A Fool and His Money (11 page)

‘You saying he's committed two murders?'

‘No. But I'm keeping an open mind. If he only killed Clicker then we have another murderer at large and Greet's not going to like that.'

‘No, you're right there.'

A knock at the door relieved the pair's concentration.

‘Come in.'

The desk sergeant looked into the room.

‘Thought you should know, sir, Superintendent Greet took a statement from a woman while you were out. Says she saw Edward James walking along beneath Hunter's Path that night. She was out walking her dog. She looked at him because he was only wearing a thin shirt and it was quite nippy that evening. Says it was definitely him.'

‘Why is
he
taking statements?'

‘Said because you weren't here, he didn't want anyone else doing it.'

‘Is the woman absolutely sure?'

‘Greet says it's a positive identification. Cuppa, sir?'

‘I wouldn't say no. Thank you.'

Bartlett looked at Boase.

‘This is even worse for him, isn't it, my boy?'

Chapter Eight

As the days turned into weeks, Greet became determined to tie up the murder case. Much to Bartlett's annoyance, the superintendent had taken matters very much into his own hands, although, thankfully, had seen fit not to bow to pressure from the London police to allow them to investigate. Greet had reassured the powers that be that the case was nearing an end and they'd accepted that.

‘I don't think Edward James killed Clicker and Anne, sir. You don't either, do you?'

‘No, I don't believe I do. Greet's nailed him for Clicker and I think as he's so sure of his evidence, we can't do anything about it. I hope to God he's right on this – he thinks he knows everything and we haven't got any better argument so that's that. But, no, I'm not satisfied with the Anne Warner business. Not a jot. Greet has that all wrong.'

‘Well, if we really believe that, it means even with James awaiting his obvious fate there's still a killer lurking. We have to do
something
.'

‘I think so. Greet is being so difficult about this. He's saying that he did all the work on the Clicker case, which is not in the least bit true, as you know, and we should have tied off the Anne case. I feel bad for her sisters. They won't rest until we find out what happened.'

‘Let's revisit it, sir. Go back to the start. We can't leave it like this.'

‘What do you mean? What can we do?'

‘We need to look at this with a fresh pair of eyes.'

‘At my time of life, my eyes are anything
but
fresh, Boase.'

‘Yes, never mind that, sir. Go back to the beginning. The evening I saw Clicker – I was one of the last people to see him alive probably. And I saw Anne. Now, do you remember why she was talking to him?'

‘About Margaret Field.'

‘Yes. She was showing him that newspaper – we didn't fully deal with that, did we?'

‘Why would that be relevant?'

‘What if someone else had seen that paper?'

‘I don't understand what you mean.'

‘We didn't keep the newspaper – we gave it back to Anne. Do you remember?'

‘Yes, yes, I do. Go on.'

‘What if someone else saw the paper and knew she had told Clicker – that could be a reason to kill her. And there's only one person I know that could have a motive for that.'

The two men spoke together.

‘Molly James!'

Bartlett leapt from his chair and grabbed his coat.

‘My boy, I've been so damned stupid. We didn't entertain the fact that she could be the killer. Come on, we need to get up there now.'

The pair fetched a car and drove straight to Molly James' caravan. They got out and hammered on the door.

‘Try round the other side, Boase. Look – the ponies are gone.'

Bartlett was looking through each window when he heard a shout behind him.

‘Mr Bartlett … Mr Bartlett!'

He turned to see Arthur Wayland, the lion tamer.'

‘You won't find Molly James, she's gone.'

‘Gone where?'

‘I'm not sure – she came over yesterday to speak to Pearl and me. She said that now Edward had been arrested for her father's murder, she had no need to stay.'

‘Did she not give any idea of where she was going?'

‘No. I didn't like to ask. She wanted to know if we'd look after the ponies. She said we could sell them if we wanted to but just to make sure they went to a good home. Is she in some sort of trouble, Mr Bartlett?'

‘Nothing for you to worry about, Mr Wayland. And you have absolutely no idea where she might be?'

Arthur Wayland took off his cap and scratched his head.

‘She hasn't been here as long as most of us and she didn't seem to fit in as well as the rest of us. I always thought it was because of her husband – terrified of him, she was. Good job you caught him, Mr Bartlett. But …'

‘But what, Mr Wayland?'

‘Well, she
did
say she had a friend who worked at the Picturedrome in Redruth. I think it was a local girl she'd met a few years ago when she was on holiday. She said she wanted to see her while she was in Falmouth because when we leave here she might never come back.'

‘Do you know the name of this friend?'

‘I'm sorry, I don't think she said.'

‘Another thing, Mr Wayland – did you see or hear anything when Anne was attacked? Did you see anyone near the Warner caravan?'

‘I'm just trying to think. Wait a minute. Pearl came out to the gate – she was waiting for a meat delivery, food for the lions. The delivery was late, so she walked up to the road – she thought the driver might be lost. She came back after about twenty minutes, she said she was a bit cold standing waiting and needed a cardigan. I said I'd go up and wait instead. I walked just over there – look.'

Wayland was pointing to a spot just opposite the Warner caravan and about twenty yards from it. Bartlett looked to where he was pointing.

‘So you were quite close?'

‘Yes.'

‘Please think, sir. Did you see anyone?'

Wayland contorted his face and scratched his head. Boase sighed as the man closed his eyes.

‘Wait a minute. Yes. Yes – I saw Molly James. She was wearing a headscarf and a raincoat. She was coming out of the Warner caravan.'

‘Mr Wayland, this may be very important – are you absolutely sure?'

‘Yes, I am, because Pearl saw her from the window. When I came back with the meat she was furious because she had just bought the exact same headscarf and said she wouldn't be able to wear it now that Molly had an identical one. Yes, that's it, that's who I saw. I came back, left the meat and that's when I saw you and Constable Boase come to the caravan.'

‘You've been very helpful, thank you. Tell your wife we'll need to speak to her.'

Boase reappeared from the other side of the caravan.

‘Mr Wayland here has just been telling me that Molly has left.'

Boase sat down on the step of the caravan and sighed, his shoulders slumped.

Wayland made to move.

‘Sorry, Mr Bartlett – I need to be getting on if you don't mind.'

‘You carry on, sir – and thank you.'

Boase stood up, dejected.

‘This is all
my
fault – how did I let this happen?'

‘We're in this together, Boase. No recriminations – we just need to work this through. Wayland said she had a friend in Redruth, someone who works at the Picturedrome. We should head on over there as soon as we can.'

Bartlett and Boase picked up two constables from the police station and made their way to Redruth to look for Molly James.

‘You know this is a long shot, sir – she may not even be in the county.'

‘Well, we have to hope our instinct is right this time. It's got to be her who killed Anne, just
has
to be – it all fits.'

The car drew up outside the Picturedrome which was closed. Bartlett peered through a window and saw a woman cleaning inside. He knocked on the glass and beckoned to her. She came over and opened the door.

‘What? There's no pictures showin' 'ere till tonight. You'll 'ave to come back later.'

‘Madam …'

As Bartlett spoke, the uniformed constables Eddy and Coad came alongside him.

‘Oh … you the police? Well, this is a respectable establishment – we don't want no trouble 'ere.'

‘I would just like to speak to the proprietor, that's all. This is an urgent police matter.'

The woman held open the door and the four men entered. They found themselves in a large hall.

‘Wait 'ere.'

The woman disappeared.

Boase wandered around the hall looking at the posters advertising the latest films. He loved the cinema,
especially
going with Irene. Bartlett opened two or three doors leading off and quickly closed the last as the woman returned leading a tall, thin man. The man wore a silvery-grey suit which was too long in the arms and too short in the legs. Bartlett looked up at him as he approached.

‘I am George Jago. May I help you?'

‘Well, I hope you can, sir. I am investigating a murder …'

‘Is that the Falmouth murder? Or murders, I heard there were two?'

‘And what do you know about all this, sir, may I ask?'

‘Well, nothing other than what I read in the paper – what a terrible business! And what has this to do with me – why are you here?'

‘How many female staff do you have here at the moment?'

‘I can assure you none of my staff would be involved in something like that. Absolutely not.'

‘Please just answer the question – we're in a terrible hurry.'

‘Oh. Let me see – well, there's Dolly Simmons – she's the cleaner you just met. Peggy Rowe, she helps with the films and screening and such like.'

‘How old is Peggy?'

‘I'd say fifty, maybe.'

‘Go on. Who else?'

‘Sarah Pollard. She runs the little refreshment kiosk.'

‘Age?'

‘She's quite young – I think about twenty-seven or eight.'

‘Where does she live?'

‘I'll have to check the staff records for that. Is she in trouble?'

‘We don't think so but she may be able to help us. The address please?'

George Jago walked across to a small office and Boase watched him as he rummaged through an old desk. He drew out a large book.

‘It'll be in here. Shall I write it down for you?'

‘Yes please, sir.'

Boase took the sheet of paper with the girl's name and address and the police group left the Picturedrome.

‘What's the name of the street, Boase?'

‘Um, Plain-an-Gwarry.'

‘Know where that is?'

‘I'm a Redruth boy, sir.'

Arriving outside the house, Bartlett and Boase left the two constables standing by the car and went up the neat front path. Bartlett knocked at the door. Boase stepped back and looked up at the top windows. As he did so, the front door opened and a young woman stood there. Bartlett introduced himself.

‘Excuse me, miss. We were wondering if you were an acquaintance of Molly James?'

‘Molly? Yes, I am.' The girl looked flustered.

‘Is she here, miss?'

‘She's just left. She
was
here.'

‘Where is she?'

‘I don't know – why? What has she done?'

Bartlett ignored the question. Meanwhile Boase had gone around the back of the house. As he went up to the kitchen door, a window opened upstairs and a small valise was thrown down, narrowly missing Boase. He looked up to see Molly James about to climb out after it.

‘Don't be silly, just come down. We want to speak to you.'

Soon, Bartlett and Boase were sitting in the parlour in Plain-an-Gwarry with Molly James.

Bartlett looked at the woman, who was now crying.

‘Molly, tell us what happened with you and Anne Warner. We know you went to her caravan around the time she was killed; more than one person saw you.'

Molly cried again.

‘She said Edward killed my father – she was telling everyone; and those two sisters of hers, they were saying it too.'

‘Molly,
did
you kill Anne?'

‘No. Of course I didn't.'

‘We'll find out, Molly. Tell us what happened. Were you angry with her for blaming Edward?'

‘Of course I was angry – but I didn't kill her. And what do you mean, you'll find out? You think you've found Edward out but you haven't. He's not a murderer.'

‘But he's got a violent past, and you're frightened of him.'

‘Yes, he's got a bit of a temper – but who hasn't? It doesn't make us all murderers, does it?'

Molly wiped her eyes.

‘You still need to find my father's murderer, Inspector. It wasn't Edward.'

Bartlett felt uncomfortable. Molly was saying just what he himself thought, that Edward James hadn't killed Clicker. But then
who
had?'

‘Molly, we're taking you back to Falmouth, to the police station. We've got a lot of questions we want to ask you and it's not an appropriate setting here. Get your things.'

Arriving back at the station, Molly James was taken to a cell to await questioning. Bartlett hung up his coat and Boase made some tea.

‘This is getting worse, Boase. Molly is bound to stand by her husband, but I don't believe it of him either.'

‘But Greet's taken it out of our hands and he's got cast-iron witnesses.'

‘So he says.'

‘Well, how can we go back now? The poor chap's run out of time and the noose is looming closer. It's a terrible business.'

‘Well, we'll let Molly calm herself a bit before we speak to her. It looks bad for her, never mind Edward. What a nightmare this is turning into!'