I can't swear it had anything to do with Mrs. Gillespie, but there was a white Ford transit parked on my forecourt that Saturday afternoon and evening. Had a young lad in it, as far as I could judge. Stayed ten minutes the first time then drove off towards the church and picked someone up. I saw it again that evening. I pointed it out to my wife and said some wretch was using our forecourt but not using the pub. I can't give you the registration number.
Underneath in a PC's handwriting was a short note:
Mrs. Peel disagrees. She says her husband is confusing this with another occasion when white vans were there twice in one day, but her recollection is that the vans were different. Three of our regulars drive white vans, she said.
Cooper talked the problem through with his Detective Chief Inspector. "I need to question Hughes, Charlie, so do I take a team with me, or what? According to the girl, he's living in a squat, so he won't be alone, and I don't fancy trying to winkle him out from under a mob of squatters. Assuming they let me in at all. It's bloody rich, isn't it?" he grumbled. "Somebody else's property and they can take it over lock, stock and barrel. The only way the poor sod who owns it can get it back is to pay through the nose for an eviction order, by which time he finds they've turned the place into a cess-pit."
Charlie Jones's squashed face wore a permanently lugubrious expression which always reminded Cooper of a sad-eyed Pekinese. He was more of a terrier, however, who, once he got his teeth into something, rarely let go. "Can we charge him with theft on what Miss Lascelles has told you?"
"We could, but he'd be out again in a couple of hours. Bournemouth have him on file. He's been brought in three times and he's walked on each occasion. All similar offences to this one, i.e. persuading youngsters to steal for him. It's a clever scam." He sounded frustrated. "The children only prey off their families and, so far, the parents have refused to co-operate when they discover that Hughes's prosecution will involve their daughters in a prosecution, too."
"So how come he was brought in in the first place?"
"Because three indignant fathers have independently accused him of forcing their daughters to steal and demanded that charges be brought. But when the girls were questioned, they told a different story, denied the coercion and insisted that the thieving was their own idea. It's a real honey, this one. You can't do him without the daughters, and the fathers won't have the daughters done." He smiled cynically. "Too much unpleasant publicity."
"What sort of backgrounds?"
"Middle class, wealthy. The girls are all over sixteen, so no question of underage sex. Mind, I'm sure these three and Miss Lascelles are only the tip of a very large iceberg. It sounds to me as if he's got the whole thing down to a very fine art."
"Does he coerce them?"
Cooper shrugged. "All Miss Lascelles said was, he does terrible things when he's angry. He threatened to make a scene at the school if she did anything he didn't like, but when I asked her about it in the car on the way to Dr. Blakeney's, in other words after that particular threat had lost its sting because she'd already been expelled, she clammed up and burst into tears." He tugged his nose thoughtfully. "He must be using some form of coercion because she's terrified he's going to find her. I wondered if he makes videos of them but when I asked Bournemouth if they've found any equipment on him, they said no. Your guess is as good as mine, Charlie. He's got some hold on these girls, and it must be fear because they're desperate to get shot of him the minute they're found out. But precisely what's involved, I don't know."
The Inspector frowned. "Why aren't they afraid to name him?"
"Presumably because he's given them permission to shop him if they're caught. Look, he must know how easy it would be for us to track him down. If Miss Lascelles hadn't proffered the information, all I had to do was ask the headmistress for the tarmac firm and take it from there. I think his MO goes something like this: target a girl who's young enough and cosseted enough to warrant her parents' protection, win her over, then use some sort of threat to make sure she accuses herself along with him when she's caught. That way he's as sure as he can be that charges won't be brought and, if they are, he'll take her down with him. Perhaps his threat is as simple as that."
The Inspector was doubtful. "He can't make much out of it. How long before the parents notice what's going on?"
"You'd be amazed. One of the girls was borrowing her mother's credit card for months before the father queried the amount his wife was spending. It was a jointly held card, the balance was paid off automatically out of the current account, and neither of them noticed that it had increased by upwards of five hundred pounds a month. Or if they did, they assumed the other partner's expenditure was behind it. It's a different world, Charlie. Both parents working and earning a good screw, and enough money sloshing around in the coffers to obscure their daughter's thieving. Once they started looking into it, of course, they discovered she'd sold bits of silver, jewellery that her mother never wore, some valuable first editions of her father's and a five-hundred-pound camera that her father thought he'd left on a train. I'd say Hughes is doing very nicely out of it, particularly if he's running more than one of them at the same time."
"Good grief! How much has Ruth Lascelles stolen then?"
Cooper took a piece of paper from his pocket. "She made a list of what she could remember. That's it." He put it on the desk. "Same pattern as the other girl. Jewellery that her grandmother had forgotten about. Silver-backed hairbrushes from the spare room that were never used. China ornaments and bowls that were kept in cupboards because Mrs. Gillespie didn't like them, and some first editions out of the library. She said Hughes told her the sort of thing to look for. Valuable bits and pieces that wouldn't be missed."
"What about money?"
"Twenty pounds from her grandmother's handbag, fifty pounds from the bedside table and, a few weeks later, five hundred out of the old lady's account. Went to the bank as cool as cucumber with a forged cheque and a letter purporting to come from Mathilda, instructing them to hand over the loot. According to her, Mrs. Gillespie never even noticed. But she did, of course, because she mentioned the fifty-pound theft to Jack Blakeney and, when I tackled her bank this morning, they told me she had queried the five-hundred-pound withdrawal on her statement, and they advised her that Ruth had drawn it out on her instructions." He scratched his jaw. "According to them, she agreed that it was her mistake and took no further action."
"What date was that?"
Cooper consulted his notes again. "The cheque was cashed during the last week in October, Ruth's half-term in other words, and Mrs. Gillespie rang the bank as soon as she got the statement, which was the first week in November."
"Not long before she died then, and after she'd made up her mind to change the will. It's a bugger that one. I can't get the hang of it at all." He thought for a moment. "When did Ruth steal the fifty pounds?"
"At the beginning of September before she went back to school. She had some idea apparently of buying Hughes off. She said: 'I thought he'd leave me alone if I gave him some money.' "
"Dear God!" said Charlie dismally. "There's one born every minute. Did you ask her if Hughes put pressure on her to cash the five hundred at half-term?"