering his conversation with the girl — ‘she may have decided to find out what it was. And perhaps her little natter with Prettyman last night was to distract his attention while Moull made his escape.’ The Inspector paused. ‘No, that won’t do. Not if we are to believe Russell’s story of hearing Moull at 3 a.m. Oh, damn these meddling idiots! You can’t trust a soul in this place. Not one. A fine bunch to be in charge of the young! If I were a parent ...’

  Maddox said, grinning, ‘You’re supposed to get married first.’

  But Pitt was not listening. As so often happened a spoken phrase — from his own lips this time — had sent his thoughts dancing away at a tangent.

  ‘Now wait a minute!’ he said, his eyes gleaming. And then the gleam was gone, to be replaced by concern. For if he followed his thoughts to their natural conclusion ...

  A light tap sounded on the door. The Sergeant opened it to reveal the tall figure of the headmaster.