鸽群中的猫17

Sixteen

RIDDLE¹ OF THE SPORTS PAVILION

I“My head is bloody² but unbowed,” said Adam to himself.

He was looking at Miss Bulstrode. He had never, he thought, admired a woman more. She sat,cool and unmoved, with her life-work falling in ruins about her.

From time to time telephone calls came through announcing that yet another pupil was beingremoved.

Finally Miss Bulstrode had taken her decision. Excusing herself to the police officers, shesummoned Ann Shapland, and dictated³ a brief statement. The school would be closed until the endof term. Parents who found it inconvenient⁴ to have their children home, were welcome to leavethem in her care and their education would be continued.

“You’ve got the list of parents’ names and addresses? And their telephone numbers?”

“Yes, Miss Bulstrode.”

“Then start on the telephone. After that see a typed notice goes to everyone.”

“Yes, Miss Bulstrode.”

On her way out, Ann Shapland paused near the door.

She flushed and her words came with a rush.

“Excuse me, Miss Bulstrode. It’s not my business—but isn’t it a pity to—to be premature⁵? Imean—after the first panic, when people have had time to think—surely they won’t want to takethe girls away. They’ll be sensible and think better of it.”

Miss Bulstrode looked at her keenly.

“You think I’m accepting defeat too easily?”

Ann flushed.

“I know—you think it’s cheek. But—but, well then, yes, I do.”

“You’re a fighter, child, I’m glad to see. But you’re quite wrong. I’m not accepting defeat. I’mgoing on my knowledge of human nature. Urge people to take their children away, force it onthem—and they won’t want to nearly so much. They’ll think up reasons for letting them remain.

Or at the worst they’ll decide to let them come back next term—if there is a next term,” she addedgrimly.

She looked at Inspector⁶ Kelsey.

“That’s up to you,” she said. “Clear these murders up—catch whoever is responsible for them—and we’ll be all right.”

Inspector Kelsey looked unhappy. He said: “We’re doing our best.”

Ann Shapland went out.

“Competent girl,” said Miss Bulstrode. “And loyal.”

This was in the nature of a parenthesis⁷. She pressed her attack.

“Have you absolutely no idea of who killed two of my mistresses in the Sports Pavilion? Youought to, by this time. And this kidnapping on top of everything else. I blame myself there. Thegirl talked about someone wanting to kidnap her. I thought, God forgive me, she was makingherself important. I see now that there must have been something behind it. Someone must havehinted, or warned—one doesn’t know which—” She broke off, resuming: “You’ve no news of anykind?”

“Not yet. But I don’t think you need worry too much about that. It’s been passed to the C.I.D.

The Special Branch is on to it, too. They ought to find her within twenty-four hours, thirty-six atmost. There are advantages in this being an island. All the ports, airports, etc., are alerted. And thepolice in every district are keeping a lookout⁸. It’s actually easy enough to kidnap anyone—it’skeeping them hidden that’s the problem. Oh, we’ll find her.”

“I hope you’ll find her alive,” said Miss Bulstrode grimly. “We seem to be up against someonewho isn’t too scrupulous⁹ about human life.”

“They wouldn’t have troubled to kidnap her if they’d meant to do away with her,” said Adam.

“They could have done that here easily enough.”

He felt that the last words were unfortunate. Miss Bulstrode gave him a look.

“So it seems,” she said dryly.

The telephone rang. Miss Bulstrode took up the receiver.

“Yes?”

She motioned to Inspector Kelsey.

“It’s for you.”

Adam and Miss Bulstrode watched him as he took the call. He grunted¹⁰, jotted¹¹ down a note ortwo, said finally: “I see. Alderton Priors. That’s Wallshire. Yes, we’ll cooperate. Yes, Super. I’llcarry on here, then.”

He put down the receiver and stayed a moment lost in thought. Then he looked up.

“His Excellency got a ransom¹² note this morning. Typed on a new Corona¹³. PostmarkPortsmouth. Bet that’s a blind.”

“Where and how?” asked Adam.

“Crossroads two miles north of Alderton Priors. That’s a bit of bare moorland. Envelopecontaining money to be put under stone behind A.A. box there at 2 a.m. tomorrow morning.”

“How much?”

“Twenty thousand.” He shook his head. “Sounds amateurish¹⁴ to me.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Miss Bulstrode.

Inspector Kelsey looked at her. He was a different man. Official reticence¹⁵ hung about him like acloak.

“The responsibility isn’t mine, madam,” he said. “We have our methods.”

“I hope they’re successful,” said Miss Bulstrode.

“Ought to be easy,” said Adam.

“Amateurish?” said Miss Bulstrode, catching¹⁶ at a word they had used. “I wonder….”

Then she said sharply:

“What about my staff? What remains¹⁷ of it, that is to say? Do I trust them, or don’t I?”

As Inspector Kelsey hesitated, she said,

“You’re afraid that if you tell me who is not cleared, I should show it in my manner to them.

You’re wrong. I shouldn’t.”

“I don’t think you would,” said Kelsey. “But I can’t afford to take any chances. It doesn’t look,on the face of it, as though any of your staff can be the person we’re looking for. That is, not so faras we’ve been able to check up on them. We’ve paid special attention to those who are new thisterm—that is Mademoiselle Blanche, Miss Springer and your secretary, Miss Shapland. MissShapland’s past is completely corroborated¹⁸. She’s the daughter of a retired¹⁹ general, she has heldthe posts she says she did and her former employers vouch²⁰ for her. In addition she has an alibi²¹ forlast night. When Miss Vansittart was killed, Miss Shapland was with a Mr. Dennis Rathbone at anightclub. They’re both well known there, and Mr. Rathbone has an excellent character.

Mademoiselle Blanche’s antecedents have also been checked. She has taught at a school in thenorth of England and at two schools in Germany, and has been given an excellent character. She issaid to be a first-class teacher.”

“Not by our standards,” sniffed²² Miss Bulstrode.

“Her French background has also been checked. As regards Miss Springer, things are not quiteso conclusive²³. She did her training where she says, but there have been gaps since in her periods ofemployment which are not fully²⁴ accounted for.

“Since, however, she was killed,” added the Inspector, “that seems to exonerate²⁵ her.”

“I agree,” said Miss Bulstrode dryly, “that both Miss Springer and Miss Vansittart are hors decombat as suspects. Let us talk sense. Is Mademoiselle Blanche, in spite of her blamelessbackground, still a suspect merely because she is still alive?”

“She could have done both murders. She was here, in the building, last night,” said Kelsey.

“She says she went to bed early and slept and heard nothing until the alarm was given. There’s noevidence to the contrary. We’ve got nothing against her. But Miss Chadwick says definitely thatshe’s sly.”

Miss Bulstrode waved that aside impatiently.

“Miss Chadwick always finds the French Mistresses sly. She’s got a thing about them.” Shelooked at Adam. “What do you think?”

“I think she pries,” said Adam slowly. “It may be just natural inquisitiveness²⁶. It may besomething more. I can’t make up my mind. She doesn’t look to me like a killer²⁷, but how does oneknow?”

“That’s just it,” said Kelsey. “There is a killer here, a ruthless killer who has killed twice—butit’s very hard to believe that it’s one of the staff. Miss Johnson was with her sister last night atLimeston on Sea, and anyway she’s been with you seven years. Miss Chadwick’s been with yousince you started. Both of them, anyway, are clear of Miss Springer’s death. Miss Rich has beenwith you over a year and was staying last night at the Alton Grange Hotel, twenty miles away,Miss Blake was with friends at Littleport, Miss Rowan has been with you for a year and has agood background. As for your servants, frankly²⁸ I can’t see any of them as murderers. They’re alllocal, too….”

Miss Bulstrode nodded pleasantly.

“I quite agree with your reasoning. It doesn’t leave much, does it? So—” She paused and fixedan accusing eye on Adam. “It looks really—as though it must be you.”

His mouth opened in astonishment²⁹.

“On the spot,” she mused³⁰. “Free to come and go … Good story to account for your presencehere. Background OK but you could be a double-crosser, you know.”

Adam recovered himself.

“Really, Miss Bulstrode,” he said admiringly, “I take off my hat to you. You think ofeverything!”

II

“Good gracious!” cried Mrs. Sutcliffe at the breakfast table. “Henry!”

She had just unfolded her newspaper.

The width of the table was between her and her husband since her weekend guests had not yetput in an appearance for the meal.

Mr. Sutcliffe, who had opened his paper to the financial page, and was absorbed in theunforeseen movements of certain shares, did not reply.

“Henry!”

The clarion³¹ call reached him. He raised a startled face.

“What’s the matter, Joan?”

“The matter? Another murder! At Meadowbank! At Jennifer’s school.”

“What? Here, let me see!”

Disregarding his wife’s remark that it would be in his paper, too, Mr. Sutcliffe leant across thetable and snatched the sheet from his wife’s grasp.

“Miss Eleanor Vansittart … Sports Pavilion … same spot where Miss Springer, the GamesMistress … hm … hm….”

“I can’t believe it!” Mrs. Sutcliffe was wailing³². “Meadowbank. Such an exclusive school.

Royalty³³ there and everything….”

Mr. Sutcliffe crumpled³⁴ up the paper and threw it down on the table.

“Only one thing to be done,” he said. “You get over there right away and take Jennifer out ofit.”

“You mean take her away—altogether?”

“That’s what I mean.”

“You don’t think that would be a little too drastic? After Rosamond being so good about it andmanaging to get her in?”

“You won’t be the only one taking your daughter away! Plenty of vacancies³⁵ soon at yourprecious Meadowbank.”

“Oh, Henry, do you think so?”

“Yes, I do. Something badly wrong there. Take Jennifer away today.”

“Yes—of course—I suppose you’re right. What shall we do with her?”

“Send her to a secondary modern somewhere handy. They don’t have murders there.”

“Oh, Henry, but they do. Don’t you remember? There was a boy who shot the science master atone³⁶. It was in last week’s News of the World.”

“I don’t know what England’s coming to,” said Mr. Sutcliffe.

Disgusted, he threw his napkin on the table and strode from the room.

III

Adam was alone in the Sports Pavilion … His deft³⁷ fingers were turning over the contents of thelockers. It was unlikely that he would find anything where the police had failed but after all, onecould never be sure. As Kelsey had said every department’s technique varied⁴⁰ a little.

What was there that linked this expensive modern building with sudden and violent death? Theidea of a rendezvous⁴¹ was out. No one would choose to keep a rendezvous a second time in thesame place where murder had occurred. It came back to it, then, that there was something here thatsomeone was looking for. Hardly a cache of jewels. That seemed ruled out. There could be nosecret hiding place, false drawers, spring catches, etc. And the contents of the lockers³⁹ werepitifully simple. They had their secrets, but they were the secrets of school life. Photographs of pinup heroes, packets of cigarettes, an occasional unsuitable cheap paperback⁴². Especially he returnedto Shaista’s locker³⁸. It was while bending over that that Miss Vansittart had been killed. What hadMiss Vansittart expected to find there? Had she found it? Had her killer taken it from her deadhand and then slipped out of the building in the nick of time to miss being discovered by MissChadwick?

In that case it was no good looking. Whatever it was, was gone.

The sound of footsteps outside aroused him from his thoughts. He was on his feet and lighting⁴³ acigarette in the middle of the floor when Julia Upjohn appeared in the doorway⁴⁴, hesitating a little.

“Anything you want, miss?” asked Adam.

“I wondered if I could have my tennis racquet.”

“Don’t see why not,” said Adam. “Police constable⁴⁵ left me here,” he explained mendaciously⁴⁶.

“Had to drop back to the station for something. Told me to stop here while he was away.”

“To see if he came back, I suppose,” said Julia.

“The police constable?”

“No. I mean, the murderer. They do, don’t they? Come back to the scene of the crime. Theyhave to! It’s a compulsion.”

“You may be right,” said Adam. He looked up at the serried⁴⁷ rows of racquets in their presses.

“Whereabouts is yours?”

“Under U,” said Julia. “Right at the far end. We have our names on them,” she explained,pointing out the adhesive⁴⁸ tape as he handed the racquet to her.

“Seen some service,” said Adam. “But been a good racquet once.”

“Can I have Jennifer Sutcliffe’s too?” asked Julia.

“New,” said Adam appreciatively, as he handed it to her.

“Brand new,” said Julia. “Her aunt sent it to her only the other day.”

“Lucky girl.”

“She ought to have a good racquet. She’s very good at tennis. Her backhand’s come on likeanything this term.” She looked round. “Don’t you think he will come back?”

Adam was a moment or two getting it.

“Oh. The murderer? No, I don’t think it’s really likely. Bit risky⁴⁹, wouldn’t it be?”

“You don’t think murderers feel they have to?”

“Not unless they’ve left something behind.”

“You mean a clue? I’d like to find a clue. Have the police found one?”

“They wouldn’t tell me.”

“No. I suppose they wouldn’t … Are you interested in crime?”

She looked at him inquiringly. He returned her glance. There was, as yet, nothing of the womanin her. She must be of much the same age as Shaista, but her eyes held nothing but interestedinquiry.

“Well—I suppose—up to a point—we all are.”

Julia nodded in agreement.

“Yes. I think so, too … I can think of all sorts of solutions—but most of them are very far-fetched. It’s rather fun, though.”

“You weren’t fond of Miss Vansittart?”

“I never really thought about her. She was all right. A bit like the Bull—Miss Bulstrode—butnot really like her. More like an understudy in a theatre. I didn’t mean it was fun she was dead.

I’m sorry about that.”

She walked out holding the two racquets.

Adam remained looking round the Pavilion.

“What the hell could there ever have been here?” he muttered to himself.

IV

“Good lord,” said Jennifer, allowing Julia’s forehand drive to pass her. “There’s Mummy.”

The two girls turned to stare at the agitated⁵⁰ figure of Mrs. Sutcliffe, shepherded by Miss Rich,rapidly arriving and gesticulating as she did so.

“More fuss, I suppose,” said Jennifer resignedly. “It’s the murder. You are lucky, Julia, thatyour mother’s safely on a bus in the Caucasus.”

“There’s still Aunt Isabel.”

“Aunts don’t mind in the same way.”

“Hallo, Mummy,” she added, as Mrs. Sutcliffe arrived.

“You must come and pack your things, Jennifer. I’m taking you back with me.”

“Back home?”

“Yes.”

“But—you don’t mean altogether? Not for good?”

“Yes. I do.”

“But you can’t—really. My tennis has come on like anything. I’ve got a very good chance ofwinning the singles and Julia and I might win the doubles, though I don’t think it’s very likely.”

“You’re coming home with me today.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask questions.”

“I suppose it’s because of Miss Springer and Miss Vansittart being murdered. But no one’smurdered any of the girls. I’m sure they wouldn’t want to. And Sports Day is in three weeks’ time.

I think I shall win the Long Jump and I’ve a good chance for the Hurdling⁵¹.”

“Don’t argue with me, Jennifer. You’re coming back with me today. Your father insists.”

“But, Mummy—”

Arguing persistently⁵² Jennifer moved towards the house by her mother’s side.

Suddenly she broke away and ran back to the tennis court.

“Good-bye, Julia. Mummy seems to have got the wind up thoroughly⁵³. Daddy, too, apparently⁵⁴.

Sickening, isn’t it? Good-bye, I’ll write to you.”

“I’ll write to you, too, and tell you all that happens.”

“I hope they don’t kill Chaddy next. I’d rather it was Mademoiselle Blanche, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. She’s the one we could spare best. I say, did you notice how black Miss Rich waslooking?”

“She hasn’t said a word. She’s furious at Mummy coming and taking me away.”

“Perhaps she’ll stop her. She’s very forceful, isn’t she? Not like anyone else.”

“She reminds me of someone,” said Jennifer.

“I don’t think she’s a bit like anybody. She always seems to be quite different.”

“Oh yes. She is different. I meant in appearance. But the person I knew was quite fat.”

“I can’t imagine Miss Rich being fat.”

“Jennifer … ” called Mrs. Sutcliffe.

“I do think parents are trying,” said Jennifer crossly. “Fuss, fuss, fuss. They never stop. I dothink you’re lucky to—”

“I know. You said that before. But just at the moment, let me tell you, I wish Mummy were agood deal nearer, and not on a bus in Anatolia.”

“Jennifer … ”

“Coming….”

Julia walked slowly in the direction of the Sports Pavilion. Her steps grew slower and slowerand finally she stopped altogether. She stood, frowning, lost in thought.

The luncheon⁵⁵ bell sounded, but she hardly heard it. She stared down at the racquet she washolding, moved a step or two along the path, then wheeled round and marched determinedlytowards the house. She went in by the front door, which was not allowed, and thereby⁵⁶ avoidedmeeting any of the other girls. The hall was empty. She ran up the stairs to her small bedroom,looked round her hurriedly, then lifting the mattress⁵⁷ on her bed, shoved the racquet flat beneath it.

Then, rapidly smoothing her hair, she walked demurely⁵⁸ downstairs to the dining room.

 

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