‘It’s a plausible theory, anyway. But why kill the first boy? Why have murdered young Grier?’
‘To show how easy it was to kill and not be found out, perhaps!’
‘That’s not what you really think. There must be a stronger motive.’
‘Well, there may be an additional motive, but we’ve nothing to go on. No obvious motive arises, as far as the evidence goes.’
‘You’re right there! Nothing adds up. What do you make of the dog?’
‘I think Tidson was the first who found it. It was where the second body was found, or near enough—’
‘How do you know Tidson found it? That seems to me rather far-fetched.’
‘It wouldn’t if you had seen him fishing with that old boot to draw a crowd of children to the spot, as Kitty, Laura and Alice did. He wanted the dog to be found and a certain inference to be drawn—’
‘Of course! That the dog had been killed by a sadistic lunatic, and that the same person had killed the boy!’
‘Exactly!’
‘Well, if you’re right, I should say the whole thing’s in the bag. Tidson himself is the murderer, wicked old man! Somehow, I always thought he was. Now, how are we going to get him? I can ask him how he came to get soaked through that night, but he’s sure to have some plausible excuse to give me.’
‘He will stick to the story about his nymph,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘By the way, I think Connie killed the dog.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes. A good thing for Mr Tidson, I should say. The dog may have saved his life.’
‘Oh, substitution of some sort?’
‘Yes, and rationalization. Her hatred of Mr Tidson is dangerously deep.’
‘But when did she do it?’
‘Since she has been staying in Lewes. You have only to ask at the hotel which night she did not sleep there. Of course, they may not know, but it would be well worth trying.’
‘Thanks for the tip. But still, the dog isn’t those boys.’
‘Nevertheless, cave canem,’ said Mrs Bradley.
* Italicised words are peculiar, I believe, to Winchester College, and mean respectively holiday, work, evening preparation, idling.
* Line. 115. Translated by D. W. Lucas and F. J. A. Cruso.
Chapter Seventeen
‘They enquired after Nancy very civilly and sent Compts. . . . It was an awkward day for visiting . . .’
Diary of a Country Parson: the REVEREND
JAMES WOODFORDE, Vol. 3, 1788–1792.
Edited by JOHN BERESFORD
‘SO THAT young Connie was telling lies about hating the Tidsons,’ said Laura, when the report from Lewes had come in, and Connie’s messenger had been named by the police of that ancient and interesting town, who, incidentally, had nothing whatever against him. ‘I should never have thought it!’
‘And you need not think it now,’ said Mrs Bradley. She and her secretary were again alone at the Domus, for the Tidsons and Miss Carmody had departed (with the full complement of luggage, this time) and with them, in the sense that they had caught the same train and were not due to return to Winchester that summer, had gone Kitty and Alice. ‘If we could find Connie’s letter it might throw some light upon her relationship with the Tidsons, although not very much, I imagine, but I still do not believe there is any love lost. And now I think that you and I, child, should return to Kensington, calling for Connie first and taking her with us. A short course of your bracing society will be the very thing for her, I imagine. We must re-orient her mind.’
Laura looked disappointed.
‘Cheer up,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘We can do no more here for the present, so nothing is lost by our return. The rest lies with the police.’
‘But what about those stones? The weapons, you know,’ said Laura. Mrs Bradley shrugged.
‘The police will find them,’ she said. ‘But there is one more thing we have to do, now that the Tidsons and Miss Carmody have gone. It is something that will interest you, I think. I have arranged that nothing is to be touched in their rooms until to-morrow. Young Mr Gavin is coming this afternoon, whilst most of the guests are out, to blow chalk all over the furniture. You’ll like that, won’t you?’
‘Fingerprints!’ said Laura with enthusiasm. ‘And then we can compare them with those they’re going to find on the stones. By the way – a thing I didn’t know before – fingerprints don’t wash off, not even in running water. David Gavin was telling me about it. Oh, and talking of David, and to cut short a long and embarrassing story—’
‘Dear, dear!’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘Don’t tell me I’m going to lose you! I might have guessed that I was playing a foolish, short-sighted game when I introduced a Scotsman into your life!’
Laura grinned.
‘You’ve guessed it,’ she said contentedly. ‘Yes, the lad and I have come to a sort of understanding. I’m not to interfere with his career, and he’s not to take me away from my job, and we fight all the time in any case, but, apart from that, there seems little reason why the wedding bells, as such, should not peal out in the comparatively near future. Your congratulations are neither solicited nor desired. I think, myself, I’m being a bit of a fool, but you probably know how it is.’
‘Well, well!’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘Dear me! And I never suspected a thing!’
‘Call yourself a detective!’ said Laura. ‘I thought it stuck out a mile! Still, we haven’t really seen much of one another yet, you know, and it’s a nuisance I shall have to be the one to have the children. It’s such a waste of time, and the sort of thing calculated, I should fancy, to drive intelligent females mad, but there it is. Three boys and a girl is my schedule, to be produced within nine years. What do you think? Is that reasonable? I thought I’d get it over, you know, and then take up motor-racing or something. I shall try to get some sort of foster-mother for the offspring – someone like old K., who’s good with children.’
Mrs Bradley hooted with respectful amusement, and then said soberly:
‘Talking of foster-mothers—’
‘Ah, yes, that Grier woman,’ said Laura. ‘Look here, let’s order some of Thomas’ champagne cocktails. Do you remember him giving Mr Tidson more brandy in his? I wonder whether he’d do the same for us? Perhaps I had better not suggest it.’
She summoned Thomas, and informed him that she was shortly getting married and required something to drown her sorrows.
‘Och, aye,’ replied Thomas. He looked at her oddly, shook his head, made a scraping noise in his throat, and then went out.
‘Something on his conscience,’ said Laura. ‘You’d better get him to spill it. There’s not very much gets past the Laird o’ Cockpen.’
‘You may be right in both surmises,’ said Mrs Bradley, ‘but I don’t think we’ll trouble him at present. I fancy that he was merely expressing disapproval of lawful matrimony.’
After lunch Gavin arrived, looking pleased with himself. With him came a fingerprint expert, and, assisted (or, as Gavin informed her, hindered and interrupted) by Laura, they tested every article of furniture in the bedrooms of Miss Carmody and the Tidsons for fingerprints. A splendid set of Connie’s prints had been taken at Mrs Bradley’s Stone House by Laura upon a tumbler. This she now proudly produced, to the amusement of Mrs Bradley and the staggered incredulity of her swain.
‘Thought they might come in useful at some time or another,’ she observed. ‘I’ve been preserving this exhibit under my tallest hat ever since I brought it back from Wandles Parva. Don’t look so moonstruck, David,’ she added to Gavin. ‘Stranger things will happen in the future, so you’d better prepare yourself now.’