‘That sounds a bit strange. I think I’ll get on to Peterheads and find out what they’re up to. Probably got a lot of scripts to place and haven’t got around to reading Palgrave’s novel yet. Perhaps, when they do, they’ll see why he wanted it withdrawn – if he did!’
‘Likely enough, sir, but then there’s another thing. He would have sent Peterheads the top copy, no doubt, but that still leaves the photo copies and one of the carbons (there is only one of the carbons among his papers) unaccounted for.’
‘Oh, that’s easily explained, I think. He probably lent them around among people he thought would read them uncritically and tell him what a genius he was. These writer chaps are all pretty conceited, I expect, especially when they’ve only had one book published. I remember my nephew getting a letter printed in the Daily Courier. Talked about it for weeks. Oh, yes, ten to one he distributed the copies among his friends. I can’t see that it matters what he did with them, anyway.’
‘No, sir. It just struck me as peculiar, that’s all. And there’s another thing, sir. Why the photo copies if he already had two carbons?’
‘Surely that’s an easy one. If his own publisher turned the book down – always a possibility, I suppose – he would need new fresh-looking copies to send to other firms.’
‘Then where are they, sir? That was only a carbon we found. You can’t mistake a carbon for photo copy. I’ve done enough typing in this office, sir, to know. I can’t help feeling there could be something funny about the other copies, even if a friend has the missing carbon, sir.’
‘Well, you’d better go in chase of his friends, then, but I think you’ll be wasting your time. Still, we’ve no other lead. Start with that young fellow from the school. He seems to have known Palgrave pretty well. He may know where he went that Friday evening.’
The headmaster was inclined to be peevish.
‘I really must protest, Sergeant,’ he said. ‘I cannot have my staff harassed in this manner.’
‘We are investigating a case of murder, sir.’
‘I am fully cognisant of that, but it had nothing to do with my school. I am, of course, horrified that Mr Palgrave should have been set upon, robbed and murdered. All too much of that sort of thing goes on at the present time, and the police seem powerless to prevent it. However, what happened, however unfortunately, to Mr Palgrave during a weekend, has nothing to do with his work here. The whole thing has led to considerable unrest in the staff commonroom and given rise to a most undesirable degree of speculation and excitement among my boys and girls. I really cannot countenance further disruption.’
‘All I need is five minutes’ conversation with Mr Winblow, sir, and it will be less noticeable if I have it here than if I go to his private address or ask him to come down to the station.’
‘Oh, very well.’ He rang through to his secretary. ‘Chase up Mr Winblow, please, Mrs Wrack, and ask him to spare me a moment. He should be in the history room with 4A. I suppose,’ he added to the sergeant, ‘there is no objection to my being present at this interview? It will enable me to determine whether Winblow ought to have a solicitor to watch his interests. He is a young, inexperienced man and may need professional advice.’
‘Remain by all means, sir. You may be able to help both Mr Winblow and my enquiry.’ They waited in silence until Winblow appeared.
‘You sent for me, Headmaster?’
‘Sit down, Winblow, and remember that you are not obliged to answer any of the sergeant’s questions unless you wish.’
‘You were aware that Mr Palgrave had written a book – his second book – I believe, sir?’ asked the sergeant.
‘Yes, of course. A very bright chap, poor Palgrave.’
‘We learn that he had various copies made of it.’
‘Oh, yes. I’ve got one, a carbon.’
‘Was it a gift to you?’
‘Not a gift, no. He said he’d like me to read it, so long as I didn’t spill tea on it or get it dogeared. Then I was to keep it somewhere safe until he asked for it in case he needed it to check by, or to send to another publisher.’
‘Somewhere safe?’
‘Yes. He said the copy he’d sent in could get lost or damaged and the copy he was keeping at his digs – well, there might be a fire or a burglary. He was pretty steamed up about the work. Said it was a major opus and would establish him for all time. Very euphoric, and all that.’
‘Have you read your copy, sir?’
‘Not yet. Thought I’d get on to it in the Easter holiday. Not much time for reading during term,’ said Mr Winblow, with one eye on his headmaster.
‘Do you know what happened to the other copies, sir?’
‘Not a clue. Nobody else on the staff here has one, that’s for sure.’
‘Thank you, sir. That’s all, then.’
The head nodded dismissal to the assistant master and, when the door had closed behind Winblow, he said:
‘Are you satisfied, Sergeant?’
‘Oh, yes, sir, thank you. It was a very minor point, but we have to clear these things out of the way.’
‘There’s a letter from a Mrs Kirby,’ said the detective-inspector upon his subordinate’s return. ‘She wants to tell us something which she thinks may have a bearing.’
‘Let’s hope it’s something useful, sir. You were right not to make anything important out of the missing copies. Apparently he distributed them among his friends for safe keeping, as I think you said.’
‘Well, you’d better get along and see what this woman has to say. Here’s the address. Any time after six, she says.’
‘Lives in Chelsea, I notice, sir. Means she may know something.’
‘You’re thinking of the river. I thought of it, too.’
‘Would a body chucked in the river, perhaps over one of the bridges, fetch up as far as the Bregant Docks, sir? It was opposite them that the body was found. There’s a big bend in the river after Hammersmith.’
‘Our river chaps would know about that, I expect, but, if you ask me, Old Father Thames is quite unpredictable. Besides, the fact that this woman lives near the river may be coincidence, so it’s no good raising our hopes too high that she really knows anything important.’
Miranda welcomed the young sergeant with the kindly warmth she extended to all visitors and offered him a drink.
‘Not just now, thank you, madam. I understand you have something to tell us which may have a bearing on the case of murder we are investigating.’
‘I don’t know whether it’s important, but, in case you didn’t know about it, I thought perhaps I should tell you.’
The sergeant took out his notebook.
‘Fire away, madam,’ he said encouragingly, so Miranda, aided at times by Adrian, gave a full account of the holiday at Saltacres and the death of young Camilla Hoveton St John. The sergeant did not interrupt her, but dotted down his shorthand in the hope that something useful might emerge from the long narrative.
‘Thank you, madam,’ he said when she appeared to have come to an end. ‘In your opinion, then, Mr Palgrave’s death could have been a revenge job.’
‘I can’t think of any other reason why anybody should have killed him. You see, the more I thought about it – it doesn’t matter telling you this now that he’s dead – and the more we talked it over, my husband and I, the more I was convinced that nobody but Colin could have drowned Camilla.’