Devious Murder (11 page)

Finally, a telephone message from Inspector Toft of Tolham, reporting that Mrs. Havenith and her retinue had returned to
The Limes
. Mrs. Morgan who apparently kept in touch with her mistress when she was on circuit, had reported the visit from the police.

It never rains but it pours!

All this accumulation of information meant that a full-dress inquiry must be opened at
The Limes
; the disappearance of Kaltbad and the mystery of
Mountjoy
must be further investigated; and Hassock's urgent request to see Littlejohn must be granted.

Both detectives put on their damp raincoats and sodden hats again and parted at the gates of Scotland Yard, one to Tolham and the other to Hassock's bedside.

Hassock looked much better in spite of the bandages which swathed his head. His voice was firmer and his tearful condition, presumably due to shock, had gone. The doctor gave Littlejohn ten minutes.

‘He's not to be excited.'

Hassock began by apologising for troubling Littlejohn.

‘I know you're busy, sir.…'

‘No need to apologise, Hassock. I was coming to see you, but you got in your invitation first.'

‘I'm sorry, sir. I ought to have told you that I intended going across and inspecting
Mountjoy
, but I thought you wouldn't wish to be disturbed by trivial reports of routine.…'

Poor Hassock never seemed to miss a chance of turning the knife in his wounds!

‘As it was, it was a fruitless journey. I came to grief before I even started to inspect the house.'

‘You called our attention to the place, which I think is going to be important. We're going to give the house a good turning over. You'll be surprised to learn, Hassock, that Kaltbad has disappeared. He was supposed to be going home to Hamburg. In fact, he doesn't seem to have turned up there. The German police have been trying to locate him without success. His furniture is standing in two vans on Hamburg docks and hasn't, as yet, been claimed or dealt with.'

Hassock gave Littlejohn an excited look.

‘I always thought he was a queer fish. We never had any contact with him in the course of duty, but I always had an instinctive feeling about him. I've made a point of trying to get to know as much as possible about people on my patch.
One never knows when we'll need the information. Kaltbad was naturalised. He didn't mix with people. Kept himself to himself. It always puzzled me how he found the money to buy a place like
Mountjoy
out of selling musical instruments. And I heard it was well furnished inside, and he kept a gardener and a housekeeper.…'

‘I wonder if we could trace them.'

‘The gardener got another job in a house nearby. We could easily get hold of him. He's called Dodds. A bit of a scrounger. Sergeant Reaper, one of my fellows, could put his hands on him. The housekeeper was elderly and I think left his service well before Kaltbad went to Hamburg. We might be able to trace her.'

‘Do you think he was a fence?'

‘He might well have been. Living quietly, foreign connections, a shop in the West End.… A good set-up for that sort of thing.…'

‘Where was his place in the West End?'

‘Old Pump Street. I once looked it up when I was down there. I got his address from the telephone directory, I remember. I had to phone him. Someone stole his car but it was soon recovered. He had a sort of old-fashioned shop, long and narrow.… They're pulling it down now to build a new block.'

‘What did you hope to find there when you visited
Mountjoy?'

‘I'd nothing really in mind. I thought I ought to investigate it, that's all.'

‘I think I'll go and take another look at
Mountjoy
myself. I'll try to find Dodds, the gardener, and see what he has to say for himself. And now I must be going. The doctor said I could have ten minutes with you and I've exceeded my time.'

A sister bustled in and thrust a thermometer in Hassock's
mouth, presumably to let Littlejohn know that his time was up. She was a small attractive girl, but Hassock didn't seem moved by her at all. Hassock removed the thermometer.

‘How is my wife getting along, sir? She's not well enough to travel, especially with all the bustle going on in trains and buses. She telephones now and then.…'

A vast understatement. Mrs. Hassock was on the telephone to the hospital and to Scotland Yard every ten minutes. Or so it seemed.…

‘She seems to be managing all right. She's eager to get you home, so that she can look after you herself.'

‘I'll not be long before I'm home, now. I'm looking forward to it. Will you tell her, if she telephones again? She worries about me. She's a fine woman although I say it myself. I miss her.' And he replaced the thermometer.

After all the joking and chaff which went on among Hassock's colleagues about his married life, Littlejohn felt chastened!

The nurse returned, removed the thermometer, read it, and made a note on the chart.

‘If you don't mind, I'll take his blood pressure.…'

Littlejohn took the hint and departed after Hassock had thanked him for his visit and apologised for taking up his time.

Hassock had given him the key to
Mountjoy
, which since his violent encounter had lain neglected in the pocket of his tunic, and Littlejohn drove to the house and let himself in. The silence of the place enveloped him again. The cat he had released on his last visit joined him with its tail upright and stiff, and followed him, rubbing against his trousers. It must have belonged to Kaltbad. It seemed surprised at the emptiness of the place and must have wondered where the furniture had gone. It grew uneasy as it followed him from room to room and finally, when they reached the cellar
door, it took fright and fled into the open air. Later, the cat returned to the scene of the crime and the Hassocks adopted it.

Littlejohn descended to the cellars, which were quite extensive. One section had evidently been used for storing wine and the empty racks had been left intact. The whole place had been swept clean, like the rooms upstairs. A small quantity of coal had been left in the coal cellar. A dim light penetrated through a grid in the wall, but Littlejohn had to switch on the electric bulb, which hung there without a shade. He examined the coal closely with his pocket torch. The floor consisted of stone slabs and whoever had so conscientiously swept out the house and cellars had neglected or overlooked the coal which was spread in a thin layer across one corner. Littlejohn smiled grimly at his own thoughts. Surely not another Crippen case with a body under the coal hole! He returned to the ground floor again, locked up the house and made his way to the local police station.

Sergeant Reaper was on duty and an Inspector named Milton was holding the fort for Hassock. The two of them seemed to be blundering through the Blunt affair, assured in their own minds that, as Scotland Yard were intruding in the case, all would end well. Reaper was heavy and swarthy and professed to be ‘well-up' in local affairs. Littlejohn had no wish to embarrass them by his presence and asked Reaper right away if he could lead him to the gardener at
Mountjoy
.

‘Archie Dodds? Certainly, sir. Very good gardener, sir, but drinks like a fish. We've booked him a time or two. Very disorderly when drunk. He was once a bantam-weight champion in the Army. A bit difficult to handle when in drink.…'

‘Can you get hold of him now?'

‘Yes. He does for the Bracknells at
Sunny Meadows
now that he's not at
Mountjoy
. Shall I bring him in?'

‘No; take me to him if it isn't too far.'

‘No. It's just near
Mountjoy.'

‘Right.…'

There seemed to be nobody at home at
Sunny Meadows
and they found Dodds extended in a deck chair in the potting-shed, smoking a cigarette.

‘Just takin' my elevenses,' explained Dodds, and extricated himself with difficulty from his resting-place.

Bantam-weight was a good description of Dodds. He was small, thin, with long arms and huge hands and a face like a ferret's. He greeted Reaper with a familiarity which showed no malice from his past encounters with the police.

‘This is Chief Superintendent Littlejohn, from Scotland Yard, Archie. He wants to ask you a few questions about Mr. Kaltbad.'

Archie gave Littlejohn his best army salute.

‘At your service, Chief. My present feelin's about Mr. Kaltbad isn't of the best. He beat it owing me a fortnight's pay. Always paid on the nail before. I trusted him and he let me down.'

‘How did that happen?'

‘He cleared off one night without so much as a word of thanks or paying what he owed me.'

‘Was he a greedy man?'

‘Not usually. He was a foreigner – a German – who came over here out of Hitler's way. I believe he got nationalised English.'

‘When did he leave?'

‘On Wednesday night.…'

‘That was the night the crime was committed and we found the body in the gateway of
Mountjoy.'

‘By then, we'd emptied and cleaned the house. The vans
had left for Hamburg three nights before that and Mr. Kaltbad was staying at a local hotel.'

‘Which was that?'

‘The
Golden Lion
in the High Street. On Wednesday Mr. Kaltbad said he had some final bits of business to clear up and would see me in the morning before he left for his plane. After that I didn't see him again. He'd gone before I turned up at 8 a.m. I helped him with his removal. He said he was a bit homesick and wanted to end his days in his old country and retire to Hamburg. We shipped off all his goods and I swept out the place and left it all neat and tidy.'

Dodds paused in his narrative to interject some private abuse about his former employer.

‘… I'd been with him over ten years and never a wrong word.'

‘You say you swept up the place?'

‘From attics to cellars. Mr. Kaltbad insisted. Said a clean job would improve the price.'

‘Did you sweep out the coal cellar as well?'

‘Yes. Why?'

‘What kind of a man was Mr. Kaltbad?'

‘Very decent chap. He spoke good English. He sold musical instruments. Had a business in the West End. He was a tallish man and very fat. Which isn't to be wondered at considering the amount he ate. He was very fond of good food and wine.'

‘Judging from
Mountjoy
, he must have done well in his musical business.'

‘It's a big place and he made it very nice and comfortable. He'd some lovely furniture and a lot of very valuable antiques. But he seemed to be a lonely man. I think he must have had some family tragedies in the war. He never opened up about them, but you could see grief sort of written in his
face sometimes. He wasn't married, as far as I know. Now and then, he'd entertain a friend, but only one at a time. And he really went to town on food and wine when he did.'

‘How do you know all these details, if you were concerned with the gardens?'

‘I came in to wait at table. I'd been a waiter of sorts once in an officers' mess. Mr. Kaltbad liked a nice show and Mrs. Cavanagh, his housekeeper and cook, couldn't do all the work at such times. So I was called in.'

‘Where is Mrs. Cavanagh now?'

‘She came from a place called Skibbereen, in Southern Ireland, and left for home last week.'

‘What sort of friends did Mr. Kaltbad entertain?'

‘I wouldn't call them musical-looking. Him being in the trade, you'd expect long-haired pianists and hungry composers, wouldn't you? But Mr. K's friends were like business men. Some of them looked real gents and others a bit slick. You could sort them out by the way they behaved at table. Some seemed as if they'd never seen a knife and fork before in their lives and ate the food like pigs. It made Mr. Kaltbad wince sometimes.'

‘What kind of business do you think was transacted? You must have heard the conversation as you were waiting at table.'

‘Not a thing. Mr. K never talked business while dining. All the business must have been done over drinks and cigars afterwards, in private. When they was settled with their smokes and their glasses Mr. Kaltbad would tell me that was all, which meant I could hop it home.'

‘Was there a safe among the items shipped to Hamburg?'

‘No. There was a safe in the house, small but good. But Mr. Kaltbad sold that before he left. He said it was too heavy for shipment and he'd better sell it and buy another on the other side if he needed one.'

‘Did Mr. Kaltbad ever go abroad?'

‘Yes. Most of his instruments came from the Continent and I guess he went there to buy them.'

‘How often did he go?'

‘Three or four times a year for a few days. Amsterdam, Hamburg, Zurich. Big cities in Europe. He was never long away. His West End business must have been a busy one.'

Dodds talked on and on. He seemed glad of some company and was not in the least reticent about his employer and his affairs. He was a chain-smoker and punctuated his narrative with hacking bouts of coughing. When each fit began he flung away his present cigarette in disgust, as though forswearing the habit altogether. And when he'd recovered he lit another!

‘Do you think Mr. Kaltbad had any other business besides the musical one?'

‘You're thinking, sir, as I often did, that he must have needed a good income to keep up
Mountjoy
and his style of living. I wondered myself when I saw the champagne, the cigars and the posh car he kept. They needed a lot of money to pay for them. The men who visited him might have come to do business. Sometimes those gatherings were a bit grim. Not the sort of light-hearted affairs you'd expect from musical people. I wouldn't have liked to put my money on some of those visitors. Too slick and smooth. You know the sort I mean. I wondered if Mr. Kaltbad was a moneylender as well and some of his callers were raising loans. What is all this leading to, sir? Are you going to tell me Mr. K was a crook?'