Adders on the Heath (10 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE GEN, THE DOPE, THE LOW-DOWN

'By these Questions something seems to have ruffled you. Are any of us suspected?'

John Gay-
The Beggar's Opera

The available information regarding the two deaths was too meagre to interest the London papers overmuch. Most of them carried a few lines headed
Mysterious Deaths In New Forest
, but the adjourned inquest, the adamant attitude of the manager of the New Forest Hunt Hotel and the uncompromising stand taken by the Superintendent of Police made further enquiries difficult. The London papers were prepared to wait for the inquest to be resumed before they spent any more money on reporters' expenses.

The local press was more persistent, but came up against the same blank walls. One enterprising youth did attempt to waylay Richardson and Denis, but got no change out of either. Richardson offered to punch him on the nose and Denis referred obliquely to a charge of molestation of witnesses.

Dame Beatrice and Laura pursued a course of action dictated by the former and warmly endorsed by the latter. This was to visit the secretary of the Scylla and District Social and Athletic Club to find out whether he had any contribution to make to the limited information they already possessed regarding the two dead men.

'I bet he won't be over-pleased to see us,' volunteered Laura. The police will have turned him inside-out already, not to mention the local papers.'

'I am not so sure,' said Dame Beatrice. 'An obscure group such as this athletics club may not be at all averse to as much publicity as it can obtain. One thing which I shall do before we dabble in the affair, however, is to acquaint the Chief Constable of our proposed activities. He is an old and valued friend and I should not like him to think that...'

'We were going behind his back? He wouldn't think that of you, I'm certain, but we might as well have his blessing.'

This was readily obtained, especially as Dame Beatrice reminded him that her grand-nephew was, to some extent, mixed up in the affair. He introduced her to the Superintendent and she agreed, as was her invariable practice, to keep the police fully informed of any progress she might make in the unmasking of the guilty persons.

'Because, of course, there's almost certain to be more than one of them,' said the Superintendent, 'and that's why, although we're checking up very carefully on this young Mr Richardson, ma'am, we're not particularly inclined at present to think he had much to do with it. Nobody seems to have been associated with him until Mr Bradley came down here, and by that time the murders belonged, as they say, to history. Of course,' he added, giving her a shrewd glance, 'we've already got in touch with London to check on Mr Bradley's movements just before he left there, but that's just routine.'

Richardson had the address in Southampton of the secretary of the Scylla and District, and an interview, fixed for seven o'clock in the evening, was soon arranged. Dame Beatrice's opinion was justified, for the secretary, a long, thin, dark-haired young man in glasses, greeted them with nervous enthusiasm, invited them in and began an excited monologue.

'Of course, we've seen quite a lot of the police and we've had the reporters. All the members of the club, men and girls, have been questioned, but I don't think anyone believes it's got anything to do with the club as such,' he said. 'Mind you, it's a bit odd that they both belonged to our mob, although, of course, Bunt gave us up months ago because of disagreements over one thing and another.'

'Can you tell us the origin of those disagreements?' asked Dame Beatrice.

'Our late president, one of the wealthiest men in the county, started us off with our own ground and a small stand, you know, but he resigned about a year ago, so we touted round for somebody else with money who'd be prepared to support us. Well, there didn't seem to be any outside takers, so Bunt proposed we should ballot among the members themselves. Anybody who was prepared to cough up a hundred quid could join the list of candidates. He himself, he said, was ready and willing. His father's a builder and doing well.'

'But I take it that Mr Bunt was not elected.'

'No, he wasn't. Nobody really wanted him. He was our best cross-country runner and a useful steeplechaser-had been tried for the County and all that-but he had it up the nose and was always chucking his weight about. Then one of the ladies-he pulled in a pretty good pay packet I should think, although we never found out what he did-anyhow, he was always treating the girls-found out that his first action as president would be to try and affiliate us to a big Southampton club. Affiliation
sounds
all right, but some of us knew that it meant, in this case, a complete merger in which we'd lose our identity once and for all. A lot of us didn't want that, especially as we've got our own ground and running-track.'

'But surely there are the other officers and a committee to vet. the president's ideas?' said Laura.

'Well, you see, Mrs Gavin, he got a certain amount of support from the newer members. Apart from that, as we were founded on the late president's money, we had, as part of our constitution, an agreement that the president's word should be law. That was quite all right in Towne's time, because he never interfered in any way, but we decided it might not be all right if he had a successor. The president was in a position, actually, to determine all questions of policy. Well, to affiliate us to a larger, richer club was definitely a question of policy and we couldn't get round it without altering the rules, and that's always a dicey proceeding.'

'I should have thought it was the obvious thing to do,' said Laura. The secretary shook his head, took off his glasses, wiped them and then shook his head again.

'As a matter of fact, if we alter the rules we forfeit the bit of money we still get from a kind of trust-fund. Nobody wants that. It comes in very handy for paying the groundsman and renewing the equipment such as hurdles and high-jump stands and having the track properly looked after, you see.'

'I see. So, as he was not elected president, Mr Bunt left your club?'

'Well, there was a bit of a row, but, in the end, we were jolly lucky, as it happened. We were able to put up another candidate.'

'Really?'

'Yes, an old girl named Calne, a retired schoolteacher. Some of us who'd been in her class went and lobbied her and she agreed to put up the hundred pounds and did so, there and then. She suited everybody, because we knew she wouldn't interfere with a thing and wouldn't attempt to go over the heads of the committee.'

'Retired teachers can't usually afford to hand over a hundred smackers for, you might say, nothing,' said Laura. 'I wonder what made her agree to take on the job?'

'Oh, well, as to that,' said the secretary, with a secretive smile, 'she'll be paid back, with a bit of interest, you see, although she doesn't know that. We're running dances and bingo in the winter in aid of club funds. There's nothing in the rules to say how club funds are to be used, so we're planning to hand over to her any profit we make. Anyway, it was very sporting of her to put up the money.'

'But it left Mr Bunt somewhat disgruntled,' observed Dame Beatrice.

'He was so offensive that we bunged him out, in fact.'

'Would you mind very much if I went to see Miss Calne?' asked Dame Beatrice. 'You say that she is a retired schoolmistress and I have found such people to be storehouses of the kind of facts which will be of use to me.'

'Go and see her, by all means. She attends all our meetings and can certainly give you the low-down on any of us who were in her class at any time! I'll give you her address.'

Miss Calne lived between Lyndhurst and Lymington in a small bungalow whose back garden met the grounds of a much larger establishment from which it was screened by trees. Her small garage and large front windows faced on to a broad stretch of common.

'Well!' said Laura. 'As the crow flies, or, in this part of the world, as the ponies wander, this can't be all that far from the New Forest Hunt Hotel.'

She was right. Miss Calne, a well-covered, pink-cheeked, cheerful woman in her late sixties, knew the hotel and occasionally took lunch or dinner there.

'Lunch in the winter; dinner in the summer,' she told Dame Beatrice. 'I have only a midday snack in the summer, you see, so I can do with a main meal at night, but in winter I don't care to come back to an empty house after dark, so, if I do go to the hotel, it is for lunch.'

About the members of the Scylla and District Club she was the mine of information for which Dame Beatrice had hoped.

'Yes, I think I did come to the rescue,' she said complacently. 'I wish it could have been a club for delinquents but, although there is a somewhat rowdy element among the younger members, we get very little really bad behaviour.'

'Yet two of your former pupils have contrived to get themselves killed,' Dame Beatrice pointed out.

'No, no,' said Miss Calne vigorously.
'Not
my pupils, I am thankful to say. Neither of them. Oh, no. I wouldn't like you to run away with that idea. Club members, yes. Old Boys of my school, certainly not.' She waved her hand. 'I sincerely hope my school turned out better specimens than Bunt and Colnbrook. Bunt was most offensive to me when he knew of my election. He came round here and was insolent.'

'Was there-were the two men friends?'

'I really have no idea. You must remember that I had no connection with the club until after Bunt's resignation-so-called.'

'We heard about that. He wanted the Scylla Club to affiliate to a larger body based on Southampton, it seems.'

'So I was told when I was invited to become president. Oh, something occurs to me. Colnbrook and Bunt were rivals, so I heard. I had forgotten the gossip.'

'In running, or did their rivalry stem from a different cause?' Dame Beatrice enquired.

'The cause, I understand, was Mavis Wight.'

'Rivalry in love, you mean?'

'I doubt whether some members of the club would understand the meaning of the word love, but I am told that both wanted to-what is that disagreeable modern expression...?'

'Wanted to date her?' suggested Laura. Miss Calne nodded.

'That's it.'

'And to which did the young woman give preference?' asked Dame Beatrice.

'I could not say. Deirdre Bath, who used to be one of my pupils, was my informant, but I was not particularly interested and the subject was soon changed.'

'Is this Miss Bath a member of the club?'

'Mrs
Bath. She married the treasurer, but, yes, she is still an active member. She jumps.'

'Indeed?' Dame Beatrice looked puzzled.

'Long or high?' demanded Laura, coming to the aid of her employer.

'Oh, long, long. I am told she stands a chance of being selected for the County. She is one of the reasons why the club was not at all anxious to merge itself with the Southampton people. It was felt that the Scylla and District should bask alone in Deirdre's reflected glory.'

'Quite reasonable, at that,' said Laura. 'But what about Bunt and Colnbrook?'

'I am afraid I can tell you very little more about either of them.'

'Have you Mrs Bath's address?' asked Dame Beatrice.

Miss Calne supplied this, and Dame Beatrice and Laura drove to a large village along one of the most beautiful main roads in the Forest. On either side the way was thickly wooded behind a broad border of grass well cropped by numerous ponies. The road ran fairly straight, was mildly undulating and, at that time of year, was not particularly heavy with traffic. Numerous signs indicated the need for caution in respect of straying animals and the undesirablity of feeding these in the interests of the ponies' own safety on the roads, and further signs, sponsored by a display of birch brooms, warned against the risk of forest fires.

At the entrance to the village the car took the Totton road between the golf course and Fox Hill and pulled up at a row of semi-detached bungalows.

Mrs Bath was doing her ironing in the parlour into which the front door opened. Two innocent-eyed and slightly dirty-faced children were playing on the floor, but suspended their game to stare at the visitors. Dame Beatrice apologised for having arrived at an inconvenient time and suggested that she and Laura should return later.

'If it's the H.P. for next-door's telly,' said Mrs Bath, 'you'll get it all right next week. Her husband's getting a bonus, and, anyway,
I
can't pay it for her.'

Dame Beatrice explained that it was not the H.P. for the television set, but that Miss Calne had given her Mrs Bath's address. Miss Calne's name appeared to have a magic significance, for Mrs Bath, who had switched off the electric iron in order to answer the door, now stood the iron up on end, invited the visitors in, spat skilfully on to each youthful face and gave it a scrub on the tea-cloth she had just finished ironing, and then offered her callers chairs.

'It'll be about the club, I expect,' she said. 'Arthur, leave Jenny's dolly alone, else I'll take away your bricks and lock 'em up.'

'Well, it is in connection with two members-or, rather, with two ex-members-of the club,' Dame Beatrice admitted. 'Two, in fact, who are no longer with us in the flesh.'

'Oh? Bert Colnbrook and that there Bunt,' said Mrs Bath. 'Well, I don't suppose you're police, else my husband would have told me, being tipped off by his brother Alf.'