Swing, Swing Together

CHAPTER 33

“What’s the matter with you, Constable? Moonstruck?” Cribb demanded. Having gone to the unusual length of providing his assistants with a detailed account of what he had learned at Coldbath Fields and Scotland Yard, he felt he was entitled to a response. He was not asking for a bouquet; two or three words indicating approval would have satisfied him. Frankly, he had not expected much from Thackeray, but Hardy he had come to regard as a sharp young constable capable of appreciating good detective work. He was obviously mistaken.

“I’m sorry, Sergeant,” Hardy answered. “I was turnin’ it over in my mind, like, thinkin’ how clever it was.”

“Ah,” said Cribb, his confidence pricking up.

“Yes, we could do with Miss Shaw in the force. We would never have found out so much about Fernandez if she hadn’t pointed out in the first place that he must have been intended as the victim instead of Bonner-Hill. She’s an uncommon clever young woman, that one.”

“That’s a fact,” Thackeray confirmed. “And pretty with it.”

It was Monday morning. Cribb had arrived sufficiently early at the police station to use the telephone set for an hour before the Chief Inspector got in. Sharp at nine, he had hung up the receiver, blown his cigar ash out of the window, replaced the ashtray on the desk and moved into the charge room next door.

“Pity Miss Shaw ain’t here to give us the benefit of her latest theories,” Cribb acidly said. “I was planning to make an arrest this morning, but I might be wrong again.”

“An arrest?” Hardy looked more dubious than impressed. “Who do you propose to arrest this time, Sergeant?”

“Work it out. Miss Shaw gave us a description. It must be useful, coming from an uncommon clever young woman like that.”

Thackeray scratched the side of his head. “I don’t follow you, Sarge. Do you mean the three men she saw on the night the tramp was killed?”

“Yes. What’s the matter with that?”

“We arrested the only three men we’ve seen along the river, and they was innocent-well, innocent of murder, that is.”

“Quite right,” said Cribb. “We released ’em.”

“Because they couldn’t have been the three Miss Shaw observed that night,” contributed Hardy. “They were in a house of accommodation in Marlow. If she didn’t see them, who did she see?”

“Perhaps she made a mistake,” hazarded Thackeray. “What do you think, Sarge?”

Hardy put in his answer first. “Miss Shaw is a reliable witness. I’ll stake my reputation on that.”

“She’s cool-headed, I agree,” Cribb said. “But don’t be too free with that reputation of yours where this young lady is concerned. I don’t suggest we can’t rely on what she’s told us, but I don’t believe she’s told it all.”

“What do you mean by that?” demanded Hardy.

“She led us to believe she was bathing alone when the boat came by. Bathing in the altogether isn’t a solitary pastime, in my limited experience. It’s a social activity. I’m told that undergraduates bathe naked here in Oxford. There’s a place along the Cherwell known as Parson’s Pleasure.”

“Do you mean that there might have been other girls with her in the river?” said Hardy, blinking at such a possibility.

“Not girls, necessarily,” Cribb wickedly replied. Leaving Hardy to ponder that, he turned to his other assistant. “Yes, Thackeray, the answer to your question is that it’s reasonable to believe what Miss Shaw has told us. Do you recollect the description she gave of the men in the boat?”

“She likened them to places on a map, Sarge. It didn’t mean much to me. Maps wasn’t done when I went to school.”

“Let’s remedy that deficiency, then.” Cribb got up and tapped on the Chief Inspector’s door. There was no reply, so he let himself in and presently returned with a large revolving globe on a stand, which he placed on the table in front of Thackeray. “The first man was like the Gulf of Bothnia, Miss Shaw informed us. You’ll find that near the top, Thackeray. Should be marked in blue.”

Thackeray gripped the globe with his hands.

“There,” said Hardy, touching it with his finger.

“It doesn’t look like anybody I know,” said Thackeray.

Cribb had his notebook out. “The man was wearing a cap, according to Miss Shaw. Look at the top part of the Gulf. Do you see the peak of the cap, and the nose and chin underneath?”

“Blimey, yes, I do. Long, thin neck. Narrow chest. This don’t look like an oarsman, Sarge.”

“I know. I took it for Mr. Lucifer. Now take a look at the Persian Gulf. Down a bit and to your right.”

Hardy came to the rescue again.

“Good Lord!” said Thackeray. “Blooming clever! It’s just like a big fellow sitting in a boat, pulling at the oars.”

“Thicker in the neck, large head, wearing a hat,” said Cribb. “Seemed good for Humberstone to me. Now for the third man. Miss Shaw wasn’t very clear about this one, if you recollect. She said she found it difficult to distinguish his outline from the cushions.”

“And you suggested Japan,” said Hardy.

“Where’s that, for pity’s sake?” asked Thackeray, trying to turn the globe with his fingers still marking the Gulfs.

“Never mind,” said Cribb. “That was only my suggestion. I didn’t see the man myself. Japan has quite a bend in it, like someone leaning back against a cushion. Miss Shaw was positive the third person was a man, because of his attitude. I have her words here somewhere. ‘No lady would recline in quite the attitude this person did.’ ”

“Mr. Gold?” said Thackeray.

“Well, he was the third man of those we arrested, so I supposed it must be him. There was something wrong about it, though. Gold seemed to be the spry one of that three-some. I couldn’t see him lying at his ease. Yet he didn’t fit the description of either of the oarsmen. I began to think again about this third man, propped against the cushions. Was he asleep? I wondered. It made no sense, going out in a boat by night to do a murder and falling asleep on the way. Then I thought suppose this third man hadn’t been a murderer at all. Suppose he were the victim.”

“Choppy Walters!”

“Already dead, Sarge?”

“No. He definitely died from drowning. He was breathing till they put him in the water. Dead drunk, I think. They could have met him in a pub and got him tight. They might have used chloroform, but I think gin is more likely.”

Thackeray was hacking his way through a jungle of tangled thoughts. “Then we must be hunting for two men in a boat, instead of three.”

“But where do we start looking for them now the trail’s gone cold?” Hardy dismally asked.

“We don’t look,” said Cribb. “This is eighteen eighty-nine.

We wait for a telephone call. If they’re somewhere on the Thames, as I think they are, we’ve got ’em. I’ve alerted every lockkeeper up and down the river.”