When he re-entered his office. Larch found his father-in-law awaiting him.
“Now then. Pop,” he said, with what pretence of cordiality he could summon at such short notice.
Councillor Pointer looked angry and unhappy. “There’s been another, hasn’t there?”
Larch sprawled in his chair and rubbed his jaw. “There has,” he said, then, smiling slowly, “the best up to now.”
“Never mind about that. Whoever’s playing these damned tricks has got to be taught. The council will be furious. The whole town’s...”
“...up in arms.” Larch completed the councillor’s favourite assertion.
“Well, so it is. I’m not joking. Can’t you see what an impossible situation it puts me in? A chairman having to explain to his own committee that his own son-in-law hasn’t been able to protect the town from a blasted bomb-throwing lunatic.”
“He doesn’t throw them, Pop.”
“See here. Hector...” Pointer paused and went on in a lower tone: “Have you honestly no idea of who’s responsible?”
Larch did not reply at once. Pointer nodded. “So that’s how it is.”
“That’s how what is?”
“Why did you hesitate just now?”
“I was trying to think what you were suggesting. Hadn’t you better tell me?”
Pointer looked at the floor and began feeling aimlessly in his waistcoat pockets. “It’s occurred to me,” he said slowly, “and to more than one member of the committee that this sort of behaviour sounds remarkably characteristic of your friend Biggadyke.” He looked up. “It does, you know.”
“Why on earth should you think that?”
“Oh, don’t bluster, Hector. You know what the fellow is. Anyone who could have fixed up that horrible contraption in the Ladies at the Mayoress’s At Home last year...”
“That was never proved.”
“We knew, all right. Biggadyke may look half-sloshed most of the time but he’s an ingenious devil. What about that business of the hockey sticks at the High School? Don’t pretend you had any doubt of who arranged that. The fellow has a rotten streak right through. But just because he sponsored your membership of...”
“I don’t think you should say any more about that,” Larch broke in. “This is all rather beside the point, anyway. Stan may have done some silly things in his time but I haven’t the slightest reason to suspect him of this lot. I certainly wouldn’t protect him, if that’s what you’re driving at.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
In the silence that followed. Pointer realized he had gone too far. Larch stared at him in cold fury. When he spoke, the words emerged like slips of snakeskin. “And what specific occasion had you in mind?”
The councillor shrugged uncomfortably. “If you must know, it was that driving case. People talked. As they will, you know. Things were never properly explained. Not the delay in a doctor turning up, at any rate.”
“Go on.”
“Well, it was said you’d given Biggadyke the chance to sober up before he could be examined.”
“He asked for his own doctor. That was his right.”
“His own man was away on holiday.”
“We weren’t to know that.”
“You could have found out in less than the two hours it took you to get somebody else.”
Larch pulled forward a pile of papers and began looking through them. “All that’s been gone over. Forget it.” His eyes still on the sheet of typescript before him, he felt for his fountain pen and unscrewed the cap.
Pointer flushed. “All that black coffee was never ‘gone over’,” he blurted.
Larch’s head jerked up. “What did you say?”
“The coffee you got Biggadyke to drink when you thought no one was looking. A whole flask full that Hilda had made for you.”
“Where the hell did you get that story?”
“Never mind who told me. You ought to know by now that nothing can be kept quiet for long in a town like this.”
“Do you believe it?”
Pointer looked at him intently. “I’m not sure. It wouldn’t go any further if I did. But you needn’t get the idea that I’m going to cover up for you if you insist on inviting more suspicion. At least you should have a go at Biggadyke and let it get around that you’d questioned him.”
Larch considered. “I might,” he said.
“Good. That’s sensible. Of course”—Pointer stood up and stared at the hat band of his bowler—“I don’t say the fellow’s necessarily guilty. You might be able to write him off altogether.”
To this. Larch said nothing.
“And Hector, I do seriously advise you not to see so much of him for a while. Not until this thing’s settled. Tell him to give Hilda a miss, too.”
“I think you might leave me just a little discretion.”
“As you like. I wouldn’t have said anything, except that you don’t seem to realize what trouble you might be bringing on yourself. And the family.”
“The family?”
“Well...Hilda. And me.”
“And dear mother-in-law?”
Pointer gave a short, humourless laugh.
When he had gone, Larch remained for some time gazing blankly at the papers on his desk. Then he lifted the telephone and asked for the Chalmsbury Carriage Company.
Stanley Biggadyke accepted a seat in the chief inspector’s office and grinned in turn at Larch and at Sergeant Worple, who sat in the attitude of an umpire a few feet from the side of the desk.
“You may be wondering,” Larch began, “why I asked if you would be good enough to come and see us, Mr Biggadyke.” He turned his head slightly in the sergeant’s direction as if to acknowledge his share in the proceedings.
“Well, actually...”
“The fact is,” Larch smoothly resumed, “that I wished to ask you a few questions in connection with a routine inquiry we are making. I thought you would prefer the interview to take place here rather than in your own office where unnecessary speculation might be aroused.”
“Oh yes. Sure.” Biggadyke crossed his legs and nodded sagely.
“So we shall begin by stating what you doubtless know already, Mr Biggadyke: that on three Tuesday nights this month, including last night, there have been explosions in the town which severely damaged various pieces of property.”
“Another one last night, eh? You don’t say.”
“Yes, sir. In Watergate Street. The others were in the Jubilee Park on June third and in the Zion Church courtyard on June seventeen. Nobody hurt, but that doesn’t mean we should view these things less seriously.”
“Of course not.” Biggadyke rubbed a puce-coloured cheek and pouted virtuously.