The Murder of Busy Lizzie

chapter sixteen

Into the Maze

‘Fountain-heads and pathless groves,

Places which pale passion loves!

Moonlight walks, when all the fowls

Are warmly housed, save bats and owls!

A midnight bell, a parting groan!

These are the sounds we feed upon.’

John Fletcher

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So something has been going on,’ said Laura, when she met Dame Beatrice again. ‘Gavin and his people suspected gun-running, so now it’s up to them. I gave Dimbleton as much of a tip-off as I thought was ethical, because I don’t believe he’s a villain, only a tool. I expect he’s been well paid for the hire of his boat and told not to ask too many questions. And do you know what else I think? I think Eliza Chayleigh was murdered because she did ask too many questions. There’s that so-called poem, you know, about only watching the shadows on the wall when the “gentlemen” go by. And I think Ransome Lovelaine may have been mixed up in something fishy, too, and I think some of them had the impression he’d grassed to his cousins, those two rather decent Lovelaine youngsters, and that they may have told their father and he may have told us. I know I haven’t much to go on in saying all this, but it would account for a lot of the things which have been happening, wouldn’t it, don’t you think?’

‘I do not think it accounts for the death of Eliza Chayleigh. Apart from solving that problem, though, I think our work here is finished and I shall be glad to return home.’

‘You don’t intend to work out our three months’ tenancy of this house?’

‘I see no particular point in doing so.’

‘The rent’s paid. Are you going to lose all those extra weeks, then? This isn’t a bad spot in which to get on with the memoirs, you know.’

‘I propose to stay only long enough to clear up the mystery I mentioned. I still want to know who occupied this house on the Wednesday before we arrived and who entertained somebody to a cup of tea here.’

‘Well, we’re sure that one of the two was Eliza Chayleigh, aren’t we?’

‘It could well be so, of course, but who was the other?’

‘One of the smugglers, I should say, was the other person with her, if they thought she was an informer. He met her here and murdered her and chucked the body into the sea. Well, you’ve heard my yarn, so now what about your own?’

‘The farmer was not in when I was admitted, but his wife received me and intimated that if I cared to wait she would send Ransome to find him. Ransome, she said, was at work on his smallholding and would probably know whereabouts on the farm his father could be found.’

‘Did she actually call the farmer Ransome’s father?’

‘Oh, yes, quite freely and openly.’

‘Then she doesn’t mind her husband’s little departure from the straight and narrow? After all, it happened after they were married, I thought, so you’d imagine she’d take a dim view.’

‘She betrayed no animosity towards either her husband or Eliza or Ransome. She is a suspiciously placid woman. Well, she left me to go and send Ransome on his errand and, in due course, when we had drunk a cup of strong tea and eaten soda-cake—’

‘Bit of a martyr in a good cause, weren’t you?’

‘It is true that I do not care for strong tea and soda-cake, but it would have been discourteous to refuse the proffered hospitality and I was anxious to be agreeable.’

‘What’s the farmer like?’

‘You saw him on the boat. He crossed with us when we arrived, if you remember.’

‘He couldn’t have been the chap who tackled Mr Lovelaine that night, I suppose?’

‘He both could have been and was.’

‘You mean he admitted it?’

‘In response to a direct question, yes, he did.’

‘But what made you think he was the one?’

‘Perhaps if I give you a complete account of the interview you will see how events shaped themselves.’

‘Oh, sorry! Yes, of course. First say what the play treats on; then read the names of the actors; and so grow to a point.’

‘Exactly. Well, he greeted me in breezy fashion and asked what he could do for me. I replied that I had some very personal questions to put to him, but that, of course, I should understand and sympathise if he refused to answer them. At that he studied me for a while as though he were summing me up and asked whether it was anything to do with Dimbleton’s boat. This intrigued me very much, as you may imagine, and I made a cautious reply to the effect that it might or might not have to do with boats, including Dimbleton’s.’

‘So they’re on to the gun-running, are they?’ he said. ‘I knew it could only be a question of time.’

‘So he’s given the game away,’ said Laura. ‘Was he in on it, then?’

‘He says not, but that he and Ransome knew all about it and that one small party of ornithologists were smugglers in disguise.’

‘We guessed as much, didn’t we? I wonder what the genuine bird-watchers made of them?’

‘I doubt whether they mixed with any of the others. I think Miss Crimp had apportioned them to the chalets and had given them tables to themselves in the dining-room. She knew all about them, I’m sure.’

‘I said, if you remember, that she was mixed up in the smuggling racket. That day I called on Dimbleton when he had that gipsy type with the earrings at his cottage, Crimp was there, too, and talking about fish.’

‘Which you thought meant money.’

‘And which I also think meant guns. Did Cranby have anything more to say about guns?’

‘Only that he thought the witches’ cave had been the original storehouse, but that the witches fell foul of Eliza Chayleigh because hotel guests complained of their dancing naked by moonlight. It seems that their meetings were held out in the open over by the pre-historic hut-circles, but that, following the complaints, the cave became the meeting place of the coven and another hiding-place for the weapons had to be found. However, Cranby thinks that the owners of Puffins had left a key with Miss Crimp when they vacated the house, and that they had an arrangement with her that, from time to time, she would have the house dusted and windows opened and that, when she was notified of an imminent holiday tenancy, she would see to it that the beds were aired.’

‘But I thought he was the holder of the key? If this house was a hidey-hole, how did the smugglers expect to manage when the holiday tenants turned up?’

‘According to Allen Cranby, they had ample notice from Miss Crimp to get rid of the merchandise and hide it elsewhere when it was known that people were coming in.’

‘Yes, but where?’

‘In that locked-up old lighthouse on the east cliff, he thinks.’

‘Oh, yes. The Lovelaine kids told me they tried to get into it and couldn’t.’

‘That certainly seems to lend weight to his theory, especially as the other old lighthouse seems to have been open to the public’

‘There were that man and woman who were up on the gallery when Mrs Chayleigh’s body was spotted. I still think the witches are all part and parcel of the smuggling racket, you know.’

‘Then why did the smugglers need to find another hiding-place when the witches took over the cave?’

‘Oh, because not all the witches were in with the smugglers, of course. You see,’ said Laura, warming to her argument, ‘it’s so odd that those two bird-watchers were the first people to spot the body. If you ask me what I think, I think they’re a fishy couple. What were they doing up on that gallery, anyway?’

‘Watching for birds, I suppose.’

‘And spotting Eliza Chayleigh’s body. Don’t you call that a suspicious circumstance?’

‘Somebody had to spot it,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘What I would like to be able to confirm is the identity of the female relative of old Miss Chayleigh who was dispossessed by Eliza, I wonder whether Mr Lovelaine would know who it was?’

‘You don’t think that, if he does, we shall know the name of Eliza Chayleigh’s murderer, do you?’

‘Far from it, dear child. To suspect is not to know.’

‘Could it be somebody who actually lives on this island? The dead pig rather indicates that, don’t you think? There’s that empty sty at the end of Dimbleton’s garden. Is that worth investigating? Incidentally, do you really think everybody on the island knows about the smuggling?’

‘I could not say. A great many do, no doubt, and a great many more may suspect. The island is a very small place.’

‘What else did you glean from Allen Cranby?’

‘Nothing of any moment, so far as I can tell at present.’

‘You didn’t ask him whether Miss Crimp was mixed up in the smuggling racket? I still think that’s why she was in Dimbleton’s cottage that day talking about fish.’

‘I did not put the question to Allen Cranby, although I expect he could answer it if he chose.’

‘You were going to tell me about a question you did put to him, though. You said he admitted attacking inoffensive little Professor Lovelaine.’

‘Yes, so he did. He claimed that he had mistaken him for somebody else.’

‘Did you believe him?’

‘No, but I did not say so.’

‘Why do you think he did go for him?’

‘I think he feels that Marius Lovelaine was unduly favoured as a result of Eliza’s death. He may even hold him partly responsible for it.’

‘You couldn’t explain that to me, could you? I don’t feel so very bright at the moment.’

‘You are not doing yourself justice. Besides, I can give no logical explanation of my theory. There is something I do not know.’

‘What sort of something?’

‘Merely the identity of the person whom Eliza Chayleigh met at Puffins when she was supposed to be crossing to the mainland.’

‘I don’t suppose we’ll ever find a name for that person. What do you make of this man the young Lovelaines complain of? — the fellow who tried to get into their chalet.’

‘I suppose that could have been some inebriate who had mistaken their lodging for his own.’

‘He seems to have made more than one attempt to get in. You don’t think it could be a vendetta directed against the Lovelaine family, do you?’

‘Well, perhaps it is just as well that the family have left the island. I wonder whether your question has solved my problem?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Is there a Mrs Lovelaine?’

‘Oh, yes. The kids call her Boobie. Apparently, from what they tell me, she’s capable of making the most fearful floaters and embarrassing one and all.’

‘Dear me! Do you suppose they left her at home in order to avoid these contingencies?’

‘No, she chose to stay behind. She went away before the others left and stayed with a cousin or something. It appears that she doesn’t — didn’t, I mean — love Eliza Chayleigh.’

‘Oh, dear, oh, dear!’

‘But how have I solved your problem? You don’t suppose Boobie disliked Eliza enough to pop over here and murder her before the others arrived?’

‘It would account for so much if she did,’ said Dame Beatrice thoughtfully, ‘but, although the thought is tempting, there is no proof except that Eliza must have met somebody here, and the chances are that that mysterious person was the murderer, or one of the murderers. Of course, apart from Mrs Lovelaine (whose movements, I admit, invite speculation) there are two obvious suspects.’

‘I agree about Miss Crimp.’

‘Who would, of course, have needed an accomplice.’

‘Yes, we’re pretty certain there must have been somebody else. Then isn’t there a chance the accomplice might be persuaded to turn Queen’s evidence?’

‘I think not in this case.’

‘Why not?’

‘I believe that the accomplice I have in mind would have been a most willing partner and had as good, although a different, reason for wishing that Eliza Chayleigh was dead.’

‘I can’t think who it is you’ve fixed on as the other murderer.’

‘And I am not going to name names until or unless I obtain the evidence I need.’

‘You might give me a hint. You’re not thinking of Allen Cranby as Eliza’s murderer, are you?’

‘I am not going to commit myself, but I will give you the hint you demand. Have you ever thought any more about those desecrated headstones in the churchyard?’

‘Sebastian and Margaret mentioned them to me, so of course I went and had a look at them. Somebody had had a shot at cleaning off the paint.’

‘That, I venture to think, was Ransome the churchman. There had been more vandalism, apart from those black magic slogans, had there not?’

‘Yes, but I don’t think it had anything to do with black magic.’

‘Some crude lettering, I believe you told me.’

‘That’s right. Somebody had tried to get rid of old Miss Chayleigh’s name on one of the tombstones and substitute Eliza’s.’

‘It proves nothing but vandalism, of course, but I am inclined to recognise it as a psychological pointer.’

‘But you think the accomplice had not the same motive as the murderer for wanting Eliza dead?’

‘No. As I see it, both nursed a grievance, but it was not the same grievance.’

‘And they decided to act at the same time? But why? And why wait years before they paid off the old score, whatever it was?’

‘I think the answer is that the Lovelaine family came to Great Skua at Eliza’s express invitation. That put the gunpowder among the smouldering fuel. Such, at any rate, is my theory.’

‘But if you know all this, why don’t you tell the police?’

‘You know the answer to that question.’

‘Well, but, if you’re pretty sure, the proof must exist somewhere. We’ve only got to keep on looking for it. Tell me just one more thing. You see, I know you’re right, because you always are right, and if I can follow what you’re thinking, something might crop up which is part of my knowledge, but not part of yours. Anyway, it does look as though somebody disliked the whole Chayleigh family. All the black magic paint was daubed on Chayleigh graves.’

‘And an attempt made to remove old Miss Chayleigh’s name and substitute Eliza’s.’

‘Indicates whoever did it hated both of them, as I say. But, you know, my thought on that is that it could hardly have been Crimp.’

‘Ah, you think she could not have been absent long enough from the hotel to carry out the work involved?’

‘Well, it wouldn’t take long to daub on the red paint, but it’s a different matter when it comes to cutting out one name and substituting another when you’ve got to do it on stone. I say, though! She couldn’t be this dispossessed relative, could she?’

‘We could ask her.’

‘But if she’s the murderer or the accomplice she’ll deny the relationship.’

‘Do you think Farmer Cranby was the accomplice?’

‘I have not said so.’

‘Well, it couldn’t be Mrs Cranby, could it?’

‘Why not? She may have spent the last thirty years in visualising herself as a deeply wronged woman in that her husband seduced Eliza who bore him a son.’

‘That’s all very well, and I know all about Ransome, but why should the coming of the Lovelaines have galvanised her into action after all those years? Besides, it couldn’t have been their actual coming which pushed her over the edge, because, as we’ve already said, Eliza Chayleigh must have been dead for a week before the Lovelaines set foot on the island. And how did she and Miss Crimp ever get together over an awful business like murder?’

‘I have said more than once that we have no proof of the identity of the murderer, or that the murderer may have had an accomplice. However…’

‘Ah, yes, I was going to ask you about that. Why did there have to be an accomplice? To help tip the body over the top of the cliff? That’s what you think must have happened, don’t you?’

‘Because of the contusions on the body? Those could have been caused by the body’s having been bruised by its pounding against the rocks, of course. It was the nature of the head-wound which prompted me to think about murder in the first place. I think death was caused by the use of a sharp-edged piece of slate which somebody with malicious intent had picked up in the quarries.’

‘I thought you believed she was killed here at the back of this house.’

‘It is a simple matter to pick up a piece of slate and carry it away. I think the murder did take place at the back of this house. There is the evidence of the dead pig. But all this is mere speculation. There is much to be cleared up. We need some help, I’m afraid, and I do not see where it is to come from, unless the Lovelaine family have knowledge which they have not disclosed.’

‘I don’t know much about the father, but I don’t think Sebastian and Margaret have kept anything back,’ said Laura.

‘Not deliberately, I feel sure, but in talking together in their own home and in recounting their experiences, something may strike them. I propose to call upon them in the hope that it may be so.’

‘And what about the smugglers? I hope Dimbleton won’t get into trouble. I did my best for him.’

‘Gun-running is not the most innocuous of occupations.’

‘No, I agree about that. He’ll have to take his chance, of course. By the time Gavin gets our message, though, I don’t think anything will be found on the island. We still haven’t actually seen any rifles or ammunition or anything, have we, when one comes to think of it.’

‘Neither do we know where the guns, if any, came from, or what was their destination, but all that can be left to the police.’

‘Anyway, we’ve spoilt the smugglers’ little game, I expect, and the authorities can pick the stuff up at sea, perhaps, but the whole thing must be on a very small scale, wouldn’t you think?’

‘Even one gun is a lethal object, of course,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘and it gives me great satisfaction to think that we may have helped to queer somebody’s pitch, however small it may be. Our dear Robert must be told all about that locked old lighthouse.’