The Saint Valentine's Day Murders (26 page)

‘I see. I’ll get someone to chase it up for you.’

‘You are very kind, superintendent.’ As Milton left the room, Bill placed his shirt on a hanger and hung it carefully on a hook over the sink.

Milton wondered if he should get a search warrant. No. Better to wait until British Rail confirmed or denied their possession of that damn briefcase. Anyhow, he’d have difficulty in getting a warrant. Unless someone came up with some dirt on Miss Kipling, Bill was in the clear. And on requestioning, she had been adamant about the curtain-drawing episode.

He sat, as he had been sitting for the past hour, staring into space in Bill’s sitting room. When no further conversation seemed possible and Milton had indicated that he and Pike would be staying with him for an indefinite period, Bill had politely asked permission to read his gardening catalogues. He sat under the light of his reading lamp, apparently engrossed. Milton was tempted to ask him searching questions about his relationship with his mother and the pin-up episode, but he thought that for the moment he’d better hold them in reserve. He couldn’t quarrel with Amiss’s thesis that Bill shouldn’t be left to his own devices lest he dispose of something incriminating around the house. But the whole evening was becoming ridiculous. It was already 10:15. He couldn’t stay socializing with Bill all night. Sooner or later he would have to come to a decision. If either Henry or Tiny couldn’t prove an alibi, he’d quit on Bill. If both could, he’d follow through.

Bill’s voice interrupted his unhappy thoughts. ‘Excuse me, gentlemen, but would either of you care for a cup of cocoa? I usually have one at about this time. Or, if you would prefer, I could make you tea or coffee.’

Both Milton and Pike declined. Bill got up and walked towards the door. The telephone rang. ‘You might like to answer it, superintendent. I can’t imagine that anyone would ring for me at this hour.’

It was Pooley again. Milton nodded affirmatively at Bill, who left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. ‘I think I’ve got it, sir. Can’t think why it didn’t occur to me earlier. I’ve been concentrating too much on why Miss Kipling might have lied.’

‘Well, get on with it, for heaven’s sake.’

‘Electrically operated curtains, with a time switch.’

Milton put the phone down and went over to take a look behind the sofa that had its back to the curtains. It took him less than a minute to prove Pooley right.

38

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‘Miss Kipling?’ said Milton after he had talked to Pooley for another couple of minutes and passed on the gist to Pike.

‘I’ll see her now, sir. Then I’ll probably need to try an experiment with the curtain for her benefit.’

‘Carry on. I’ll give Thomas no advance warning.’

Bill came in carrying his cocoa mug just after Pike had left. ‘Was there any news of my briefcase?’

‘Yes. The train has been thoroughly searched and there is no sign of it.’

‘What a pity. I hope the BCC won’t mind giving me another one. Now, superintendent, I don’t want to be inhospitable, but are you likely to be staying much longer? I’m a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, you know. I like my beauty sleep.’

‘I’m sorry to disrupt your evening. We will be off as soon as our business is concluded. There are a couple more things I’d like to ask you, but, if you don’t mind, I’ll wait until my colleague returns. He’s just gone across the street.’

Bill evinced no curiosity, and began to drink his cocoa. When Pike came in, he smiled at him welcomingly. Pike walked over and stood beside him. ‘Would you mind getting up for a moment, sir?’

‘If that is what you want, sergeant.’ It was clear that Bill was happy to humour his visitors.

Pike pulled the sofa a few feet forward, walked behind it, and switched the controls to manual. Standing well away from the window, he pressed the button. The curtains opened smoothly. He pressed the button again to draw them. He repeated the sequence a couple of times, and then, leaving the curtains closed, he pushed the sofa back and said, ‘Perhaps you would care to sit here again now, sir? I’ll be back shortly.’

My God, he’s an inscrutable little sod, thought Milton, vainly looking for any reaction in the face opposite. Bill took another sip from his mug. They waited silently.

Pike returned within five minutes. He smiled broadly at Milton. ‘She assured me that she had seen me doing what I said I intended to do – that is, waving at her before drawing the curtains.’

Milton adopted his most formal tone. ‘Thank you, Pike. That is most helpful. Mr Thomas, do you think you could lend us a torch?’

Bill hesitated.

‘I would hate to have to bother Miss Kipling again. It would really be very convenient if you could find one for us.’

Bill got up without a word, left and returned with a torch which he handed over.

‘Thank you,’ said Milton, passing it to Pike. ‘Now, if you’ll just bear with us for another couple of minutes, Mr Thomas. My colleague would like to have another look at your lovely garden.’

Bill looked as if he were about to speak. Then he shrugged and sat down again. His nerve is good, thought Milton apprehensively. They sat together and waited.

When Pike returned he carried a clock radio in his arms. He shook his head at Bill. ‘Really, Mr Thomas. I’m surprised at you leaving this out in the garden at night. Even if you did have it covered against the rain, I’m sure it can’t be good for it.’

It was 11:30 and the tension was getting to Amiss and Pooley. The former was lying well back in Milton’s chair, with his feet on the desk. His habit of changing his position every two minutes was taxing his companion’s nerves. Pooley himself was pacing up and down, as he had been for the previous twenty minutes. That was beginning to make Amiss want to scream.

When the telephone rang, Pooley’s ‘Yes’ was almost a squeak.

‘It’s Sammy. He’s admitted it.’

Pooley turned round to Amiss and held out his hand. As Amiss shook it he felt the tears well up – some tears for Rachel, but most for Charlie. Pooley waved him to the extension on Pike’s desk.

‘I know the super would want me to congratulate you both.’

‘Thanks, Sammy. But please get on with it.’

Pike ran quickly over the explosion of the alibi. ‘And then we were able to wreck his weekend alibis as well. Just like you’d said, he’d got his radio in the garden, timed to go off at ten in the morning. As long as he was back early on Sunday the lady next door would swear he’d never been away.’

‘Did he admit it at once?’ asked Pooley.

‘Not him. That’s not his style. It was only when the super told him we’d track down all missing passengers and then look into the passport question that he saw he was done for. He was booked on a flight to Hamburg, on a false passport in the name of Jones.’

‘Why did he do it?’ broke in Amiss.

‘Well, he’s still telling the super about it all in the kitchen. He says it was out of the kindness of his heart. Claims that he knew from the office how unhappy all these blokes’ marriages were and he wanted them to be free like him. And then, when he met the wives he thought they seemed so discontented that they’d be better off out of it anyway. He said it was really mercy killing. He got the strychnine in Hamburg a few months ago.’

‘Good God,’ said Pooley. ‘He must be mad.’

‘Of course he’s mad. You’d almost be sorry for him. He seemed bewildered that the super didn’t think his motive a good one.’

Amiss spoke through clenched teech. ‘I don’t quite see that trying to kill Rachel was a form of euthanasia.’

‘He does say he’s ashamed of that. He just panicked when he saw her looking at him.’

‘Has he produced the briefcase?’

‘No. He says it’s in a left-luggage locker at Victoria. The weapon’s in there all right. He was afraid that the police might get to him before he had time to dispose of that and the passport.’

‘Is that it, then?’

‘Except that he says it’s all his mother’s fault. Says she led his dad a dog’s life and nagged him rotten. Admits that probably turned him funny.’

Amiss had been gnawing at a fingernail as an aid to concentration. ‘Sammy. There are two things all this doesn’t explain. Tearing up the nudie pictures and visiting Hamburg again.’

‘He says he tore up the pictures because he didn’t approve of pornography. He didn’t explain very well why he should be going to Hamburg again. Said he just wanted to get away for a night or two, and that was a place he knew his way round.’

‘Since National Service days?’ asked Pooley. He was feeling rather smug.

‘That’s right.’

‘I’m not entirely convinced that it all hangs together,’ said Amiss. ‘But he’s presumably going to spill it at greater length in the future. What happens now?’

‘I’ve just rung for a squad car. We’ll be taking him down to the local station to charge him. I’d better be off. I’ll go and pack some essentials for him. Goodbye.’

The three receivers went down virtually simultaneously.

‘Ellis. What do you think?’

‘I don’t want to think any more. We’ve got him. We can think again tomorrow.’

‘What you need – and indeed what I need – is to drink up the contents of the bottle I’ve got at home. I’ll just ring the hospital again and make sure Rachel’s still sleeping peacefully. Then we’ll go out and find a taxi.’

Pooley had a brief moment of hesitation as he thought about the squash game he had booked for 9:00 the following morning. ‘Sod it,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You’re on.’

39

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Pike found a small suitcase in the spare bedroom and carried it through to Bill’s. In a practised way he searched for pyjamas, socks, a shirt, a razor and assorted toiletries. He wondered why he was feeling little other than compassion for the murderer of four people and the attacker of a girl he liked. He couldn’t help it, he said to himself. He’s mad. He’s not bad. What an awful life he had. Tyrannized by that mother and never allowed any social life. It was horrible that stuff he’d come out with about how he’d always wanted a wife and children but his mother wouldn’t let him go out with anyone. She was the one who ought to be in court. Poor old Bill was just weak by nature and frustration had driven him insane. Pike hoped he’d be sent to a psychiatric hospital. It would be wicked to send him to prison. The inmates would make his life hell and he wasn’t strong enough for that.

‘I was dreadfully sorry about Tommy Farson.’ Bill stirred his second mug of cocoa and shook his head regretfully at the workings of fate. ‘You see, I’d thought it all out. I knew he and his sister would be at the circus. It wasn’t fair that it was cancelled.’

‘What about Gail Illingworth?’

‘Oh, I knew she’d be safe. I heard her mother say at the dinner-dance that she never ate chocolates.’

Milton ran a hand through his hair. He was finding this very difficult. Bill sounded so sane as he explained the crazy logic behind his actions. ‘You knew a lot about your colleagues and their families?’

‘Oh, yes. I knew a lot. I listened, you see. I think they usen’t to listen to each other much. Everyone tried to get in with his own troubles. You know how it is.’

Milton knew all too well.

‘But I used to listen all the time. They’d ring home quite often, and they were always sounding cross. You had to be sorry for them.’

‘But what made you decide to act as a sort of god?’

‘They were my friends, you see. I didn’t have any others. I only wanted to do them a good turn.’

‘But you weren’t doing them a good turn by exposing them all to suspicion, were you?’

‘I thought it would all blow over. That you’d have so many people to suspect, you’d just have to give up. I mean, it
was
a bit of bad luck that PD1 had that meeting early on Friday morning and were all ruled out, wasn’t it?’ Bill spoke in a voice of sweet reason.

Milton hoped the squad car would be along very soon. He didn’t think he could stand much more of this. He had just found himself on the verge of sympathizing with Bill about the unfairness of it all. ‘Tell me, Mr Thomas, why did you…?’ He stopped as Pike came through the kitchen door. ‘I want to show you something, sir. Something in Mr Thomas’s bedroom. Perhaps he will come up with us.’ Milton shot a puzzled look at him and then at Bill. He saw that Bill had gone white. Then with an obvious effort Bill said,

‘Of course, sergeant. Anything you like.’

The three of them gathered in the bedroom. ‘I think you’d better sit down here, both of you. You’ll be able to see the television set best from this position.’

Milton speculated on whether the events of the evening had made Pike lose his marbles. But he sat down obediently and awaited an explanation.

‘When I saw this television, I thought nothing of it. Then I remembered something from one of Robert’s letters. He said specifically that Mr Thomas didn’t like television and wouldn’t have one. Said it kept him out of office conversations.’

Bill was sitting rigidly on the end of the bed. Milton looked helplessly at Pike. ‘And?’

‘And I began to wonder why he should have a television if he didn’t watch the programmes. Then I saw he had a video machine in this cupboard underneath.’

Pike opened it with a flourish. There was a shelf under the video on which about half a dozen tapes were stacked. He took out a couple. ‘As you can see, sir, they are apparently blank.’

‘What’s on them?’

‘I think you’d better look at a sample. I’ve got one set up.’

I suppose they must be pornographic, thought Milton. He wasn’t particularly surprised. It probably fitted in with Bill’s frustrations.

Pike pressed a button and a film came up on the screen. A small brunette who bore a passing resemblance to Ann was chained tightly to a long bench. She was being whipped brutally by a hooded man.

Milton winced and averted his eyes. ‘All right, Sammy. It’s revolting. But we’re more concerned with murder than with Mr Thomas’s unpleasant taste in video nasties.’