The Mad Hatter Mystery dgf-2 Page 7

Sir William rubbed his forehead. `I don't know. I didn't see him, but then I was occupied.'

  Sheila told us about this new newspaper line of his chasing hats.' For the first time Laura Bitton shuddered. `And I told him what Sheila told me, about Will's hat being stolen the night before.'

  `What did he say?'

  `Well, he asked a lot of questions, about where it had been stolen, and when, and all about it; and then I remember he started to pace up and down the drawing-room, and he said he'd got a "lead", and went hurrying away before we could ask what he meant'

  A knock at the door preceded the appearance of an oldish tired man carrying a bundle made out of a handkerchief. He saluted. I

  'Sergeant Hamper, sir. I have the dead man's belongings here. And the police surgeon would like to speak to you.'

  A mild-mannered, peering little man with a goatee doddered in at the door.

  `Howdy!' he said, pushing his derby hat slightly back on his head with the hand containing his black satchel. In the other he held a straight length of steel. `Here's your weapon, Hadley. Hur-umph… No, no fingerprints. I washed it'

  He doddered over to the table, examined it as though he were looking for a suitable place, and put down the crossbow bolt. It was rounded, thin, and about eighteen inches long, with a barbed steel head.

  `Funny-lookin' things they're usin' nowadays,' commented the doctor, rubbing his nose.

  `It's a crossbow bolt from the late fourteenth century!

  'My eye,' said the doctor, 'and Betty Martin. Look what's engraved down it. "Souvenir de Carcassonne, 1932." The pirate French sell 'em at little souvenir booths'

  `But, Doctor said Sir. William.

  The other blinked at him. `My, name,' he observed, with a sudden querulous suspicion — 'my name, sir, is Watson. Doctor Watson. And if any alleged humorist… squeaked the doctor, flourishing his satchel — `if any alleged humorist makes the obvious remark, I'll brain him. For thirty years on this force I've been hearin' nothing else. And I'm tired of it. People hiss at me round corners. They ask me for needles and four-wheelers and Shag tobacco, and have I my revolver handy?'

  Laura Bitton had paid no attention to this tirade. She had grown a trifle pale, and she was standing motionless, staring down at the crossbow bolt.

  She said, in a voice she tried to keep matter-of-fact:

  `I know where this belongs, Mr Hadley.!

  'You've seen it before?'

  'It comes,' said Mrs Bitton, in a careful voice, `from our house. Lester and I bought it when we were on a walking trip in southern France.'

  7. Mrs Larkin's Cuff

  `Sit down, everybody!' Hadley said, sharply. `This place is turning into a madhouse. You're certain of that, Mrs Bitton?'

  She seemed to recover herself from an almost hypnotized stare at the bright steel

  ‘I., I mean… of course I can't; say. Things like that are on sale at Carcassonne, and hundreds of people must buy them.'

  `Quite,' Hadley agreed, dryly. `However, you bought one just like it. Where did you keep it?'

  `I honestly don't know. I haven't seen it for months. I remember when we returned from the trip I ran across it in the baggage and thought, "Now, why on earth did I buy that stupid thing?" My impression is that I chucked it away somewhere.'

  Hadley turned the bolt over in his hand, weighing it. Then he felt the point and sides of the head,

  `Mrs Bitton, the point, and barb are as sharp as a knife. Was it like that when you bought it?'

  `Good Lord, no! It was very blunt. You couldn't possibly have cut yourself with it.'

  `As a matter of fact,' said the chief inspector, holding the head close, 'I think it's been filed and whetted. And there's something else. Has anybody got a lens?… Ah, thanks; Hamper.' He took the small magnifying glass which the sergeant passed over, and tilted up the bolt to scrutinize the engraving along the side. `Somebody has been trying to efface this Souvenir de Carcassonne thing with a file. H'm. And it isn't as though the person had given it up as a bad job. The s-o-u part is blurred and filed almost out, systematically. It's as though the person had been interrupted and hadn't finished his job.'

  He put down the bolt glumly. Dr Watson, having evidently satisfied himself that nobody was in a joking mood, had grown more amiable.

  `Well. I'm goin', he volunteered. `Anything, you want to know? No use tellin' you that did for him.. Clean puncture; plenty of strength behind it. Might have lived half a minute, Hur-umph. Oh yes. Concussion. Might have, got it falling down the steps, or maybe somebody batted him. That's your job.'

  `What about the time of death, Watson? The doctor here says he died between one-thirty and one-forty-five.'

  `Oh,' he does, does he?' said the police surgeon. `Wasn't a bad guess, though. He died about ten minutes to two. I'll take him along in the ambulance for a good look, and let you know.'

  He doddered out, swinging his black bag.

  `But look here!' protested Sir William, when the door had closed. 'He can't possibly know it so exactly, can he? I thought doctors gave a good deal of leeway on a thing like that.'

  `He doesn't,' said Hadley. `That's why he's so invaluable. And in twenty years I've never known him more than ten minutes wrong about the, time of death.'

  He turned to Laura Bitton.

  `To proceed, Mrs Bitton. Let's assume that this bolt came from your house. Who knew it was there?'

  `Why, everybody, I imagine. I don't remember, but I suppose I must have shown the junk we accumulated on that trip.'

  'Had you seen it before, Sir William?'

  `I'm not sure,' the other answered, slowly. `I may, have. But I can't recall ever having seen it. Ah yes. Ha! Now I know, Laura. You and Lester made the trip while I was abroad in the States, and I came back after you. That accounts for it.'

  Hadley drew a long breath. `There's no use speculating,' he said, `We shall have to make inquiries at the house…and now, Mrs Bitton, I, don't think we need detain you any longer. One of the warders will escort you to a cab. Or perhaps Sir William will do it… And look here, old man he put his hand on the knight's arm `you've a perfect right to stay, if you like; at least, I shan't try to drive you away.. But you've had a trying day. Don't you think it would be better if you went home with Mrs Bitton?'

  `No — I'm waiting to hear what you have to say to Arbor.'

  `Which is exactly what you mustn't do, don't you see? It would spoil everything.'

  `Tell you what, Bitton,' the General suggested, gruffly, `go up to my rooms. Parker will give you a cigar and a brandy, and if there's any news we'll let you know. That Devereux record is in the portfolio in my desk; have a look at it.'

  Sir William rose to his great height. As he turned towards the woman, Rampole turned also and Rampole was startled to see on Laura's face an expression of stark terror. It was riot caused by anything she saw; it was the expression of one who remembers something momentarily forgotten; who stops breathless, eyes opening wide. It was gone immediately, and Rampole wondered whether Hadley had noticed it.

  `I don't suppose I might be allowed to remain?' she asked, in her cool voice. But two kinks were working at the corners of her nostrils, and she seemed 'almost to have stopped breathing. `I might be helpful.' As Hadley smiled and shook his head, she seemed to weigh something in her mind. Then she shrugged. `Ah, well. Excuse the morbid curiosity. And I will go home in a cab. Good afternoon, gentlemen.'

  She nodded curtly. Followed by her brother-in-law, she swung out of the room.

  `Hum!' said General Mason, after a long pause. The fire was getting low, and. he kicked at it. Then he noticed Sergeant Hamper, who had been standing, patient and forgotten, since Dr Watson's entrance; and the general did not continue. `Oh, ah yes,' the chief inspector coughed, as though he had just noticed it, too. `Sorry, Hamper, for keeping you waiting. Those are the contents of the pockets you have there, eh? Put them down, and see if you can pick up any news from the chief warder. But before you do, go across the way and find Mrs Amanda Larkin. Wa
it about five minutes, and send her in here.'

  The sergeant saluted and withdrew. Hadley contemplated the small bundle on the desk before him, but he did not immediately open it.

  `I say, Mr Hadley,' said the General. `What did you make of that woman?'

  `Mrs Bitton? I wonder… She's an old hand at evasion, and a very good one. She sees the traps as soon as you set them. What do you know about her?'

  `I'd never met her. But I know her husband slightly, through Bitton.'

  'What's this Lester Bitton like?.

  'I don't like to say,' the General answered, doubtfully. `Don't know the man well enough. He's older than she is; considerably, I should think. Can't imagine him enjoying these athletic activities of hers. I believe he made a lot of money in some financial scheme.'

  Hadley turned his attention to the handkerchief, knotted up like a bundle, which contained the dead man's effects.

  `Here we are. Wrist-watch; crystal broken, but still running. Bunch of keys. Fountain-pen and stylo pencil. Banknotes, silver and coppers. Only one letter…. Pure trash pale mauve envelope, and scented; woman's handwriting.'

  He drew out a single sheet of paper, and Rampole and the General bent over it as he spread it out on the table. There was no date or heading. The message was written in the centre of the sheet: `Be careful. Tower of London, one-thirty. Suspect. Vital.- Mary.'

  Hadley read it aloud, scowling. `Mary?' he repeated. 'Now we've got to find a Mary. Let's see. Postmarked London, W, ten-thirty last night. This thing is beginning to get on my nerves.' Pushing the letter out on the desk, he turned to the contents of the handkerchief again. `I must say the sergeant is thorough. He even included the dead man's ring and tie-pin. But here's our hope. Loose-leaf note-book, black leather.'

  Opening the note-book, he let his eye run along the few scrawled lines on the first sheet.

  `Listen to this! Notes of some sort, with dashes between. Apparently it's in Driscoll's handwriting:

  ` "Best place?.:. Tower?… Track down hat… Unfortunate Trafalgar… can't transfix… 10… Wood Hedges or shield. Find out".'

  `But that's gibberish!' General Mason protested, somewhat — superfluously. `It doesn't mean anything. At least, it may have meant something, but….'

  `But he's left out the connecting words,' Hadley supplied. `It seems to refer to some clue for following our hat-man.'

  `Read that again!' Dr Fell. suddenly boomed from his coreer. On his big face was a blank expression which slowly turned to something like amusementas the chief inspector; repeated the words….

  `Mrs Larkin is here, sir,' said the voice of Sergeant Hamper from the door.

  A series of chuckles were running down the bulges of Dr Fell's waistcoat. His small eyes twinkled, and ashes' from his pipe were blown about him. He looked like the Spirit of the Volcano.

  Mrs Amanda Georgette. Larkin looked about carefully before she entered, rather as though she expected to find a bucket of water balanced on the top of the door. Then she marched in, saw the empty chair beside Hadley's' desk, and sat down without further ado. She was a tall, rather heavy, woman, well dressed in dark clothes of the sort called 'sensible'; which word, as in its usual context, means an absence of charm.

  Hadley hitched his own chair round. `Mrs Larkin, I am Chief Inspector Hadley. Naturally, you understand, I dislike having to inconvenience any of you. But you may be able to give us some very important information.'

  `Maybe,' grunted Mrs Larkin, hitching her shoulders. 'But, first, before you ask me any questions, give me your word anything I say will be treated as a confidence.'

  Hadley considered gravely. 'I can make no promises. If anything you say has a direct bearing on this investigation, I can't treat it as a confidence. Is that clear?'.. Besides, Mrs Larkin, I'm almost positive I've seen you somewhere before.'

  She shrugged, `Maybe you have, and maybe you haven't. That's as it may be. But there's no slop in the business who's got anything on me. I'm a respectable widow. I don't know anything, about your investigation, and I haven't anything to tell you.'

  All this time Mrs Larkin seemed to be having: some difficulty with her cuff. Under her dark coat she, seemed to have on some sort of tailored suit, with turned-up white cuffs; whether the, left-hand one was sliding down, or her capable fingers had a habit of, playing with it, Rampole could not tell. If Hadley, noticed it, he gave no sign.

  'Do you know what happened here, Mrs Larkin?'

  `Certainly I know. There was enough talk from the crowd over the way.'

  `Then you may know that the, dead man is Mr Philip Driscoll, of Tavistock Chambers, Tavistock Square. On the paper you filled out you say that you lived in this building also. What is the number of your flat?'

  A brief hesitation. `Number 1.'

  'Number 1. Ground floor, I suppose?’ Quite so. You must be an old resident, Mrs Larkin?'

  She blazed. `What the hell difference is it to you? If you've got any complaint to make, make it to the maeager of the flats.

  Again Hadley gravely considered, his hands folded. `Who would also tell me how long you had been a resident. After all, it can't harm you to give us a bit of assistance, can it?' Some time' — he raised his eyes — 'some time it 'might help you a good deal.'

  Another hesitation. `I didn't mean to speak so sharp,' she told him, moving sullenly in the chair. `Well, if it does you any good, I've been there a few weeks; something like that'

  `That's better. How many flats on each floor?'

  `Two. Two in each entry of the building.'

  'So,' Hadley said, musingly, `you must have lived directly

  across the way from Mr Driscoll. Did you know him?' `No. I've seen him, that's all.'

  `Inevitable, of course. And passing in and out, you may have noticed whether he had visitors?'

  `Sure I did. I couldn't help it. He had lots of people coming to see him.'

  'I was thinking particularly of women.'

  For a moment Mrs Larkin scrutinized him with an ugly eye. `Yes. There was women. But what about it? Live and let live, that's what I say. It was none of my business. But if you're going to ask me who the women were, you can save your breath. I don't know.'

  `For instance,' said Hadley. He glanced over at the sheet of mauve notepaper. `You never heard the name "Mary used, did you?'

  She stiffened. Her eyes remained fixed on the notepaper, and she stopped fiddling with her cuff.

  `No. I told you I didn't know him. The only woman's name I ever heard in connexion with him was on — the up-and-up. It was a little blonde. She used to come with a big thin bird with eyeglasses on. One day she stopped me as I was coming in and asked me how she could find the porter to get into his flat. There's no hall-porter; it's an automatic lift. She said her name was Sheila and she was his cousin. And that's all I ever heard.'

  Hadley remained silent for a time.

  `Now, about this afternoon, Mrs Larkin…. How did you happen to come to the Tower of London?'

  `I've got a right to come here if I want to. I don't need to explain why I go to a public building, do I?’

  'When, did you arrive?'

  `Past two o'clock. Mind, I don't swear to that! I'm not under oath. That's what time I think it was.'

  `Did you make the tour..go all round?'

  `I went to two of them — Crown Jewels and Bloody Tower. Not the other one. Then I got tired and started out. They stopped me.'

  Hadley went through the routine of questions, and elicited nothing. She had been deaf, dumb, and blind. There were other people about her… she remembered an American cursing the fog… but she had paid no attention to the others. At length he dismissed her, with the warning that he would probably have future questions.

  The moment she had disappeared Hadley hurried to the door. He said to the warder there:

  `Find Sergeant Hamper and tell him to put a tail on the woman who's just left here. Hurry! Then tell Hamper to come back here.' he turned back to the desk, thoughtfully beating his hands togeth
er.

  `Hang it all, man,' General Mason burst out, impatiently, `why the kid-glove tactics? A little third degree wouldn't have hurt. her. She knows something, right enough. And she probably is a criminal.'

  `Undoubtedly, General. But I had nothing to hold over her; and, above all, she's much more valuable on the string. I think we'll find there is nothing against her at present at the Yard. And I'm almost sure we'll find she's a private detective.'

  'Ha!' muttered the General. He twisted his moustache. 'A private detective. But why?'

  `There are any number of indications. Clearly she has nothing to fear from the police; she challenged that with every word. She lives in Tavistock Square. The neighbourhood isn't "flash" enough for her if she had that much money of her own to spend, and it isn't cheap enough if she had less. I know the type. She has lived there only a few weeks… just opposite Driscoll. She obviously had paid a great deal of attention to his visitors. She told us only one incident, the visit of his cousin Sheila, because that wouldn't help us; but you notice she had all the details.

  `Then did you see her fumbling at her cuff? She hasn't been in the business long; she was afraid it would show out of the arm of her coat, and she was afraid to take it off over in the Warders' Hall, for fear of looking suspicious.'

  `Her cuff?'

  Hadley nodded. `These private snoopers who get material for divorces. They have to make notes of times and places quickly, and often in the dark. Oh yes. That's what she's up to. She was following somebody this afternoon.'

  The General said, `Hum!' He scuffled his feet a moment before asking, 'Something to do with Driscoll?'

  Hadley put his head down in his hands.

  `Yes. You saw the start she couldn't help giving when she saw that note on my desk. She wasn’t close enough to have read it, but the colour of the paper was enough to identify it.. if she's ever seen any similar notes in connexion with Driscoll. H'm, yes. But that's not the point. I strongly suspect that the person she was actually shadowing this afternoon was… whom do you say, Doctor?'

  Dr Fell relighted his pipe. `Mrs Bitton, of course. I'm afraid she rather gave herself away, if you listened to what she said.'