‘How did you get on with him?’ they asked. ‘Did you like him?’
‘Like the fellow?’ he said. ‘With everybody else I got heartily sick of him by the time that Scottish walk was over, but there was no harm in him. In fact, I had more to do with him than with anybody else on the tour and we finished at Fort William as a twosome, everybody else having chickened out and gone by bus. Any reason to murder the chap? Good Lord, if we were all murdered for our nuisance-value, who would be alive today? Not my Inspector of Taxes, to name but one!’
17: A Motive for Murder
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Hera and I had attended Carbridge’s funeral. So had the warden and his wife, the Scottish tour party and one or two of the students who had made up the orchestra, but of friends and relatives there was no sign. I remembered that none of his own kind had come forward to identify the body and, although I had never liked the chap, I found myself feeling very sorry for him. I began to understand his compulsive gregariousness. He was dependent on strangers for all his social contacts. In other words, nobody had ever really loved him. I stood back mentally and looked at myself. I did not like to think that we were two of a kind.
After all the revelations about Carbridge’s unpopularity, I said as much to Elsa. At the time I was feeling reasonably well pleased, for I had met and vanquished our Luella Granville Waterman. ‘She was clay in my hands,’ I said.
‘Well, you owe that to me,’ said Elsa. ‘When she turned up and asked whether you had recovered sufficiently to talk to her, I said that only your conscientious devotion to our authors had brought you back into harness and I warned her that, if you were excited or frustrated in any way, the chances were that you would drop dead at her feet. We need to keep the old stagers like her, Comrie. They may not be bestsellers, but they’re steady and, like Tennyson’s brook, they go on forever.’
I said I felt sorry for the old girl and would always do my best for her and it was then that I added my reflections concerning Carbridge and myself.
‘Don’t waste your sympathy on him,’ said Elsa. ‘People who have no friends don’t deserve to have any. You couldn’t stand the man, if you remember, and you don’t seem to have been the only one.’
‘Well, he irritated me, I allow, but I stopped short of murdering him, anyway.’
‘His will has finally been proved,’ she said. ‘He left quite a lot of money, and all of it to Todd.’
‘Good Lord! But that’s a motive for murder, if ever there was one! Money is nearly always at the bottom of these things.’
‘Todd may not have known the contents of the will until it was proved. He is entitled to the benefit of the doubt.’
‘What do you mean by “quite a lot of money”? Hundreds? Thousands?’
‘About twenty thousand. It seems a lot of money to a poor soul like me.’
‘It wouldn’t even buy half a house.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly, Comrie. Nobody buys a house outright. What are mortgages for?’
‘They equate with the millstones people hang round their own or other people’s necks. So Carbridge left his money to Todd. That much of what you say must be true because you know I can check on it. If he left Todd his money, it would be because he liked the chap, although I must say he used to rile him with his teasing. Young Jane Minch made that very clear.’
‘I expect he showed off in front of other people and hoped to raise a laugh at Todd’s expense, but, from what you’ve told Sandy and me from time to time, weren’t the two of them really very thick? Weren’t they walking on their own quite a bit when you were walking The Way?’
‘I wouldn’t say “quite a bit”, but I think they pushed on ahead of the students and the Minches when the students and Perth loitered to chip bits off the rocks and Jane’s feet got so sore. I carried her back to the hostel on one occasion, I remember.’
Elsa grinned.
‘The devil you did!’ she said. ‘What on earth did Hera say to that? And was it really necessary?’
‘To your first question the answer is self-evident. Hera was not very pleased. As to whether it was necessary to transport the girl in the manner indicated, let’s just say that I wanted the wench in my arms, but don’t ask me why.’
‘Was it satisfactory?’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘I had better begin pricing-up fish-slices, or would you rather have a tea-strainer?’
Dame Beatrice telephoned me on the following day to ask me to accompany her on a visit to the warden at the hall of residence. He had terminated his vacation and was staying there because he had plenty to do before the new term began. I could not imagine what more Dame Beatrice required of the warden, still less could I fathom her purpose in taking me with her to visit him. When I told Sandy I had to be out of the office again, all he said was, ‘And to think I once fondly imagined that you worked here!’ I said I had an idea that we were about to reach a climax in the matter of finding out who had killed Carbridge but, when Dame Beatrice and I reached the hall of residence next day, her first question to the warden gave no hint of this.
‘Would you mind telling me how long you have been in charge here?’ she asked.
‘I have been here for a little more than five years. My predecessor retired at the end of an Easter term and I took over in the following May.’
‘Had you any previous knowledge of any of the students who were here when you took office?’
‘No, none of them, nor would they have known me. I came here from Hull, and at the time I had no contacts in London.’
‘Would there be records of former residents of this hall? — students, I mean.’
‘Oh, yes, of course. We like to keep up with our students’ future progress. Some of them turn out to be quite notable people in their own field.’
‘I imagine you do not keep records of those attendant on them while they are in residence.’
‘If you refer to the cook and the maids and so forth, no, we do not. I inherited the domestic staff when I accepted the post and they have remained faithful, I am glad to say. I suppose your immediate interest is in the man Bull. He, too, was here when I came and, on the whole, has given very satisfactory service.’
‘Would it be possible for me to look at your lists of former students?’
‘Of course, Dame Beatrice. As a matter of fact, I myself looked them over not long after that unfortunate party to see if I recognised the names of any of the older guests, as it seemed likely that whoever committed the murder had an inside knowledge of the building. I was very much in two minds whether to grant permission to Trickett to hold that party. Parties can be allowed, and are allowed, during term, but then, of course, my wife and I are on hand and can keep a grasp on the reins. However, Trickett is a steady, reliable youth, so I acceded to his request. How much I wish I had not!’
‘Few of us have the gift of foresight,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘I am particularly interested in the name Todd.’
‘The strange thing is,’ the warden said, ‘that the only Todd I could find would be at least sixty-five years of age by now. It is really rather puzzling.’
‘And most intriguing,’ said Dame Beatrice, ‘because the Todd I have in mind must have changed his name.’ The warden produced his lists. As Dame Beatrice finished checking each year’s intake, she handed the document to me. It appeared that the hall of residence could accommodate thirty-six students in groups of twelve, for as the normal college course lasted for three years, twelve students were all that could be admitted in any particular year. I took the precaution of going back twenty-five years, but the only Todd that I, like the warden, tracked down, was indeed an elderly gentleman who could not possibly be the Todd we were after.