The Crozier Pharaohs

4

Dead in the River

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When Laura made her telephone call, she was told an interesting story which was likely to last the village gossips and the frequenters of the only public house in Abbots Crozier for some time to come.

Susan’s narrative had begun, as narratives should, at the beginning and it lost nothing in the telling or in Morpeth’s version of it which came over the telephone.

That morning, Susan had tramped uphill by the zigzag path from Abbots Bay as usual and had found the hounds very restless. She had inspected each one and Nephthys, in particular, had seemed very unhappy. Susan let her and Isis out and although Isis only sniffed around as though she had detected some unusual aroma in the air, Nephthys made a bee-line for the garden shed.

Susan followed, for she had never known the bitch to do such a thing before. It was immediately clear that Sekhmet had gone. Susan called her by her ‘calling’ name — each dog had one, since their official names were not altogether suitable by which to summon them in public. Sekhmet was called Fret. Usually she came at once and made wild demonstrations of affection even to Susan, who had no use for them, but on this occasion she did not respond to her name.

Susan had been told about the prowler. She jumped to the conclusion that he had taken Sekhmet in mistake for a hound bitch — ‘although he can’t know much about dogs,’ she said ‘if he couldn’t tell a Labrador from a Pharaoh, even at night, when the job must have been done.’

She took Isis and Nephthys back to the stables, shut them away and let the other hounds out into the stable yard, then she went to the front gates. They had been shut, but, as usual, not locked when she arrived. When she had heard about the prowler she had suggested a chain and padlock, but, so far, this had not materialised, for the sisters were dilatory even though they were scared.

Susan reported up at the house, had a quick breakfast, leaving the sisters to finish theirs, and volunteered to go in search of the missing animal. She took Anubis and Amon with her, remarking before she left that if one of the dogs had to be enticed away ‘poor old Sekhmet was most easily to be spared’. She loosed her two hounds into Sekhmet’s shed, then put them in leash and sallied forth, hoping that they would be able to follow the aniseed scent.

She had had a hunch (she told the sisters on her return) that the thief would make for Abbots Bay. From there the main road led to Axehead, where there was a railway station, but if the man had a car, he could have taken the hill road to Abbots Crozier or left the car below on the sea front. The options were open.

Amon and Anubis ignored the entrance to the zigzag path and at first Susan thought that the smell of aniseed must have vanished in the keen morning air, and that the hounds, having nothing to guide them, were now intent on their accustomed run on the moor and were heading for their usual playground.

This did not prove to be the case. They rejected the right-hand turning with which they were familiar and proved that they had their minds on the job after all — for, when they had led her across a bridge and had reached a wicket gate which, to Susan’s certain knowledge, they had never seen opened, they stopped, looked up at her and whined impatiently.

‘Good boys,’ she said. She opened the little gate and went with them on to a path beside the river. It led to one of the beauty spots of the neighbourhood and was a favourite walk for summer visitors.

As it happened — perhaps because it was still early morning — she met nobody. She released the hounds and they took her through a wooded glade on an uphill track, which, in spite of the summer weather, was still miry underfoot in places. She followed the river, less boisterous here than it would be when it reached the top of the cliffs and cascaded noisily down to Abbots Bay, and followed the hounds, who were obviously eager in pursuit of their quarry.

The rough path mounted and dipped and then mounted again until it reached the confluence of two streams at a very picturesque viewpoint known as Watersmeet. It looked no less beautiful, presumably, than usual, but more interesting.

Wedged in a cleft of the rocks over which the foaming waters were pouring lay the body of a man. His head was face-down under water and he was wearing nothing but a T-shirt and briefs. On the bank was a badly ripped pair of grey flannel trousers — and Sekhmet, sitting on them.

‘Well, I’m damned!’ said Susan to the hound. ‘What the bloody hell have you been up to?’ She did not touch Sekhmet, but waded into the swirling water. There was no doubt, however, that the man was dead, so she scrambled back again, gave Sekhmet a kick on the hind-quarters and said, ‘Up!’

Sekhmet responded dutifully, but picked up the trousers in her powerful jaws and backed away with them.

‘Oh, suit yourself,’ said Susan. ‘Home!’ The two hounds cast around for a bit, but soon followed the woman and the Labrador. Sekhmet stumbled over the dragging trousers, but would not abandon them. Arrived back at Crozier Lodge, Susan returned the three dogs to their quarters and the last she saw of Sekhmet was a seemingly smiling and gratified animal once again seated on the trousers.

‘So you found her, ’ said Bryony, when Susan went up to the house.

‘Sure I found her. Mind if I use the phone? I found a drowned man, too. I think she took a chunk out of his trousers. He must have pulled them off and thrown them to her and then rushed into the river to get away from her. If he were still alive, I think it would be the last time he went in for dog-stealing. She brought the trousers home with her as battle honours, and if any policeman thinks he can take them away from her at present, he is welcome to try, but it would be as a memento mori, I fancy.’

‘If she savaged this man,’ said Morpeth, ‘I suppose she will have to be put down.’

‘Hold your horses!’ said Susan. ‘Let’s find out first what the police have to say. I don’t believe that silly old Fret would savage anybody. She wanted the trousers, that’s all. I think that, when the man dashed into the river to get away from her, he missed his footing — those boulders must be as slippery as hell — fell over and bashed his head.’ She went to the telephone and rang up the police at Axehead.

An inspector and a sergeant, both in uniform, appeared in due course and Susan conducted them to the confluence of waters where the dead man lay. They had come prepared and were wearing fishermen’s waders. They slithered on the wet boulders, but retained their footing and soon had the dead man on the bank. There was a nasty disfiguring gash down one side of his face and the inspector was inclined to accept Susan’s theory that the man had dashed into the river to escape the attentions of the dog and had slipped and fallen.

The sergeant had made an attempt to take the trousers away from Sekhmet, but she had turned so menacing and had guarded them so jealously that the inspector said, ‘Leave her be. No sense in getting our fingers bitten off. Perhaps, miss,’ (turning to Susan, who had been watching the manoeuvres with an indulgent and satirical smile) ‘you could help.’

‘Me?’ said the kennel-maid. ‘I can’t spare my fingers, either. She can still smell the aniseed on the trousers, I expect. Once that wears off, I can get them for you easily enough if you really want them.’

‘They will need to be inspected before the inquest, miss.’

‘All right. I’ll let you have them as soon as I can. It’s suicide to try to take them away from her while she’s in this mood.’ So the police took away the body, having ascertained that the dead man was a complete stranger to the Rant sisters — though the sisters told them about the prowler. Later in the day, Morpeth had found Sekhmet lying out in the sunshine and had taken the opportunity to remove the trousers from the shed and take them indoors.

Here what turned out to be a significant discovery was made. A neat operation on the band of the trousers had completely removed the maker’s name.

‘Well, Sekhmet can’t have done that,’ said Morpeth. ‘That has been done with a sharp pair of scissors, not torn out by an enthusiastic dog.’

‘But why?’ asked her sister.

‘To disguise ownership, of course. I think he was our prowler.’

‘But he had no reason to think that we should ever have seen inside the waistband of his trousers. Where is Susan?’

‘Out with Isis and Nephthys, as usual.’

‘Oh, yes, of course. Well, Amon and Anubis had their run this morning and all the excitement of tracking Sekhmet and finding the body, so that lets you out for today if you like, although I must take out my two. You might let the police know that we’ve got the trousers, although I can’t see why they should be needed at the inquest. Give Susan her tea directly she comes in and a meat pasty to take home for her supper. I’m surprised she was willing to go out again. She must have had a nasty shock when she found the dead man, so she may be very glad to get home early and turn in. Give her a bottle of the elderberry wine. She deserves it.’

Morpeth showed Susan the trousers when the kennel-maid came in. Susan examined the hole in the waistband and said, ‘I don’t want to put ideas into your head, but what do you think of the hole?’

‘What do you mean, Susan?’ asked Morpeth anxiously.

‘I think, for Sekhmet’s sake, the police will have to look at these trousers,’ replied Susan. ‘No dog made that hole. A piece has been cut clean out of the garment with a pair of sharp scissors.’

‘Well,’ said Morpeth, ‘I can tell you this: there were no scissors in the pockets when I picked the trousers up and took them from the kennel after Sekhmet lost interest in them. There was nothing in the pockets at all. As for Sekhmet, she’s probably got her nose against the wires of the stable-yard enclosure by now and is trying to attract the attention of Osiris or one of the others. She was lying asleep in the garden when I took the trousers. There was nothing else near her or in her den. That man seems to have been determined to hide his identity, but, then, if he was our prowler — ’

‘I don’t like the look of it,’ said Bryony, when she came home after Susan had gone off with the wine and her supper. ‘If he had no scissors or sharp knife, somebody else could have cut his trousers, although for what purpose I can’t begin to think, unless the death was not accidental. It’s a pity there was nothing in the pockets. The police love fingerprints and diaries and old letters with indecipherable postmarks.’

‘Well,’ said Laura to Dame Beatrice, after finishing her telephone conversation with Morpeth, ‘do we brave the same fate as Jezebel?’

‘Oh, what did the Rant sisters have to say?’

‘It appears that the ill-advised dog-thief who drenched his trousers in aniseed has now lost not only the trousers but his life. He got a nasty knock on the head and Susan, the gifted kennel-maid, tracked down him and the bitch he had walked off with and found the body.’

‘Why have we been summoned? Your remark concerning Queen Jezebel indicates that we are invited to call at Crozier Lodge and be eaten by dogs.’

‘It’s a Mayday Mayday cry of distress. They don’t like the look of things and are asking for expert advice. I said I would ring back when I had spoken to you.’

‘What aspect of the matter has alarmed them?’

‘Morpeth said she would tell us the whole story if we would go over there. Do you feel inclined to brave these Hounds of the Baskervilles some time tomorrow?’

‘We must not be found wanting in womanly sympathy. I suppose they have notified the police?’

‘Oh, yes. That’s what’s worrying them.’

‘Well, one hardly likes to suppose that Susan hit the man over the head and stole his trousers. She has trousers of her own.’

‘I suppose you do intend to go and see the Rants?’ said Laura, ignoring this piece of persiflage.

‘Nothing would keep me away. The sisters are interesting persons, Susan is a somewhat mysterious figure. The hounds, I trust, will be under restraint when we arrive and I cannot wait to hear the whole story — if possible, from Susan herself.’

This was told them when they arrived after lunch the following day at Crozier Lodge. The dog hounds were in their stables compound, Isis and Nephthys were occupying two armchairs in the study with the door closed on them, and Sekhmet, who appeared to think that she was in bad odour, had accompanied Susan to the main gates when the visitors rang the bell. She gave every indication of wanting to ingratiate herself with them, but refused to accompany them up to the front door.

‘I think she’s saying she’s sorry she stole the trousers,’ said Susan, ‘but it’s a bit late for that now. Bryony and Morpeth think she may have landed us in for trouble, but I don’t see how that can be. Oh, well, I’ll leave you with them. They know everything that I know.’

‘That will not do, ’ said Dame Beatrice firmly. ‘We have had their version and have been called into consultation. What we need now is a first-hand account from a primary source. The police will not allow matters to rest where they are. Speak freely and at whatever length you like.’

‘Leaving out no detail, however slight,’ said Laura. ‘Your story will be of the utmost interest.’

Susan repeated the account she had given the sisters. The listeners heard her without interrupting the narrative and then Dame Beatrice asked, ‘Would Sekhmet have turned savage in her desire to obtain possession of the trousers?’

‘Never known her to go nasty on anybody,’ said Morpeth.

‘But, then,’ put in Bryony, ‘I don’t think she has had much opportunity to show her seamy side, if she’s got one. Nobody ever comes across the garden. The tradespeople won’t approach the house. We have to go along and take in the post and the goods, or whatever, when the bell rings. We are not exactly popular in the village.’

‘The man must have been in a panic to have abandoned his trousers,’ remarked Dame Beatrice.

‘What on earth would the police have to say if he walked into the next village in his underpants?’ said Laura.

‘I shall never believe Sekhmet scared him so much that he let her have his trousers,’ said Morpeth. ‘Actually, she’s affectionate to the point of being a nuisance, but she would never frighten anybody.’

‘The fact remains that he did part with the trousers and he even seems to have dashed into the river to get away from her, ’ said Laura.

‘That does appear to have been an unnecessary proceeding, ’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘if the trousers were all the dog wanted. Were they dry or wet when you found Sekhmet sitting on them?’

‘Dry, except where she’d slobbered over them,’ replied Susan. ‘He would hardly have taken them off in the river, especially as he had slipped and bashed his head.’

‘Can you prove at what time you left Abbots Bay to walk up here yesterday morning?’

‘Not unless somebody saw me leave my cottage,’ said Susan, surprised and somewhat disconcerted by the question. ‘I walked up from Abbots Bay — I usually do, because the cliff railway doesn’t function so early in the morning — and I don’t remember meeting a soul. I saw nobody on the path to Watersmeet, either. I suppose I shall have to give evidence at the inquest.’

‘Of course,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘You cannot say for certain that the trousers the dog was guarding are the trousers which belonged to the dead man. You never saw him wearing them.’

Susan looked surprised and disconcerted again.

‘They must have been his,’ she said. ‘He wasn’t wearing trousers when I saw him in the river.’

‘Which proves nothing. What was to prevent an attacker giving the hound another pair of trousers sprinkled with aniseed to keep her occupied while he removed the garment from his victim’s dead body, and made off with whatever was in the pockets?’

‘Oh, but, surely that is a fantastic suggestion!’ exclaimed Morpeth.

‘I merely throw it out as such,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘Did you find the square of cloth which had been so neatly cut out of the trousers?’ she added, turning to Susan.

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Would Sekhmet have gone into the stream after the man?’

‘No. For one thing, the sound of the rushing water would have put her off, I’m sure. In any case, she was quite dry when I found her.’

‘Well, we must see what the police think of it all,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘You will have to answer a good many questions, I am afraid.’

‘You’ll stand by us, won’t you?’ said Morpeth.

The inquest, held in the parish hall, was sparsely attended, for it happened on a Tuesday and began at ten in the morning when the villagers were out at work or busy in the house or looking after summer-holiday guests. In any case, not much interest was taken in a drowning fatality. Such deaths were far from unknown to the twin villages. The coast was inhospitable and dangerous and the river, in a never-to-be-forgotten spate in the year 1952, had shown what it could do in the way of danger to life and the destruction of property.

There would have been more interest shown had the man been a native of the place, but in this case the dead was a stranger and, to that extent, expendable. In fact, the first difficulty the coroner encountered was that, so far, the corpse remained unidentified. Nobody had come forward to say who he was or where he came from. Though his face had been badly disfigured, a rough artist’s impression had been posted up outside the police station. There had been appeals in the local press and the police had made patient house-to-house and hotel-to-hotel enquiries, but without result. An enterprising young reporter had even suggested to his editor that the Kennel Club should be approached with a request for the names and addresses of the known breeders of Pharaoh hounds, but this suggestion had been turned down.

‘We could land ourselves in trouble,’ said the editor, ‘if it seemed we were implying that one of these breeders employs a dog-stealer, and that’s what your half-baked notion amounts to, my boy.’

The police had not been able to find the square of cloth which had been cut from the trousers, but the medical evidence was clear as to the cause of death. The man had not been savaged by the dog. He had died from concussion followed by drowning. There were no marks of a dog’s teeth on the body, and when the trousers were produced it was clear that these had not been attacked by Sekhmet, either, as no dog could have effected so neat a hole in the material.

Susan was called upon to testify to her discovery of the body. She went on to assure the court (and was backed up firmly but unofficially by Bryony from the public benches) that Sekhmet had never attempted to attack anybody, but had been fascinated by the smell of the aniseed which had been sprinkled lavishly on the trousers.

The vet from Axehead testified that he was called occasionally to Crozier Lodge to inoculate puppies against the various diseases to which puppies are liable and, later, to give the necessary ‘boosters’. The adult dogs, he said, were amenable and without vice, good guard dogs, but trustworthy, well cared for and well trained.

The police sergeant agreed. He had been present with the inspector and had seen the body in the river. There had never been any complaints about the behaviour of the Crozier Lodge hounds. He had a dog of his own and knew that dog-stealers often sprayed aniseed on their trousers. Dogs would follow the scent of it anywhere.

‘Let us look,’ said the sergeant — a young man who was well read, ‘at The Episode of the Dog McIntosh.’

‘The dog did what?’

‘No, sir. McIntosh was the name of the dog in question.’

‘That is not the name given me by the last witness.’

‘I refer, sir, to the dog in the Episode.’

‘Oh, I see. A scottie, I suppose.’

‘An Aberdeen terrier, sir, yes.’

‘Prefer West Highland myself,’ commented the coroner, ‘but what has that dog to do with this present enquiry?’

‘I advanced it as an instance of the effect the smell of aniseed has on the canine population. The Episode concerns the, abstraction of the dog McIntosh from a London apartment (to which it should not have been taken) by means of this same device, sir.’

‘What same device?’

‘The device of sprinkling aniseed on the trousers, sir.’

‘Oh, we’ve got to the point at last, have we? Has it ever occurred to you, sergeant, that you are wasted in the police force and would stand an excellent chance of getting into Parliament and wasting the time of the House instead of my time?’

(In parenthesis it may be revealed that the well-read sergeant did leave the Force. He took a course in teacher training, became a schoolmaster and later the head of a school. In the course of time he also was appointed to serve on the local Bench, where he was the terror of young constables who were called upon to give evidence. It was his habit to warn them: ‘Now, be very careful, officer. I have been a member of the police force myself and know all the dodges.’)

The medical examination had concluded that, although the head wound had not been fatal in itself, it had been the contributory factor in the subsequent drowning. There was nothing to show whether a piece had been cut from the trousers at the scene of the accident or previously, so there was no proof that another person had been present before Susan saw the body.

The inference that the man, embarrassed by the attentions of Sekhmet, had abandoned his trousers to her and had leapt into the river to get away from her, still stood, ridiculous though it sounded. The verdict was that, in doing so, he had slipped on the treacherous boulders, knocked himself unconscious and had subsequently drowned as the result of this accident.