The Riddle at Gipsy's Mile (An Angela Marchmont Mystery 4) (5 page)

‘
No handbag that we could find, and nothing in her pockets,
’
said Spillett.
‘
She wasn
’
t even wearing a hat.
’

‘
No, she wasn
’
t, was she?
’
said Angela thoughtfully.
‘
I wonder why.
’

‘
Perhaps
her killer took it. At any rate, all we have to do now is find out who she was, and then I dare say we
’
ll have our man.
’

‘
Do you know how she died?
’
asked Angela.
‘
There wasn
’
t much blood, so I guess she must have been dead already when the murderer smash
ed her face.
’

‘
We can
’
t say yet,
’
said the sergeant,
‘
but the police surgeon will be able to tell us something shortly, no doubt. Did you get all that down, Sam?
’
he said to the young constable. P. C. Bass nodded.

‘
Well, then, I think that
’
s all we need fo
r the present,
’
said his superior.
‘
We
’
ll be off now, but you will let us know if you think of anything that might help us, won
’
t you?
’

‘
Of course,
’
said Angela.

She returned to the sitting-room and found the others all there waiting for her.

‘
Well?
’
said
Cynthia as soon as she entered the room.
‘
What did they say? Did you get any dirt out of them?
’

‘
None at all,
’
said Angela.
‘
It looks as though it
’
s exactly what we thought. The police still don
’
t know who she is, but they seem to think that once they have
discovered her identity it will be easy enough to trace the culprit.
’

‘
Oh yes,
’
said Marguerite.
‘
No doubt there
’
s a husband or a jilted lover behind the whole thing. Now then, darlings, we all drank a
little
too much last night, so I propose a walk in th
e fresh air to blow away the cobwebs. What do you say to that?
’

The proposal was agreed to and they all went off to change into their outdoor things. Angela was just about to follow them when Freddy drifted into the room, having been finally roused from hi
s bed by the advancing sun.

‘
I say, what the devil is all this noise?
’
he said, stifling a yawn.
‘
How on earth is a chap supposed to get any sleep?
’

‘
It
’
s nearly eleven o
’
clock,
’
said Angela.

‘
Exactly,
’
he said.
‘
Far too early to be getting up. I must say,
I don
’
t think much of this country life if it requires one to rise before noon. By the way, was that the police I just saw out of the window?
’
Angela replied in the affirmative, and he went on,
‘
What active fellows they are. I suppose they came to ask yo
u
lots of terribly impertinent questions, did they?
’

‘
Not at all,
’
said Angela.
‘
They were very polite.
’

‘
Well, I must say that this whole affair is disrupting my weekend, rather,
’
he said,
‘
although I imagine Mother is absolutely thrilled at finding a dead
body on her doorstep, so to speak. One doesn
’
t wish to speak disrespectfully of one
’
s parents, but she is rather vulgar, don
’
t you think?
’

‘
She seems to have a good nose for a story,
’
said Angela pointedly,
‘
which is a very useful thing to have in the new
spaper business.
’

‘
She
’
s a mere amateur,
’
said Freddy grandly,
‘
but she
’
s certainly got her hooks into you, hasn
’
t she? She
’
s simply dying to write about you and prove to old Bickerstaffe that she
’
s got the talent to be a real reporter.
’

‘
I don
’
t know why,
’
said Angela.
‘
I
’
m not at all interesting.
’

‘
Oh, come now!
’
said Freddy.
‘
Why, everybody knows you have a dark and thrilling past that you have sworn to keep hidden until your dying day.
’

‘
Do they, indeed?
’
said Angela.

‘
Of course. You still haven
’
t told
anyone what you were doing in America all those years. Mother is convinced it was something shady.
’

‘
Shady? Do you mean drug-running, organized murder, something of that sort?
’
said Angela with a laugh. She was intrigued, wondering what rumours had been fl
ying around about her.

‘
Well, perhaps not as shady as that,
’
said Freddy uncomfortably,
‘
but something jolly mysterious all the same. She
’
s sworn to worm it out of you, so you had better watch your step.
’

‘
There
’
s nothing to worm,
’
said Angela.
‘
My life in
the States was very dull and ordinary, for the most part. I shall tell her about all the Committees of Good Works I sat upon in New York. Then she will regret ever having asked me for an interview.
’

She went to change into a pair of stout shoes, then retu
rned downstairs to find the others waiting for her.

‘
Aren
’
t you coming, Freddy?
’
asked his father.

‘
Good gracious, no,
’
said Freddy in horror.
‘
I haven
’
t had breakfast yet. I can
’
t face the day until I
’
ve had two cups of coffee and three cigarettes at the
very least. No, you go on, and I shall stay here to receive any callers.
’

‘
Angela, darling,
’
said Cynthia as they went out.
‘
You simply must talk to me as we go. Our readers want to know all about your life in America. I
’
ve heard you carry a gun. Tell me,
is it true that Buffalo Bill wanted you to join his show?
’

She grasped Angela
’
s arm firmly. Angela glanced back to see Freddy smirking on the doorstep. He gave her an ironic salute and shut the front door.

Inspector Alec Jameson sat at his desk and
frowned. He was writing a report about a case which he had recently brought to a successful conclusion and feeling rather grumpy about it, since he disliked paper-work in general. Still, he had done rather well in this latest case, he reflected
—
well enoug
h
even to bring a smile to the face of his bad-tempered superintendent, perhaps, so he supposed the report-writing would be worth it in the end, even if he had had to give up his Saturday morning for it.

He finished the report and signed his name with a flo
urish, then read through it carefully. It was only then that he noticed to his annoyance that he had mixed up the name of the gang leader and that of the chief witness throughout the report, which was a long one. He swore to himself, then began laboriousl
y
scratching out each name and replacing it with the correct one, but after a paragraph or two it was starting to look very messy. The super would not be pleased. Jameson sighed, pulled a blank sheet of paper towards him and began copying out the report ag
a
in, this time with the right names.

He had almost finished the first page when the telephone on his desk rang. He picked it up.

‘
Jameson speaking,
’
he said. His sergeant, Willis, had just entered the room to deliver a file, and Jameson motioned to him to r
emain as he listened. Willis hovered politely.

‘
Where
’
s that? Littlechurch?
’
said the inspector.
‘
Can
’
t they deal with it there? It doesn
’
t sound as though it
’
s in our line. Oh, I see. Really?
Who
found it, did you say? Well, I
’
ll be
—
no, no, it was nothing
. Very well, then. Willis and I shall start immediately. We
’
ll be there as soon as we can.
’

He put down the receiver and swung round to the sergeant, whose eyebrows had been rising gradually up his forehead during this conversation.

‘
We
’
ve got to go down t
o Kent,
’
said Jameson.
‘
Do you know the Romney Marsh at all?
’

‘
I
’
ve been to Hastings once or twice,
’
said Willis,
‘
but that
’
s about it. What
’
s the story?
’

‘
They
’
ve found a woman in a ditch with her head bashed in.
’

‘
Not our usual sort of thing, is it?
’
sai
d the sergeant.

‘
There seems to be some mystery as to how she died,
’
said Jameson.
‘
The blow to the head was done after death.
’

‘
Strangulation?
’
suggested Willis.

‘
Apparently not. They
’
re doing a full post-mortem today, but in the meantime they want us to
go down and take a look. There
’
s one other thing,
’
he went on.

‘
What
’
s that?
’

‘
The body was found by Angela Marchmont, who happened to be visiting friends in the area.
’

Sergeant Willis pursed up his lips and whistled.

‘
Mrs. Marchmont, eh? She seems to have
a knack of tripping over a crime everywhere she goes.
’

‘
So it seems,
’
Jameson agreed.
‘
If I didn
’
t know better, I should say we had a female homicidal maniac on our hands, but I think she
’
s just been unlucky enough to get caught up in some rather notoriou
s cases lately.
’

‘
Or lucky enough, sir.
’

‘
What
’
s that?
’

‘
Well, she gets her name in the papers, doesn
’
t she? Perhaps she likes all the attention.
’

‘
She doesn
’
t strike me that way,
’
said Jameson, considering.

‘
Nor me, sir,
’
said Willis.
‘
I was just trying a
theory out loud to see how it sounded, so to speak.
’

‘
Well, you can ask her yourself,
’
said Jameson.
‘
Anyway, you
’
d better go and get the car. And find a map of the Romney Marsh. I was there a few years ago and I spent half my time going around in circles
. It
’
s a different country down there.
’

A few minutes later they were heading out of London along the Kent road. There were few cars out, and in a shorter time than they expected they reached Ashford and turned off the main road.

‘
This is where it gets mor
e difficult,
’
said Jameson.
‘
Keep your eyes peeled for sign-posts.
’

But it was a clear day
—
much clearer than the day before, when Mrs. Marchmont and William had had to find their way blindly through the fog, and so, after stopping for directions once or tw
ice, the Scotland Yard men reached the lane they were looking for without too much difficulty. It was easy to see that they had found the right place, for a small knot of people were gathered, talking and gesticulating, while two enormous cart-horses, esc
o
rted by a small boy, stood waiting patiently until they were called upon. A police constable pointed into the undergrowth that lined the side of the road and seemed to give directions to an elderly man, while a youth wearing oil-stained overalls uncoiled
a
length of stout rope and looked on doubtfully. Farther along, a motor-lorry blocked the lane completely.

‘
This must be the place,
’
said the inspector, who had spotted Angela Marchmont immediately. She was standing a little apart with a young man Jameson r
ecognized as her chauffeur, observing the proceedings with interest.

Willis stopped the car and they got out. The sergeant went to talk to the constable, while Jameson went to greet Mrs. Marchmont. Her face broke into a wide smile of pleasure as she saw hi
m.

‘
Why, Inspector Jameson!
’
she said.
‘
I didn
’
t expect to see you here.
’

‘
Hallo, Mrs. Marchmont,
’
replied the inspector.
‘
I understand you have another dead body for us.
’

‘
Oh, have they called in Scotland Yard?
’
said Angela in surprise.
‘
I thought it was
meant to be quite a simple case. Yes,
’
she went on,
‘
we found the poor woman yesterday when we took an unexpected detour into this ditch.
’

Jameson looked over the edge and saw the Bentley sitting askew and forlorn in the mud at the bottom of the bank.

‘
Goo
d Lord,
’
he said.
‘
You
’
re lucky you didn
’
t go into the water.
’

‘
Quite,
’
said Angela.
‘
We were very fortunate not to be hurt. But while we were down there, we found rather more than we had bargained for.
’

‘
Indeed,
’
said the inspector. Willis and P. C. Bass
approached them. Introductions were made, then the young constable said:

‘
We
’
ve got the garage along to get this lady
’
s car out of the ditch. Shouldn
’
t take too long, once they
’
ve got the horses hitched up.
’

‘
I hope the area has been swept thoroughly for e
vidence,
’
said Jameson.

Bass blushed.

‘
Oh no, sir, I mean yes, sir. You can ask Sergeant Spillett. It was all done properly yesterday. We never found nothing. Well, nothing apart from a dead body, of course. But then, we already knew it was there. But ther
e was nothing else that we could see.
’

He broke off in confusion, and the inspector smiled sympathetically.

‘
I
’
m sorry to say that William and I rather disturbed the scene of the crime ourselves,
’
said Angela.
‘
You see, we climbed out of the ditch very clo
se to where she was lying and so may possibly have covered over any tracks that the murderer might have left. Of course, we should have found another place to climb up had we had any idea that she was there, but we didn
’
t spot her until we
’
d already got o
u
t.
’

‘
That
’
s a pity, but it can
’
t be helped,
’
said Jameson.

‘
Why are you here, inspector?
’
asked Angela curiously.
‘
I didn
’
t think Scotland Yard were called in for straightforward crimes such as this.
’

‘
I haven
’
t spoken to the sergeant yet, but I gather the
re are one or two unusual features about this case,
’
replied the inspector.
‘
We may or may not be needed in the end, but they wanted us to come down and take a look. They are pretty sure the dead woman was not local
—
at least, they
’
ve had no reports of mis
s
ing women
—
and so they think we may be able to help in finding out who she was. We have more resources at our disposal in London, you know,
’
he said.

‘
I see,
’
said Angela.

While they were talking, Mr. Turner and his assistant had succeeded in hitching the B
entley to the horses, and it looked as though the fun were about to begin.

‘
Stand back, everyone,
’
commanded Turner. They all obeyed and there began a great stamping and a heaving and a snorting, as the horses strained to pull the car up the bank. Presentl
y the Bentley appeared at the top of the slope and was pulled safely onto the road, spattered with mud and with a highly offended air. Mr. Turner crouched down stiffly and examined the front wheel.

‘
She
’
s got a bent axle, right enough,
’
he said to William.
‘
Want us to take her away and put her right for you?
’

‘
Oh yes, do, please,
’
said Angela.
‘
Will it take long, do you think?
’

‘
We can have her back for you by Monday, if you like,
’
said the old man.

‘
That will be perfect, thank you,
’
said Angela.

He nodded.

‘
Back the lorry up, Bob,
’
he shouted to his mate.

‘
You
’
d better move the car, Willis. There
’
s not room for all of us in the lane,
’
said Jameson.