Nodding Canaries, page 17
part #34 of Mrs Bradley Series
‘You kept the collection dusted? Then you would notice if anything was missing. Do you—?’
‘Missing?’ Mrs Breydon-Waters shook her head. ‘Nothing that I can think of. Is it important?’
Dame Beatrice shook her head and was about to speak when the dining-room door opened and Streatley put out his head.
‘I’m afraid I must go now,’ he said. ‘I’ll send round this afternoon, then. Oh, good-morning, Dame Beatrice!’
‘Dame Beatrice – I see you know one another – thinks she can provide me with a list, so that you can check by it, you know,’ said Mrs Breydon-Waters.
‘Oh, that’s all right. Send it up to me, if you like, when you get it, but there’s really no need. I’ve been looking over the stuff for the umpteenth time, so I don’t think you’ll be able to deceive me.’ He laughed genially. ‘Are you going my way, Dame Beatrice? May I offer you a lift?’
‘Thank you, I have my car outside,’ They went out of the house.
‘Any more news about Breydon-Waters?’ asked Streatley.
‘Progress is slow, but there may be developments shortly.’
‘You should be in the police force! Isn’t that a stock answer to awkward questions?’
‘Yours was not an awkward question. All my suspects have a right to protect their interests.’
Streatley laughed again; then he said, in a sober tone,
‘I’ve turned the whole thing over in my mind dozens and dozens of times, and, honestly, I think you’re barking up the wrong tree. It can’t have been one of us.’
‘Well, we are working through the list of members and today my list of suspects became shorter.’
‘That’s fine. That’s the style. You’ll see. We shall all be exonerated by next August Bank Holiday. Do you care to bet on it?’
‘I rarely bet, and never on certainties.’
‘No, it was unsporting of me to suggest a bet. I’m sure I should have won. I apologise.’ He stepped forward to open the door of her car, but George was there to forestall him, so he raised his hat and went back to his own vehicle.
‘The hotel, George. I’m late for lunch,’ said Dame Beatrice. As soon as they arrived at the Gauntlet, however, she went straight to the hotel telephone and rang up Mrs Breydon-Waters.
‘I was mistaken in thinking that anything has vanished from the collection,’ she said firmly. ‘Please think no more about it. I wondered whether your son might have sold some of the items, but, if he did, he had a perfect right to do so if they were his own, and, after all, Mr Streatley is buying only what he has seen since your son’s death. He has no claim on anything which disappeared before that.’
‘Oh, I’m so glad you think so, Dame Beatrice. You see…’
Dame Beatrice rang off. Laura, at lunch, was perturbed.
‘You’ve been chasing about all the morning and haven’t had a wink of sleep all night,’ she said accusingly.
‘I shall take a nap this afternoon,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘And how is Hamish?’
‘Hamish waited hours and hours and hours,’ said Hamish in an aggrieved tone, ‘and I’m hungry.’
‘Who looked after you last night?’
‘The chambermaid. She read me a lovely story, all about bears. They ate all the little girls, and all the boys except me.’
* * *
Chapter Thirteen
The Nodding Killer
* * *
‘… that I was to be prosecuted in a criminal court ostensibly for measles, but really for having owned a watch, and attempted the reintroduction of machinery.’
Samuel Butler
« ^ »
AND now,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘for Sir John. He must see what the pelican had in its beak and then pass an expert’s opinion on other related matters.’
The Superintendent had already tested the axe-head for fingerprints, but without success. What pleased him, however, was the discovery by his forensic experts of measurable quantities of human blood which had coagulated at the haft end.
‘Looks like the weapon, ma’am,’ he said. ‘It’s never turned up, although we’ve looked everywhere we can think of. Had you thought of the weapon being in the Castle Museum all this time?’
‘No, I had not, Superintendent. Neither do I believe this to be the weapon. My hope, in having the museum searched, was to find out what we have found out, namely, the reason why Mr Breydon-Waters was murdered.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘And I had better not commit myself to an explanation until Sir John has studied this exhibit.’
Sir John’s reaction to his inspection of the axe-head was one of mild surprise.
‘The other axes of this type which I have seen and handled,’ he said, ‘came from Babylonia. At about 3000 b.c. the royal palace at Kish was abandoned as a dwelling-place for the living and was then used to house the dead. It became, in fact, a cemetery. A number of these copper axes have been found in the graves there. The particular specimens I have seen are in the Field Museum, Chicago, and I had no idea that the museum here possessed one. Very interesting. I should like to trace its history after it left the cemetery.’
‘As I am convinced that, in the first place, it was stolen property, I fear that such a history would be difficult to come by. The Superintendent of Police here is inclined to think that it is the weapon which killed a member of the archaeological society, Mr Breydon-Waters, but I am not at all convinced of that, although the medical evidence is not entirely on my side. The axe-head could have inflicted the wound we saw, but I have a strong feeling that it did not. For one thing (and the Superintendent himself admits this), one would have expected hairs matted in with the dried blood, but there are none. No, I think that we have to look somewhere else for the weapon.’
‘But where, Dame Beatrice? In Pigmy’s Ladder, do you mean?’
‘It is the most likely place. Do you care to come with me to visit the flint-mines, not necessarily to search for the weapon but to solve a small problem?’
‘Forensic or archaeological?’
‘Oh, archaeological, with, as the members of a certain B.B.C. panel would say, forensic connections.’
‘It sounds most interesting. Let us visit the flint-mines by all means.’
George drove the two of them to Pigmy’s Ladder and this time the custodian made no difficulty about allowing them to descend the main shaft. Dame Beatrice had told Sir John about the removal of the stones which had formed the protective wall in Gallery Five, but had given him no other information. He flashed his torch over the goddess and the phallic symbols and clicked his tongue.
‘Oh, dear,’ he said. ‘What a pity. The phallus has either been removed or broken and these rather pitiful symbols substituted.’
‘Ah,’ said Dame Beatrice in sepulchal tones, ‘that is what I have been hoping you would say. My further hope is that, from the point of view of this case of murder, the latter is the truth, although I imagine that I shock you by saying so.’
‘Not at all. Let us look around. If the thing has indeed been broken, but not removed from the mines, we should be able, I think, to identify the fragments.’
It was Sir John’s trained eye which identified not only the crumbled chalk on one of the dry-stone walls but also the bloodstained flint which had killed Breydon-Waters, this at the end of an hour’s careful exploration of the galleries.
Having given him lunch at the Gauntlet and seen him off on his journey back to London, Dame Beatrice rang up the Superintendent, who said that he would welcome a visit from her. At half-past three she was shown into his office.
‘No prints on the axe-head, ma’am, as you know, so, although we’re most grateful, we’re not very much in advance of what we were. But you say you’ve got something more for us,’ he said.
‘As a result of a conversation I had with Sir John St John John, I understand that it is inside the bounds of probability that this particular axe-head could have been found in Pigmy’s Ladder, because, on the evidence of geological experts, that is where it has almost certainly lain.’
‘That would tie up with the murder, of course, ma’am, but it doesn’t give us a clue as to the identity of the murderer or to the motive for the murder.’
‘Your first argument I accept, pro. tem., although I can make a shrewd guess as to the identity of the murderer. The motive, I am convinced, is that the murderer was determined to spoil Mr Breydon-Waters’ little game, if I may be permitted so blatant a colloquialism.’
‘His little game?’
‘The axe-head had at some time been placed in Pigmy’s Ladder.’
‘Yes, if the experts say so.’
‘It could not have been placed there by the people who made and owned such axes.’
‘It seem not, ma’am.’
‘So we are faced with these questions: what was the axe doing in Pigmy’s Ladder in the first place? – and why did it get into the pelican’s beak in the Castle Museum in the second place?’
‘Sound as if somebody was nuts.’
‘If, by that, you imply that the murderer is mentally afflicted, that, in the everyday sense of the words, is not the case. He has his wits about him…’
‘And has led us a rare dance, I’ll admit, ma’am. That’s true enough. If you hadn’t had that hunch about searching the museum, I doubt whether the axe-head wouldn’t have lain hidden for a good many years. How often do they clean those cases, I wonder?’
‘I have no idea, but, apparently, the murderer had reason to believe that the axe would not be discovered until the trail had grown cold.’
‘You talk as though you were convinced the murderer is a man, not a woman, ma’am, and there’s no doubt it was what we think of as a man’s crime.’
‘I not only think that the murderer was a man, but I think I could name him.’
‘We have our own suspicions, ma’am, of course, but we can’t prove anything, and the party I have in mind could make a sight of trouble if we hadn’t – if we slipped up anywhere.’
‘I agree, so we will name no names for the present, but I will say this about the murderer: I think he is a nervous man and one who is not without a conscience. I will add that his morality is not of religious, but of, in a sense, artistic origin.’
‘Then I’m not at all sure we’re talking of the same man, ma’am.’
‘He has a passion for the truth.’
‘I thought truth had to do with religion.’
‘What is truth, Superintendent? It has been thought to be a many-sided mountain with numberless paths, all different, all leading to the summit. It has been thought to be a prism, reflecting rainbow light, and it is the contention of scientists that a fusion of the colours in a prism would result in blinding white, such as the angels know. There is religious truth, artistic truth, scientific truth and psychological truth.’
‘We certainly do seem to see through a glass darkly, ma’am.’
‘In this case, certainly, you and I may not see face to face, as Saint Paul put it, but I have a strong inclination to believe that we see eye to eye, and, at the moment, I have a feeling of sympathy with the murderer.’
‘Then I don’t agree as to us seeing eye to eye,’ said the Superintendent. ‘I don’t agree with murder. Never shall.’
‘Wisdom probably will be justified of her children, and you are one of them, I feel. What line do you now propose to follow?’
‘Well, he’s got no alibi for the Friday night-Saturday morning in which we’re interested, ma’am, but, after all, if a man live alone, as you might say, and declare he spent a quiet evening with his books and went to bed at his usual time, there’s no point in calling him a liar unless you can prove it, and, to be perfectly honest, we can’t.’
‘There are his servants, of course.’
‘We’ve tried them, but they’re as dumb as oysters. Declare that, once dinner is over, they reckon to see no more of him until the following morning, when his man take him up his early tea.’
‘Have you considered the possibility that the servants have been bribed?’
‘Yes, ma’am, but I don’t think that’s the case. I think they’re telling the truth, and, the gentleman being what he is, I don’t honestly believe he’d put servants in that sort of position.’
‘I agree.’
‘So his alibi is neither here nor there, as you might say. I don’t think it will be much good, but that look as though I’d better see him again.’
But before the Superintendent could carry out his intention, there came the event which, in his own words, broke open the whole case. This was nothing less than the violent death of Mrs Breydon-Waters, whose body was discovered by the milkman early on the following morning, half inside and half outside her own front door. It looked as though she had tried to obtain help, but had died before she could reach the front gate.
The milkman summoned the man next door and brought him on to the scene. This neighbour used his authority to prevent the removal of the body into the sitting-room and sent for the police. The Superintendent was soon upon the scene with the police surgeon and the usual squad of photographer, fingerprint expert and uniformed constables, supplemented by the small crowd which invariably appears to rise out of the ground, like the warriors of the dragon’s teeth, on these occasions. After the preliminaries had been completed, the body was removed to the mortuary for further examination and Dame Beatrice was informed of what had happened.
She had already made the acquaintance of the police surgeon and they went into conference as soon as she arrived at the mortuary. Then she was shown the pitiful and, to be frank, the unbeautiful remains of Mrs Breydon-Waters. She examined them. The police surgeon waited until she looked up at him. Then he said,
‘Looks like a case of irritant poisoning to me.’
‘I agree.’ They went into medical details of, to the layman, a repellent character. ‘There is corrosion of the lips and the inside of the mouth, and there has been vomiting of a dark colour.’
‘Yes, quite. I’ve collected enough of the material for an analysis. Looks like one of the organic acids. I’ll plump for oxalic, otherwise salts of lemon. Wonder what makes them choose stuff like that? Must be devilish nasty. Burns the throat and stomach like hell. Don’t they realise what it’s going to do to the tissues?’
‘It is cheap, of course,’ Dame Beatrice suggested.
‘Drunk for a penny; dead drunk for twopence? – yes.’
‘But there is no proof that this was suicide.’
‘You couldn’t drink oxalic acid by accident!’
‘Surely.’
‘You think so?’
‘I think of Epsom salts. The one has been known to be mistaken for the other. Nevertheless, far from this being an accidental death, or even suicide. I believe it to be a simple case of murder.’
‘Simple?’ This query came from the Superintendent. ‘In what way simple, Dame Beatrice?’
‘Because, it seems to me, the motive is clear.’
‘That means she knew that an axe-head from her son’s collection was missing, and she knew that the murderer had it?’
‘I do not believe she did know that, at the time. The trouble is that the murderer may have thought she did. I am certain she knew later that it was missing, and I have evidence that this knowledge came as an afterthought.’
‘Yes, ma’am?’
‘I asked her, in private, whether anything was missing, but her memory failed her. I wanted her to name the copper axe-head, but she could not, at the time, call it to mind. Later on, I am certain she did remember it, for she rang me up on the telephone.’
‘And the murderer tapped the line?’
‘Possibly so. I cut her off before she could get the information to me, so, of course, I could not swear on oath that she was about to tell me she had remembered the axe-head, but I fear now that my action in ringing off was in vain.’
‘Not so easy for an amateur to tap a telephone line, though, ma’am.’
‘That is why I accept the theory somewhat sceptically, Superintendent. In my opinion, it is far more likely that the murderer was actually present when she made the call.’
‘What cause you to think that, then?’
‘Her death and the manner of it, for one thing, and my doubts about the tapping of the telephone. Then, I know that the murderer has been a frequent visitor since her son’s death. He has been studying the collection of antiquities with a view to purchase. Indeed, by this time, the transaction will have gone through.’
‘You’ve hinted several times that you know the motive for the murder of Mr Breydon-Waters, ma’am. Do you care to state it in so many words?’
‘As I am now certain, beyond any shadow of doubt, of the identity of the murderer, I see no reason to withhold my theory about the motive. As I have hinted before, Mr Breydon-Waters died because he tried to fake archaeological evidence. He was determined to plant, and then to “find,” a copper axe-head from Kish where no such axe-head could be; that is, in the flint-mines of Pigmy’s Ladder.’
‘But what could he hope to gain by that, ma’am?’
‘Notoriety, or, in his own mind, fame.’
‘But Sir John spot what that axe-head was at once. Sir John did not begin to be taken in.’
‘Mr Breydon-Waters may have pinned his faith to the knowledge that archaeological evidence has been faked successfully in the past. One thinks of the Piltdown skull, for example.’
‘But they rumble that one in the end, ma’am.’
‘Yes, but not for some considerable time.’
