The Scold's Bridle (22 page)

Underneath in a PC's handwriting was a short note:

Cooper talked the problem through with his Detective Chief Inspector. "I need to question Hughes, Charlie, so do I take a team with me, or what? According to the girl, he's living in a squat, so he won't be alone, and I don't fancy trying to winkle him out from under a mob of squatters. Assuming they let me in at all. It's bloody rich, isn't it?" he grumbled. "Somebody else's property and they can take it over lock, stock and barrel. The only way the poor sod who owns it can get it back is to pay through the nose for an eviction order, by which time he finds they've turned the place into a cess-pit."

Charlie Jones's squashed face wore a permanently lugubrious expression which always reminded Cooper of a sad-eyed Pekinese. He was more of a terrier, however, who, once he got his teeth into something, rarely let go. "Can we charge him with theft on what Miss Lascelles has told you?"

"We could, but he'd be out again in a couple of hours. Bournemouth have him on file. He's been brought in three times and he's walked on each occasion. All similar offences to this one, i.e. persuading youngsters to steal for him. It's a clever scam." He sounded frustrated. "The children only prey off their families and, so far, the parents have refused to co-operate when they discover that Hughes's prosecution will involve their daughters in a prosecution, too."

"So how come he was brought in in the first place?"

"Because three indignant fathers have independently accused him of forcing their daughters to steal and demanded that charges be brought. But when the girls were questioned, they told a different story, denied the coercion and insisted that the thieving was their own idea. It's a real honey, this one. You can't do him without the daughters, and the fathers won't have the daughters done." He smiled cynically. "Too much unpleasant publicity."

"What sort of backgrounds?"

"Middle class, wealthy. The girls are all over sixteen, so no question of underage sex. Mind, I'm sure these three and Miss Lascelles are only the tip of a very large iceberg. It sounds to me as if he's got the whole thing down to a very fine art."

"
Does
he coerce them?"

Cooper shrugged. "All Miss Lascelles said was, he does terrible things when he's angry. He threatened to make a scene at the school if she did anything he didn't like, but when I asked her about it in the car on the way to Dr. Blakeney's, in other words after that particular threat had lost its sting because she'd already been expelled, she clammed up and burst into tears." He tugged his nose thoughtfully. "He must be using some form of coercion because she's terrified he's going to find her. I wondered if he makes videos of them but when I asked Bournemouth if they've found any equipment on him, they said no. Your guess is as good as mine, Charlie. He's got some hold on these girls, and it must be fear because they're desperate to get shot of him the minute they're found out. But precisely what's involved, I don't know."

The Inspector frowned. "Why aren't they afraid to name him?"

"Presumably because he's given them permission to shop him if they're caught. Look, he must know how easy it would be for us to track him down. If Miss Lascelles hadn't proffered the information, all I had to do was ask the headmistress for the tarmac firm and take it from there. I think his MO goes something like this: target a girl who's young enough and cosseted enough to warrant her parents' protection, win her over, then use some sort of threat to make sure she accuses herself along with him when she's caught. That way he's as sure as he can be that charges won't be brought and, if they are, he'll take her down with him. Perhaps his threat is as simple as that."

The Inspector was doubtful. "He can't make much out of it. How long before the parents notice what's going on?"

"You'd be amazed. One of the girls was borrowing her mother's credit card for months before the father queried the amount his wife was spending. It was a jointly held card, the balance was paid off automatically out of the current account, and neither of them noticed that it had increased by upwards of five hundred pounds a month. Or if they did, they assumed the other partner's expenditure was behind it. It's a different world, Charlie. Both parents working and earning a good screw, and enough money sloshing around in the coffers to obscure their daughter's thieving. Once they started looking into it, of course, they discovered she'd sold bits of silver, jewellery that her mother never wore, some valuable first editions of her father's and a five-hundred-pound camera that her father thought he'd left on a train. I'd say Hughes is doing very nicely out of it, particularly if he's running more than one of them at the same time."

"Good grief! How much has Ruth Lascelles stolen then?"

Cooper took a piece of paper from his pocket. "She made a list of what she could remember. That's it." He put it on the desk. "Same pattern as the other girl. Jewellery that her grandmother had forgotten about. Silver-backed hairbrushes from the spare room that were never used. China ornaments and bowls that were kept in cupboards because Mrs. Gillespie didn't like them, and some first editions out of the library. She said Hughes told her the sort of thing to look for. Valuable bits and pieces that wouldn't be missed."

"What about money?"

"Twenty pounds from her grandmother's handbag, fifty pounds from the bedside table and, a few weeks later, five hundred out of the old lady's account. Went to the bank as cool as cucumber with a forged cheque and a letter purporting to come from Mathilda, instructing them to hand over the loot. According to her, Mrs. Gillespie never even noticed. But she did, of course, because she mentioned the fifty-pound theft to Jack Blakeney and, when I tackled her bank this morning, they told me she had queried the five-hundred-pound withdrawal on her statement, and they advised her that Ruth had drawn it out on her instructions." He scratched his jaw. "According to them, she agreed that it was her mistake and took no further action."

"What date was that?"

Cooper consulted his notes again. "The cheque was cashed during the last week in October, Ruth's half-term in other words, and Mrs. Gillespie rang the bank as soon as she got the statement, which was the first week in November."

"Not long before she died then, and
after
she'd made up her mind to change the will. It's a bugger that one. I can't get the hang of it at all." He thought for a moment. "When did Ruth steal the fifty pounds?"

"At the beginning of September before she went back to school. She had some idea apparently of buying Hughes off. She said: 'I thought he'd leave me alone if I gave him some money.' "

"Dear God!" said Charlie dismally. "There's one born every minute. Did you ask her if Hughes put pressure on her to cash the five hundred at half-term?"

"I did. Her answer was: 'No, no, no. I stole it because I wanted to,' and then she turned the waterworks on again." He looked very rueful. "I've left the ball in Dr. Blakeney's court. I had a word with her on the phone this morning, gave her the gist of what Hughes has been up to and asked her to try and find out why none of the girls will turn QE against him. She may get somewhere but I'm not counting on it."

"What about the mother? Would Ruth talk to her?"

Cooper shook his head. "First, you'd have to get
her
to talk to Ruth. It's unnatural, if you ask me. I stopped off last night to tell her the Blakeneys had taken her daughter in and she looked at me as if I'd just climbed out of a sewer. The only thing she was interested in was whether I thought Ruth's expulsion meant she'd killed her grandmother. I said, no, that as far as I knew there were no statistics linking truancy and promiscuous sex to murder, but there were a great number linking them to poor parenting. So she told me to eff off." He chuckled happily at the memory.

Charlie Jones grunted his amusement. "I'm more interested in friend Hughes at the moment, so let's break this down into manageable proportions. Have Bournemouth tried getting the three families together so that the girls gain strength from numbers?"

"Twice. No go either time. The parents have taken legal advice and no one's talking."

Charlie pursed his lips in thought. "It's been done before, you know. George Joseph Smith did it a hundred years ago. Wrote glowing references for pretty servant girls, then found them placements in wealthy households. Within weeks of starting work they would steal valuables from their employers and take them faithfully to George to convert into ready cash. He was another one with an extraordinary pulling-power over women."

"George Smith?" said Cooper in surprise. "I thought he did
away
with women. Wasn't he the brides-in-the-bath murderer?"

"That's him. Started drowning wives when he discovered how easy it was to get them to make wills in his favour upon marriage. Interesting, isn't it, in view of the way Mrs. Gillespie died." He was silent for a moment. "I read a book about Smith not so long ago. The author described him as a professional and a literal lady-killer. I wonder if the same thing applies to Hughes." He rapped a tattoo on his desk-top with his knuckles. "Let's pull him in for questioning."

"How? Do I take an arrest warrant?"

Charlie reached for his phone. "No. I'll get Bournemouth to pick him up tomorrow morning and hold him on ice till you and I get there."

"Tomorrow's Sunday, Charlie."

"Then with any luck he'll have a hangover. I want to see his expression when I tell him we have reason to believe he murdered Mrs. Gillespie."

Cooper was sceptical. "Have we? The landlord's statement won't stand close scrutiny, not if his wife's claiming he was confused."

A wolfish grin spread across the Inspector's features, and the sad Pekinese became a Dobermann. "But we know he was there that afternoon because Ruth told us he was, and I'm inclined to be a little creative with the rest. He was using Mrs. Gillespie's granddaughter to extort money. He has a history of ruthless exploitation of women, and he's probably feeding a habit because his outgoings far exceed his income. If they didn't, he wouldn't have to live in squats. I'd say his psychological profile runs something like this: a dangerously unstable, psychopathic addict, whose hatred of women has undergone a dramatic change recently and taken him from their brutal manipulation to their destruction. He will be the product of a broken home and inadequate education, and boyhood fear of his father will govern most of his actions."

Cooper looked even more sceptical. "You've been reading too many books, Charlie."

Jones allowed himself a laugh. "But Hughes doesn't know that, does he? So let's try and dent his charisma a little and see if we can't stop him using other people's little girls to do his dirty work."

"I'm trying to solve a murder," said Cooper in protest. "That's what I want answers on."

"But you've still to convince me it
was
a murder, old son."

Ruth crept stealthily down the stairs and stood to one side of the studio doorway, watching Jack's reflection in her tiny hand mirror. Not that she could see him very well. He was sitting with his back to the window, working on a portrait but, because the easel was placed directly between him and the door, the canvas obscured all but his legs. From the bedroom window she had watched Sarah leave the house two hours ago, so she knew they were alone.
Would Jack notice when she slipped past the doorway?
She waited for ten minutes in panicky indecision, too afraid to take a step.

"If you want something to eat," he murmured finally into the silence, "then I suggest you try the kitchen. If you want someone to talk to, then I suggest you come in here, and if you're looking for something to steal, then I suggest you take Sarah's engagement ring which belonged to my grandmother and was valued at two thousand pounds four years ago. You'll find it in the left-hand drawer of her dressing-table." He leaned to one side so that she could see his face in her mirror. "You might as well show yourself. I'm not going to eat you." He nodded curtly as she came round the doorjamb. "Sarah gave me strict instructions to be sympathetic, patient and helpful. I'll do my best, but I warn you in advance I can't stand people who sniff into handkerchiefs and creep about on tiptoe."

Ruth's cheeks lost what little colour they had left. "Do you think it would be all right if I made myself a cup of coffee?" She looked very unattractive, damp hair clinging to her scalp, face puffy and blotched with crying. "I don't want to be a nuisance."

Jack returned to his painting so that she wouldn't see the flash of irritation in his eyes. Self-pity in others invariably brought out the worst in him. "As long as you make me one, too. Black and no sugar, please. The coffee's by the kettle, sugar's in the tin marked 'sugar,' milk's in the fridge and lunch is in the oven. It will be ready in half an hour so, unless you're starving, my advice is to skip breakfast and wait for that."

"Will Dr. Blakeney be here for lunch?"

"I doubt it, Polly Graham's gone into labour and as Sarah agreed to a home-birth, she could be there for hours."

Ruth hovered for a moment, then turned to go to the kitchen, only to change her mind again. "Has my mother phoned?" she blurted out.

"Did you expect her to?"

"I thought-" She fell silent.

"Well, try thinking about making me a cup of coffee instead. If you hadn't mentioned it, I probably wouldn't have wanted one, but as you have, I do. So get your skates on, woman. This is not a hotel and I'm not in the best of moods after being relegated to the spare room."

She fled down the corridor to the kitchen and, when she returned five minutes later with a tray and two cups, her hands were shaking so much that the cups chattered against each other like terrified teeth. Jack appeared not to notice but took the tray and placed it on a table in the window. "Sit," he instructed, pointing to a hard-backed chair and swinging his stool round to face her. "Now, is it me you're frightened of, the boyfriend, men in general, Sarah not coming home for lunch, the police, or are you worried about what's going to happen to you?"