Mystery of Holly Lane (13 page)

“Who have we got left on the list of Suspects now?” asked Daisy, craning over Fatty’s arm to see. “Oh, man in car, with bag — ERT 100. Fatty, I looked all over the place but I couldn’t see any ERTs and I didn’t see 100 either. Shall we stroll round again and look? I feel it must be a local person.”

“Right. And then I think I’ll go and interview the smartly dressed great-nephew, and find out what he wanted Great-Uncle for that morning,” said Fatty. “He apparently went in for a very short while, and then came out, and, if you remember, he turned up again when we were there listening to Grandpa’s laments about his money having been stolen.”

“Yes. The granddaughter had left by that time,” said Pip. “Where does this fellow live?”

“Mr. Henri told me,” said Fatty, turning over the pages of his notebook. “Here we are — the old man told him the address, because Mr. Henri wanted to get in touch with his relatives — No. 82, Spike Street, Marlow. Apparently both he and the granddaughter live at Marlow — though at different addresses.”

“When will you go and see them? Today?” asked Daisy. “Shall we come too?”

Fatty considered this. “Yes. On the whole I think it would be a good idea,” he said. “Goon has probably interviewed them both by this time, and if they see me coming along full of questions, too, they may resent it. But if we all blow along, full of innocent curiosity, so to speak, we might do better.”

“I can’t go before lunch,” said Daisy. “Nor can Larry. We’ve got an aunt coming. We could meet you about three though, outside your house, on bicycles. We’ll have tea at that nice little cafe in Marlow High Street”

“Yes. That’s settled then,” said Fatty, putting his notebook away. “Come on out, and we’ll look for ERT 100.”

They paid the bill and went out, Buster still with his tiny bit of leather. He growled at every dog he met

“Don’t be an idiot, Buster,” said Fatty. “You don’t really suppose any other dog wants your smelly bit of leather, do you?”

They looked at every single car they met or that passed them. Not an ERT anywhere! They went to the car-park and examined every car there, which made the attendant extremely suspicious of them.

“What are you looking for?” he called.

“An ERT,” said Fatty.

“What’s that?” asked the attendant “Never heard of it. There aren’t no erts here, so you can go away.”

“You’re right,” said Fatty, sadly. “There isn’t a single ERT to be seen.”

“There’s Mr. Goon,” said Bets, suddenly, as they walked out of the car-park. “Perhaps he’s looking for ERTs too.”

“No. He has other ways of finding out who owns any car,” said Fatty. “The police can always trace any car by its number — and Mr. Henri is sure to have given Goon the number. Old Goon will be one up on us over the man with the bag and car ERT 100.”

Buster ran out into the road, barking, when he saw Mr. Goon riding by. Goon kicked out at him, and nearly fell off. “That pesky dog!” he shouted, and rode on at full speed.

“Buster! You’ve dropped your bit of incriminating evidence,” said Fatty, disapprovingly, pointing to the rag of leather that had fallen from Buster’s mouth when he barked at Goon. Buster picked it up meekly.

They all went to Larry’s house first. In the drive stood a car. “Hallo! — who’s this?” said Larry. “Not our Aunt Elsie already, surely? No, it isn’t her car.”

A man came down the front steps of the house carrying a neat brown case. “It’s the doctor!” said Daisy. “Hallo, Doctor Holroyd! How’s Cook?”

“Much better,” said the doctor, smiling round at the five children. “Well, there doesn’t look to be anything wrong with you!” He got into his car, started the engine, and put in the gear-lever. He went off down the drive.

Bets gave a loud yen, and pointed. “ERT! ERT 100! Look, do look! ERT 100!”

So it was. “Gosh, to think we all stood here with it staring us in the face,” said Fatty, “after hunting for it all the morning! Man with a bag too — why EVER didn’t any of us think of a doctor?”

“We’re not nearly as bright as we imagine,” said Daisy. “Good old Bets! She spotted it.”

“Shall you go and interview him?” asked Pip.

“No. I’m sure he couldn’t help us at all,” said Fatty, “He couldn’t possibly have stolen the money — every one knows Doctor Holroyd! I expect he just went to have a look at the old man, and then shot away again in his car. All the same, we ought to feel jolly ashamed of ourselves not to have spotted the number, when it was right in front of our noses!”

“There’s Aunt Elsie! Quick, Larry, come and wash!” said Daisy, suddenly, as a small car crept in at one of the gates. “Good-bye, you others!”

They fled, and the other four walked sedately down the drive. “See you at three outside your house!” called Bets. “Good-bye, Fatty. Good-bye, Buster! Hang on to your bit of — of — incriminating evidence!”

A Chat with Wilfrid — and a Surprise.

Every one was outside Fatty’s gate at three o’clock, Buster included. “I’ll have to put him into my bicycle basket,” said Fatty. “Marlow’s too far for him to go on his four short legs. Up with you, Buster!”

Buster liked the bicycle basket He sat there happily, bumping up and down when Fatty went over ruts. He looked down on other dogs with scorn as he passed them.

It was about three miles to Marlow, and a very pleasant ride on that fine April day. They asked for Spike Street when they got there. It was a pretty street leading down to the river. No. 82 was the last house, and its lawn sloped down to the water.

The five got off their bicycles. “Put them by this wall,” said Fatty. “Then we’ll snoop round a bit to see if we can find the great-nephew — Wilfrid King is his name. We’ve all seen him, so we know what he is like.”

They sauntered alongside the wall that ran round the little front garden of No. 82. They came to a path that led to the river. They went down it, looking across to the lawn that led down to the water.

They could see no one. They came to the water’s edge and stood there. Then Fatty gave Daisy a nudge. A boat lay bobbing not far off, and in it a young man lay reading, a rather surly-looking fellow, in smartly creased grey-flannel trousers and a yellow jersey.

“There’s Wilfrid,” said Fatty, in a low voice. “Let’s call out to him and pretend to be very surprised to see him. Then we’ll fall into conversation. Remember we’ve just ridden over here to see the river — it’s such a lovely day!”

Wilfrid, however, saw them before they could hail him. He sat up and stared. “Aren’t you the kids who heard my great-uncle shouting for help the other morning?” he said.

“Oh, yes! Why, you’re Wilfrid, aren’t you?” shouted back Fatty, appearing to be most surprised. “Fancy seeing you here! We’ve just ridden over, it’s such a heavenly day.”

“Did you meet that fat-headed policeman?” asked Wilfrid. “He’s been over here today asking umpteen questions. Any one would think I’d robbed the poor old fellow myself!”

“Oh, has Mr. Goon been over?” said Fatty. “Do come and tell us. We think he’s a bit of a fat-head too. But, really, fancy thinking you would rob your great-uncle. Poor old man! — I wonder who did.”

“Ah!” said Wilfrid, and looked knowing.

“What do you mean — AH!” said Larry.

“Oh, nothing. That policeman wouldn’t see a thing even if it was right under his nose,” said Wilfrid. “I told him that it was I who kept on and on at my uncle, begging him to put the money into a bank. It’s most dangerous to keep it in the house. Anyway, it appears that a lot of people visited Hollies that morning — there are quite a few persons who might have stolen the money!”

“Yes, that’s true,” said Fatty. “It’s funny how many people went in and out all the time. Still, the old man’s granddaughter was there most of the time, cleaning or something. She can probably clear most of the ones who came.”

“Yes. She can clear me, for instance,” said Wilfrid. “She was there when I went in. Marian’s my cousin, and she and I don’t get on, so I didn’t stay long. She actually wanted me to help her with the work! Me! She said if I was going to stay long, I could jolly well put up the curtains for her, so I just walked out.”

“Well, anyway, she can clear you, as you say,” said Fatty. “It’s a funny thing — she can clear most of the people who went in and out, except perhaps the doctor and he doesn’t really need to be cleared.”

“Oh, is that so?” said Wilfrid. “Have you got a list of the suspected persons? I’m there, too, I suppose.”

“You can be crossed off if Marian, the granddaughter, can clear you,” said Fatty, handing him the list.

“My word!” said Wilfrid, looking at it. “Six of us, and all crossed off except for Marian and myself.”

“Yes. And you say that Marian can clear you, so you’ll be crossed off too, soon,” said Fatty. “Perhaps Marian has already seen Mr. Goon, and he’s crossed you off.”

“She’s out for the day,” said Wilfrid. “I told him that, so I don’t expect he’s seen her yet. I say, all of us will be crossed off — except one.”

“Except one,” said Fatty, watching Wilfrid as he bent his head thoughtfully over the list “Did you know where the old man hid his money, by any chance?”

An angry look came over Wilfrid’s face. “No, I didn’t. He would never tell me. I thought that if only he would, I would take it and put it into the bank, but now it’s too late. Somebody else has got it.”

“And you think you know who?” said Fatty quietly.

Wilfrid hesitated. “Not for certain. I’d better not say any more. You’re only kids, but you might go and say something silly.”

“Yes. We might,” said Pip, who had begun to dislike Wilfrid. It was quite apparent to them all that Wilfrid thought his cousin Marian had taken the money — but they couldn’t help thinking that he would have had it, too, if he could!

“We must go,” said Fatty, looking at his watch. “Well, I hope that Marian clears you, Wilfrid — it’s rather important that she should!”

They went back to their bicycles and rode off to the little cafe they liked. Not a word was said till they got there.

They were early, so there was no one else in the room. They began to talk in low voices.

“It can’t have been Wilfrid who took the money. If he and his cousin dislike each other, she certainly wouldn’t have sheltered him if he had taken the money right in front of her eyes.”

“So he can’t be the thief,” said Pip. “Well, then, who is?”

“It looks like Marian,” said Fatty. “We’ll go and see her after tea. What beats me is why somebody took all that furniture away the next night. I keep going round and round that, but I just can’t see where that bit of the jigsaw fits into the picture.”

“I can’t either,” said Daisy. “The furniture was cheap stuff — worth very little. Could the thief have imagined that the money was still there? No, I give up. It’s a puzzle!”

They had a good tea and then went to call at Marian’s house, hoping that she would be in.

“Here we are,” said Fatty. “No. 5, Merlins Street. Why, it’s a little hotel!”

So it was — a small boarding-house, beautifully kept. The children rang the bell, and a neat, middle-aged woman came to the door.

“Is Miss Marian King in?” asked Fatty. “If so, may we see her?’

“I don’t think she’s in yet,” said the woman. “I’ll go and find out. Come into the drawing-room, will you?”

They all trooped in. An old lady was there, reading. She smiled at the children and nodded.

“Do you want to see some one?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Fatty. “We’d like to see Marian King, if she’s in.”

“Ah, Marian!” said the old lady. “She’s a sweet girl! Good to her mother, good to her old grandad — and good to tiresome old ladies like me. She’s a dear.”

“We know she used to go and do all kinds of things for her grandfather,” said Fatty, glad to have some information about Marian.

“Oh, yes! That girl was always thinking of him!” said the old lady. “Taking him up titbits she had cooked. Doing his washing and ironing. As particular as could be, she was. She told me she was going to take down, wash and iron his curtains last time she went — quite a job — and kind of her too, because the old man wouldn’t be able to see them!”

“Yes, she did do the curtains,” said Daisy, remembering what had been seen by the grocer’s boy. “She must have been very fond of her grandfather.”

“Oh, she was!” said the old lady. “She thought the world of him and couldn’t bear him to live alone. And now I hear that the poor old man has been robbed of his money — dear, dear, Marian will be so upset!”

Fatty wondered why the woman who had opened the door had not come back. Had she forgotten they were waiting? He decided to go and find out. He slipped out of the room and into the passage. He heard voices at the end and walked down the carpeted hall-way.

Some one was crying. “I don’t know what to say about Marian. First, that policeman comes to see her and I say she’s out — now these children. Where is she? She’s been gone for two days now! People will say she took the money! It isn’t like Marian to do this. Oh, dear, oh, dear, I do so hope she’s not come to any harm!”

Another voice comforted her. “Well, you do as you think best. Marian’s a good girl, that I will say, and as for stealing money from her old Grandad — and she’s so fond of him, too — why, that’s nonsense. I do think you should let the police know tomorrow that she’s missing. I do indeed.”

“But they’ll think she’s run off with the money; it’ll be in all the papers,” said the first voice, sobbing. “My girl Marian, my only daughter, as good as gold!”

Fatty went back quietly to the drawing-room. He was worried — and very puzzled. This was something he hadn’t expected. Where had Marian gone? Could she have taken the money? Every one seemed to speak well of her — and yet — and yet — why had she gone away?

Fatty entered the drawing-room and spoke quietly to the others. “I don’t think we’ll wait” He turned to the old lady and spoke politely.

“If the maid comes back, will you please say we’re sorry we couldn’t wait? Thank you!”

The old lady nodded, thinking what well-behaved children these were. The five went out, and collected Buster from the post to which he had been tied. He was delighted to see them.

“Don’t say anything now,” said Fatty, in a low voice. “I’ve got some news.”