The School of English Murder (27 page)

‘We’ve already tried him and he doesn’t.’

‘What do you want me to do, sir?’

‘You two stay in this office and think. I’ve got plenty of people outside dealing with the practicalities. Keep going through Rogers’s statement and praying for inspiration.’

Pooley’s inspiration came first. As Milton came in to report that a fourth search had yielded nothing, he suddenly said: ‘Has anyone tried the Last Number Replay button?’

‘What? Oh, you mean on the phone she was using? Christ, I don’t know. Let’s try, even though she was probably phoning for a taxi.’

‘You two go,’ said Amiss. ‘You’re the pros. If you don’t mind, I’ll stay here and skip the sights.’

Milton strode into the lounge. ‘Sammy, has anyone used this phone since we arrived?’

‘No, sir. The fingerprint boys have only just finished with it.’

Milton picked up the receiver and pressed the LR button. There was a long succession of clicks and then an unfamiliar tone. ‘It’s long distance,’ he said. It rang twice and then a voice said: ‘Hello. Sven Bjorgsson.’ It was all that Pooley could do not to let out a cheer.

Opting for discretion, Milton put the phone down without a word. ‘It’s a tricky one this,’ he said, when they had gone back to the office. ‘The only sensible hypothesis I can offer is that Rogers attacked her because of something he overheard her saying to Bjorgsson. We need to know from Bjorgsson the substance of their conversation and if it came to an abrupt halt, but I don’t want that done on the telephone. I’ll have to have someone sent over to see him. Damn. I know it’s Rogers. Nothing else makes sense. But where in hell is the weapon?’

Amiss was sitting dejectedly on the floor in the corner of the office, thinking mournfully about his first day at the school. Only three weeks ago and it felt like years. He remembered sitting waiting for Rich as Ned jabbered disarmingly of their travels together. ‘Oh, God,’ he said to himself under his breath. Milton was on the phone so he spoke softly to Pooley. ‘Ellis. Any more details on what she was hit with?’

‘Only what I told you earlier — something very knobbly — bit like a blackthorn club only more so.’

Amiss looked in the right-hand drawer of what had been Ned Nurse’s desk, nodded, and sat on the corner of the desk and removed his right shoe and sock. Milton and Pooley watched on with fascination as he began to fill his sock with handfuls of coins. He whirled it round experimentally and then handed it over to Milton. ‘Try this for size,’ he said.

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‘Mr Rogers, I’m charging you with the murder of Miss Catherine Taylor and I must warn you that anything you say may be taken down and used in evidence against you.’

‘This is ridiculous. How could I have killed Cath?’

‘We’ve found what could well have served as a weapon, sir.’ Milton took Amiss’s coin-filled sock from a carrier bag and showed its contents to Rich. ‘Could you take your shoes off, sir?’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I think you do. I think you converted coins into a weapon, probably by putting them in a sock. If not a sock, then something similar. Could I have a look at your socks, please.’

‘Certainly, Superintendent. Just one small matter, first. Isn’t one supposed to have a motive for murder? Or did I do this for fun?’

Milton closed his eyes for a moment to recall accurately the strategy that Amiss had impressed upon him. ‘I think you did it because she was blackmailing you.’

‘This is preposterous, Superintendent. I haven’t done anything to be blackmailed about. Unless you mean those piddling amounts of drugs. I’d hardly risk life imprisonment to save a small fine.’

‘No, sir. Not the drugs.’ Milton looked Rich straight in the eyes. ‘I believe she was blackmailing you because she knew you’d hired Ahmed to kill your partner. He failed to batter him to death: then you set him up to spike Mr Nurse’s drink.’

‘Don’t even say anything like that. It’s a blasphemy. I wouldn’t have hurt a hair on Ned’s head. I loved him.’

‘Yes, sir. So you say. But we deal in facts. You stood to gain a great deal of money from his death and therefore all along you’ve been the obvious suspect.’

Rich fell into a chair and began to cry. ‘I can’t bear this,’ he sobbed.

‘We have evidence of the truth of what I’m saying.’

‘You can’t have.’

‘Miss Taylor’s lover, Mr Sven Bjorgsson, is prepared to testify to this.’

‘He couldn’t.’ Rich stopped crying and thought for a few moments. ‘I’m wrong, aren’t I? He could, of course he could. And everyone will believe him. I’d rather be dead than have people believe I had Ned killed.’

‘Well in that case I’d advise you to get your story in fast, Mr Rogers.’

Rich leaned back in the chair and looked from Milton to Pooley. ‘All right, Superintendent. You win. One of my socks is damp and though I washed it thoroughly, I’m sure it’ll show up something it shouldn’t. And of course some of the fibres will be found in Cath’s wounds. I had taken the precaution of putting plastic film over the sock, but it split. Give in gracefully has always been one of my mottoes. Or to put it another way, “It’s a fair cop, copper,” ’ he guffawed weakly.

‘And your reason for doing it, Mr Rogers?’

‘I’d better tell you about it in sequence. While we were talking she gave the game away by saying she thought Plutarch — my cat — was dead, when no one but me, the vet and the would-be strangler had known anything about the attack. I knew then that there was something awful going on. I crept along the hall and listened to her. The lounge door opens without a sound. I realised that the Sven she was talking to was the one you’d been asking about last week. He’d been pestering me to come in with him on a business proposition. Drug smuggling in other words. I said no.

‘It all fell into place suddenly. It was around that time that Cath started to try to get a slice of the partnership. Obviously she was intended to be the Trojan horse if I refused to open the gates to Sven. Then she said, “So you wasted your money on Ahmed. It’s no help at all Ned Nurse is dead.” He said something and then she said, “I never thought he’d crack as easily as you did, though it was worth trying it with the bloody cat. Would you believe it survived? Wasn’t Ahmed unbelievable? Glad you had him bumped off.”

‘I’ve never felt hatred before. Sharpens your wits, I find. I had everything worked out in a couple of minutes and she was dead within five. Funny, really. I don’t know whether she rang Sven from the school because of impatience or tightfistedness, but that’s why she died. I’d never have killed her in cold blood.’

‘Thank you for your frankness, Mr Rogers. Are you ready to come with us now?’

‘There are just one or two things I’d like to get from my office.’

‘The sergeant will get them for you, sir. What would you like?’

‘If you don’t mind, Superintendent, I’d like to do it myself. I probably won’t see the office again.’

‘Very good, sir,’ said Milton. ‘Just hold on a moment while I make a couple of notes and I’ll take you there. Sergeant Pooley, perhaps you’d go ahead and tell Inspector Pike what’shappening.’

Pooley tore downstairs to the office where Amiss was sitting staring at a blank wall. ‘He’s coming in here in a minute, Robert. If you don’t want to be seen you’ll have to get out now.’

‘Where’ll I go?’

‘Nowhere downstairs is safe. Just go out the front. And get well clear. We’ll be taking him into custody immediately. Come on!’ and he bundled him out of the office and down the hallway. A moment after the front door closed, Milton and Rich came in from the lounge and disappeared into the office. When they reappeared, Rich was saying, ‘What’s really worrying me, Superintendent, is my cat. She’s not well.’

‘Have you anyone to look after her?’

‘The only one I can think of is my young colleague, Bob Amiss. Could you be very kind and ask him to take over? If he could move in with her for a few days, until she’s better and I can make arrangements about her future, I’d be awfully grateful.’ He took a key-ring out of his pocket and handed it to Milton, who was studiously avoiding Pooley’s eye. ‘I’ll certainly see that that is done, Mr Rogers. I assure you that even if we don’t find him tonight, someone will see that your cat is looked after.’

They left the school together. As they reached the car, Rich turned and looked at the building for a few seconds. ‘Oh, well,’ he said. ‘It was good fun while it lasted.’ He bent and got into the car. There was unbroken silence until they reached the police station.

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When they arrived at the station, Milton took Pooley aside. ‘You clear off now, Ellis. Take these keys to Robert and look after him. He’s going to be in a very bad state.’

There was no answer from Amiss’s telephone, but Pooley took a taxi to his flat anyway. The bell went unanswered. Pooley leaned against the door and tried to guess Amiss’s whereabouts. It was nine thirty, only three hours since he had arrived at the school. Pub, of course, he said to himself and set off at a brisk pace in the most promising direction. He found him in the second one, gazing sightlessly at what Pooley correctly guessed to be his third or fourth large gin and tonic.

Pooley bought himself a whisky and a dry ginger and sat down. ‘Hello, Robert,’ he said gently.

‘Hello.’ It was the barest mutter.

‘He’s confessed.’ He gave Amiss the bones of the story.

Amiss said nothing.

‘What’s upsetting you most?’

‘Being Judas.’ To Pooley’s relief, Amiss spoke with reasonable clarity.

‘By identifying the murder weapon?’

‘Not so much. Telling Jim how to get him upset. And all the snooping and sneaking.’

‘He’s a murderer, Robert. For all we know he’s a double murderer.’

‘Doesn’t matter. Ends don’t justify means.’

The barman called last orders. ‘Get me another, Ellis, will you? I’ve run out of money.’

Pooley was grateful to have a couple of minutes in the scrum at the bar to think.

‘Do you know who you remind me of?’ he asked as he sat down with the drinks.

‘Nope.’

‘Lord Peter Wimsey.’

‘Ellis, for fuck’s sake! This is for real.’

‘Listen, will you? When Wimsey caught a murderer, he used to go through hell the night before the execution. Especially if he hadn’t got the murderer to forgive him — which I always thought was expecting a bit much. But he still went after the next one because it was the right thing to do. This is your third time, and it won’t be your last. You may not believe in God or the Establishment, but you do believe in truth.’

Amiss scratched his head. Pooley wondered if he had been too drunk to follow the line of reasoning. Then Amiss looked at him for the first time and gave a half-smile. ‘You’re a good fellow, Ellis. Why don’t you add a dash of Pollyanna? I should be glad, glad, glad that they’ve abolished capital punishment. So should you for that matter. Think how much drunker I’d be getting if they were going to hang him.’

Pooley grinned. ‘You can’t afford to get any drunker, Robert. He’s nominated you to look after his cat for a few days. On the premises.’

‘You’re kidding!’

‘I’m not. And you’re going to have a busy day tomorrow as well sorting out the school. In fact you’d better ring Gavin Franklyn from Rich’s flat. Come on, let’s get going. Plutarch will be getting cross.’

Rich’s instructions, relayed through his solicitor, were to close the school down with the minimum of disruption. The prefab students were given their fees back and their teachers paid off generously. Jenn, delighted by being in the centre of a drama that got her photograph in a couple of tabloids, worked efficiently at organising the cancellations of all kinds of bookings. To the great relief of Gavs and Amiss, most of the students departed within a couple of days. Only a handful of the most morbid remained to hone their English by incessant discussion about Cath and Rich. Distressed as he was, Amiss got a great deal of black amusement out of seeing Galina’s obsession change from sex to violence.

Free of extra activities, he spent one evening with Mick McGuire and two with Plutarch; on Thursday he was able to send a message to Rich to say that she was back to full health and out on the tiles.

That evening Rachel rang to say she would come over for the weekend and Milton, from Bramshill, rang to invite them to dinner on Saturday along with Pooley to welcome Ann home from America.

That call was followed by one from Rich’s lawyer asking Amiss to visit his client at Wormwood Scrubs the next day.

At two thirty on Friday, Amiss and Gavs said farewell to the last three students. ‘Goodbye, Bob darling,’ said Galina, pressing her lips firmly on his. ‘I ’ope you are well soon.’

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ said Amiss. ‘Oh, sorry, yes. You mean that. Of course. It’s a very mild case.’

He took a taxi to the prison, arrived promptly at three fifteen and was shown into a tiny room where he was shortly joined by Rich. They shook hands.

‘I thought we’d have a warder with us.’

‘Well it helps that I’m only on remand and have made a full confession. I think the police put in a word because I’d been so cooperative.’

‘How are you, Rich?’

‘A bit frightened about the future, but I’m hoping for an open prison. I’ll be all right. I expect I’ll be the life and soul of the place in no time at all, har… har… har.’

‘You’ve got great guts.’

‘No I haven’t, dear boy. That’s why I’m in the position I’m in now. If I’d made it crystal clear that I’d never go into partnership with anyone, Ned would be alive today. He was killed because I used him as an excuse to hide behind. And Wally Armstrong also died because I was a coward.’

‘Wally Armstrong?’

‘Yes. I’ve got to tell someone about this, and I’m afraid you’ve drawn the short straw.’

‘Please, Rich, don’t tell me anything you might regret.’

‘How can I regret it? I can’t imagine you telling the police. And if you did, it’d be your word against mine and nothing provable. Please, Bob. You’d be doing me a great favour to help take this weight off my mind.’