Gaskell came out on deck with the contraceptives. He had tied them together and painted on each one a single letter with nail varnish so that the whole read HELP SOS HELP. He climbed up on the cabin roof and launched them into the air. They floated up for a moment, were caught in the light breeze and sagged sideways down on to the water. Gaskell pulled them in on the string and tried again. Once again they floated down on to the water.
‘I’ll wait until there’s some more wind,’ he said, and tied the string to the rail where they bobbed gently. Then he went into the cabin and lay on the bunk.
‘What are you going to do now?’ Sally asked.
‘Sleep. Wake me when there’s a wind.’ He took off his glasses and pulled a blanket over him.
Outside Sally sat on a locker and thought about drowning in bed.
‘Mr Gosdyke,’ said Inspector Flint, ‘you and I have had dealings for a good many years now and I’m prepared to be frank with you. I don’t know.’
‘But you’ve charged him with murder.’ said Mr Gosdyke.
‘He’ll come up for remand on Monday. In the meantime I am going on questioning him.’
‘But surely the fact that he admits burying a life-size doll…’
‘Dressed in his wife’s clothes, Gosdyke. In his wife’s clothes. Don’t forget that.’
‘It still seems insufficient to me. Can you be absolutely sure that a murder has been committed?’
‘Three people disappear off the face of the earth without a trace. They leave behind them two cars, a house littered with unwashed glasses and the leftovers of a party…you should see that house…a bathroom and landing covered will blood…’
‘They could have gone in someone else’s car.’
They could have but they didn’t. Dr Pringsheim didn’t like being driven by anyone else. We know that from his colleagues at the Department of Biochemistry. He had a rooted objection to British drivers. Don’t ask me why but be had.’
‘Trains? Buses? Planes?’
‘Checked, rechecked and checked again. No one answering to their description used any form of public or private transport out of town. And if you think they went on a bicycle ride, you’re wrong again. Dr Pringsheim’s bicycle is in the garage. No, you can forget their going anywhere. They died and Mr Smart Alec Wilt knows it.’
‘I still don’t see how you can be so sure.’ said Mr Gosdyke.
Inspector Flint lit a cigarette. ‘Let’s just look at his actions, his admitted actions and see what they add up to,’ he said. ‘He gets a lifesize doll…’
‘Where from?’
‘He says he was given it by his wife. Where he got it from doesn’t matter.’
‘He says he first saw the thing at the Pringsheims’ house.’
‘Perhaps he did. I’m prepared to believe that. Wherever he got it, the fact remains that he dressed it up to look like Mrs Wilt. He puts it down that hole at the Tech, a hole he knows is going to be filled with concrete. He makes certain he is seen by the caretaker when he knows that the Tech is closed. He leaves a bicycle covered with his fingerprints and with a book of his in the basket. He leaves a trail of notes to the hole. He turns up at Mrs Braintree’s house at midnight covered with mud and says he’s had a puncture when he hasn’t. Now you’re not going to tell me that he hadn’t got something in mind.’
‘He says he was merely trying to dispose of that doll.’
‘And he tells me he was rehearsing his wife’s murder. He’s admitted that.’
‘Yes, but only in fantasy. His story to me is that be wanted to get rid of that doll,’ Mr Gosdyke persisted.
‘Then why the clothes, why blow the thing up and why leave it in such a position it was bound to be spotted when the concrete was poured down? Why didn’t he cover it with earth if he didn’t want it to be found? Why didn’t he just burn the bloody thing or leave it by the roadside? It just doesn’t make sense unless you see it as a deliberate plan to draw our attention away from the real crime.’ The Inspector paused. ‘Well now, the way I see it is that something happened at that party we don’t know anything about. Perhaps Wilt found his wife in bed with Dr Pringsheim. He killed them both. Mrs Pringsheim puts in an appearance and he kills her too.’
‘How?’ said Mr Gosdyke. ‘You didn’t find that much blood.’
‘He strangled her. He strangled his own wife. He battered Pringsheim to death. Then he hides the bodies somewhere, goes home and lays the doll trail. On Sunday he disposes of the real bodies…’
‘Where?’
‘God alone knows, but I’m going to find out. All I know is that a man who can think up a scheme like this one is bound to have thought of somewhere diabolical to put the real victims. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he spent Sunday making illegal use of the crematorium. Whatever he did can be sure he did it thoroughly.’
But Mr Gosdyke remained unconvinced. ‘I wish I knew how you could be so certain,’ he said.
‘Mr Gosdyke,’ said the Inspector wearily. ‘you have spent two hours with your client. I have spent the best part of the week and if I’ve learnt one thing from the experience it is this, that sod in there knows what he is doing. Any normal man in his position would have been worried and alarmed and down right frightened. Any innocent man faced with a missing wife and the evidence we’ve got of murder would have had a nervous breakdown. Not Wilt. Oh no, he sits in there as bold as you please and tells me how to conduct the investigation. Now if anything convinces me that that bastard is as guilty as hell that does. He did it and I know it. And what is more, I’m going to prove it.’
‘He seems a bit worried now,’ said Mr Gosdyke.
‘He’s got reason to be,’ said the Inspector, ‘because by Monday morning I’m going to get the truth out of him even if it kills him and me both.’
‘Inspector,’ said Mr Gosdyke getting to his feet, ‘I must warn you that I have advised my client not to say another word and if he appears in Court with a mark on him…’
‘Mr Gosdyke, you should know me better than that. I’m not a complete fool and if your client has any marks on him on Monday morning they will not have been made by me or any of my men. You have my assurance on that.’
Mr Gosdyke left the Police Station a puzzled man. He had to admit that Wilt’s story hadn’t been a very convincing one. Mr Gosdyke’s experience of murderers was not extensive but he had a shrewd suspicion that men who confessed openly that they had entertained fantasies of murdering their wives ended by admitting that they had done so in fact. Besides his attempt to get Wilt to agree that he’d put the doll down the hole as a practical joke on his colleagues at the Tech had failed hopelessly. Wilt had refused to lie and Mr Gosdyke was not used to clients who insisted on telling the truth.
Inspector Flint went back into the interview Room and looked at Wilt. Then he pulled up a chair and sat down.
‘Henry,’ he said with an affability he didn’t feel, ‘you and I are going to have a little chat.’
‘What, another one?’ said Wilt. ‘Mr Gosdyke has advised me to say nothing.’
‘He always does,’ said the Inspector sweetly, ‘to clients he knows are guilty. Now are you going to talk?’
‘I can’t see why not. I’m not guilty and it helps to pass the time.’