The Problem at Two Tithes (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 7) (7 page)

‘Not at all, sir,’ said the sergeant, acknowledging the gesture. ‘We’re only too glad to accept whatever assistance you can give us here.’

‘Well, then, I suppose you know that Mrs. Marchmont has been very helpful to the police during several recent murder investigations,’ said Inspector Jameson, ‘and has gained rather a reputation for her detective-work. Still,’ he went on, addressing Angela, ‘there’s not much to tell you at the moment. I suppose you—and the entire village—know as much as I do. Thomas Tipping was killed by a shotgun blast to the head while walking along here with his dog shortly after lunch-time on Saturday, while most people were at the church fête. A man known to have a grudge against Mr. Tipping was arrested, then released shortly afterwards when he was discovered to have an alibi. I haven’t seen any of the witnesses yet, but I understand the sergeant has spoken to them.’

‘Was Mr. Tipping carrying a shotgun himself?’ said Angela.

‘Why, yes, he was,’ replied the inspector. ‘It was found next to his body.’

‘Presumably he had no chance to use it to defend himself, then,’ said Angela.

‘Not much. He was shot in the back of the head,’ said the sergeant. ‘He won’t have known a thing.’

‘Then I suppose that’s another point in favour of Andrew Norris,’ said Angela, thinking. ‘Not that he needs one, of course, if he has an alibi—but if Norris did it, then surely he wouldn’t have sneaked up behind Mr. Tipping to shoot him, since he regularly threatened him with it quite openly.’

‘Oh, you know that, do you?’ said Inspector Jameson.

‘Yes,’ said Angela. ‘I happened to—er—encounter Mr. Norris and his shotgun myself the other day, and he made no bones about it.’

‘That’s Norris, right enough,’ agreed the sergeant. ‘Everyone knew about it.’

‘Was Mr. Tipping’s shotgun still loaded?’ asked Angela hesitantly. ‘I mean, I don’t suppose he was shot with his own gun?’

Primm shook his head.

‘No, of course not,’ said Angela, ‘or there would have been a struggle for the gun, wouldn’t there? But you say there wasn’t.’

‘We will need to find out if anyone was seen running around the place with a shotgun shortly after Saturday lunch-time,’ said Jameson.

‘Hmph,’ said Sergeant Primm. ‘Hardly the time of year for it. I know Tom Tipping carried his for protection against old Norris, who always carries his about with him, but even Norris didn’t have his on Saturday—leastways, not according to the landlord of the Red Lion.’

‘So, then, all you need is to find a witness who saw a man with a gun,’ said Angela, ‘and then presumably you’ll have your murderer.’

‘Let’s hope such a witness exists, then,’ said Inspector Jameson.

Just then they were joined, rather to Angela’s surprise, by Norman Tipping and his mother, who had been walking along Dead Man’s Path together. It was the first time Angela had met Margaret Tipping properly, although she had seen her at the fête, and she looked at the older woman curiously. Mrs. Tipping must have been handsome once: her bones were good and her features regular, but now, in her sixties, she looked worn down and tired—although, of course, the fact that her husband had just died in violent and mysterious circumstances might have had something to do with that. If Mrs. Tipping was particularly upset by his death, however, she gave no sign of it, for her expression was closed and revealed nothing of her thoughts. As she and her son joined the others at the spot where Tom Tipping had died she glanced about her dispassionately, but said not a word. Sergeant Primm introduced the newcomers to Inspector Jameson. Norman Tipping said what was proper, and then went on:

‘I’m afraid Mother insisted on coming here this morning. I tried to dissuade her from it but there was no putting her off. She would come.’

Mrs. Tipping appeared not to be listening. She was still looking around expressionlessly.

‘I always knew something dreadful would happen here,’ she said at last in a flat voice. ‘And now it has. The place is haunted, don’t you think? Dead Man’s Path, they call it. Well, whoever named it was right enough.’

The day was dull, and thin fingers of grey light penetrated weakly through the branches of the trees overhead and onto the path. Angela glanced about her involuntarily and for a moment could not help but agree with Margaret Tipping’s description. It was quite different from how it had looked the other day, when the sunshine had dappled the place with cheerful patches of yellow and green.

Inspector Jameson glanced at Sergeant Primm and said:

‘I’m very sorry about your husband, Mrs. Tipping, and I’d like to find out what happened to him. Should you mind if I asked you one or two questions? We can do it at your house if you would prefer not to stay here.’

‘Oh, it’s all the same to me. We can do it here if you like,’ said Mrs. Tipping, still with that expressionless tone.

‘Thank you,’ said Jameson. ‘Very well, I understand from Sergeant Primm that your husband went out at the same time every day.’

‘Yes,’ said Mrs. Tipping. ‘He always goes for a walk after lunch—used to go, I should say.’

‘Did he always come the same way?’

‘Yes,’ said Mrs. Tipping. ‘He always came along here. Always along Dead Man’s Path. I told him not to do it—not to provoke Andrew—but he would never listen.’

‘Do you mean Mr. Norris?’ said Jameson, glancing at Sergeant Primm, who nodded. ‘I gather there was a dispute between your husband and Mr. Norris over this path. What was it about, exactly?’

‘Andrew has a bee in his bonnet about it,’ said Mrs. Tipping. ‘Everyone uses it, but there’s some doubt as to whether it’s common land or whether it belongs to Andrew. Andrew insists it’s his, of course. He says that anyone can use it who likes—but only because he says so. When he and Tom fell out, he withdrew his permission and forbade Tom from using the path. I know he’s a stubborn old thing but it was partly Tom’s fault, as he
would
deliberately provoke Andrew about the path and taunt him about its being common land, when he ought to have kept quiet. But Andrew always had a vengeful temper on him, and that’s why Tom never went out without his shotgun, because he never knew when Andrew would turn up and threaten him.’

‘It was quite ridiculous,’ said Norman Tipping. ‘Two grown men behaving in that way. They were forever glaring and growling at one another. Once I came upon them standing each with his gun pointed directly at the other, and told them both in no uncertain terms how silly they looked. Of course, that’s why we—why everyone—immediately thought it was old Norris who’d done it, as everyone knew about the feud. But I gather he has an alibi.’

‘Yes, he has,’ said Sergeant Primm.

‘Then who killed him?’ said Norman.

Inspector Jameson was just about to reply when he suddenly spied a pair of eyes peering at him from behind a tree. They seemed to belong to a boy of about eleven.

‘Hallo,’ he said. ‘Who’s this?’

‘It’s Peter,’ said Norman, as Peter Montgomery stepped out and smiled shyly round at them all. ‘What are you doing here, Peter? Run along home, now. This is not the place for little boys. I’m surprised your mother allowed it.’

‘Oh, but she’s here too,’ said the boy, and Inspector Jameson looked up as a woman came into view. She was slim and fair, with bright blue eyes, and Jameson thought she was the prettiest woman he had ever seen.

‘Hallo,’ she said as she arrived. She did not wait for a reply, but immediately went across and took Margaret Tipping’s hand kindly. ‘How are you, Margaret?’ she said. ‘I hope you’ve managed to get some sleep. I was just coming to see you. I do wish you’d let me help you with something. There must be such a lot to do.’

‘Thank you, Kathie,’ said Mrs. Tipping with perfect equanimity. ‘It’s terribly kind of you, and of course you shall help, but it’s all been such a shock and I’m not quite sure where to start.’

Norman introduced Kathie to Inspector Jameson with a proprietorial air, and she turned her smile on him and said how reassuring it was that the police could always be relied upon to work night and day when dreadful crimes of this nature came along, and never to rest until the criminal was caught. Without quite meaning to, Jameson immediately found himself resolving inwardly to do as she said and leave no stone unturned in his attempts to solve the mystery, even though the case was not strictly his.

‘Are you really a detective?’ said Peter suddenly. ‘From Scotland Yard?’

‘Now, Peter,’ said Kathie. ‘You’re not to bother the police while they’re working. This isn’t a game. He’d like to be a detective when he grows up,’ she explained to Jameson with another smile.

‘Should you?’ said Jameson to Peter, who blushed at being addressed directly by the great Scotland Yard inspector, and then nodded.

‘It’s not all fun and games, I’m afraid,’ said Jameson. ‘In fact, it’s jolly hard work sometimes.’

‘I don’t mind hard work,’ said Peter stoutly.

‘Then perhaps we shall see you at the Yard one day,’ said Jameson.

‘I should like that,’ said Peter, his eyes shining.

‘Have you any other questions at present?’ said Norman. Jameson gave a negative and he said, ‘Then we shall go back, if you don’t mind. I think Mother has been here long enough. Do come back with us,’ he went on to Kathie. ‘Mother would be glad of the company, I’m sure.’

Margaret Tipping nodded, and Kathie said, ‘All right, then—but only if I can help in some way. Come along, Peter.’

The four of them went off. Angela said she had to get back to Two Tithes and excused herself too, leaving Inspector Jameson and Sergeant Primm alone.

‘No surprises about what’s going to happen there, I reckon,’ said Primm, with a nod towards the departing group.

‘What do you mean?’ said Jameson.

‘Tipping and Mrs. Montgomery. He’s been courting her for months now,’ said the sergeant.

‘Oh?’

‘Yes. The Cardews are keen on the match. Lady Cardew is her sister, you know. They’ve got plenty of money but they begrudge having to pay the boy’s school fees. They want him off their hands. That’s rich people all over for you.’

‘Does she like him?’ said Jameson.

Primm shrugged.

‘Who knows with women?’ he said. He glanced about and shivered. ‘It’s getting chilly, don’t you think, sir? What do you say we go back to the station and talk over the case there?’

Jameson assented and the two of them went off, Jameson thinking what a pity it was that a woman like Kathie Montgomery should be thrown away on a man like Norman Tipping.

Back at the little police station in Banford Green Sergeant Primm and Inspector Jameson sat at opposite sides of the sergeant’s desk and consulted their notebooks.

‘Tell me about this alibi,’ said Jameson. ‘This Norris chap looks like a perfect suspect if ever I saw one, but you say he couldn’t have done it.’

‘No,’ said Primm. He flipped over a page and prodded at his notebook with a pencil. He cleared his throat and began. ‘So, then, as you know, Saturday was the day of the church fête, and most people were there. This is what we know so far: early on Saturday morning Tom Tipping helped set up some of the stalls in Tithes Field. At eleven o’clock the fête was declared open, and Tipping stayed until about a quarter to twelve then left, as he had some things to see to on the farm. His wife was looking after the cake stall, and he promised to come back later and help clear up. He went home by his usual route, which was along Dead Man’s Path. There he encountered Andrew Norris, and at about five to twelve, according to a number of witnesses from the village who were heading for the fête at that time, the two men had a loud argument in which Norris threatened to shoot Tom Tipping if he ever found him trespassing on his land again. This was a fairly frequent occurrence, by the way, so the witnesses didn’t think much of it. At any rate, the argument subsided when the villagers arrived, and Tipping passed on. He arrived home and had a cold lunch, then at about twenty minutes to two took his shotgun and went out with his dog. This was his usual time to go out, and we know he did it on this day because he was met on Dead Man’s Path by his son Norman Tipping and Mrs. Montgomery, who were heading to Tithes Field themselves. Mrs. Montgomery had been helping at the fête, but I gather she’d run home to fetch something and just happened to meet Norman Tipping on her way back. According to them, Tom Tipping said he would see them later and then passed out of sight. They hadn’t gone more than a couple of hundred yards when they heard the sound of a shotgun going off. They were a bit puzzled but not particularly so, and they didn’t bother turning back. A little farther on, they met Daniel Tyler from Burdett’s going the other way, and it was he who discovered Tom Tipping’s body a few minutes later, lying there with nobody near him except the dog. Tyler hared after Norman and Mrs. Montgomery in a great state, found them just going into the fête, and told them what had happened. They ran back with him and called the doctor, who called us. And a very pretty mess it is too,’ he finished, sitting back.

‘Yes,’ said Jameson. ‘Still, the presence of witnesses seems to narrow down the time of death nicely. He must have died at—what? A quarter to or perhaps ten to two?’

‘Thereabouts,’ agreed Primm. ‘And at that time Andrew Norris was in the Red Lion, having a bite of lunch with his man Ben Shaw. Ben has sworn to it, as have the landlord and two of his regular customers, who were the only people there at the time, business being quiet on that day because of the fête. Norris and Shaw arrived at about a quarter past one, and went into the snug. They were brought some cold meat and cheese at half past one, and then left the place at ten past two. The landlord was in the tap-room with his eye on the door to the street all that time, and swears that Norris didn’t leave. It’s a great pity,’ he went on. ‘If it weren’t for his cast-iron alibi then that would be that: we could lock him up and forget about it. The two of them have been fighting over that path for years, the silly old goats.’

‘Does it really belong to Norris?’ said Jameson.

‘I couldn’t tell you,’ said Primm. ‘He got the idea that it was his about twenty years ago, and went to law about it. It never got resolved, though, as there’s just enough doubt in the deeds to his land to make it uncertain. What is certain is that everyone has used Dead Man’s Path freely for centuries, and he’s not going to stop them now. It’s really just a convenient excuse for him to make things difficult for Tom Tipping.’