A Javelin for Jonah

chapter

14

Coasting round the Bends

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I would very much like to have a description of that caller,” said Dame Beatrice, as they drove back to College. “I think we must find out to which hospital Potts has been admitted and whether he is permitted visitors other than his family. However, that will have to stand over, because the inspector will be awaiting our return.”

The inspector had finished with the students by the time they reached the College and was enjoying mid-morning coffee and biscuits in the senior common room with Henry and Miss Yale.

“I can’t get anything out of those lads,” he said, when the tutors had gone, “so perhaps you’d have a go at them, Dame Beatrice. Whatever they know about Kirk, they’re not letting on, not to me. Here’s a list of their names, and I can point out their particular hut.”

“I obtained no useful information either,” confessed Dame Beatrice, “except a further denial that the repair or reconstruction of the suspect javelin was ever done at the forge.”

“Same answer as I got, and it’s likely enough. The man, whoever he was—and he must have some connection with the College—would be a fool to get a job like that done locally.”

“Apparently Potts and this man Benson thought he came from the College, and it seems that he did make an attempt to get the work done locally, all the same. Benson mentioned the visitor who brought the javelin to the forge but could not describe him, as he was not at the forge at the time. Did you know, Inspector, that Potts is in hospital?”

“No, I didn’t. Which hospital?”

“I did not ask, but I thought you might be willing to find out. The official approach will probably intimidate his wife, whereas my own approach would not.”

“Not that I’ll get much out of him, even if I do visit the hospital, I’m afraid,” said the inspector. “It’s the newspapers, you know. Somebody must have sold them the story of Jones’s death and, once the javelin was mentioned in print, Potts, I expect, has shut up like a clam. Thinks the murderer will have something on him, I reckon, if he ever lets out that he was offered the javelin for repair. I suppose you believe this man Benson? He wasn’t at work the day I went to the forge, either, so I’ve never met him.”

“He says he rents Potts’s apparatus occasionally, and I cannot see why he should lie about the javelin, although, to you (and to me, I expect, if I had asked him) Potts did. Benson had not seen the javelin, of course, but to a certain extent he was able to repeat Potts’s description of it. I do not suppose it is a familiar implement so far as the villagers are concerned, so he would hardly make up this tale.”

“Don’t suppose the majority of the villagers have ever seen such a thing,” agreed the inspector. “Well, I think you’ve got hold of an important and useful bit of information, ma’am, with which I shall confront Potts as soon as I’m allowed to see him, and that may be a whole lot sooner than he would like. I’m much obliged to you, ma’am. Do you want to see those boys now, or will you wait a bit?”

“I’ll wait. When they have had time to think and talk over your own visit, they may be the more willing to tolerate mine. For the rest of the morning and, doubtless, for much of the afternoon, I shall be busy with other matters. Do you know whether Mr. Kirk’s stepfather has arrived yet?”

“Expected at about half-past three this afternoon, ma’am. Mr. Medlar received a wire while you were out, and would like us both to be at the interview. I think Mr. Medlar feels that he would like our support, although he did not exactly say so.”

“He has my sympathy. I shall be on call, then, from three-thirty onwards. When was Mr. Kirk killed?”

“According to our surgeon, somewhere between ten on the night before yesterday and two o’clock yesterday morning. Would you like a word with him, ma’am?”

“It is not necessary. The times he gives are reasonable enough. The deed, of necessity, would have to be done after dark. I wonder what the excuse was?”

“The excuse, ma’am?”

“For getting Kirk to come out of his hut at night. I have an idea about it, of course. During a conversation I had with one of the students, it seems that Mr. Jones was in the habit of keeping Kirk supplied with drink and cigarettes. I think that maybe the murderer was blackmailed into taking his place.”

“I wish I had known that when I tackled those lads this morning! Do you know, I believe I’ll go right back there and roast them! I take it Mr. Medlar wasn’t a party to such goings-on?”

“Oh, I am sure he was not. I did not tell you until after you had seen the young men, because now they will not be expecting another call from you, and therefore your second visit will take them unawares. By refusing information to you so far, they have turned themselves into hostile witnesses and may be treated as such.”

“That’s clever of you, ma’am, but shan’t I queer your own pitch if I tackle them before you’ve spoken to them? I’ve been told to give you every facility.”

“I wait upon your decision, Inspector.”

“Well, then, ma’am, I think you should take first knock. Here is the list of names. While you’re sorting this lot, I’ll find out which hospital Potts is in. I know where he lives, and his wife will tell me whether it’s the local hospital, which I think it’s bound to be, and what’s the matter with him. Good luck, ma’am. You’ll need it if you’re to get anything useful out of those boys.” He left her and Dame Beatrice studied the list of names. She was interested to note that those of Paul-Pierre and the taciturn Neil, as well as that of Richard were on it. The rest of the names were not those of anybody whom Hamish had mentioned in his letters home.

She went first to Henry’s lecture-room in which hung the full time-table of lectures and coachings, for Henry, she knew, was largely responsible for organizing this part of College life while Gascoigne dealt with business matters, correspondence, complaints and parents. Henry was lecturing to a class which consisted of five inattentive girls and seven lethargic young men, and he seemed grateful instead of irritated when Dame Beatrice interrupted his discourse.

“Mean we can go, Henry boy?” asked a front-row youth, speaking with what Dame Beatrice recognized as an unusual degree of politeness for a student at Joynings.

“Suit yourself, Frank,” replied Henry; whereupon the group collected its books and charged for the door. “They only come because they think it’s good for me to have an occasional class,” said Henry tolerantly. “And now what can I do for you, Dame Beatrice?”

“I should wish to congratulate you, first, on your popularity here. Secondly, all I came for was to find out where these students are likely to be at this hour.” She produced the list which the inspector had given her. “You have a complete time-table, I believe.”

“Ah, but where our students are supposed to be, and where they actually are,” said Henry, “is one of those Alice in Wonderland things, you know. Still, for what it’s worth—” he studied her list—“Richard will be with James, to whom he remains faithful, especially since eleven more girls have decided to take French and German; Paul-Pierre will be with Martin for mathematics— he is the instructor, I may add, and Martin the pupil—and I expect you will find Neil with Miss Yale. Ideally he should be at physics with Jerry, but he is teaching Miss Yale to knit.”

“Dear me!” said Dame Beatrice. “So the devil a monk would be! Two devils and two monks, in fact. I shall never again be surprised at what goes on in this College. Does nobody instruct Hamish?”

“The girls would like to do that, I expect,” said Henry, with his gentle smile. “Of the others on your list…”

“Thank you so much, but I think I can make shift with Paul-Pierre and Neil. Richard has already talked to me.”

“He’s a good chap, is old Richard. We shall miss him when he goes.”

Dame Beatrice went first to Miss Yale’s lecture-room and found Neil upbraiding that formidable lady as he ‘took back’ the last few rows of what appeared to be a Fair Isle sweater in the making.

“I forbade ye to go on wi’ it when I wisna by tae see ye were daeing it richt,” he was saying sternly.

“Sorry,” said Miss Yale. “Thought I’d got the hang of the pattern by now.”

The door was wide open, but Dame Beatrice tapped on it politely before she advanced into the room.

“So very sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but as soon as Neil is at liberty I would be glad if he would spare me a moment.”

“I’ll come the noo,” said Neil, laying aside the knitting, “gin this disobedient woman will agree tae leave well alane until I will be back. I’m thinking ye’re wanting to speir at me about wee Kirkie,” he added, as he and Dame Beatrice reached the open air and began to cross the Warden’s garden. “Is it true the puir mannie is deid?”

“Quite true, I’m afraid. As he slept in your hall of residence, I wondered whether you could suggest any reason why somebody murdered him.”

“Och, then, there’s mony that micht hae had reason for it. Aye, and the tutors, too, for the matter o’ that.”

“Did any of you—I am not asking for names—but did any of you ever leave your hall of residence at night?”

“Why would we be daeing that?”

“I can think of no reason, but I thought perhaps you could tell me how or why Kirk was not in bed the night before last.”

“Kirk had a bet he wad sleep wi’ ane o’ the lasses, but we a’ kenned that wis naething but wishfu’ thinking. Save for mysel’, they’re a’ too scared o’ yon auld body ye took me from. Losh! But she’s a deevil when she’s roused up!”

“But Mr. Kirk apparently did not think so, if he took on such a wager.”

“Did he not? I’m thinking that he did. All the same, gin ane o’ the lasses was willing—and some would be willing to bed doon wi’ Kirk sooner than wi’ naebody at a’, ye ken—the way wad be tae bribe a servant tae leave the back door o’ the hoose open so that a man could be slipping up the back stairs and no tae be ganging past the draygon’s room the way she wad be hearing him.”

“But the students have no money for bribes, or so I was given to understand.”

“Kirk had siller and tae spare. His mither sent it to the mon Jones, I’ll be thinking. Aye, Kirk and Jones was awfu’ thick. Weel, noo, seeing that the baith o’ them are deid, there’s nae harm telling ye. Kirk was oot of our hut the nicht Jones was killed, as well as the nicht ye’re speiring aboot.”

“Trying to get into the College building?”

“I dinna ken. It micht be that, or, more likely, it micht be tae get into Jones’s garage.”

“Why should he want to do that?”

“The drink, ye ken, was still in Jones’s car. The gomerils wha shut Jones up didna ken aboot the bottles—Kirk’s bottles that Jones ordered for him at the pub and Kirk’s folk paid for—and the seven of them in the hut were no sae wrang in the heid that they wad gang against the whole College and let Jones oot.”

“I thought there were nine of you in the hut.”

“Richard and mysel’ we didna drink or smoke, ye ken.”

“How about Paul-Pierre?”

“Och! That yin!” said Neil. He laughed unpleasantly. “Aweel,” he went on, “I’ve told ye a’ I ken, so I’ll be ganging back to the auld draygon and her knitting.” Without more ado he turned about and broke into a trot as he headed back to the house. Dame Beatrice cackled. She felt she had done well by beginning her line of enquiry with Neil, but that it would be as well to get his evidence confirmed. As she turned back towards the main College building an eruption of students occurred. She stood out of their way and collared Paul-Pierre as he came abreast of her.

“Madame?” said Paul-Pierre, stopping politely in his tracks.

“When you have had your lunch, monsieur, I would be glad of a word with you.”

“You would grill me, as that policeman did?”

“You may have some knowledge which you would be willing to share with me, perhaps.”

“With you, madame, I would be willing to share anything, even my life,” declared Paul-Pierre cheekily.

“Splendid. In the sitting-room which used to belong to Mr. Jones, then, if you will be so good.”

“Parfaitement, madame. A quelle heure?”

“A quatorze heures, s’il vous plaît.”

“Il me plaît bien. Au revoir, chère madame. C’est depuis deux années que je suis invité au salon d’une duchesse.” With an exaggerated gesture he seized Dame Beatrice’s yellow claw and raised it to his lips.

“Why did you knife your science master?” asked Dame Beatrice, when they met again at two. Paul-Pierre waved eloquent, spade-like hands.

“We disagreed,” he said, “and I was right. He asks me to define the nature of cathode rays. He does not accept my definition, but me, I know I am right. I convince myself, so how is it I do not convince him? So I say it with knives. That do not convince him either, and I am kicked out of the school. Just like that! For nothing! For one little snick on his face to prove to him I am right. But what of it? Those who have right suffer always.”

“That is both sad and true. But I must not waste your rest-time. Do you swim this afternoon?”

“But yes. What do you want with me?”

“Confirmation, or the reverse, of some information I received this morning.”

“So?”

“Yes. I am afraid it is what lawyers would call a leading question, but I am anxious not to keep you longer than is absolutely necessary. You will remember that Mr. Jones was kidnapped and incarcerated by some of the students?”

“But not by me. I do not care for these childish entertainments.”

“Nor I. But can you remember which night it was, at just about that time, that Mr. Kirk left the hall of residence to go in search of certain bottles which were thought to be in the boot of Mr. Jones’s car?”

“But certainly. Mr. Jones goes to the estaminet on the Tuesday, but he is kidnapped on the Wednesday and it is only in the dark, which comes very late at this time of the year, that we can bring in the bottles. So by the Thursday we are all very thirsty and we say to Kirk what about these bottles and to go out and bring them in, or we shall all beat him up. So he go, but still we get no bottles because there is no way he can break into the garage without a staff key.”

“And did you beat him up?”

“Oh, no, we would not do a thing like that. It was only a threat, although we make Kirk think it was true. You see, that big, ugly fellow Richard says, when Kirk has gone to try to get the bottles, that if anybody lay a finger on the little rat, he, Richard, will have their guts for garters. That is an English saying. How bestial are the English! So, when Kirk come back and look frightened, we think it is the beating-up he fears, but when, later, the dogs find Mr. Jones, I think to myself that maybe Kirk find out something else besides that the garage cannot be opened. I think he go over to the stoke-hole and spot the person who has just murdered Jones.”

“He went to ask Mr. Jones for his key to the garage, I presume.”

“That is the way I think.”

“Thank you,” said Dame Beatrice. “Kirk never told any of you that he had seen something suspicious that night?”

“No. In the morning we sneak Lesley’s key to the garage. Quite simple. Two of us distract her attention with wild talk of love while another takes her handbag and finds her car keys with which she has a key to her garage, and we find the key will fit Jones’s garage, so we manage to get our bottles after all.”

“And Miss Lesley’s keys?”

“Oh, those we return. We are men of honour. I do not think she knows they were ever borrowed. Students, you understand, are very clever people.”

“You have been of great help,” said Dame Beatrice, “but I believe there is one more thing which you can tell me, if you are public-spirited enough to do so.”

“The public school I know, and the public-house and the public library. All those. What is this public spirit?”

“I cannot define it. You have a French expression esprit de corps, but I do not believe it means quite the same thing. Suppose I said, ‘General goodwill’, would that convey anything to you?”

“I do not think we would understand that term at Joynings, but ask your question.”

“Since the death of Mr. Jones, has the consignment of bottles ceased to be delivered?”

“But no. I think that his murderer give us them.”

“Under pressure, of course.”

“Of course. I suppose Kirk—now this is a word I do not know in English—”

“Allow me to supply it in French. Kirk had become the maître chanteur of the murderer. In other words, Kirk was blackmailing him. You don’t know his name, I suppose?”

A maid came in just as Paul-Pierre was shaking his head.

“The inspector, madam,” she said.

“Show him in, please.”

“I go,” said Paul-Pierre hastily.

“That lad,” said the inspector, “will come to a sticky end, ma’am. Well, I’ve found out the hospital, but I was too late to talk to Potts.”

“He has been discharged?” asked Dame Beatrice.

“No, ma’am, not in the sense you mean. I’m sorry to say that he’s dead.”

“Dear me! His partner, Benson, gave me no inkling that he was so seriously ill.”

“Not ill, in the sense you mean, ma’am. He’d had a nasty knock on the head.”

“Foul play?”

“Doubtful, it seems. What happened was that one night, about a week ago, his wife heard her chickens squawking, so she made Potts get up and see what was upsetting them, whether it was a fox got into the hen-house or a thief. Seems they’d lost chickens before. Well, he was so long gone that she became alarmed, so she went next door—it’s a row of half-a-dozen brick-built cottages—to ask the neighbour to help her investigate, as she didn’t like the idea of going right down to the bottom end of the garden by herself in the dark. The chap obliged, taking a poker with him in case of any rough stuff, and he also had a lantern. The hens started up another panic as the pair reached the chicken run, but there was no sign of Potts there. They didn’t like to call out his name for fear of waking the other neighbours, but they found him at last lying unconscious on the ground outside the back-door earth-closet. They got the doctor to him and the doctor himself drove Potts to the hospital, but he died this morning without ever recovering consciousness, so, even if I’d got to him sooner, it still wouldn’t have been any good, even if he’d been willing this time to answer my questions.”

“But what caused the injury?”

“The roof of the earth-closet was of slates and one of them was lying near the body.”

“But we have had no winds high enough to bring down slates, Inspector.”

“Oh, the roof was in a very bad state. I’ve seen Potts’s wife and she says they were going to repair the roof before the winter set in, but Potts wasn’t keen on doing jobs around the house and always put them off as long as possible. ‘And now he’s paid for it,’ she said. There will be an inquest, of course, but I think the verdict will have to be death by accident.”

“Do you think it was?”

“Chickens don’t suddenly start panicking at dead of night, ma’am, unless there’s a reason for it.”

“But it could have been that a fox was in the neighbourhood, I suppose.”

“My guess would be that the fox had only two legs, ma’am, but I doubt whether I’ll ever be able to prove it. It’s too much of a coincidence that, out of all the village, the chap who could recognize a murderer should die.”