The Sussex Downs Murder (19 page)

“Good Lord!” exclaimed Barnet with a shudder. “What a horrible idea!”

“Yes—it's curious, isn't it, how far a man's infatuation for a woman will drive him? At any rate there was that part of the mystery solved. I then recalled Kate Abingworth's evidence about that strange meeting of John and Janet on the lawn at Chalklands a week before the supposed murder. Janet had been carrying a suit-case. Why? Because they were spending the night together somewhere? Not a bit of it. Because they were going down to the church to collect poor old Sir Percival's skeleton.

“I reckon now that John severed the bone framework so that it could all be stuffed into the suit-case and hid the case itself until he could get to work with his surgical saw in his own time. This severing of the bones into smaller pieces was one of John's many strokes of genius. It suggested to us, at once, that an attempt had been made to pass the body through the kiln so as to avoid discovery. Large portions of the skeleton in the lime would have suggested carelessness. John's scheme was full of these little touches of reality. For instance, it had been his habit when going on long journeys to empty his tank so that he could check up the miles-per-gallon of his Hillman. When he was setting out on his pretended journey to Harlech he had gone to the extent of carrying out this corroborative detail. As a matter of fact, in that case, it helped me in my investigation because I was able to deduce from the residue in his tank that Rother had covered just on thirty miles before he reached Bindings Lane. Consequently when I suspected that he sent off the telegram from Littlehampton and that he would have gone on to Worthing to avoid meeting William on the road, I was able to make a test run and more or less satisfy myself as to the route he had taken on the 20th.

“In the case of the bones, however, this damnable piece of foresight did actually strengthen the case against William. The use of the kiln, too, was devilishly clever because we naturally associated the kiln with William. As to the way in which the bones were smuggled into the kiln—well, there can be no doubt that Janet was responsible. Before the 20th I dare say the bones had been made up into smallish parcels and hidden in Janet's room. The skull, which it was necessary to conceal because of its undershot jaw was probably left at Brook Cottage before the 20th, or even hidden with the cloak and broad-brimmed hat in that attaché-case. All Janet had to do was to slip out each night, scatter a few of the bones in the kiln, cover them with a layer of coal and chalk, and carry on until the whole of the skeleton had been disposed of.

“One vital point, however, had not escaped John's notice. It is very difficult to identify a victim when only the bones remain—and, in this case, charred bones at that. So what does Rother do? Gets Janet to chuck in his actual identity-disc, which he always wore, and his own belt, which had a specially designed clasp. Here, unfortunately for him, his genius didn't take him far enough—he forgot that the murderer would also want to rid himself of his victim's clothes, with the consequence that when we came to look for buttons, cuff-links, and so on we couldn't find 'em. Because of this we searched Brook Cottage for the suit and stumbled upon the skull! So much for the bones. Now we come to the real murder. You're sure I'm not boring you, sir?”

“On the contrary,” Barnet assured him, “you're hypnotizing me. Already I'm casting round to find a good locale into which to fit this case. There's a first-class story in this tragedy, Meredith—heaven-sent I might say—particularly the plot!”

“Just as I said,” agreed Meredith. “There's nothing queerer than reality. Your one trouble will be to make your readers
believe
in your yarn. Strange—but a fact.” Meredith stretched himself contentedly, took another drink, relit his pipe and went on: “Well, let's deal with William Rother's death. You know, of course, how he was found at the foot of the chalk-pit on August 10th. You were present at the inquest. So it's more than possible that I shall be running over ground that you've already traversed.

“One thing still puzzles me—how did John get to know that William had not been arrested? No newspapers were delivered at Brook Cottage while he was using it as a hide-out. No letters arrived from Janet Rother, for the simple reason that John was supposed to be dead after July 20th. Yet in some way those two must have got in touch with each other. Janet must have kept him informed as to the progress of my investigations. The only way in which this could have been worked, to my mind, was for Janet to have taken a bus to Bramber during the day and hidden a note in some prearranged spot. John then crept out in the early hours and collected this very necessary information. That's only guesswork—but it's certain that John must have realized some days before August 10th the exact direction in which the wind was blowing.

“I don't for a moment suspect that the plot to do away with William was hatched in a few days. The scheme which was to be put into operation if we failed to make an arrest, as I suggested before, was probably worked out at the same time as scheme Number One. It is quite possible that the faked confession which was planted in the dead man's pocket was drafted at least a year before it was utilized.

“The general plan of scheme Number Two was to stage William's death in such a way that it looked like suicide. For example, the wires above the pit were to be deliberately cut and the pliers left in such a position that the police were bound to find them. John reckoned that if his first scheme ran according to schedule the police were bound to place William on their suspect list. He knew his brother had a highly strung, nervous sort of temperament. What more natural that William, fearful of what might eventually befall him, should anticipate justice and take his own life? One must realize that William had a very powerful reason for wanting to do away with John. We realized that at once. In the same way we could clearly understand his reason for wanting to commit suicide.

“Unfortunately John made one or two minor errors in the staging of this tragedy. He was over-cautious. When he typed that faked confession he took care that no finger-print should give him away. He obviously took the precaution of wearing gloves. The same with Janet when she placed the confession in William's pocket—with the result that we hit upon the curious and suspicious fact that the sheets and envelope bore no finger-prints at all! Again, the wound in William's temple was uppermost when he lay at the base of the pit, although the medical evidence insisted that it would have been impossible for him to have turned over on his own accord. It was this, you may remember, which suggested to me that William had suffered that wound
before
he fell over the cliff. The rest of our evidence you heard at the inquest.

“Now for an actual reconstruction of the murder. Naturally all the evidence I have got against Rother is purely circumstantial. It's for the jury to decide whether he really did kill his brother in the way in which I'm just going to describe.

“At any rate we know that on the night of August 10th John Rother set off from Brook Cottage on a bicycle. He was seen mounting the machine by Biggins, the landlord of the ‘Loaded Wain'. He had once more adopted a new disguise. He had used his three weeks' concealment to grow a beard, and he was now wearing a respectable black suit and a bowler hat. I imagine that this disguise had been specially chosen for his flit to London directly after the murder. It was just the sort of disguise which would pass without comment in Town. He was seen again that same night, turning up off the main road on the cart-track which led up past the kilns to Chalklands. I suspect that he hid his bicycle in some bushes and proceeded on foot to the point where he had arranged his rendezvous with William.

“I happen to know now just how the note arranging that fateful meeting was worded, for the simple reason that we found it stuffed into a wallet, which we took from John Rother when he was searched after arrest. Careless, you'll admit—but quite understandable. It's very easy for a criminal to be lulled into a false sense of security when he is not arrested or suspected directly after the crime. As a matter of fact I've got that note with me—perhaps you'd care to see it? A genuine period piece for a criminal museum, eh? Any offers, Mr. Barnet?”

Barnet smiled and stretched out his hand for the note. The address he noted was typewritten.

“Were you able to decipher this post-mark?” he asked Meredith as one connoisseur in crime to another.

“Yes—London. Janet, I happened to learn from Kate Abingworth, went up to Town a few days before William's death. That's what we call a significant fact!”

Barnet chuckled.

“You don't miss much, do you? Thank heaven I haven't decided to commit a murder yet.” He carefully extracted the single typewritten sheet from the crumpled envelope.

If you want to know who murdered your brother
[he read]
I can give you precise information which will lead to an arrest. Make no mention of this letter to the police. I will meet you on High Meadow at
2
a.m. on August 10th, provided that you come alone and make no mention of my part in the solution of this crime
.

“And very cleverly worded too,” was Aldous Barnet's comment as he handed back the note to the Superintendent. “If I had been in William's shoes I'm quite certain that I shouldn't have failed to keep the appointment.”

“Quite.” Meredith kept silent for a space, then asked quietly: “Notice anything peculiar about that note? Or should I say characteristic?”

“Characteristic? I don't quite follow.”

“Do you remember that evening you called on me at Arundel Road with William's note?” Barnet nodded. “Well, we had a discussion then about typescript. I explained how it was possible to recognize work from the same machine and, in most cases, work which has been typed by the same pair of hands.”

“I recall that perfectly. It was this knowledge which enabled you to mark down that confession as a fake.”

“Yes, and since then it has told me something more. Something so vital that Rother's life may depend upon it. This note, Mr. Barnet—it has been typed upon the Chalklands portable Remington, and the manner in which the keys have been struck bears a very strong resemblance to that in the case of the confession. I was never able to get hold of a sample of John's typewriting, curiously enough—but I'm beginning to think now that he typed not only this note but the confession as well. We're now trying to trace down a business letter sent out by John Rother to one of their lime customers and if that letter shows the same type characteristics as this note and the confession…well, I guess we've got him by the short hairs! I have an idea that John took the precaution of destroying every sample of his typewriting before he set out on that pretended journey to Harlech. Pity he was so careless over that note, eh?”

“And as to the actual way in which William was murdered?”

“Assumption only,” acknowledged Meredith. “I reckon John used a flint. The type of wound rather suggested this. He then dragged the body to the edge of the cliff and swung it out so that it would drop clear of the base.”

There was a long silence, threaded only by the drowsy hum of industrious bees and the sleepy twitter of sparrows in the cool branches of the chestnut. Suddenly Barnet leaned forward and asked abruptly:

“Will he hang?”

“Maybe,” said Meredith with a non-committal shrug. “That part of the case is out of my hands: I can only display the Crown evidence in the best possible light and leave the rest to the barristers and the jury. Witnesses are an unreliable race. They're like some cricket teams—all right on paper! Many's the time I've been in court when the pet witness for the prosecution has proved to be the star witness for the defence and vice versa. That may well happen in this case.”

“And Janet Rother?”

“I doubt if we'll ever lay our hands on her. We've been in touch with the Continental police, but of course they can't help. Too long a start, I reckon. No, as my son Tony would put it, she's ‘gone over the side'. In other words, got clear.”

“Are you sorry?”

Meredith rubbed his chin with the stem of his pipe.

“Well, you've put me a bit of a poser there, sir. According to regulations, a detective should have about as much feeling as a bed-post. But it's been my experience that the completely official machine never makes a really good detective. You see, Mr. Barnet, crime is bound up with human weakness, human greed, human misery—at every turn in an investigation you come up against the human element. As a ‘minion of the law', as the newspapers have it, I should look upon Mrs. Rother's escape as a misfortune. But sometimes the law is at war with the man, and if you asked me in the second capacity…well, here's luck to her! We're all of us misguided sometimes in life, but I reckon she was more misguided than most—that's all!”

Chapter Nineteen

The Opening of a Problem

Aldous Barnet took up his pen and began to write:
Dominating that part of the Sussex Downs with which this story is concerned is Chanctonbury Ring. This oval cap of gigantic beeches may be seen, on fine days, from almost any point in the little parish of Washington. It is a typical village…

More from this Author

For other books, upcoming author events, or more information please go to:

www.poisonedpenpress.com/John-Bude

Contact Us

To receive a free catalog of Poisoned Pen Press titles,

please provide your name and address through one of the following ways:

Phone: 1-800-421-3976

Facsimile: 1-480-949-1707

Email:
[email protected]

Website:
www.poisonedpenpress.com

Poisoned Pen Press

6962 E. First Ave. Ste 103

Scottsdale, AZ 85251