Cat Sitter Among the Pigeons

Chapter 16

THE RIDDLE OF THE SPORTS PAVILLION

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

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

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

Finally Miss Bulstrode had taken her decision. Excusing herself to the police officers, she summoned Ann Shapland, and dictated a brief statement. The school would be closed until the end of term. Parents who found it inconvenient to have their children home, were welcome to leave them 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 premature? I mean - after the first panic, when people have had time to think - surely they won't want to take the 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'm going on my knowledge of human nature. Urge people to take their children away, force it on them - 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 added grimly.

She looked at Inspector 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 parenthesis. She pressed her attack.

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

“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 at most. There are advantages in this being an island. All the ports, airports, etc., are alerted. And the police in every district are keeping a look-out. It's actually easy enough to kidnap anyone - it's keeping 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 someone who isn't too scrupulous 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 drily.

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 grunted, jotted down a note or two, said finally: “I see. Alderton Priors. That's Wallshire. Yes, we'll cooperate. Yes, Super. I'll carry on here, then.”

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

“His Excellency got a ransom note this morning. Typed on a new Corona. Postmark Portsmouth. Bet that's a blind.”

“Where and how?” asked Adam.

“Crossroads two miles north of Alderton Priors. That's a bit of bare moorland. Envelope containing money to be put under stone behind Automobile Association box there at 2 A.M., tomorrow morning.”

“How much?”

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

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

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

“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, catching at a word they had used. “I wonder...”

Then she said sharply:

“What about my staff? What remains 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 far as we've been able to check up on them. We've paid special attention to those who are new this term - that is Mademoiselle Blanche, Miss Springer, and your secretary, Miss Shapland. Miss Shapland's past is completely corroborated. She's the daughter of a retired general, she has held the posts she says she did and her former employers vouch for her. In addition she has an alibi for last night. When Miss Vansittart was killed, Miss Shapland was with a Mr. Denis Rathbone at a nightclub. 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 the north of England and at two schools in Germany, and has been given an excellent character. She is said to be a first-class teacher.”

“Not by our standards,” sniffed Miss BuIstrode.

"Her French background has also been checked. As regards Miss Springer, things are not quite so conclusive. She did her training where she says, but there have been gaps since in her periods of employment which are not fully accounted for.

“Since, however, she was killed,” added the inspector, “that seems to exonerate her.”

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

“She could have done both the 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 no evidence to the contrary. We've got nothing against her. But Miss Chadwick says definitely that she's sly.”

Miss Bulstrode waved that aside impatiently.

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

“I think she pries,” said Adam slowly. “It may be just natural inquisitiveness. It may be something more. I can't make up my mind. She doesn't look to me like a killer, but how does one know?”

“That's just it,” said Kelsey. “There is a killer here, a ruthless killer who has killed twice - but it's very hard to believe that it's one of the staff. Miss Johnson was with her sister last night at Limeston on Sea, and anyway she's been with you seven years. Miss Chadwick's been with you since you started. Both of them, anyway, are clear of Miss Springer's death. Miss Rich has been with 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 a good background. As for your servants, frankly I can't see any of them as murderers. They're all local, too...”

Miss Bulstrode nodded pleasantly.

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

His mouth opened in astonishment.

“On the spot,” she mused. “Free to come and go... Good story to account for your presence here. Background O.K., 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 of everything!”