Peter Lovesey - Mad Hatter

‘I’m sure I shan’t need to, sir. Now, gentlemen, the pastries here are recommended, I believe. Cooked on the premises. You’ll have one on Scotland Yard, I hope, seeing that you haven’t eaten very much.’

Guy stood up suddenly and tossed his crumpled napkin on the table. ‘I don’t want pastries. I need some fresh air.’

‘His condition,’ Prothero explained by way of an excuse, after the red blazer was lost to view. ‘It’s in the blood, inherited from his late mother. Providentially, I am able to subdue the attacks if I cannot dispel them altogether. I will have a pastry, if you please.’

The tray was brought and coffee served at the same time.

‘I should think you’ve had your difficulties with Guy, then,’ said Cribb.

‘In which way, exactly?’

‘Oh, I was meaning that it’s difficult to correct a child when it’s liable to bring on an attack of asthma.’

‘Less difficult than you would suppose,’ said Prothero defensively. ‘I’ll allow that he has abominable manners, but he’s been chastised like any normal boy. We’ve done all that Christian parents can.’

‘Perhaps the school was negligent,’ ventured Cribb. ‘You mentioned that he is starting at a new one.’

‘Quite soon, yes.’

‘I wonder if I’ve heard of it.’

‘I shouldn’t think so. A small private academy. There is still some doubt whether he will go there, so there is no point in my mentioning the name.’ The subject was obviously closed.

‘I didn’t wish to be indiscreet when the boy was here,’ said Cribb, ‘but you won’t mind if I now enquire whether it was a lady-friend you accompanied to the homecoming ball?’

‘I fail to see what relevance it has to your investigation, but I am not ashamed to tell you I was partnering Miss Samantha Floyd-Whittingham, who happens to be the daughter of a senior officer of the regiment. She is purely a social acquaintance.’

‘Goes without saying, sir. You didn’t by any chance leave the ball for a part of the evening, perhaps to watch the fireworks?’

‘Indeed, yes. Most of the guests did. We stood in the Steine Gardens for twenty minutes or so. We could see sufficiently well from there.’

‘And then you returned inside, sir?’

‘Of course, until the ball ended, soon after one o’clock. Then I drove the young lady to her lodgings in Lewes Crescent and returned to the Albemarle. I was home before two.’

‘I don’t doubt it, sir.’

‘Samantha is still alive, I assure you. I saw her yesterday.’

‘I wasn’t thinking she was dead,’ said Cribb.

‘Oh. You are concerned about my wife’s safety, but not about my-er-friend’s?’

‘Seeing that my information is that your friend has copper-coloured hair and the dead woman’s is brown, that’s correct, sir. There’s just one other matter, if you’ll indulge me a moment more. You’ve been most forbearing, if I might say so. Has your servant Bridget been with you long?’

‘Upwards of six months, I believe. I engaged her myself. She has impeccable references. My wife has never been entirely happy with her, but I think the fault may well rest more with Mrs. Prothero than with Bridget.’

‘What do you mean, sir?’

‘She is far too possessive with the child. If you engage a nurse, you should let her get on with the job, dammit, not interfere at every opportunity. Mrs. Prothero is a woman of excitable tendencies, as I think I mentioned. It is usually a relief to all of us when she takes her sleeping-draught and retires. A profound relief. You may imagine the scenes we have had between my wife and Guy.’

‘Vividly, sir. Do you think Bridget is completely to be trusted?’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, sir, not to put too fine a point upon it, in matters of morality.’

Prothero put down his coffee cup. ‘My goodness, Sergeant Cribb, you have been making a close study of us. I am well aware to what you are alluding. You may think me a forward thinker in this respect, but I don’t regard it as necessarily bad if a fifteen-year-old boy is taught a trick or two by a servant-wench. I know that I was when I was young. Oh yes, they bathe together. I don’t need Scotland Yard to tell me what two wet bathing-costumes mean. But I tell you that I’m more concerned about the toxic effects of the sea-water than I am about a bit of spooning under the waves. There’s no more to it than that, Sergeant. Bridget’s no youngster. She’s not the sort to make a fool of herself with a schoolboy, but if she feels disposed to further his education a little in that direction, I shan’t turn her out of the house for it. Guy might appear to be worldly-wise, with his scant respect for his elders and betters, but his knowledge of certain areas of human behaviour is not much better than your eye for a bath towel.’ He wiped his lips thoughtfully, as if reconsidering what he had just said. ‘I didn’t notice whether your towel was green and white. I rather suspect now that it was not. Do you have it with you?’

‘No sir,’ Cribb was quick to reply. ‘It was hired from Brill’s.’

‘And you’re saying no more than that, eh? Well, Sergeant, I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful for the lunch, whatever occasioned it. I just hope for your sake that Scotland Yard will not consider it as unjustified expenditure.’

‘If you are thinking of leaving, I’ll accompany you as far as Grafton Street,’ said Cribb as if he were bestowing a favour. ‘You were going in the general direction of Lewes Crescent, I take it?’

Prothero stood up. ‘Sergeant, it’s a good thing I haven’t done anything criminal, or I should be a worried man by now. By all means let’s go together.’

Constable Thackeray was waiting with a letter in his hand when Cribb re-entered the police station. ‘Blimey, Sarge, what have you done to yourself?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s something different about you and I’m not sure what it is. Yes I am! It’s your hair.’

‘What’s the matter with it, for Heaven’s sake?’ growled Cribb.

‘Well, it’s standing up so, Sarge. You always have it plastered down. If I didn’t know you’d been out interviewing I’d almost think you’d been in for a dip. It must be the sea air. I believe the ozone does things like that. You’ll need to get some macassar-oil.’

There was a moment of silence before Cribb asked, ‘Is that all, Constable, or would you like to inspect my tongue to see whether I’m becoming constipated? Shall we concern ourselves with the purpose of our visit? What have you got there?’

‘It’s the police surgeon’s report, Sarge. I knew you’d want to open it yourself.’

Cribb opened the envelope and scanned its contents.

‘Does it tell us anything new?’ Thackeray asked.

‘Precious little, so far as I can see. Merely cloaks our own observations in pathological jargon. He hasn’t been able to establish a cause of death. “ In my opinion the deceased was a healthy woman aged between twenty-five and forty -that’s a sizeable margin. Slight of build. Dark hair” -we know all this. Ah! Here’s a point of interest. “The dismemberment of the parts was performed with a sharp axe-like instrument employed somewhat crudely. The state of coagulation suggests that the amputations took place up to twenty-four hours after death.” It looks as if our murderer killed the woman on Saturday, hid the body under the arches and returned to finish his work the next night.’

Thackeray lifted two scandalised eyebrows. ‘On a Sunday?'

‘My guess is that he wrapped the dismembered parts in newspaper and buried them a foot or so under the pebbles that night, thinking to come back.’