Death at St. Asprey’s School (15 page)

As he turned to put the catch on the cast iron gate he was aware of a tall shadow behind the lace curtains of the house next door.

Back at the school after lunching in Cheltenham and taking a thoughtful drive, Carolus heard several pieces of news. The parents of five boys had removed them but only one father, a writer of detective stories, had been abusive to the Sconers saying that he did not want his son contaminated. Mayring had held a preliminary meeting in the gymnasium to allot parts in his production of
A Midsummer Night's Dream.
There had been a good deal of dispute about these and Chavanne had flatly refused to play Titania, irreverently suggesting that Matron should be asked to do so. Parker had been very upset by the removal of the boys which he saw as a presage of ruin to the school and had disappeared to his room where—Matron said—he had half a bottle of whisky concealed in the Po cupboard beside his bed. Duckmore had been behaving in a most eccentric way, counting the boys like sheep as they walked into the dining-room. Stanley and Mollie Westerly were still on their afternoon walk. Only Matron had remained conscientiously at her post and reported fully to Mrs. Sconer.

Yet Sconer, with whom Carolus chatted before dinner, did not seem unduly perturbed. Perhaps he was hoping that
the parents who had called that day would be the only ones to remove their sons. He seemed quite willing to help Carolus in his enquiries and asked about the classes Carolus had taken over from Sime. Carolus found this attitude somewhat puzzling.

Carolus was glad when Parker asked him to come in for a nightcap. There was a simplicity about ‘Jumbo' Parker, a lack of the common malice of the place, which he liked. He could talk to Parker where with everyone else, suspects or not, he had to be guarded and watchful.

Not that Parker was very cheerful that evening. The removal of boys from the school had upset him a good deal and he speculated gloomily about the number they would lose after the Inquest. Then, as though he realized that Carolus might not be deeply interested in the fate of St. Asprey's, he said, “And where have you been all day, Deene?”

“Cheltenham,” said Carolus. “I went to call on a Mrs. Ricks.”

“Who's she?”

“She's the aunt of Sally O'Maverick, the girl you had here as a mistress last term.”

Parker smiled.

“Charming girl,” he said. “We were all a little in love with her. Did you see her?”

“No. She's away. Did you know someone here had put her in the family way?”

Parker looked serious.

“I suspected it,” he said. “Was it Sime?'

“I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me. Sally refused to tell even her aunt. With whom was she friendly?”

“She was friendly with everyone—that's the trouble. Even with me, though I own she used to call me ‘uncle'. Stanley, Sime, Mayring, Kneller, Duckmore, Horlick the gardener.”

“What about Bill Ferris?”

“Yes. She used to go there. But she was friendly with his wife as well—not that
that
means anything nowadays.”

“It's a bore,” said Carolus. “I hate poking about among people's adulteries and aberrations. But I shall have to find this girl. So much depends on the man's identity.”

Parker smoked his pipe and looked puzzled.

“Do you think it does?” he said. “Connected with the murder of Sime? I can't quite see how they are related.”

“Sime was trying to blackmail Sally's aunt,” explained Carolus. “Someone had paid for an abortionist and Sime knew it.”

“I see. He really
was
an abomination, wasn't he? Yes, I can see that you must find Sally. It shouldn't be very difficult, for
you”

“Or for you. The aunt remembers how kindly Sally spoke of you. Don't you think that if you were to write to her the aunt might forward the letter?”

“I wish you'd find her some other way,” said Parker. “That would be rather a breach of confidence on my part, you see. I know you have to do these things when you're
looking for a murderer, but if you can leave me out of it I'd be grateful.”

“Well, I have got other enquiries to make,” said Carolus. “I haven't seen Bill and Stella Ferris yet.”

“I wonder why not,” said Parker thoughtfully.

“I'll tell you. In a case like this I often find that the information I want most comes to me in interviews which the informants themselves have sought. I have a feeling that several people will speak to me during the next few days.”

“The Inquest is on Thursday,” said Parker.

“I've never learned much from an Inquest,” said Carolus. “Except something of the art of mendacity. Anyway, I hope to have clarified my ideas before then.”

The next morning after breakfast Mr. Sconer invited Carolus to his study, and looking about him there Carolus was lost in bitter memories of his own preparatory school. He wondered which arm of which chair supplied the place of execution and which drawer held the dreaded implement.

“Mrs. Sconer and I,” said Mr. Sconer giving a precedence which was second nature to him, “feel that we should not take up any more of your valuable time.”

“Don't worry about that,” said Carolus. “I'm enjoying myself.”

“You kindly came here to investigate some mysterious and unpleasant nocturnal events. Unfortunately you were not able to explain them before a greater blow fell. Now we feel that our whole enterprise is in jeopardy, and that we shouldn't detain you longer.”

“I'm interested,” said Carolus blandly. “I don't at all wish to back out just now.”

“Then I must speak more bluntly,” said Sconer who could be a bold man when his wife was not present. “You are no longer welcome here, Mr. Deene.”

“That's all right,” said Carolus. “Almost all the enquiries
I have to make are away from the school. In Cheltenham or elsewhere. I'll move down to the Windmill Inn.”

“What I meant was, we should like you to cease all enquiries on our behalf.”

“I will, certainly. As from now. But I shouldn't think of dropping them on my own behalf. I've told you, I'm interested.”

“This is monstrous,” said Sconer. “My wife and I invited you here in the first place to make certain investigations. We now wish you to cease them as the police have the whole matter in hand.”

“Sorry,” said Carolus. “I've set my hands to it, as they say. I shan't be happy till I know who killed Sime and
why.
But as I've told you I don't need to stay at the school for that.”

Mr. Sconer seemed dubious as though he had not been briefed for this contingency.

“It's not a matter of your staying at the school,” he said. “You are, of course, welcome to stay. It is that I find it… with the police…”

“I see,” said Carolus.

At that moment Mrs. Sconer entered.

“My dear,” said her husband. “Mr. Deene says he cannot possibly drop his investigation at this point.”

Mrs. Sconer surprised them both.

“I should think not!” she said. “He has not yet discovered the truth and it is
only
the truth that can possibly save the school now.”

Mr. Sconer looked as though he doubted this.

“Please continue, Mr. Deene,” went on Mrs. Sconer majestically. “I hope you will leave no stone unturned.”

“I shall have to be away for a day,” said Carolus.

“By all means. My husband will arrange for one of the Men to take your classes.”

“I have to trace a piece of information elsewhere.”

“We quite understand,” said Mrs. Sconer. Her husband seemed about to say something, but caught her eye. Carolus left them to sort it out.

His prediction to Parker that he would be approached by others, with or without information was fulfilled that day with unexpected promptitude, for after lunch Mollie Westerly came up to him.

“Like to take a breather in the garden?” she asked with characteristic directness. “I want a bit of a natter with you.”

Carolus saw that in spite of her breezy manner there was a disturbed, perhaps frightened look in her rather fine dark eyes.

‘Yes. Let's go. I've heard a lot about the rose-garden.”

It was a still warm afternoon and the girl, so unlike a schoolmarm, so nearly beautiful, dressed with elegant discretion, seemed again to Carolus a most unlikely person to find in this scrubby little hotbed of malice and suspicion. Yet she was obviously very much concerned in it.

“I gather you have quite a bit of experience of situations like this,” she said rather accusingly.

“Not quite like this,” said Carolus. “But I have investigated murders before.”

“I know. That's why I want to talk to you. I think I'm in trouble.”

“You think you are?”

“Well, yes.”

“Surely it's clear-cut. Either you had something to do with Sime's death or you didn't.”

“It's not quite as simple as that. Do you think I'm under suspicion?”

“I think we all are.”

“You too?”

“Why not? I was here when it happened.”

“But you weren't on the archery lawn. But I was. What's more I was shooting from the corner which can't be seen from Matron's window. It's directly in front of Sime's. But that's not all.”

Carolus waited. Yes, there was fear in the brown eyes.

“I hated Colin Sime,” said Mollie Westerly after a moment. “I suppose because I thought at first I loved him.”

“Most people here seem to have hated Sime, except the boys,” said Carolus gently.

“They haven't said so. I did.”

“Perhaps you should tell me about that.”

“Oh yes. I mean to. It was on the day before he … his death. You see, during the first weeks of the term I thought … well, I went about with him a good deal. I suppose in a way I was attracted to him. He was a man with that peculiar thing people call ‘a fascination for women'. No one has ever defined it—all you can say is that some men have it. Well, Sime had. At least for me. But after a time I began to discover what a howling cad he was.”

“How?”

“What do you mean ‘how'?”

“How did you discover?”

“Oh … Everyone knew. No one liked him. I could see it.”

“You had no real reason?”

“Reason? No. What's reason got to do with these things?”

Carolus persisted.

“You didn't, for instance, think that he was blackmailing anyone?”

“Blackmailing? No. Was he?”

“He has been accused of it.”

“Of course I'm not surprised, but I didn't know that. I just realized he was a rotter and wanted nothing more to do
with him. But it's not so easy when you're on the same staff. Besides the awful thing was that he still had a sort of hold on me. I can't explain. He had a very strong personality you know. I couldn't quite get free of him, and I hated him for that. Am I making sense?”

“Admirably. Do go on.”

“It wasn't like me. I've always been a pretty decisive kind of person. I think he knew that. He used to jeer at me for it. Yes, Mollie, he used to say, you want to be quit of me, don't you? But you can't, my dear. That sort of thing. It was infuriating.”

“Then I … well, I suppose I fell in love with Jim Stanley. I don't think you know him very well. He's … he has … I mean, he's…”

“Quite,” said Carolus.

“As soon as Sime saw us going about together he was furious. I can't think why because he never really cared for me at all. But he did everything he could to turn me against Jim. And he watched us all the time. You've heard how he used to take the field-glasses from the shooting range up to the top of the tower when we were out for a walk? It was
beastly”

“Tell me about the day before he was killed.”

“I'm coming to that. He sent Mayring to say he wanted to see me and like a fool I went to his room. He began shouting at me. He was in a filthy mood. Presently I lost my temper and I remember saying—‘I could kill you, Colin!' My back was to the door when I said it and I turned round to see Matron standing in the doorway. She'd come down for something she said. She'd heard what I said and next day, after Sime had been found dead, she reminded me of it. ‘Pity you said that', she told me. ‘Anyone might think you meant it'. I'm sure she has told the police.”

“If the police suspected all the people who said they could kill Sime, or words to that effect, it would be a long list. If they suspect you it must be for some other reason.”

Mollie stopped.

“What other reason?” she asked.

“I have no idea. When did you last see Sime?”

“Then!” said Mollie a little excitedly. “That afternoon when I told him I could kill him. The day before he was murdered. I never saw him after that.”

“You didn't see him later that afternoon?”

Mollie stared at him. She seemed about to say something, but fell silent.

“I may be mistaken,” he said. “But I thought that just after tea that afternoon I heard him say ‘Hullo, Mollie', to someone who had knocked at his door and gone in.”

“Yes. You're right. I didn't mean to mention it because it was so sickening. I went to say I was sorry. You know, he had a sort of horrible hold on me.”

“I'm glad you told me that,” said Carolus. “What about the next day? The day of the murder?”

“I never went near him, thank God! That I'll swear to. I stayed in my room after lunch, then, soon after three, went out to the archery lawn.”

“Which way did you go?”

“Downstairs in the private part, through the hall into the big schoolroom and out. I didn't enter the staff bungalow at all.”

“When did you see Stanley?”

“Jim? He came to the archery lawn soon after I got there. Why?”