Peter Lovesey - Mad Hatter

Thackeray was not unprepared. He licked his forefinger in a businesslike way and turned several pages of the notebook. ‘Well, Sarge, you’ve always advised me to look for a motive in a murder case, and I’ve been weighing up the parties concerned to see what reason they would have for putting an end to Bridget.’

‘A sound procedure, Constable. What conclusions have you reached?’

‘Ah. Well, let’s dismiss the least likely one first. So far as I can tell, Miss Floyd-Whittingham has never met Bridget, and wouldn’t have any reason to kill her. The only way she might be involved is as an accomplice to Dr. Prothero.’

‘Reasonable enough,’ said Cribb. ‘And she doesn’t sound to me like the sort of woman who’s handy with a cleaver.’

‘Them’s my own sentiments exactly, Sarge. And I’ve got the same reservations about Mrs. Prothero from what you told me of her. She’s got a motive, though, in my opinion.’

‘What’s that?’

‘She didn’t like Bridget at all. She told Moscrop Prothero engaged the girl himself. If she’d had her way she would have dismissed her. Now seeing that she’s so attached to young Jason, and Bridget was apt to go off swimming with Guy and leave the child in the charge of bathing-machine attendants, it don’t seem impossible to me that Mrs. Prothero might have got desperate, knowing that her husband didn’t take no interest. You told me yourself that Mrs. P. knew about the capers in the sea with Guy, so she must have known about Jason being left with strangers, too. That’s enough to strike panic into a woman of her nervous susceptibilities.’

‘I see the point,’ said Cribb, ‘but there’s still the dismembering to account for. That’s not a woman’s work.’

Thackeray had obviously thought of this. He tucked his thumbs confidently in the pockets of his waistcoat and said, ‘A woman as charming as Mrs. Prothero might not have to look very far to find a man prepared to wield a cleaver for her.’

‘Moscrop?’ said Cribb.

Thackeray rewarded his sergeant with a broad grin. ‘But I’ll leave him for a moment, if you don’t mind. The next on the list is Guy.’

‘The boy?’

‘Now that’s just it, Sarge. We’re disposed to think of him as a boy, but he’s fifteen years old and quite precocious from what I’ve heard. It ain’t every fifteen-year-old that talks to his elders and betters the way that lad does, or takes snuff, or has a dabble below stairs, to use a coarse expression.’

‘That doesn’t make him a murderer.’

‘Ah, but he ain’t what you would call a level-headed personality. Perhaps it’s on account of his age-I’m not sure about these things-but he sounds to me like a boy without a proper sense of responsibility. Moscrop says he saw him holding Jason above the crocodile tank. That’s the deuce of a risk to take with a small child, wouldn’t you say? He seems to have no respect for people at all, in his family or out of it. Now just suppose his philanderings with Bridget had gone a good deal further than the Protheros realised. Just suppose Bridget was in a delicate condition, or thought she was, at any rate, and told him so. I can’t help wondering whether he ain’t the sort of boy that might resort to murder in that situation.’

‘It’s plausible,’ admitted Cribb.

‘And so we come to Dr. Prothero,’ Thackeray went on, like a guide in a museum, turning the page of his notebook. ‘Now, here’s an interesting thing, Sarge. Moscrop told us that when he had his conversation with Bridget on the morning of the regiment’s march-past, it was she who gave him Miss Floyd-Whittingham’s name. She knew all about the goings-on at Lewes Crescent of an afternoon. And that was at a time when Mrs. Prothero herself thought the doctor was going the rounds of his former patients. It’s tailor-made for blackmail, in my opinion. I think that’s why Bridget was able to keep her job, even when Mrs. Prothero knew she was neglecting Jason. Prothero wasn’t going to dismiss her when he knew she could blow the gaff to his wife.’

‘Do you think he was paying Bridget money, then?’

‘That’s hard to say. She may have been satisfied with keeping her job. In those circumstances drawing a wage is a kind of blackmail, in my estimation. Well, Sarge, that’s the motive in Prothero’s case. Bridget demands too much, so he kills her.’

‘Leaving us with Mr. Albert Moscrop.’

‘Yes. I’ve left him till last deliberate, Sarge, because I think he’s the deepest one of the lot. It’s not that I’m unappreciative of all the information he’s given us. We wouldn’t have got this far so quick without him.’

‘You wonder why he’s so interested in the case?’

‘Well, you must admit that it’s a curious way to spend a holiday. I’ve seen the jokes in Punch about men at the seaside peering through spy-glasses, but I’ve never come across anyone with a whole bagful of telescopes and binoculars. For all his grand ideas about being in Brighton for the season, he’s got no intention of going to balls or parties. He just watches everyone else enjoying themselves.’

‘Eccentric,’ said Cribb, ‘but harmless.’

‘Ah, yes, up to a point, Sarge. But when the glasses settle on a married woman and won’t move off, then I’m not so sure if it is harmless. Allowing for the sort of man he is, deadly serious but completely inexperienced with the fair sex, I’d say that any woman at the far end of those binoculars should watch out. It’s the men of his age and his kind that get strange notions in their heads. They can very easily convince themselves that the unfortunate women they fix upon are encouraging ’em, and that can lead to ugly results.’

‘It’s an interesting idea,’ said Cribb, ‘except for the fact that it was Bridget who was murdered, and not Zena Prothero.’

‘But don’t you see,’ said Thackeray, passionately, ‘that a man with such a single-minded interest in a woman is going to be ruthless in pursuing her? I don’t think that child Jason strayed away from his mother on the beach. I think Moscrop abducted him-just to bring him back to her and provide himself with a reason for talking to her. A man in that frame of mind will do anything, Sarge.’

‘Hold on a bit!’ said Cribb. ‘Single-minded, I’ll give you. Humourless, yes. Capable of contriving some situation to meet Mrs. Prothero, yes. But anything! That won’t do, Constable. It’s woolly. Not the way a detective should think. If there’s a motive for Moscrop, there must be a clearly-reasoned argument, however odd the man may be.’

‘I was coming to that, Sergeant,’ protested Thackeray. ‘You’ll allow that he formed a strong attachment for Mrs. Prothero?’

‘Yes.’

‘So strong that he went to some trouble to find out for himself about her husband’s unfaithfulness?’

‘I should think that was his reason, yes.’

‘And he felt protective towards Mrs. Prothero, and angry about the husband who didn’t appreciate her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well it seems to me that things was building up to a crisis-point on the Saturday, the day of the murder. Mrs. Prothero had asked Moscrop to get the sleeping-potion analysed. By that time, he was ready to be her slave. He thought Dr. Prothero was contemptible. It was even possible- and I’m not putting it any stronger, Sarge-that the sleeping potion might contain some kind of slow-acting poison. Anyway, being asked to get it analysed was being put into a privileged position.’

‘You’re doing better now,’ said Cribb.

‘So Moscrop must have felt highly pleased with himself, meeting her in secret by the croquet-lawn and arranging another secret meeting for the Saturday, when he would give her the chemist’s analysis. She was sure to be in a grateful frame of mind. It would be Saturday night in Brighton. The fireworks would be under way. She might even agree to take a walk along the prom. with him. Imagine the prospect of that to a man who had hardly talked to a woman outside his telescope-shop!’