Swing, Swing Together (15 page)

Read Swing, Swing Together Online

Authors: Peter Lovesey

Tags: #ebook, #Mystery

BOOK: Swing, Swing Together
4.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Insults could not touch Edward Thackeray. He was enjoying one of the grander moments of his police career. Almost single-handed, he had caught the three most wanted men in Oxfordshire.

He did not have long to savour it. Without a word, Humberstone, the biggest of the three, arrived beneath the hatch, reached up, caught Thackeray by the collar and jerked him headfirst into the cabin.

His shoulder hit the carpet and saved him from concussion, but his body crashed painfully through a small table. He lay among the splintered wood in an enclosure of legs without a skirt or trouser among them. Somewhere nearby a dog was barking.

He propped himself up on an elbow. Nothing was going to deflect him from his proper duty. “Gentlemen, I am a police officer. A warrant has been issued for your arrest and I am here to take you into custody.” He fainted.

CHAPTER

23

Humberstone at bay—Pinning it on Towser—Cribb learns about insurance

“W
HAT
ARE
THEY
GOING
to say about this at the Providential?” Cribb asked.

“About what in particular?” Humberstone replied, managing to preserve his loftiness of manner while wearing a silk kimono. He was sitting handcuffed in the charge room at Oxford Police Station facing Cribb across a table. A uniformed constable sat nearby, notebook in hand.

“Why, about three respectable members of its Claims Department visiting a houseboat named, I understand, the
Xanadu,
and being found there in the company of three ladies of very uncertain reputation.”

“I can think of no reason why the Providential should hear about it. Is this a threat of some kind? I don't care for your tone, Sergeant. You may not approve of the ladies on the
Xanadu,
but there is nothing unlawful in what we were doing.”

“I grant you that,” said Cribb, “but assaulting a police officer isn't lawful. We regard that very seriously in the Force. Constable Thackeray is going to get an uncommon nasty bruise on his shoulder as the result of your attentions.”

“I merely pulled the man down through the hatch. How could I have known he was a policeman? It's a sorry state of affairs if a gentleman can't challenge a fellow who intrudes upon his privacy. If your constable wanted to be treated in a civil fashion, he should have knocked at the door and introduced himself, instead of peering through the skylight.”

“Are you suggesting Thackeray didn't tell you he was a police officer?”

“Not until I had him on the floor. He was too busy goggling at the girls, old boy. It's lucky for him I had the dog locked in the galley, or he might have had some more injuries to complain of. Policeman! If he told you he announced himself before I had him helpless on the floor, the bounder's lying.”

Cribb sniffed. “And I suppose the two officers who attempted to apprehend you as you bolted through the door are just imagining they were hurled into the river—or perhaps you didn't notice they were wearing uniforms?”

“There's no need to be sarcastic with me, Sergeant. The events aboard that houseboat were very confused, believe me. Between the dog barking and the women screaming and your policeman jabbering something about a warrant, it's not surprising that we made for the door. And with Gold and Lucifer pushing at my back, I may have met your officers with something of an impact. I'm sixteen stone in weight and once I'm moving it isn't easy to stop. I'm sorry about the wet uniforms and the man with the broken nose. I'm sorry about Constable Thackeray's shoulder. But if you burst in upon people as he did, unexpected things are liable to happen. Now perhaps you'll tell me what it was all about.”

For a man in Humberstone's situation, it was a polished performance, Cribb had to concede. Anyone who could fell three policemen trying to arrest him and put it down to circumstances beyond his control was a cool customer. It was already past midnight. Here he was, figuratively squaring up like a prize fighter, ready to trade punches by the hour. It would be unwise to mix it with him when there were two others to come. Best take him quickly through the evidence and then try conclusions with Gold and Lucifer.

“When I saw you last, Mr. Humberstone—it was in the Barley Mow, if you remember—there was talk of a dead man, a tramp, down the river a bit, at Hurley.”

“You mentioned it,” said Humberstone with caution. “I didn't attach much importance to it. You didn't tell us you were a detective, or I might have taken more interest. It's a queer thing when you think about it that a member of the public can be locked away for impersonating a policeman, when there's policemen all over England masquerading as members of the public.”

“The tramp was murdered,” Cribb went on, refusing to be drawn. “Someone took him on a boat and very likely got him drunk. They pushed him over the side and held him down until his lungs filled with water. We found the marks of someone's hands on his neck and shoulders. There were other marks, Mr. Humberstone. There must have been a struggle aboard the boat before they got him into the water. We found a dog bite on his leg.”

“My word!” said Humberstone in an exaggerated squeak. “I begin to understand how Scotland Yard works. You suspect Towser. I hope you will allow him to get in touch with his solicitor.”

“Today a second body was found, here in Oxford. The victim was a don from Merton College, Mr. Bonner-Hill. The state of his body indicates that he was murdered in the same manner as the tramp.”

“Don't say it, Sergeant! You found Towser's teethmarks again. A tramp and a don! That animal makes no distinctions at all. He'll bite anyone who comes his way.”

Cribb was disinclined to smile. “No, Mr. Humberstone. This time there were no teethmarks. I happen to know that you and your friends were on the river at about the time the murder was committed—that's the connection.”

Humberstone sat back in his chair and rested the handcuffs on the table's edge. “At this point, you would like me to deny emphatically that we were anywhere near the scene of the murder at the time it happened. You then ask me how I can possibly know when and where the crime took place when you haven't told me. Checkmate.”

“This ain't a game, sir. But since we're talking about the when and the where of it, where were you when the first murder was committed at Hurley?”

“If you want an answer to that, you had better remind me when it happened,” said Humberstone, cocking his head provokingly.

“On Tuesday night.”

“An age ago.”

“In the Barley Mow you said you put up at the Crown in Marlow, just as the characters in the book did. No, I'm doing you an injustice. Mr. Gold said that. You were silent on the matter.”

Humberstone nodded. For the first time in the interview, a look of caution flickered across his face. “Gold is usually very authoritative on matters of detail.”

“He wasn't too convincing on the location of the Crown,” said Cribb. “Didn't seem to know whether it was beside the river or at the top of the High Street. Are you sure you stayed there, sir?”

“That's a question you should address to Sammy Gold, not me.”

“It doesn't matter, sir. I've got a man checking the register of guests.”

“Then you'll get your answer.”

Cribb changed tack. “Did you know Mr. Bonner-Hill, by any chance?”

“What makes you think that I should?” said Humberstone, smiling again.

“Be so good as to answer my question,” said Cribb more firmly.

“No, I did not know Bonner-Hill. When you mentioned the name just now, it was the first time I had ever heard of it.”

“You're sure of that, Mr. Humberstone?”

“Do you doubt me, Sergeant?”

“I'm a little puzzled, sir. I thought you might have come across the name. It's not a very common one. I met his widow this afternoon. She told me his life was insured with the Providential.”

“Ah.” Humberstone leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands. “You supposed that the name ought to be on the tip of my tongue, together with the million and a half others who insure with the Providential. If you suppose we spend our time reciting the names of our policy holders, you have a very mistaken impression of what goes on in a city insurance office, Sergeant. For one thing, policyholders' names are kept confidential and for another, my companions and I are employed in the Claims Department. Bonner-Hill's name would not be drawn to our attention until a claim is lodged. From what you tell me, we can expect to deal with it when we return to the office a week on Monday.”

“Possibly,” said Cribb. “For the present, you're returning to the cells.”

CHAPTER

24

Mr. Lucifer's cautionary tale—The perils of poker—The demon and the dance

L
UCIFER
,
WHEN
HE
APPEARED
in a dressing gown before Cribb, was in no mood for verbal sparring. A muscle at the side of his mouth was in spasm, providing fulsome views of his teeth, and his eyebrows were rearing up like dogs on chains.

“No, I shall not sit down. I have not been so humiliated in all my life. A cell for common criminals! You shall hear more of this, my man. I propose to use every process of the law that is open to me to see that innocent members of the public are protected from such vile experiences as this.” He stepped towards the desk and glared at his inquisitor. “I remember you, by thunder! You're the person who was sitting in the Barley Mow the other evening. You didn't tell us you were a policeman then.”

“No,” said Cribb. “I didn't mention it. I suppose I could have put on my helmet and whistled
If you want to know the time, ask a p'liceman,
but it's not encouraged when you're on plain clothes duty. Shall we begin, sir? It's getting late and I hope to get some sleep tonight. I've been talking to Mr. Humberstone. He told me a little about the way things work in your insurance office. Have you always worked with the Providential, sir?”

“Am I obliged to answer these questions?”

“Not at all, sir. If you're innocent, it might help to convince me of the fact, but if you're guilty, you can only make things worse for yourself by speaking up. I should definitely not say a word if you have anything to hide.”

The look Lucifer returned showed no gratitude for this advice, but he was unable to ignore its implications. He said, “I joined the Providential after I left school in eighteen seventy.”

“And when did you join the Claims Department?”

“That was six years ago. Humberstone and I were transferred together from Fire and Accident. Gold was already working there.”

“And you soon became friends?”

“We shared the same office,” said Lucifer, not only answering the questions, but beginning to be expansive. “One learns in the first place to tolerate people. Later, a kind of understanding develops. Only in the last six months has it grown into anything resembling a friendship.”

“This trip on the river, sir. Who suggested it?”

“I am not at all certain. The notion arose from our interest in
Three Men in a Boat,
as I believe we mentioned at Clifton Hampden. I recollect that we were saying that not one of us had got out of London all the summer and perhaps we had become a trifle jaded. We were staring at each other across our desks, each of us, I suppose, hoping he did not look so jaded as the others, when someone—it was Gold, now I call it to mind—said, ‘Let's go up the river.' To tell the truth, I don't believe he meant it. He was quoting the words of George in Chapter One. It was intended as a droll remark, nothing more. Humberstone took it literally, said, ‘Yes, by Jove, let's do the trip they did in the book!'—and we all agreed it was a first-class suggestion.”

“It was Gold who sowed the seed, then,” said Cribb.

Lucifer's mouth twitched again. “I'm not sure what you are implying.”

“No matter, sir. The three of you embarked on the trip on Monday. I presume you set out from Kingston.”

“That is so. We followed the itinerary in the book. We camped at Picnic Point that night and rowed up to Marlow on Tuesday.”

“And put up at the Crown?” Cribb mildly suggested.

Lucifer hesitated.

“That was what Mr. Gold said in the Barley Mow,” pressed Cribb.

“He must have been mistaken,” said Lucifer. “It is a pardonable error. We certainly
proposed
spending the night at the Crown. We had it firmly fixed in our minds that the characters in the book stayed there, so it is not surprising that Gold should have committed a slip of the tongue. When Marlow is mentioned, any person familiar with the book thinks of the Crown. It is as simple as that.”

“Was it full when you got there?”

“We did not actually get to the Crown. It was late when we reached Marlow, and we were tired. It's a pull of nearly twenty miles from Runnymede to Marlow. We took rooms at a private lodging house, the first we could find.”

“Would you remember the address, sir?”

“I'm quite certain I wouldn't,” answered Lucifer. “I might be able to find the place again if I was in Marlow, but I'm not even confident of that. It was dusk, you see. Is this salient to your inquiry?”

Cribb ignored the question. “These, er, ladies you were visiting on the houseboat today. Had you made their acquaintance before this evening?”

Lucifer coughed behind his handcuffs. “This afternoon, to be precise. We were taking a constitutional through Christ Church Meadow. They were having a picnic on the grass. We raised our hats and smiled, and they invited us to join them. It seemed a jolly thing to do in the sunshine of a September afternoon. The thought crossed my mind that they might be some of the blue-stockinged invaders of the University one hears so much about these days. I believe there are quaint little villas here and there in Oxford with exalted names like Lady Margaret Hall purporting to provide young ladies with a university education, so it was not impossible that these three picnickers had anticipated the beginning of term by a few days. When the conversation started, I modified my theory somewhat. Don't misunderstand me—there was nothing indelicate in what they said. The accents, you know—definitely not University. Yet they were very agreeable company. After the picnic we promenaded along the footpath with them, looking at the barges. Presently one of the young ladies, the one called Moll, pointed out their houseboat and suggested we might like to go aboard. We had really proposed spending the afternoon touring the colleges, but Humberstone and Gold agreed with me that it would be discourteous to refuse the invitation, and anyway one college was very like another and we could safely leave out one or two from our itinerary in the interests of discovering what it was like aboard a houseboat. They took us to a small rowing boat nearby, and we went out in two parties.”

Other books

Wrath and Bones by A.J. Aalto
The Runaway Wife by Elizabeth Birkelund
Scaramouche by Rafael Sabatini
City of Pearl by Karen Traviss
The Mandarin Club by Gerald Felix Warburg
Mixed Messages by Tina Wells
Wishmakers by Dorothy Garlock
A Little Harmless Submission 6 by Melissa Schroeder
La ola by Morton Rhue