Furious Old Women (11 page)

“Nor yet a psalm-singing hypocrite. I like a bit of fun,” said Mugger lugubriously.

“What sort of fun?” asked Carolus, falling headlong into the trap.

“Well, not too old. Nor yet so young it'll get you into trouble. About twenty-five or thirty with a nice big chassis who don't open her mouth too wide.”

“That wasn't exactly what I asked. However, do you find your bit of fun in Gladhurst?”

Mugger looked gloomier.

“Of course I do. It's everywhere, if you know how to look for it. There's one working out at Ryley's farm….”

“Don't let's go into details.”

“Well, you asked me. I mean, where should we be without it? You can't have all work and no play, can you? I remember one lived in Church Cottages. You've never seen anyone like it. It was as though she was on fire….”

“You had something to tell me, I believe?”

“I was telling you about this one, lived in Church Cottages. I had to tell her in the end she'd get me into trouble if my old woman got to hear of anything. Then there was a German one came to work for some people here. Oh dear, oh dear. I shall never forget it. She was tall as I was, very near, but big-made with it. There
was
a lot of her. I used to say to her, there
is
a lot of you', I used to say, but of course she never understood a word of English. Then when I was rabbiting one night….”

“Look, Mugger, I'm sure your reminiscences are very interesting. You ought to write a book some day. But I'm trying to find out about Miss Griggs, not about your various adventures. If you've got anything to tell me, let's have it. If not I'll drop you off where you like.”

“Well, I have got something to tell you but I don't know how you'll take it.”

“I'm afraid I can't give you any assurance on that. I certainly shan't talk for the sake of talking.”

“I don't know what to say. Suppose I was to hint to you, no more than a hint, mind, that I might know where a bit of jewellery was to be seen?”

“You mean? Oh, I see. Good heavens, man, you can't keep that. You'll find yourself charged with murder if you're found in possession of it.”

“That's what I'm afraid of. But I'm not in possession of it. I've left it where I found it.”

“What about the money?”

“There was no money,” said Mugger and for the first
time a touch of animation was in his voice. “No money, there wasn't. Not a sausage. Jools. No money.”

“Have you done any work since helping Rumble to dig Chilling's grave?”

“Work? No. To tell the truth I haven't had time. There's one come to live with her auntie just near the station. Just right, she is. You know, not too thin and not a big sack of potatoes either. Only thing is she won't come out of doors. Says it's too cold. So I have to wait till her auntie's out.…”

Mugger's long face expressed nothing but gloom.

“You haven't worked for a couple of weeks yet you don't seem short of money.”

“Oh well. Got to have a bit of luck sometime. But those jools are just as I found them. Something told me not to touch them. But I want a bit out of them, mind. I'm entitled to that, for finding them.”

“That will be up to the family.”

“Oh. But I haven't said where they are yet, have I? If I'm not going to get anything out of it they can go on searching. Then they'll probably never know who did for the old girl.”

“Don't you think you're being rather rash?”

“Always have been,” said Mugger sadly. “It's a miracle my old woman's never tumbled anything. There was one lived two doors from us, getting on a bit, she was, but still what you might call all right. I used to see her….”

“Yes, yes. I'm sure you've been most successful. But being found out by your wife is rather different from a charge by the police.”

“I don't worry about police. Never have. Take Slatt, for instance. He's been after me for years.”

“But, Mugger, this is what is called a murder case.”

“Still, I didn't do it, did I?”

“I don't know. But the police will regard your keeping the stolen jewellery hidden as at least half a case against you.”

“I can prove I had nothing to do with it. Soon as I'd
finished with Rumble that afternoon I went home to tea. My old woman can vouch for that. Then, naming no names, I had to meet someone just about the time when Slatt seems to think old Miss Griggs was done for. Just after dark, that was.”

“I daresay you have an alibi of sorts. But not reporting your find amounts to being an accessory after the fact, or something of the sort.”

“So you think I ought to just hand it over and perhaps never get a thank you?”

“I'm afraid so. After all there was the money, wasn't there?”

“What money? I told you there was no money.”

“I know you did.”

“Calling me a liar, are you?”

“Of course I am. Now, look, Mugger, don't be silly. You've had your reward for finding it and as long as the bank hasn't got the numbers of the notes….”

“Do
you
think they might have?”

“Not if they were in one-pound notes. Fivers and above they probably will have taken.”

Mugger's lugubrious voice seemed to rise to a more cheerful pitch.

“Anyhow, there wasn't any money. Want to see the jools? Then you'll know what's best to be done. Though I'm not a man to ask anyone that, generally. I'm a quiet man and know how to go about my business my own way.”

“Where are they?” asked Carolus.

There was a long sigh from the lugubrious Mugger.

“I suppose I shall have to tell you and chance it,” he said.

He sat there immobile and melancholy. In the light of the dashboard Carolus could see the lantern jaws and the red hair, the expression of set inviolable solemnity.

“Do you want a bit of fun?” asked Mugger, his voice unchanged. “Because I know where one's just come to live….”

“Are you going to take me to where this jewellery is hidden or not?” asked Carolus in exasperation.

“All right, all right,” moaned Mugger. “I was only asking you if you wanted a bit of fun. No need to have it if you don't want it. Only you won't often see one like this….”

Carolus made to start the car.

“You don't need no car,” said Mugger. “Leave it here and come with me.”

Carolus turned up the collar of his overcoat and prepared to follow. The rain persisted although a light wind had arisen.

“Got a torch?” asked Mugger.

Carolus pulled one from the pocket of the car.

Mugger led the way across the open space in front of the church and it was obvious that he was making for the lych-gate. In the shelter of this they waited for a moment.

“This is a handy place,” confided Mugger, “if you've got one with you on a wet night. No one's going to disturb you here. They keep away from churchyards after dark. I remember …”

“Come along,” said Carolus.

Mugger led the way by a path which passed the West door and went round by the South side of the church. They were rather more sheltered here. Carolus could just make out the shapes of gravestones as his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. Finally Mugger opened a door rather below ground level and they entered what was evidently the furnace-room mentioned by Rumble as the place where his tools were kept. It was cold enough tonight to be an ice-store. Carolus threw the light of his torch in every direction.

“See, this is where Rumble keeps his spades for when he has a grave to dig. But he only just comes in and out again except when he gets the furnace going. He never goes up those steps.”

Carolus saw that against the wall was an iron ladder,
leading, evidently, to some kind of loft. He followed Mugger up these and found himself under a sloping roof too low to allow him to stand upright.

“I've used this for years,” said Mugger. “Keep my rabbiting wires and gun and cartridges here besides one or two other things I use when I go out at night. I don't suppose you'd know how to collect half a dozen pheasants in an evening, would you? Besides, I need somewhere to put anything I find. Old Slatt would have given his right hand to know of this which is one reason I don't like bringing the coppers here. Of course I've moved all my stuff now but the new place isn't nearly so good. Now look at this.”

Near the top of the steps was an old toolbox which Mugger opened and Carolus at once saw what Mugger described as ‘the jools'. There was a collection such as a rich and ostentatious elderly woman might have worn in the daytime, several bracelets, four rings, a large diamond brooch and a necklet.

“When did you find these?”

“On the night after the murder.”

“And the money?”

Mugger answered as though Carolus had been tactless.

“I've told you there was no money,” he said. “Anything I found was all together in this box. Whoever it was must have known Rumble kept his spade here and come to get it to throw in enough soil to cover her. When he brought the spade back he was wondering where to get rid of the jools till things had blown over a bit and seen those steps. I don't suppose it took him a minute to nip up and pop them in here.”

“You haven't touched these?” asked Carolus.

“I know enough for that,” said Mugger. “If I'd been going to take them I'd have taken them. If not there was no call to leave my fingerprints all over them.”

“Very wise.”

“I suppose there's a decent bit of money in that lot, isn't there?” asked Mugger.

“I imagine so. I'm not an expert. Now I have to drive back through Burley. Would you like me to drop you off at the police station there?”

“Whatever for?”

“You're going to report this, aren't you?”

“I suppose I've got to if you say so. Only I'm not going over to Burley for that. Slatt'll do for me.”

So Mugger once again settled into Carolus's car and they drove to the cottage distinguished from the rest by a sign outside bearing the words COUNTY POLICE. The door was opened by a thin woman, presumably the policeman's wife.

“I suppose you'd better come in as it's raining,” she said.

Slatt entered the room where they waited, his jaws still working.

“I was just having my tea,” he announced unnecessarily.

An extraordinary expression, half ghoulish, half mischievous, came over Mugger's face and Carolus supposed that he was smiling.

“What do you want, Mugger?” asked Slatt sternly. “And you're the man asking me questions the other night. What is it you both want?”

Mugger was not to be hurried.

“Got one for you this time, Slatt,” he said.

“Have you something to report?” asked the policeman grandly.

“Got right ahead of you this time, Slatt. Left you a long way behind.”

Carolus could not resist quoting
Hudibras
.

“Quoth Hudibras, Friend Ralph, thou hast

Outrun the constable at last.”

Slatt turned on him furiously.

“Police officer!” he shouted.

“I beg your pardon,” said Carolus.

“Quoth Hudibras, Friend Ralph, thou hast

Outrun the Police Officer at last”

“What's this all about?”

“How would you like to know where Miss Griggs's jools are?” asked Mugger.

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“Yes,” admitted Mugger. “But I know where the jools are, all the same.”

“Then it's your duty to report it to me.”

“What do you think I've come here for on a pouring night like this when I might be in the Black Horse? Of course I'm going to report it. Get your notebook out and I'll tell you.”

Like a man mesmerized, Slatt obeyed.

“I hope this isn't one of your larks,” he said.

“This gentleman will tell you. He's just seen them. It was him told me to come to you. Otherwise I might have kept the information to myself.”

Slatt had his notebook open.

“When did you make this discovery?” he asked.

“This afternoon. About three o'clock.”

Slatt's pencil worked.

“Where?”

“I'm going to take you there in a minute. That's better than saying.”

Slatt nodded and wrote.

“What was there so far as you remember?”

Mugger gave details which Slatt noted.

“Miss Griggs had a sum of money on her,” said Slatt.

“There was no money there. Jools, no money.”

Slatt said nothing.

“You'll both have to wait a minute while I get on the telephone to the Detective Inspector in charge of this case.”

He left them together and returned with a smile.

“The D.I. is coming over at once. He'll want you to take him to the place you found this, Mugger.”

“I don't mind,” said Mugger. “Even if I have to miss one who's waiting for me in the bus stop shelter. Nothing special, as you might say, but not one of your little bony ones. Something you can get hold of …”

“Now Mugger,” warned Slatt.

“Well, I'm doing you a favour, aren't I?”

“So you may be but there's no need for Talk. I've got a position to keep up.”

“You remember Dogberry?” said Carolus. “Dogberry in
Much Ado About Nothing.
When Seacoal had just been promoted.
‘You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man to be constable of the Watch'.”

“How many times have I got to tell you? Police Officer, it is.”

“Of course. Of course.
‘You are thought here to be the most senseless and fit man to be Police Officer of the Watch'.”

A
T
least, thought Carolus, it would give him a chance to meet the CID man in charge of the case, usually a somewhat difficult matter. It was not that professional policemen resented amateurs—they simply did not recognize their existence unless the amateur, by some tactless piece of intrusion, forced them to warn him off matters which did not concern him.