Empty Vessels (19 page)

ʻSomething strange happened last night, sir.ʼ

ʻOh, yes?ʼ

Bartlett put down his cup.

ʻI was walking out at Pendennis quite late and I heard noises from those old boats.ʼ

ʻNot this again, Boase. No wonder youʼre tired.ʼ

ʻNo, listen, sir. Someone was on one of them – the
St Piran.
There were at least two people. I heard them talking and I saw a light. One of them came up the path and walked right past me - he even trod on my coat. I think thereʼs something funny going on there, sir, really I do.ʼ

ʻAll right, I believe you – but even if someone is there, itʼs probably nothing. Just kids or something. Perhaps weʼll have a look down there tomorrow if we get a bit of time; maybe send Penhaligon or that new youngster to take a walk up there – itʼs obviously bothering you. Now just put it out of your mind.ʼ

ʻRight, sir. Thank you. How did you get on with Algernon Hatton yesterday?ʼ

ʻHeʼs guilty all right, Boase. Admitted killing his brother. Some old rubbish about hating homosexuals. He did it and now heʼs going to pay the price. Itʼs Lady Hatton I feel sorry for – no husband and, soon, no sons. What I still do not understand is about Ivy Williams. Hatton swore blind that it wasnʼt him. He wanted her dead, hired Frank Wilson to do it, then when Wilson turned up at Penvale Manor on Christmas Day he said he hadnʼt killed her – whatʼs going on, Boase?ʼ

ʻWell, he would say that, wouldnʼt he, sir? I mean, heʼs not going to admit it. I think we just have to find him and question him about it. Seems he was hired to do the job, the job was done – who else could it be?ʼ

ʻHmmmm. Maybe.ʼ

As a storm was threatening to blow up in the bay, and the wind began to come in across the sea, Boase was making his way to the Bartlett home for supper. He couldnʼt wait to see
Irene again. Arriving at the house, he walked up the path and knocked at the door. Irene opened it.

ʻHello, Archie. You look nice – cold too. Come on in. She pulled him into the hall and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. He looked at her. She was lovely and he kissed her in return, on her lips. He looked down. There was Topper, waiting to be acknowledged. Boase patted the dog on the head and Topper, satisfied with this, returned to his master. Bartlett and his wife were about to sit at the table. Caroline offered Boase a chair next to hers.

ʻHello, Archie. Sit down. Itʼs only a cold supper tonight – is that all right?ʼ

ʻOf course it is,ʼ he replied. ʻThank you very much.ʼ

The four ate their supper while Topper sat under the table, lying across his master's feet and waiting for any morsel which might come his way, intentionally or otherwise. As they ate, Boase relaxed while Bartlett regaled them with stories about the City of London Police and the Metropolitan, along with his recollections of being a young police constable and chasing Jack the Ripper.

ʻAs true as Iʼm sitting here, I nearly had him. I was that close.ʼ

ʻDonʼt exaggerate, George,ʼ implored his wife.

ʻDonʼt mock, Princess. Donʼt mock. I tell you I nearly caught him and Iʼm certain unto this very day that I knew who it was.ʼ

ʻGo on, tell us, Dad.ʼ

ʻIrene, donʼt encourage your father. He doesnʼt need it.ʼ Caroline began to clear the table. ʻAnyway, part of the fascination is that no one knows who Jack the Ripper was, not even you, George, so donʼt try to spoil it.ʼ

Bartlett lit his pipe, disgruntled.

ʻWell, I do know. So.ʼ

Archie Boase and Irene were in fits of laughter. They had to admit knowing the identity of Jack the Ripper would somewhat spoil the legend.

Boase spent the rest of the evening with the Bartletts and left their house at about half past ten. He always felt sad to be leaving Irene. One day though, he wouldnʼt. Heʼd made up his mind that one day he would never have to leave her and go home. He couldnʼt wait. 

Chapter Fourteen

Norman Richards was upset. Kitty could always tell when there was something wrong with him, and today she was concerned.

ʻNorman, whatʼs wrong with you – youʼve been on pins all morning. Calm down. Look, itʼs almost eleven – why donʼt you go out the back and ʼave a nice cup of tea? Go on. Leave one in the pot for me while youʼre there. When youʼve done that, go out for a quick fag. Mrs Williams wonʼt be back for at least three-quarters of an hour anʼ itʼll do you good.ʼ

Norman obeyed and shortly returned, a bit of colour now back in his cheeks.

ʻTell me whatʼs botherinʼ you Norman. Go on, you know you can talk to me.ʼ Kitty was always sympathetic where Norman was concerned.

He sat down on a small stool.

ʻLast night, a policeman followed me, nearly all the way ʼome. Why would ʼe do that, Kit?ʼ

ʻWhat one earth are you talking about?ʼ

ʻLike I said, ʼe followed me anʼ I didnʼt like it.ʼ

ʻWell ʼave you done anythinʼ wrong?ʼ

ʻNo.ʼ

ʻSo, thereʼs no problem then, is there?ʼ

ʻSʼpose not. Iʼm still goinʼ to tell my friend though. ʼEʼll know what to do. ʼE told me what to do when the gangsters were after me – my friend sorted all that out.ʼ

ʻWell, ʼe sounds like a very good friend to ʼave, Norman. An' there arenʼt too many of those about these days.ʼ Kitty smiled. Poor Norman, she thought. Even the gangsters had been after him. Too much time at the pictures, that was Normanʼs trouble.

At eight oʼclock that evening, George Bartlett knocked on the door of Boaseʼs lodging house in Melvill Road. The landlady called him and Boase ran hurriedly down the stairs. ʻHello, sir. Whatʼre you doing here? Hello, Topper boy.ʼ

ʻTopper and I were just passing and we thought weʼd have a walk round to Pendennis to have a look at those boats of yours. Coming?ʼ

Boase grabbed his hat and coat and the two men and Topper walked out towards the sea front. Topper was enjoying the fresh night air and stopped to sniff at every opportunity. At Pendennis he could smell rabbits and was hoping his master would let him off his lead so that he could chase some. Bartlett had often wondered what Topper would do if he ever caught a rabbit – he was such a big, soft, lump of a dog with not a vicious bone in his body. He often chased them but they were always too quick.

As Bartlett and Boase rounded the bend in the road that led them onto Pendennis Point, Boase grabbed the older manʼs arm. He pointed to a figure descending the cliff path towards the boats. The figure stopped suddenly and lit a cigarette. The silhouette came and went, came and went, as the wind twice extinguished the strangerʼs match.

ʻLook, sir. Someoneʼs going down there.ʼ

The two men and Topper walked across the road and looked down the bank towards the wooden boats. They could clearly see a man walking quickly down the narrow, winding path towards the sea. As he changed direction, he looked back up the bank and, in the half-light, Bartlett thought he recognised him.

ʻI bet you any money, Boase, thatʼs Frank Wilson.ʼ

ʻYouʼre kidding, sir. Thatʼs the last person I expected.ʼ

ʻMe too. I donʼt think he saw us so weʼll come back tomorrow without Topper. If what youʼve been telling me is true, heʼs been here a while anyway – heʼll be in no hurry to leave. Heʼs probably made himself quite comfortable here.ʼ

ʻAre you sure, sir?ʼ Boase was worried. ʻWhat if he runs away?ʼ

ʻHe wonʼt, Boase. He wonʼt.ʼ

Gloria Hesketh answered a knock at the door of the house in Avenue Road; she had rented the entire five-bedroomed house as she didnʼt want to share with anyone. Still, she had plenty of money, so it didnʼt matter what she spent. As she opened the door, she was surprised to see Bartlett and Boase standing on the step.

ʻInspector Bartlett and Constable Boase, how lovely to see you both – but how unexpected. Do come in.ʼ

The two men followed Gloria Hesketh through a long hallway and into a neatly furnished parlour. She was dressed, as usual, very glamorously.

ʻAre you just going out, Miss?ʼ Bartlett enquired.

ʻWhat? Oh, no.ʼ Gloria straightened the front of her dress. ʻBut I never think it does any harm to try to look half decent in oneʼs own home – or in this, case, oneʼs own lodgings.ʼ She smiled at Boase.

ʻAs a matter of fact, gentlemen, I was just about to have some tea – will you join me?ʼ Bartlett walked back from the window where he had been admiring the garden.

ʻTea would be very nice. Thank you.ʼ

ʻWell you both make yourselves comfortable, the kettleʼs just boiled. I wonʼt be a moment.ʼ

She soon returned with a large tray bearing a pot of tea, milk, sugar, and an enormous plate of cakes. Boase stared at the plate. Come to think of it, he was beginning to feel quite hungry.

ʻTuck in now, both of you. Thereʼs fruit cake, vanilla slice, apple turnover, or fruit tart.ʼ

ʻUnfortunately, a man of my mature years and ample stature cannot afford to indulge in such luxuries,ʼ began Bartlett, ʻhowever, I am sure that Boase here will not disappoint you. In fact, I would be surprised if thereʼs anything left in the house by the time we depart.ʼ

Gloria Hesketh giggled a charming giggle and the two men smiled, Bartlett glad to have her, seemingly, on his side. He was going to ask a favour.

ʻThe last time we saw you, Miss …'

ʻI told you, please call me Gloria – everyone does.ʼ

ʻAll right, Gloria, when we saw you, you said you would be happy to help us if you could.ʼ

ʻYes, I did.ʼ

ʻWell, there is something you can do, but you might not be happy with it, so Iʼd like to make sure you fully understand before you agree. Boase and myself have come up with an idea – itʼs possibly not the greatest plan weʼve ever had but, if Iʼm honest, we really need to go for this bald-headed to be in with any chance of success. This isnʼt your problem, Gloria, but the head of my station will call in detectives from London within the week if I donʼt sort this out – and thatʼs the last thing I want.ʼ

ʻYour plan sounds intriguing,ʼ the girl replied, handing round the teas.

ʻOur main suspect for the murder of your sister Ivy disappeared on the night of her death and we havenʼt, I should say, hadnʼt seen him since. That is, until last night. We think weʼve spotted him in the town and we want to question him – thatʼs where you come in.ʼ

ʻYou want me to question him?ʼ

ʻNo. No, we donʼt, but we do want you to help us apprehend him. You see we feel that if you could come with us to where heʼs been staying and pose as Ivy, it might enable us to find out the truth.ʼ

ʻYou mean, frighten him?ʼ

ʻWell, in a way, perhaps. Seeing you might bring it all back to him. It might give us more of an idea about whatʼs been happening.ʼ

Gloria looked pensive.

ʻBut, well … of course, if youʼd rather not,' Bartlett sounded disappointed.

ʻNo, I didnʼt say that. Will it be safe?ʼ

ʻYes, Boase and I will be with you the whole time, donʼt worry about that.ʼ

ʻAll right then, Iʼll do it.ʼ

Bartlett put down his cup and walked over to Gloria.

ʻThank you very much, Gloria. This, Iʼm sure, is going to help us – youʼre doing this for Ivy, just you remember that. Now, weʼll come and pick you up at, say ten oʼclock tonight? Hereʼs a description of what your sister was wearing the last time anyone saw her – if you could match this, as closely as youʼre able, then I think thatʼd help. Is that all right?ʼ

ʻYes, of course.ʼ

ʻAll you have to do is follow our instructions and everything will be all right. So, weʼll see you tonight – and thank you again, this will be such a big help to us, Iʼm sure.ʼ

Bartlett and Boase left Gloria to prepare for the evening and returned to the police station to go through their plans.

Half past nine came and Gloria Hesketh was feeling nervous. She had been ready for almost an hour. She had managed to dress much the same as her sister had, although Gloriaʼs clothes were much finer and well made – it was impossible to replicate the cheap fabric and the worn-out look that Ivy had become accustomed to. She felt sad and guilty that Ivy had had nothing. She had already learned that her twin had been a prostitute and felt very unhappy that the poor girl had had to earn a living that way.

At five minutes to ten there was a knock at the door. Gloria went to open it. There were Bartlett and Boase.

ʻHello, come in.ʼ The two men followed the girl into the house. Bartlett stared at her; the likeness was striking.

ʻIʼm sorry, you startled me a bit. You look so much like her,ʼ Bartlett explained.

ʻWell, we were twins.ʼ

ʻYes, of course. I was just a bit shocked thatʼs all.ʼ

ʻHave I dressed all right?ʼ Gloria spun round.

ʻJust right, Iʼd say – wouldnʼt you, Boase?ʼ

ʻYes, most definitely.ʼ

Bartlett handed the girl her bag – even that looked just right. Gloria had really done a good job.

ʻNow remember, Gloria, thereʼs nothing to worry about – Boase and I will be with you all the time. Weʼre just trying to entice your sisterʼs killer; heʼs got nothing against you and heʼll know straight away that the gameʼs up. All right?ʼ

ʻAll right,ʼ replied Gloria, nervously.

The three left the Avenue Road house and prepared for anything that might happen. Although it was a short distance, Bartlett had brought a car. It was a cold night and he didnʼt want Gloria to be uncomfortable – she was doing them a very big favour. Within a few minutes they were at Pendennis Point and Bartlett parked the car. The three got out, Gloria looking all around her and feeling worried. Bartlett squeezed her arm. They walked across the road to where they could see the
St Piran
along with the other wooden boats. There was a light showing again. Boase led the way down the footpath, followed by Gloria, then Bartlett. As they got closer they heard voices and music, Bartlett thought it sounded like a gramophone. They stood on the edge of the cliff and watched the boat which was gently bobbing on the water.

ʻIʼm going on board, Boase,ʼ Bartlett whispered to his assistant. ʻYou wait here with Gloria.ʼ

ʻThatʼs a bad idea, sir, weʼre coming with you, just in case.ʼ

ʻAll right, but keep that young woman behind you at all times, do you hear me?ʼ

ʻRight-oh.ʼ

The three stood at the edge of the cliff and Bartlett jumped the short gap from land to boat. He turned and offered his hand to Gloria. He was thankful that she had worn sensible shoes. She too jumped across to the boat and Boase followed. The music was louder and clearer now; there was some sort of jazz playing. Bartlett held his hand up to Boase to indicate that he must wait, then made his way around the deck. He tripped and an empty bottle rolled across the wooden planks. He listened; the music had stopped – someone must have heard him. He turned and Boase was right behind him.

ʻYou all right, sir?ʼ

ʻYes, but it looks like theyʼve heard us.ʼ

Suddenly, a small hatch opened up in the deck a few yards away and a head peered through. Its owner pulled his body up and stood facing the three visitors. It was Frank Wilson.

ʻWho are you, what do you want?ʼ

Bartlett stepped forward.

ʻI know youʼre Frank Wilson. Iʼm Inspector Bartlett, this is Constable Boase, and this young lady – well, you may recognise her.ʼ

Gloria stepped forward and Frank Wilson gasped. In the half light he could clearly see Ivy Williams – but how …?

ʻWeʼd really like to talk to you, Frank. Weʼve been looking for you for a long time. Donʼt try to run, weʼve got the place surrounded.ʼ

ʻIʼm not going anywhere, but thereʼs no point standing up here in the dark. Come down below, we can talk there.ʼ

Bartlett, Boase, and Gloria Hesketh followed Wilson through the hatch, down a short ladder and into a small room below. An oil lamp lit the scene. The smell was quite vile – a concoction of oil, stale food and general unpleasantness. The four of them sat down, each finding a place amongst an assortment of stool and barrels.

ʻWhy are you hiding away down here, Frank?ʼ Bartlett thought that now, surely, he had to come clean.

ʻBecause I knew you were after me – and I havenʼt done anything wrong.ʼ

ʻWe suspect you have.ʼ

ʻYou think I killed Ivy Williams and Rupert Hatton – well, I didnʼt.ʼ

ʻWe know you didnʼt kill Rupert Hatton – we know that for a fact, but you were the last person to see Ivy Williams alive and we understand that you had a motive.ʼ

ʻOh, and what would that be?ʼ

ʻThe Hattons told us that they paid you to get rid of Ivy.ʼ

ʻThey tried to, but I didnʼt do it. Anyway, Iʼm still waiting for you to tell me who this woman is – thereʼs an uncanny resemblance.ʼ

Gloria spoke for the first time. ʻMy name is Gloria Hesketh; Iʼm Ivy Williamsʼs twin sister.ʼ

ʻThat explains it then.ʼ Frank smiled at her. She smiled back, she thought he looked like a film star. Frank sighed. ʻI suppose youʼve got it in for me too?ʼ

She didnʼt answer.

ʻLook, Inspector Bartlett, I donʼt know how long I thought I could live like this, but there were a couple of things I had to see through before I could get away – and I was going away because I havenʼt done anything. I just donʼt know how I can prove it to you.ʼ

ʻNeither do we,ʼ piped up Boase.

The four looked up as suddenly footsteps could be heard up on the deck; the person was running. All at once the hatch was lifted and two feet appeared on the first rung of the ladder.

ʻFrank, Frank. The police have been following me; youʼve got to ʼelp me Frank.ʼ

Bartlett and Boase stood up to welcome the visitor.