Charters and Caldicott (3 page)

‘If it comes to that, we hadn't set eyes on either of... Oh, I see what you're driving at,' said Caldicott uneasily. ‘Long and fishy arm of coincidence. I thought we'd explained that. Jock Beevers' death being the cause of Jenny Beevers turning up here.'

‘What you haven't explained,' said Snow, ‘is why you chose to break your routine by coming back to the flat.'

‘Wisden,' said Charters, feeling himself to be on firm ground again.

‘Come again?'

Caldicott explained. ‘That argument or difference of opinion I mentioned. About Jock's batting average. We decided to check our facts with Wisden – er, that's Wisden's Cricketers' Almanack – in the Club library.'

‘Only to find that the relevant volume had walked,' said Charters.

‘Whereupon, unexpectedly, you came back here to consult your own reference books,' said Snow.

‘Precisely,' said Caldicott. ‘But too late, unfortunately, to prevent murder being done.'

Charters sighed. ‘A few minutes earlier and we might have been in time. You know, Caldicott, I shall regret ordering that welsh rarebit to the end of my days.'

‘No point in reproaching yourself on that score, old man. After all, if that Wisden hadn't been missing from the Club library we shouldn't have come back here at all.'

Inspector Snow closed his notebook, placed it precisely in the middle of the table and meticulously squared off its edges. ‘Unofficially, now, any theories who might have been responsible?'

The old friends gave the matter their serious consideration. At last Charters said with a sigh, ‘One of the members, I regret to say.'

Caldicott nodded. ‘I certainly wouldn't point the finger at any of the Club servants without evidence.'

‘Oh, no, no, no,' said Charters, adding, for the benefit of Snow who looked puzzled, ‘Foreigners, you see.'

‘Spanish mainly. No motive,' said Caldicott.

‘Quite,' Charters agreed. Then a thought struck him. ‘Although.
Although
– what about that relief steward they bring in on Ladies' Night? He's a Pakistani.'

‘No, I don't think so, old man.'

‘You don't think he's the culprit?'

‘I meant, I don't think he's a Pakistani, actually. Korean, I'd say.'

‘Then he wouldn't be our man. Koreans don't play cricket.'

‘That's what I just said, old man.'

‘No, you said you didn't think he was Pakistani, you didn't say he wasn't the culprit.'

‘It comes to the same thing. Whoever stole that Wisden must be interested in cricket,' said Caldicott, adding patronisingly to the inspector, ‘Not that I'm trying to do your job.'

Snow took a deep breath and may even have counted to ten before saying with heavy irony, ‘Excuse my momentary puzzlement, gentlemen. Wrong sense of priorities, I expect. I was thinking not so much of your missing cricket almanac as about the murder.'

‘Oh, the murder. Of course,' said Charters with diminished interest.

Just then, the police constable on duty outside the flat opened the front door to admit Grimes. For some reason, the porter was a very worried man. He'd almost outstripped his escort in his anxiety to reach the flat and find out what was going on. Sergeant Tipper took him into the bedroom and lifted up the corner of the blanket that covered the dead girl.

‘You're definite this is the lady you admitted to the flat?' Tipper asked.

‘Definite,' said Grimes, sweating.

‘And you're definite about the time?'

‘Three and a half minutes past on,' Grimes said firmly.

‘Yet phone call to the Club came there none. Why?' Caldicott demanded.

‘Could just one of us ask the questions, Mr Caldicott,' said Snow.

Caldicott apologised. ‘Carry on, Sergeant.'

Inspector Snow took over the questioning himself. ‘What time have you got now, Mr Grimes?'

‘I don't carry a watch, sir.'

Observed by Charters and Caldicott, Snow resumed his seat at the occasional table and repeated the performance with notebook and pencil. ‘For the record, it's three­eighteen,' he said, consulting his own watch and making a note. ‘And it's Mr Frederick Grimes, correct? Well, Mr Grimes?'

Grimes licked his lips nervously. ‘You mean, why am I so sure of the time, sir? The lady told me.'

‘You having asked her. Why?'

‘Ah well, you see. I had an appointment at the osteopath's. Only if he doesn't fit me in at half-past one sharp, he can't fit me in at all. So that means leaving ten past one latest.'

‘You see, it's her way of expressing herself I find rather puzzling, Mr Grimes. “Three and a half minutes past one.” Very precise way of putting it. Wouldn't you say?' His own sense of precision bothering him, Inspector Snow readjusted the position of an ashtray on the table and eyed it critically. ‘I mean, if you ask most people the time they tend to give you a round number “Just gone one o'clock.” “Nearly five past.” Do you see what I mean?'

‘Ah, well, I didn't exactly ask her the time, sir.'

‘You just said you did,' Snow pointed out. ‘Try to be a little more careful what you're saying, would you, Mr Grimes? Now I'm sure there's no great mystery to it – just tell me what took place.'

Grimes took a deep breath. ‘I'll tell you just what happened, sir – and I'm sorry for any trouble I've caused, Mr Caldicott. I was due to go out, as I said, at ten minutes past, and my clock downstairs being sometimes that little bit fast it was showing just coming up to ten past as she came through the door. I said, joking like, “You cut it a bit fine there, Miss, you had me worried.” And she looks at her watch and says, “Nonsense. You said before ten past and it's not five past yet. In fact, it's exactly three and a half minutes past one.”'

Caldicott's bewilderment at Grimes' tale turned to amazement. ‘Well, I'm blowed!'

‘Do you mind,' said Snow.

‘Yes, but this is something you ought to know about, Inspector,' Caldicott insisted. ‘Are you saying, Grimes, you let Miss Beevers in by
appointment
?'

The name startled Grimes badly but before he could reply, Snow tapped imperiously with his pen. ‘Mr Caldicott! I'm conducting an inquiry here! Any more of that and I shall ask you to wait in the corridor.'

‘Sorry.'

‘Sorry? Hang it, Caldicott, he can't turn you out of your own flat,' Charters exploded. Then, feeling Snow's eyes on him, he added uncertainly, ‘I'm pretty sure of that.'

‘Can we get on,' said the inspector. ‘
Now
you can answer Mr Caldicott's question, Mr Grimes. Did you let Miss Beevers in by arrangement?'

Thoroughly rattled, Grimes looked to Caldicott for guidance, but no help came from that quarter. ‘Yes, I'm sorry to say I did,' he admitted.

‘She was anxious to get into the flat while Mr Caldicott was safely out of the way?'

‘That's about the size of it,' said Grimes even more reluctantly.

‘I don't believe it. I simply do not believe it,' said Caldicott indignantly. ‘I've known that girl for years, Inspector! She simply wouldn't do such a thing! Now look here, Grimes, I don't know what your game is...' His voice tailed off as he remembered the inspector's warning but it was too late.

Inspector Snow had carefully laid down his pen. He completed the adjustment of some of the items on the table to maintain their symmetry before saying with a sigh, ‘Sergeant Tipper!'

Hands behind their backs and smartly in step, Charters and Caldicott retreated down the corridor, the picture of wounded dignity. The constable on duty outside Caldicott's flat watched them go and smirked to himself.

‘I should complain to the Commissioner, if I were you, Caldicott,' said Charters as they about-turned at the end of the corridor with the formality and precision of Buckingham Palace sentries and began to retrace their steps.

‘Oh, I don't know, Charters. The chap's only doing his job.'

‘And enjoying every minute of it. Jumped up little pipsqueak! You know what's the trouble with that young man, Caldicott? Too hasty promotion – it's gone to his head.'

‘Yes, he
is
rather fresh-faced for an inspector, isn't he? One's always heard one would know one was getting on when the policemen started to look younger, but I never realised it would include senior ranks.'

They continued to pace up and down for a while in silence, mulling over the afternoon's events, then Charters said, ‘Bad business this, old chap.'

‘Very. Such a pretty little thing she'd grown up to be. Thank God we don't have to break the news to poor old Jock Beevers.'

‘That's one mercy of a sort. What's at the bottom of it? Any ideas?'

Caldicott shook his head. ‘I can't begin to make head nor tale of it. Why should Grimes want to make up that cock and bull tale about the poor girl wanting to get into the flat?'

‘Can we be sure it
was
entirely a cock and bull story?' Charters asked, then, ashamed of his suspicions, he hurried on, ‘Yes, of course you're right. She'd never have done such a thing.'

‘Of course she wouldn't! Dammit, Charters, we both
knew
the girl. I've never told you this, old man, but had it not been for the fact that Jock didn't want to cause you offence, I should have been her godfather instead of Ginger Lightfoot.'

‘No, it was the other way round, old man,' said Charters, after the briefest of pauses.

‘What do you mean, old man, it was the other way round?'

‘He didn't want to cause
you
offence, old man, otherwise
I
should have been godfather instead of Ginger Lightfoot.'

‘Balderdash.'

‘I am not in the habit of talking balderdash, Caldicott. I remember it very well – I had a personal note from Jock explaining the position.'

‘So had
I
a personal note explaining the position.'

Growing irritation had driven their steps to a most proficient quick march. Now they came to an abrupt halt and stared at each other, each considering the implications of what the other had said. Charters broke the silence. ‘Caldicott, did it ever occur to you at the time that he could easily have asked us both to be godfathers?'

‘It did cross my mind,' said Caldicott. ‘I took it to be Jock's tactful way of saying he didn't consider you godfather material.'

‘That's what I took him to be saying about you.'

‘I should have made a dashed sight better godfather than Ginger Lightfoot.'

‘So should I.'

‘Do you know what, Charters? He was a bit of an old slyboots on the quiet, our Jock – God rest his soul.' Thoughtfully, Charters and Caldicott resumed their pacing.

Inspector Snow completed his interrogation of Grimes. ‘Nothing else you want to say to me?' he asked, tidily closing his notebook.

‘No, I don't think so.'

‘Don't want to change your story at all – about how you let the girl in by arrangement?'

‘Not at all.'

‘Well, not for the moment, let's put it that way.' Snow poked fastidiously with his pen inside the plastic bag containing the dead girl's belongings until he found what he was looking for.

Charters and Caldicott had tired of walking up and down and were lounging against the corridor walls smoking, like two theatre-goers waiting for the performance to resume. Eager for any distraction, Charters nudged Caldicott as Inspector Snow came out of the flat. They watched, mildly entertained, as he fiddled at the doorlock with his handkerchief.

‘If you'd like to step back in now, gentlemen,' said Snow, catching Caldicott's eye.

‘According to Mr Grimes,' said Snow, nodding towards the shamefaced porter, ‘the lady said she wanted access to your flat to regain possession of some highly personal letters. Any comment you'd care to make on that, Mr Caldicott?'

Caldicott glared at Grimes. ‘Yes, there is, Inspector, but it would scorch the pages of your notebook.'

‘There are no such letters?'

‘Search the flat, Inspector. Go on – you have my permission.'

‘Sergeant Tipper
has
had a good look round, sir. I'm glad to have it confirmed that that was in order.' Ignoring Charters' and Caldicott's indignant glances, he went on, ‘So either Miss Beevers wasn't telling Mr Grimes the truth, or Mr Grimes isn't telling me the truth.'

‘The man's a liar,' said Caldicott. ‘Sorry, Grimes, but there you are.'

‘Yes, I'm inclined to agree with you. Otherwise what was she doing with this?' Snow unfolded the handkerchief he was holding to reveal a key with an identifying tag attached.

‘My spare key!' said Caldicott.

‘It's a puzzle, isn't it, sir? We've a good idea how she came by it – it's like a self-service counter down in that lobby. But why,
having
come by it, does she want to spin Mr Grimes a yarn to let her into the flat? Or so he tells us.'

‘I
did
let her in, sir. I've no
idea
what she was doing with that key and that
is
the truth,' Grimes insisted.

‘Well now, Mr Grimes, I think we'd better sort out what's the truth and what isn't. How do you feel about coming back to the station with me? It's not far.'

The body of the dead girl was carried out of Viceroy Mansions on a blanket-covered stretcher and put into a waiting police van. As the door closed, a young woman in a smart grey suit withdrew from the knot of watching bystanders and hurried to the nearest phone box.

With the flat to themselves again, Charters and Caldicott had rejected as unseemly both the cinema and the Club and were recovering from the distressing events of the afternoon in the traditional way. When the level of liquid in the decanter had dropped considerably, Charters, mellowed, stood up. ‘You still keep a thoroughly decent dry sherry, Caldicott,' he said, retrieving his umbrella and beginning to put on his raincoat. ‘You must invite me to your place more often.'