A Fool and His Money (12 page)

Bartlett lit his pipe. Boase always thought it was funny that he always did so when he was thinking.

‘Molly, tell us what happened when you went to Anne's caravan.'

‘OK, I went to borrow some milk. Edward couldn't have any tea and he was going mad. Anne invited me in and filled the jug. While I was waiting I saw the newspaper on the table. It had a story about my mother and that she had died seven years ago. I felt awkward but, not only that, I knew then that Anne must have told my father that my mother was dead. But I didn't kill her.'

‘But that was the
first
time you went there. I'm talking about the day she died – you were seen leaving the caravan.

‘I wasn't there, I swear I wasn't.'

‘We have more than one reliable witness, Molly.'

‘I don't care. I didn't kill her.'

‘Did you see anyone else when you were there?'

‘No, because I wasn't there. Stop trying to trick me!'

‘Did your husband know that Margaret Field was dead?'

‘Yes. He said I shouldn't be asking my father for money all the time, but I needed it. Ed's a drinker and we never have enough money – my father could afford it.'

‘No, he couldn't really – he always gave you his last.'

‘I suppose the little fool, Anne Warner, told you that?'

‘It doesn't matter who told me, it's a fact.'

‘Look, I found out that Anne knew, that's all. I never even said anything to her. She must have told my father that my mother was dead – the silly old man probably killed himself.'

‘What makes you say that, when you know he was shot through the head?'

‘I don't know but it wasn't Ed – why would he do such a thing?'

‘Because Clicker was going to stop the money?'

‘You're wrong, I tell you, you're wrong – Ed wasn't interested in the money.'

Bartlett and Boase left Molly in her cell and asked Penhaligon to take her some tea.

‘Edward James wants to see me, Boase. Says he can explain more about Clicker.'

‘Really?'

‘Well, his trial
is
next week – the least I can do is to see what he has to say. You know how uneasy I am about all this.'

‘You and me both, sir. But he's up at Bodmin. Do you want me to come with you?'

‘No – he asked for me. I'll let you know what he says. How about you come over to us for supper this evening? Caroline said she'd like to see you again – and you know Irene would.'

‘Thank you – that would be very nice.'

‘Righto. I'm going to see James now. Lord only knows what this is about. I don't know what time I'll be back – oh, tell Greet you haven't seen me.'

Bartlett sat in the cell with Edward James. The man looked thin and pale and had an unkempt beard.

‘Are they treating you all right?'

‘Well, look at me.'

‘What did you want to see me about?'

‘They're going to hang me, Mr Bartlett. I know it.'

‘You don't know that. Tell me what you want to say.'

‘I didn't kill my father-in-law.'

‘But what about the witness statements? At least one woman saw you. And your gun was damning evidence.'

‘I did go there that evening after the show.'

Bartlett stood up and scratched his head.

‘Why didn't you say so before? What were you doing there?'

‘Clicker was upset – he said he knew me and Molly were swindling him out of his money – he'd found out somehow. I told him it wasn't me – that it was all Molly's idea and I'd been trying to stop her. I thought she was wrong.'

‘So, what happened?'

‘I saw him leave the recreation ground and head towards the seafront. I followed him. He was ever so shaken. I just wanted him to come back. I said we could sort it out – there was no point in getting upset.'

‘I can see why he would be, Mr James. Did you have your gun?'

‘No. No I didn't. I saw him go up the place they call Hunter's Path. I asked him to come back but he wouldn't – he told me to leave him alone. I went for a walk along the beach, then I came back and went to bed.'

‘Well, my advice to you is to tell your solicitor what you've told me and to speak up at your trial.'

‘No one will believe me, Mr Bartlett – you must see that. I just wanted you to know that I'm not long for this world. And that I didn't kill anyone.'

Edward James buried his head in his hands and sobbed.

Bartlett patted the man's shoulder.

‘Please, Edward, you must tell them what you've told me. If this is all true there may be a chance for you. Please tell them.'

‘Thanks for coming, Mr Bartlett. I really appreciate it. Maybe when I'm gone they'll catch whoever did this.'

Edward James offered out his hand to Bartlett who took it in both of his and shook it.

‘Goodbye, Mr Bartlett.'

‘Goodbye, Edward.'

‘Tell Molly I love her.'

Boase sat in the parlour with Caroline and Irene. He looked at the clock. It was half past eight.

‘I thought Dad would be home from Bodmin by now, Mum.'

‘Yes, so did I, dear – he's obviously been delayed. He said he had something very important to deal with. I suppose he'll be back soon. Archie, would you like another piece of cake?'

‘No, thank you. It was lovely, but I've had plenty.'

Boase couldn't feel hungry. Here he was with the love of his life – there was nowhere he'd rather be – yet he was uncomfortable. He was feeling for Bartlett; he knew the older man didn't really want to see Edward James but was a man of his word and always ready to help anyone if he could.

At half past nine, with still no sign of his boss, Boase left for home. He had offered to stay with Caroline and Irene but they wouldn't hear of it and, besides, they thought he looked tired. Boase took a walk along the seafront and turned over the recent events in his mind.
Who killed Clicker
? Bartlett didn't think Greet was looking in the right direction and Boase himself didn't know what to think.
And what of Anne Warner
? That was a shocking business.
Did
Edward kill her – or was it really Molly? Yes, what a fine kettle of fish this was turning out to be.

Boase sat on the sand until about eleven o'clock then, suddenly realising he was tired and hungry, he walked back up to his room in Melvill Road.

Bartlett and Boase with Constables Eddy and Rabone returned to the recreation ground. Bartlett had tossed and turned all night, agonising over Molly James. She had a very good motive but without firm evidence, well, they could do nothing. The sun had broken through after a morning of rain as the four arrived. Bartlett gave his instructions, clearly.

‘I'm certain there must be something here to incriminate that woman. The very crime scene is yards from where we are standing – she must have left a clue. You have to use your wits and everything you have in you to help me here.'

Constable Eddy spoke.

‘But what if your hunch is wrong, sir? What if it's not her?'

‘Well, yes, I could be wrong – but someone did it. And someone must have left some evidence, a clue to who they are. Right, do your best all. Please do your best. Eddy, you come with me. Rabone, you go with Boase. Remember I took the precaution of clearing this with the big cheese – search if you need to. Happy hunting.'

Two hours passed and the four met up again. Boase looked disgruntled.

‘Sir, there's nothing here. We've spoken to people again, searched everywhere.'

Bartlett rummaged in his pocket for a match.

‘Searched all the hedges around the ground?'

Rabone nodded.

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Bet you haven't looked in there.'

Bartlett indicated to the lion enclosure.

Rabone swallowed.

‘No. No, sir, we haven't.'

‘Well, neither have we, have we Eddy? Come on then.'

The four walked towards the lion enclosure, Rabone and Eddy lagging behind nervously. Bartlett turned and looked behind him.

‘Come on you clots – you don't think you could go in there unsupervised do you? You should see your faces. I wouldn't let you just wander in there, would I?'

Now it was Boase's turn to look a little pale as they walked alongside a large pile of dung which looked like it had been left there for some time.

‘Wonder what they do with that lot, Boase? Don't suppose they can easily dispose of it.'

‘You should take some for your roses, sir.'

‘That's an idea, Boase. Well done.'

‘Sir, I was joking.'

‘No – that's a sound idea, my boy. I don't know about roses but they say it's good to keep cats off the garden.'

‘But you've got Topper for that, sir.'

Bartlett smiled and as Boase looked at him, the smile turned to an inquisitive frown.

‘Upon my word. What's that?'

Bartlett stepped closer to the lion dung.

‘Boase – what's that glinting?'

‘Where, sir?'

Bartlett pointed with the end of his pipe to an object glimmering and largely concealed but for a fragment.

‘Rabone, get in there and see what that is.'

Rabone looked incredulously at his superior.

‘Me, sir?'

‘Yes. You. Get a move on.'

Rabone looked over his shoulder at Eddy who was grinning from ear to ear.

‘Well, you can stop or you'll be helping him.'

Bartlett was growing impatient.

As Rabone stepped onto the pile of manure, he lost his footing and fell on his front.

Boase laughed loudly.

‘It's
not
funny, Boase.'

Bartlett's shoulders began to move as he tried to conceal his laughter.

‘What is it, Rabone?'

‘Sir, I think it's a knife wrapped in a handkerchief.'

Boase stepped forward.

‘Don't touch the handle, Rabone.'

Rabone cautiously dug into the manure and lifted out the knife by its blade.

Bartlett puffed out his cheeks in relief.

‘Good work. Boase, we need to get that sent to check for fingerprints. Let's hope that someone has left us some.

Chapter Nine

Bartlett and Boase drank their tea in silence.

It was some weeks after they had first arrested Edward James, and that morning he had been hanged for the murder of Clicker the Clown.

After the find at the lion enclosure, statements had been taken from four people who said they had witnessed Molly James leaving the caravan around the time Anne Warner had been murdered and she was now waiting to stand trial.

Bartlett puffed on his pipe.

‘I feel terrible about all this, Boase, and no error.'

‘Don't you think she killed Anne? We have evidence now. The knife we found was used to kill Anne and it had Molly's prints on it.'

‘Yes, I know. But I feel uncertain about Edward.'

‘He had a fair trial, sir.'

‘Greet was behind all this and I find him to be severely lacking.'

‘You can't keep getting upset over it though, sir. The evidence was there, the witnesses added up.'

‘Yes, but I keep thinking about what he told me the day I went up to Bodmin. He was trying to look out for Clicker – he was worried about the old man because he kept saying he was really upset about Margaret and Molly.'

‘But, if
he
didn't kill him, who did? You've got to believe it was him.'

‘Have I?'

‘What's the alternative?'

‘I don't know, Boase. What about Molly?'

‘But there's no evidence that says she killed her father. None.'

‘What does that prove? People get away with murder, you know that.'

‘You can't afford to think that was a mistake now, sir. It'll drive you mad.'

‘I know, I know.'

‘Look, sir, Edward James has gone – there was evidence against him. We can't change that.'

Boase pulled Bartlett's coat down from the coatstand and handed it to him.

‘Are we going somewhere?'

‘Yes. The “Seven Stars” –I'm buying you a pint.'

‘But it's only eleven o'clock.'

‘Come on – you need to get out of here.'

The two men took the short walk down to the Seven Stars on the Moor.

‘Two pints of bitter please, Harry.'

Boase laid his coins on the bar and he and Bartlett sat at a table in the corner.

‘What's this all about, Boase? Why are we here drinking beer at this hour?'

‘We're here because of you – you needed to clear your head. You have to stop this way of thinking about Edward James. The law says he killed Clicker and, well, that's that.'

‘I know that but it doesn't stop me from feeling uneasy about the whole business.'

‘Who else could have done it? It was Edward's gun. I really think, sir, that you're going to have to accept that he lied to you when you went to Bodmin.'

Bartlett and Boase finished their drinks and walked back to the police station.

‘Cuppa, sir?'

‘If you like.'

As Boase opened the door, Constable Penhaligon was standing outside and about to knock.

‘Sorry to interrupt you – Mr Charles Trevarthen is here to see you both. Says he wants to talk to you about something important.'

Bartlett and Boase looked at each other and shrugged.

‘Send him in, Penhaligon. Thank you.'

Charles Trevarthen entered the office.

‘How do you do, Mr Trevarthen – how can we help you?'

‘Well, I'm possibly too late but I wanted to tell you about my brother-in-law.'

Bartlett invited Charles Trevarthen to take a seat.

‘How can that be of interest to us, sir?'

‘My brother-in-law is Howard Smith.'

‘Howard Smith from the circus?'