Laura unfastened the headscarf she was wearing.
‘This will do,’ she said. ‘Thanks a lot.’
‘Don’t mention it. Well, we’ll be getting along.’ The two of them walked on and the grove of oaks was very quiet, for the wind scarcely moved the age-old, mighty boughs. Neither Dame Beatrice nor Laura said a word until they had remained for a few moments looking down at the fungi, and then had crossed the beck. Laura spoke first.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘what did you make of those two?’
‘If such a remark were not tabu in these enlightened days, I should say that they hardly seem to come from the same social stratum.’
‘Yes, but — I mean, the information!’
‘Yes, indeed. I was afraid you were going to spoil the fun.’
‘I definitely would have spoken up if I didn’t know that you’d done your homework, both as a doctor and a criminologist, on the subject of fungi in general and the poisonous kinds in particular. But didn’t you yourself want to contradict him? I mean, if he’s going about telling people to eat that deadly stuff, he’s going to have somebody else’s death on his hands. I take it he is the chap the police are after.’
‘The general description would fit and undoubtedly he hardly wishes us well.’
‘What shall you do about him?’
‘Describe the encounter to Inspector Ribble, but it will lead to nothing until we have proof that this man is the murderer, and, so far, we have no proof of that.’
‘But he’s done his best to ensure that we eat deadly poisonous toadstools.’
‘Yes, he is puffed up with his own conceit, and is becoming reckless. He will soon go too far.’
Chapter 16: WITCHES’ FINGERS
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‘Well, we can both give a pretty accurate description of the chap,’ said Laura, ‘but I suppose Ribble can hardly arrest him on a charge of mistaking a deadly poisonous Amanita for a harmless, delicious Agaricus, can he?’
‘Someone else appears to have done some homework! No, of course he cannot, especially as the two species can be confused quite innocently.’
‘If you are right, what about that girl he had with him? Isn’t she in the most frightful danger?’
‘Up to the present she is in no danger at all.’
‘Just because she doesn’t happen to be one of the dancers?’
‘That is not the reason. Do not tantalise yourself with these speculations. The person I am most anxious about is one of the dancers, however. It is the girl they call Pippa. I also feel concern for the younger Miss Lindsay, but Miss Erica Lyndhurst has been warned. I am thankful that those four young women are getting together again and that my nephew Carey’s farm is a very long way from the murderer’s sphere of activities. Tamsin would be perfectly safe there except for one thing.’
‘Let me guess. Those stolen records, the one from the Youth Hostel and the set from the forest office, contain the home addresses of all the people concerned.’
‘Yes, including that of the murderer. Fortunately Inspector Ribble has listed the hostel addresses in the notes he gave me, so we have that much help.’
‘Will it be sufficient?’
‘Unless the murderer gave a false address. It is quite likely that he did. It is a pity that Hermione’s home address was on record in the files stolen from the forest warden, but, as I say, Stanton St John is a long way from here.’
‘The murderer wouldn’t know that the girls have gone there.’
‘It may not take him long to find out. He has all their home addresses.’
‘Is Hermione herself in any danger?’
‘All four girls are in some danger, perhaps. That depends upon how far our murderer is prepared to go; but the greatest danger is to Miss Tamsin Lindsay. When I have done what still remains to be done here, I shall make it my business to go to the farm and keep an eye on things.’
‘I don’t see what else can be done here that Ribble can’t do.’
‘Well, perhaps not here, exactly. It is very fortunate that I was able to see Mrs Beck’s register before it was stolen.’
‘I thought you got the dancers’ addresses from Ribble. You didn’t need—’
‘Oh, I like to check my information,’ said Dame Beatrice airily. ‘To add to yours, I will disclose to you all my suspicions and my reasons for them, but, until today’s encounter, I had nothing to go on except applied psychology.’
‘Where is our next assignment? — and with whom?’
‘The inquest on Miss Peggy Raincliffe is to be held at Gledge End tomorrow. I am anxious to hear the medical evidence. After that, I hope to be allowed to talk to young Mr Marton before we go to Stanton St John.’
‘Meanwhile, what about this girl Pippa?’
‘She is under police protection and Inspector Ribble has promised me that she will be extremely well-guarded until the murderer is caught. There is nothing more that she can tell us, although I may perhaps go to see her at her home.’
‘Surely she’s got some suspicions of who killed the other girls and attacked her brother?’
‘Except for her music, she is an exceptionally imperceptive child, I think.’
‘Well, I’m all agog for information. Who dunnit?’
Dame Beatrice told her, but added, ‘There isn’t an atom of proof, of course, that would stand up to lawyers’ arguments.’
The coroner sat with a full complement of jurors, seven men and four women, and he explained to them that he could accept a majority verdict provided that not more than two of them dissented from it.
‘So nine of you have to be agreed,’ he said, stressing his point. ‘This is not a trial, I would have you remember. It is an enquiry into the cause of death, when and at what place death occurred, and whether the deceased has been formally identified and by whom. You are permitted to ask questions of the witness, but I shall rule out any queries which I deem to be irrelevant or in any way mischievous. You are to find your verdict purely on the evidence that you will hear, putting out of your minds any rumours, gossip or slander which may have come to your ears.’
Having done his best to cow them and added the further warning that he had power to override their verdict if he did not agree with it, he opened the proceedings by calling for the identification of the body. This was sworn to by the mother of the deceased, and the medical evidence followed.
Death had been assured by one heavy blow in the centre of the forehead which had rendered the victim unconscious and which could not have been self-inflicted. It was followed by other assaults after she had fallen down. There were more blows to the back of the head which would have caused death. The weapon had probably been a heavy stone with a rough surface.
Inspector Ribble was called. He said that he had been asked to go to St Vortigern’s Church Hall as there had been an accident. When he arrived he was shewn two bodies, one still alive, the other dead.
‘Who telephoned you?’ asked the coroner.
‘William Dexter, the caretaker at the church hall. He had also telephoned for a doctor.’
When the caretaker was called he made as good and as laconic a witness as the inspector had done, having forgotten none of his training as a policeman in the art of giving evidence in court. All the same, his story took some time to tell, as the corner asked for a good many details.
‘You knew nothing of what had happened until you went to your broom-cupboard?’
‘Not a thing, sir.’
‘Did nothing strike you as being out of the ordinary?’