Colin Watson - The Flaxborough Crab

Ignoring the implicit question, Miss Pollock stared at him blankly.

“Perhaps,” said Purbright, “you could help us with those points.”

Her gaze moved to the window.

“I ran because I was alarmed by Mr Winge’s behaviour. It was quite inexplicable.”

Malley, who liked his witnesses’ depositions to be chronologically straightforward, put in: “Before you say anything about that, Miss Pollock, I’d just like to be clear as to where you both were and what you were doing.”

The inspector nodded.

“We were in a small wood—a spinney, I suppose you might call it—in the far corner of the field.”

“Close against the reservoir?”

“Yes. You see, we had set the old folk off on a game of hide-and-seek, and...”

“Hide-and- seek ?” echoed Purbright.

“That is what I said. They like to be occupied, these old people—organized and occupied. But one or two do tend to be laggards, you know, and so we have to give them a lead. That is why Mr Winge suggested that he and I should pretend to be taking part in the game. I went across to the spinney while Mr Winge waited with the old gentlemen. Then he came looking for me—except that he knew where I was, of course.”

“So he joined you in the wood, did he?”

“Yes. We were to wait until all the others were properly on the move and then come back to the coach.”

“You say this had been his suggestion?” the inspector asked.

“Certainly,” declared Miss Pollock, tight-faced.

“You sound as if you had—what shall I say?—misgivings, perhaps?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because Mr Winge had already given me the impression that he was not quite himself. I had been obliged to change seats on the coach soon after we left town.”

Purbright did not ask her to elaborate. Malley put the next question.

“What was the alderman’s behaviour in the wood that alarmed you, Miss Pollock?”

“He...he made a suggestion.”

“Yes?”

They waited. Miss Pollock let them.

“What was the suggestion?” Purbright prompted. “It is relevant, you know.”

After further hesitation, she said: “It was an indecent suggestion. It related to something I was wearing.”

“ Was wearing?” Malley’s big, gentle face was absolutely innocent.

“Was and am!” snapped Miss Pollock.

“Very well,” Purbright said. “We’ll leave it at that. Mr Winge proposed something that offended your sense of decency. How did you react?”

“I told him that he must be mad. This, I may say, I regretted at once because I realized that madness was the only possible explanation and I was afraid that what I had said might provoke him to violence.”

“And did it?”

“Not immediately. He just laughed and made the same suggestion again. I turned and started to walk away. It was then that he attacked me.”

“Can you describe the attack? What he actually did, I mean.”

“I am not altogether certain, but I think he jumped on me from behind. All I remember now is running and feeling something tugging at me. He must have got hold of my dress. It was not until afterwards that I found it was torn.”

“I understand from the policewoman that you didn’t suffer any harm physically,” Purbright said.

“Well, no—he didn’t hurt me. He didn’t get the chance.”

“I am very glad of that, anyway. Now tell me, Miss Pollock, did you at any time while you were running away look back at Mr Winge?”

“Once, yes. It was just before...just before the accident.”

“You saw him there behind you—running.”

“Yes.”

“And did you notice anything about the way he was running? Was there anything peculiar about it?”

She looked sharply at the inspector, then at Sergeant Malley. “Should there have been?”

Malley shrugged. Purbright said: “I was just wondering.”

“I got no more than a sort of flash of him,” said Miss Pollock, guardedly. “Out of the corner. But it is quite true that he ran in a funny way. I don’t quite know how to describe it. He seemed to have half turned round, if you see what I mean, and to be coming sideways on.”

After a short pause, the inspector said: “And that was the last you saw of him before the accident?”

She nodded.

“Which you heard rather than saw, I presume?”

“I heard a splash, but somehow I didn’t connect it with what had been happening up to then. It was only when I looked back and saw that Mr Winge was not there behind me any more, that I realized that he had fallen in.”

“Did you see him in the water?” Malley asked.

“Not at that time. He had disappeared altogether. But I knew what must have happened because the surface was still rocking and swirling about.”

“You ran for help?”

“Naturally.”

Malley turned to the inspector.

“There’s nothing the lady could have done herself, sir. The reservoir embankment on the water side is very steep just there—more like a wall.”

“Quite,” said Purbright.

He gave Miss Pollock a reassuring smile.

“You’ve been extremely helpful. There is only one more question that I should like to ask—and please don’t take it as reflecting in any way upon yourself. I simply want to know if there was anything you noticed in Mr Winge’s attitude or behaviour before today that suggested his having sexual designs on you or anybody else—on women generally, in fact.”

A geranium flush spread rapidly from neck to hat brim.

“Never! Certainly not! I have worked with Mr Winge for many years and known him up to that quite inexplicable affair today as a public-spirited and very religious gentleman!”

“Thank you, Miss Pollock. We are deeply obliged to you.”

Purbright rose and walked to the door.

The raincoat, surmounted by Miss Pollock’s round and indignant little head, glided out.

As the door closed, Malley suddenly flapped his hand in the air.

“Hey, hang on a minute...what about her statement?” He wound a sheet of paper into the typewriter.

Purbright said never mind, the deposition could be signed later; he’d have it sent round to her.

Thoughtfully, he resumed his seat behind the big, shabby desk.

“You know, Bill,” he said, “I don’t think she was quite as unprepared for old Steve’s crack at her virtue as she pretends.”

Malley began jabbing keys with two plump forefingers. “Oh, aye?” He watched the keys closely all the time, as if some might otherwise escape their share of punishment.

“I reckon she’d seen signs before. Her reaction to my asking her was a little too righteous to be convincing.”

Malley grunted. He was scraping out a misplaced letter with the tip of what looked like a hunting knife.

“Mind you,” Purbright went on, “it would be surprising if Winge had managed to gallop round like a rutting stag night after night without somebody noticing something. Even Doctor Jekyll couldn’t stop Mr Hyde peeping out occasionally at an inconveni...”

“They tell me you’ve got the Crab!”

In the doorway had appeared the cherubic features of Sergeant Love, bright with good news.

“So it would seem,” said Purbright. “You can let your young lady out again now, Sid.”

Love closed the door carefully behind him.

“My landlady won’t half be disappointed,” he said. “She’s been going up as far as the canal end every night this week, in hopes.”

“Have you fixed the inquest yet, Bill?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. Old Amblesby’s down in Cornwall, or somewhere, so I’ve had to call out Thompson. He’s not sat as deputy coroner since 1953. He’s bloody terrified.”

“I don’t know that he need be,” said Purbright, lightly. “It’s a straightforward enough case.”