A Matter for the Jury (6 page)

‘Go on,' Arnold said again.

‘Yes, sir. Just as she was about to turn the lights out she saw a young couple at the shop window. They wanted to buy some cigarettes. She opened up for them and sold them two packets of Woodbines. When they left, they were walking towards the meadow. She didn't see them again. But she did give me a description.'

‘Jennifer and Frank both had Woodbines with them,' Phillips said.

‘Well, I'm damned,' Arnold breathed. ‘Well done, lad. You've probably found the last person to see them before it happened. I want you to bring her in tomorrow morning. I would like to test her memory a bit more.'

Hawthorne positively beamed. ‘Yes, sir.' He paused. ‘Actually, there is more…'

Arnold nodded encouragingly.

‘Well, sir, Mavis also saw a man pass the shop just a minute or two after the couple. She had put the lights out by then, and she could see him clearly under a street light. He was walking in the same direction as the couple, towards the meadow. She also gave me a description of this man. He was about the same height as her dad…'

‘Five seven, five eight,' Willis interjected.

‘He was wearing a raincoat, open, a dark jacket and a red and white checked shirt. He had a dark woollen hat on, so she couldn't see his hair or eyes. He had heavy brown shoes. She noticed that the shoes looked dirty.'

Hawthorne turned over to the next page of his notebook.

‘And he was whistling a tune.'

‘Oh, yes?' Arnold asked.

‘Yes, sir,' Hawthorne replied. ‘She recognised it from a programme on the radio, and she whistled it for her dad when she got upstairs, and asked him what it was. It was the
Lincolnshire Poacher
.'

Willis had been leaning on the table in front of the desk at which Arnold was sitting. But now he suddenly pushed himself up, quickly, firmly, holding up one arm as if to request silence, and walked over to the window. For some time he stared outside. Eventually, he turned back to Hawthorne.

‘Is she sure about that, Hawthorne?' he asked. ‘Is she quite sure about that?'

Hawthorne nodded. ‘Positive,' he replied.

‘Bloody hell,' Willis said.

10

30 January

PC Willis turned
the black Humber Hawk police car off the tow path and drove slowly across the muddy ground to park in front of the lock keeper's house, at right angles to the house, just to the left of the front door. He switched off the engine and turned towards Detective Superintendent Arnold, who occupied the front passenger seat.

‘This is the house, sir' he said. ‘If he's not here, he will be down at the lock, I daresay. We can walk down to the lock in a minute or two if we need to.' He glanced at his watch. ‘It's almost lunch time. He will probably be making his way back to the house about now.'

They climbed out of the car and surveyed the house. DI Phillips, getting out of the back of the car, joined them.

‘He wouldn't spend all day at the lock then, in case there are boats wanting to use it?' he asked.

Willis shook his head. ‘There's not the volume of traffic for that. He will have his regulars, and he will know roughly what time to expect them. A lot of the traffic depends on the tides, anyway, and he knows all about the tides. But if anyone else comes unannounced, a leisure boat, say, on no particular schedule, they just have to ring the bell and wait for him. They have no choice, really. He would get there quickly enough unless he's upstream, doing maintenance.'

‘Let's see if there's anyone at home,' Arnold said. He approached the front door and knocked loudly three times. There was no response. Arnold knocked again. This time, he shouted out. ‘It's the police. Is there anyone home?'

Again, there was no response from the door. But a small, thin woman made her way cautiously around the side of the house from the rear. She wore a clean blue dress with a design of white leaves, and flat blue shoes. Over the dress she wore a white apron, tied at the back; and over the apron, hanging down between her small breasts, she wore a striking gold cross on a chain. She paused at the corner of the house, as if uncertain whether to approach any further.

‘Can I help you?' she asked timidly.

Willis, the only one in uniform, walked over to her quietly. He had noticed her hesitancy, and had no wish to alarm her.

‘I'm PC Willis, from St Ives, Miss Cottage,' he said. ‘It's Eve, isn't it?'

She nodded silently.

‘These gentlemen with me are plain clothes officers from Cambridge, Detective Superintendent Arnold and Detective Inspector Phillips. We would like a word with your brother, Billy. Is he at home?'

She shook her head, again silently.

‘Are you expecting him back? Do you know where we might find him?'

She seemed lost in thought for some seconds.

‘He's at the lock,' she replied. ‘There was a long unpowered barge due in, mid-morning. He has to open the lock and walk the horse. They take some time to deal with, those long ones. Then he was due home for lunch. But those unpowered barges are often late. It can be the weather, the currents, you know, or some problem with the horse. You never know. He's probably been held up. Would you like to come in and wait?'

‘Thank you,' Willis replied.

She left her refuge by the wall and led the way slowly to the front door, which was unlocked. She pushed it open and walked into the living room. The officers followed. She stood still in front of the battered oak sideboard on the far side of the room, arms folded, looking down at the floor.

‘Would you like some tea?' she asked, mechanically, without looking up.

‘No, thank you, Miss Cottage. Don't let us stop you if you have things to do. We will be perfectly all right here until Billy gets back.' Willis replied.

He turned towards Arnold and Phillips, who were looking around the room. It was cluttered and untidy. A bottle of Dewars, half empty, stood on a small table at the side of the armchair, next to a single dirty glass. On the dining table were two white candles in cheap wooden candlesticks, the candles burned most of the way down, and around the bases of the candlesticks, pools of solid candle wax, attached like rough white limpets to the yellowing lace table cloth. Looking at Arnold, Willis diverted his gaze to the gold cross and back again, no more than a second or two. An almost imperceptible nod from Arnold told him he had not missed it.

Eve raised her head slightly and smiled nervously. ‘I'm sorry the house is such a mess,' she said quietly. ‘I've been into town, shopping, this morning. I haven't had time to clear up.'

‘Not to worry, Miss Cottage,' Arnold said. ‘You weren't expecting us.'

Her head sank back down. ‘No,' she replied.

Arnold took two steps towards her, as if to get a better look.

‘I hope you don't think I'm staring,' he said. ‘That's a beautiful cross and chain you have. It reminds me of one I've seen before, in a photograph. Have you had it long? Family heirloom, perhaps?'

She unfolded her arms to take the cross in her left hand. She looked at it intently before looking back up at Arnold and smiling, less nervously now.

‘Billy gave it to me,' she said proudly. ‘He takes good care of me, he is very nice to me.'

‘I'm sure he is,' Arnold replied. ‘When did he give it to you? For Christmas, your birthday?'

‘No. My birthday is not until May. He gives me things all the time. He gave me this on Tuesday.'

‘What, this Tuesday, just gone?'

‘Yes.'

Phillips had also approached.

‘I bet that cost a few bob,' he said, introducing a hint of jealousy into his tone. ‘I wish I could afford something like that for my wife. On my salary I'd have to save up for it for years.'

She laughed out loud at their ignorance.

‘He didn't
buy
it,' she explained. ‘He
found
it. He finds all kinds of things when he's working, doesn't he?'

‘Oh, does he?' Phillips asked. ‘That must come in handy. Where does he find things, what kinds of places?'

‘Everywhere,' she said. ‘At the lock after a boat has passed through; on the banks of the river after they've had a picnic; in town; on the banks of the river, mostly. Billy says people leave all kinds of things there. He says you'd be amazed how careless people can be.' Her head sank again. ‘I suppose I should have taken it to the police station really, shouldn't I? But… am I in trouble?' Her voice was quiet again now, sad.

Arnold smiled. ‘Not from us,' he said. ‘And I'm sure Constable Willis understands.'

‘No need to worry about it,' Willis agreed soothingly.

‘But, Eve,' Arnold said, ‘I think I may know who lost this cross and chain. As I say, I'm sure I've seen a photograph of it. It's quite valuable, and it's of sentimental value to the owner – it belonged to her grandmother. I'm going to have to take it to see if it's the one she lost. If not, I'll bring it back, I promise.'

For some moments, Eve clutched the cross desperately, looking stricken. But then, with a look of resignation, she lifted the chain up over her head and held it out in front of her, offering it to him, giving it one last squeeze. Arnold took it gently from her, wrapping it in a clean white handkerchief.

‘Did she lose it on the bank of the river?' she asked.

‘Yes,' Arnold replied. ‘Well, close to the river.'

‘She must be very sad. I hope she will be happy to get it back.'

‘I'm sure she will,' Arnold said.

The front door opened behind him. A male voice, calling out loudly.

‘Eve, I'm back. Where's my lunch?'

Arnold turned towards the door.

‘You will be having lunch with us today, Billy,' he said.

Billy Cottage stared blankly at the intruders in his house. Eve tried to make herself as small as possible in front of the sideboard.

‘Who are these people?' he demanded of her. ‘If they need the lock they can ring the bell and wait, can't they? They are not supposed to come to the house.'

‘I'm sorry, Billy,' she said. ‘I…'

‘You shouldn't have let them in.'

‘I'm sorry.'

Then Billy saw PC Willis in his uniform and froze.

Phillips took one arm. Willis approached and took the other.

‘Billy Cottage,' Phillips said. ‘I am arresting you on suspicion of…'

He looked at Arnold.

‘Larceny by finding,' Arnold said. ‘For now.'

‘…on suspicion of larceny by finding. Do you wish to say anything? You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but what you say may be put in writing and given in evidence.'

‘I don't know what you are talking about,' Billy replied.

Phillips jotted his response in his notebook.

* * *

Billy sat between Arnold and Phillips in the back of the Hawk as Willis drove them back to St Ives police station. Billy made no further statement, but the officers distinctly heard him singing to himself, softly, under his breath.

When I was bound apprentice in famous Lincolnshire,

Full well I served my master for nigh on seven years,

Till I took up to poaching as you shall quickly hear,

Oh, 'tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.

Success to every gentleman that lives in Lincolnshire,

Success to every poacher that wants to sell a hare,

Bad luck to every gamekeeper that will not sell his deer,

Oh, 'tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.

11

St Ives police
station had only one room that could be used for interviews, and it was far too small for the purpose. As he lowered himself carefully on to the hard wooden chair, square and solid, with its straight back and hard padded seat, and placed his file of papers on the small wooden table that separated him from Billy Cottage, Detective Superintendent Arnold reflected that this was hardly surprising. They probably didn't have too many long interviews to conduct in St Ives during a normal year. But this was not turning out to be a normal year at St Ives police station. Instead of its normal complement of two or three officers, the place was swarming with uniformed officers from Huntingdon and Cambridge. They went out periodically to comb the river bank by the
Rosemary D
, and to make inquiries in town, then returned to hand in their reports to PS Livermore. The sergeant had been recalled urgently from leave, and was none too pleased about it. But he was now working with DI Phillips to coordinate and analyse the information obtained. Mercifully, Arnold's chief constable had so far kept Scotland Yard at bay, but Arnold had to phone in reports on a regular basis to allay the concerns that went up to a very high level in any case such as this. Th
e hours of work put in by so many officers were beginning to pay off. Arnold now had some solid information, and the time had come to ask Billy Cottage some questions.

‘As you already know, Mr Cottage, I am Detective Superintendent Arnold, from Cambridgeshire Police. We are working with Huntingdonshire Police on this case. My colleague here, Detective Inspector Phillips, will be making notes of this interview. First, I must remind you of the caution you were given earlier. You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but what you say may be put in writing and given in evidence. But whether or not you wish to speak to me, I will now put certain questions to you. First, can you confirm that you are William Cottage, and that you live at the lock keeper's house at Fenstanton, near St Ives?'

‘Yes.'

‘Mr Cottage… It's Billy, isn't it? Do you mind if I call you Billy? It will make it easier, won't it?'

‘If you like.'

‘Good. So, Billy, you are the lock keeper at Fenstanton, are you?'

‘That's right.'

‘And you live at the lock keeper's house with your sister. Her name is Eve, is that right?'

‘Yes.'

‘Just the two of you?'

‘My parents are both dead.'

‘Your date of birth is 10th October 1935, which makes you, what? Twenty-eight. Is that right?'

‘Yes.'

Arnold leaned back, reached down into his briefcase, which he had placed on the floor beside his chair, and took out the gold chain and cross, reluctantly yielded to him earlier by the sister of the man he now had to question.

‘All right.
Now, Billy, I wish to ask you some questions about this gold cross and chain. I got it from Eve when DI Phillips and I were at your house today with PC Willis. Eve told me that you had given it to her on Tuesday. Is that correct?'

‘I found it.'

Arnold nodded encouragingly.

‘That's what Eve told us.'

‘I thought it would look nice on Eve. It's pretty.'

‘It
is
pretty,' Arnold agreed.
‘Where did you find it, Billy?'

Billy frowned, as if concentrating hard on the question.

‘Where did I find it?'

‘Yes. Where?'

Billy gave an apparently careless shrug.

‘Down by the lock, I expect. That's where I generally find things.'

Arnold held the cross a little closer to him.

‘Let's see if we can do a little better. I would expect you to remember exactly where you found this. It was just a few days ago, and I daresay it's not every day you come across something as pretty as this, is it?
Try a bit harder, Billy. Where did you find it?'

Billy looked at the cross, then suddenly away across the room.

‘It was at the lock,' he replied. ‘On the bank, just up from the lock gate.'

‘How did you notice it? It was just lying there, was it?'

‘I expect so. I remember seeing something shiny…' Billy's concentration seemed to desert him for a moment.

Oh, '
tis my delight on a shiny night…

‘Go on, Billy,' Arnold was saying. ‘You saw something shiny. Then what?'

Billy seemed to come back.

‘I saw it shining in the grass and I picked it up. That was it. I took it home and asked Eve if she liked it. She said she did, so I gave it to her.'

‘So, it was definitely down by the lock, which means you found it on this side of the river?'

‘Yes.'

Arnold nodded.
He paused for some time to allow Phillips to catch up with his notes.

‘Did you think of handing it in at the police station at all? I mean, it says it's 22 carat gold. It's really heavy, isn't it? Didn't you think it might be valuable?'

A shrug again.

‘I didn't really think about it.'

Arnold waited, silent.

‘Look, I find stuff by the river all the time. If I took everything I find to the police station, I wouldn't have any time left to work the lock, would I?'

Billy smiled, as if he had scored a point. Arnold returned the smile.

‘Of course, you couldn't hand everything in, Billy. We all understand that.' He held the cross up to the light. ‘Still, even leaving aside the value, whoever it belonged to would be upset to lose something like this, wouldn't she?
Did you think about that at all?'

‘Not really.'

Arnold pulled the cross and chain towards him and it disappeared into his briefcase as quickly as it had appeared. He rummaged among the papers he had placed on the table until he found a photograph. He pushed it across the table to Billy.

‘All right. Well. Let me ask you about something else. Do you recognise the boat in this photograph?'

Billy snorted contemptuously.

‘She's moored up by Holywell Fen, she is,' he said authoritatively.
‘But she wouldn't be, not if I had my way.'

‘Oh?' Arnold asked. ‘And why would that be?'

With another snort, Billy pulled the photograph towards him and looked at it closely.

‘She's a hazard,' he replied. ‘Look at her. She's a big craft to be moored there. She never runs any lights. You can't see her in the dark, or in the fog. Someone is going to ram her one of these days, you mark my words.
She should be removed. I've told the River Board, but they never listen to me. Might as well be talking to myself.'

‘Do you know her name?' Arnold asked.

Billy nodded.

‘
Rosemary D
', he replied. ‘That's what they call her. Bloody nuisance, that's what I call her.'

‘Have you ever been on board?'

Billy's focus seemed to slip again.

Success to every gentleman that lives in Lincolnshire
…

‘Why would I want to board her?'

Arnold spread his arms out wide.

‘Oh, I don't know. Perhaps to check on her lights, or to see if you could find out who owns her, who you could approach about moving her?'

‘No. Never.'

Success to every poacher that wants to sell a hare
…

‘Well, there we are, then,' Arnold said. He paused again, waiting for Phillips to signal that he was ready.
‘You see, Billy, the reason I ask is this. We have reason to believe that the lady who owns the cross and chain I showed you lost it on Saturday night while she was on board the
Rosemary D
. So I'm wondering, if she lost it on the
Rosemary D
, what was it doing on the opposite bank, down by your lock on Tuesday? Can you help me about that at all?'

Bad luck to every gamekeeper that will not sell his deer
…

‘I don't know, do I? Perhaps she made a mistake. Perhaps she lost it later, down by the lock.'

Arnold produced another photograph from the stack of papers.

‘Well, the problem with that, Billy, is that she wasn't in any condition to move from the
Rosemary D
down to the lock. This is what she looked like on Monday morning.'

Arnold pushed the photograph towards Billy, who pushed it back violently, barely glancing at it
.

‘I don't want to look at that.'

‘I can't say I blame you. It's not very nice, is it, Billy?'

‘Take it away.'

‘All right. I'm just trying to show you how important it is that you tell me where you found the cross and chain you gave to Eve.'

‘I already told you.'

‘But you haven't told me the truth, have you, Billy?'

‘Yes, I have.'

‘If necessary,' Arnold said, ‘I can show you on the photo the mark that was made on her neck when the thief to
ok the chain off her. Would you like to see it again?'

Billy turned almost all the way around in his chair.

‘No. Take it away.'

Oh, 'tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.

Silence. Then suddenly, unprompted…

‘All right, I found it near that craft, the
Rosemary D
.'

Phillips looked up sharply.
A raised finger asked for time. Arnold waited.

‘Well, that wasn't too difficult, was it? Why didn't you say so before?'

The focus seemed to return.

‘It wasn't nothing to do with that,' Billy protested.

‘To do with what?'

‘That – in that photograph.'

‘I don't remember suggesting it was,' Arnold said. ‘So, where exactly did you find it?'

‘It was like I said,' Billy replied defiantly.
‘It was on the bank, in the grass. I saw it shining. I picked it up and went home.'

‘Not on Tuesday, you didn't,' Arnold said. ‘Since Monday, the whole area has been cordoned off. It's a crime scene – police officers swarming all over it.'

‘I never said it was Tuesday.'

Arnold looked at Phillips, who nodded.

‘You did, actually, Billy,' he said.

‘Well, that was wrong, then.'

‘Well, when was it, then?'

Oh, 'tis my delight
…

There was a knock on the door. Without waiting for a response, PC Willis opened the door and stepped smartly into the room. Arnold was momentarily vexed, but he knew that an officer as experienced as Willis would not interrupt a detective superintendent in the middle of an interview in a murder case without good reason. Besides, there was no harm in giving Billy Cottage a few minutes in which to reflect on his position.

‘Sorry to disturb you, sir, but there's something come up that Sergeant Livermore and I thought you should know about without delay.
Would it be possible to take a short break?'

‘Certainly, Constable,' Arnold replied. ‘I'm sure DI Phillips wouldn't mind a bit of a rest. While we're at it, why don't we all have a nice cup of tea? Sit tight, Billy, we will bring you some tea and then we will continue.'

‘Can I use the toilet?'

‘Of course you can. PC Willis will take you in a couple of minutes. Just sit tight for a short while.'

Phillips stood gratefully, massaging his right hand vigorously. Arnold closed the door of the interview room and the three officers stood in a huddle
just outside the door. Sergeant Livermore joined them.

‘Good news, sir,' he announced. ‘Jennifer Doyce has just woken up in Addenbrooke's, and she is able to talk.'

Arnold's jaw dropped.

‘You're joking. When they took her in, they didn't give her a snowball
's chance in hell. What happened?'

‘The doctors are just as surprised as you are, sir. They can't really explain it. Under any normal circumstances, her injuries should have been fatal, or at the very least she should have irreversible brain damage. But somehow, she's survived. Mind you, she's not out of the woods yet
– not by a long way. She's still listed as critical. She's got a fractured skull, a couple of broken ribs, and she suffered some injuries around the genital area. There may be internal injuries. But she has regained consciousness, and her vision and hearing are fine. She's talked to the nurses a bit. They are keeping her sedated and on a morphine drip for the foreseeable future. There's no way to tell yet how much she remembers, but apparently she did ask something about Frank, and they don't want to upset her.
No promises, but they might let you talk to her for no more than five minutes tomorrow if her condition doesn't worsen. It will be some time before we know whether she can make a full statement. Her mother is with her, and I've asked her just to make a note of anything Jennifer says, not to ask any questions, just to make a note.'