CHAPTER I
āCAESARāS WIFEā
MR LOUIS LAWSON, chief constable of Westshire West, had a slightly embarrassed air as he entered the room of Commander Bobby Owen at Scotland Yard. It was the first time they had met in person, though of course each knew the other well enough by name and reputation. True, Bobby had taken the precaution to refresh his memory regarding such facts as Mr Lawsonās long service, his steady if unspectacular rise to be chief of the force he had joined as a young man, his stubborn and so far successful resistance to the recent attempt to amalgamate Westshire West with Westshire (East and Central).
Now in the late fifties, Mr Lawson was still a well-set-up, strikingly handsome man. Bobby had gathered that these good looks of hisāhad he not been born too soon, his obvious and inescapable fate would have been Hollywoodāhad played their part in his rise to the position he now occupied. But so had his quality of a dogged, determined perseverance that never forgot and never let go. And that is a quality which brings success as often as do others more immediately spectacular. It has also the advantage of being within the reach of all.
He and Bobby shook hands and said how glad they were to meet each other. Bobby produced the inevitable cigarette, the equally inevitable remark on the weather, added a reference to a recent complimentary comment by one of the Home Office inspectors on the smartness and efficiency of the Westshire West police. Then, as Mr Lawson still seemed hesitant over explaining the object of his visit, he began to search among the papers on his desk.
āIāve your letter here somewhere,ā he said. āSuspected murder, isnāt it? At a place called Pending Daleāquite a small village?ā
āIt was till Holcombe Manufactures changed all thatāLonglast shirts, you know.ā Bobby didnāt know, but said nothing, though in point of fact he had on a Longlast shirt at the moment. Mr Lawson went on: āAnd itās murder all right; no one could bash his own head in the way this chapās was. Nasty sight.ā He added resentfully: āThe first murder weāve had in all my forty years of service.ā He paused once more, shook his head, sighed, and said sadly: āItās all extremely awkward.ā
āYes?ā said Bobby, reflecting, but not saying, that all murder cases are extremely awkwardāespecially for the person most intimately concerned: the murderee.
āThere are complications,ā said Mr Lawson.
āYes?ā said Bobby again, again reflecting that complications are not uncommon in murder cases.
āRumours,ā said Mr Lawson darkly, and still more darkly and with an interval between each word, he added, first āDynamiteā and then āCaesarās wife.ā
āYes?ā said Bobby for the third time, inwardly wondering what was the bearing of these isolated and apparently disconnected observations. By way of encouragement, he continued: āOf course, we are always prepared to help whenever we can. Here to co-operate, you know.ā He referred to Mr Lawsonās letter again. He said: āThe victim was a Mr John Winterspoon, a commercial travellerāgroceriesāso far as is known, a complete stranger in the district, which is outside the territory he worked for his firm. Two calls known to have been made by him. One at the āBlack Bullā, where he had a double whisky and was thought to have had already as much as was good for him, and one on the village grocer, a Mr William Jones of the Pending Dale Good Grocery Stores. There he made a few business inquiries, as if he expected to take over the representation of his firm in the district. The firm say, however, that no such change had ever been suggested or thought of. You said something about rumours?ā
āThereās talk going on about Mrs Holcombe,ā explained Mr. Lawson. āShe found the body. Some one had to, hadnāt they?ā
āIs Mrs Holcombe connected with the Longlast Shirt people?ā
āShe is Longlast Shirts,ā said Mr Lawson simply. āChairman, managing director, everything. Sheās a widow. Her husband founded the business. He made it over to her when his health broke down a year or two before he died. Of course, death duties had to be paid, all the same, if the idea was to dodge them. Mrs Holcombe says it wasnāt. The doctors had told him plainly he couldnāt expect to live the five years that has to elapse before settlements can escape them. She says it was his wish that she should have complete responsibility while he was still there to advise and help. The business has grown enormously under her control. Expanding all the time. She owns most of the land round about, too. Very generous lady. She gave the village the Holcombe Institute; sheās chairman. Thereās a communal laundry as well. Another gift of hers. Sheās chairman of the Rural District Council. Itās owing to her that Pending Dale has electricity. She owns most of the shares in the Pending Dale Electric Supply Company she founded. Wired all the houses at her own expense, and supplies current at less than they pay in Bristol or Bath.ā
āDear me,ā said Bobby, quite overwhelmed by this list of activities and benevolences, and with already stirring in his mind a faint suspicion that possibly the Pending Dale inhabitants might feel rather as if they lay beneath a Holcombe eiderdown on a Holcombe feather bed, and in that situation found it just a little difficult to breathe.
āPeople are not so appreciative as you would expect,ā pronounced Mr Lawson, with stern disapproval. āSoāwell, ungrateful.ā
āThey often are,ā agreed Bobby. He shook his head. āToo bad,ā he said. āBut doesnāt suggest a background for suspecting the lady of murder, if thatās what it is,ā and he added mentally: āDifferent if the lady herself had been murdered; one could understand that better.ā
āMost unlikely person in the world,ā declared Mr Lawson.
āTut, tut,ā said Bobby. āThat does look bad.ā
āNaturally,ā Mr Lawson continued, ignoring a comment he considered somewhat frivolous, āin the course of my duties I have often been in contact with Mrs Holcombe. I have always found her most pleasant, most agreeable, always ready to help, always ready to make what often turn out to be most useful suggestions.ā
āI see,ā said Bobby when the other paused, though Bobby wasnāt quite sure what it was he did see, unless a vague possibility that just possibly the association between this still extremely handsome man and the highly eligible widow had given rise to village gossip that might not be wholly without foundation.
āCaesarās wife,ā repeated Mr Lawson unexpectedly, and when Bobby looked as surprised and puzzled as he felt, Mr Lawson explained: āMeans you havenāt only to be O.K., it means you have to look it.ā
āOh, yes, very true,ā agreed Bobby. āOnlyāwell, whatās the application?ā
āMrs Holcombe has two childrenāa daughter, Miss Livia, a most talented and artistic young lady, by her first marriage, and young Mr Harry Holcombe, who will be standing for Parliament at the next election. Erāā Mr Lawson was looking embarrassed again. āIt happens that my boy, NormanāNorryāis reading for the Bar, but he has strong artistic tastes. A water-colour painting of his was hung at the Academy one year. I think he would like to take it up professionally, but of course he has to think about earning his living. Canāt do that in art.ā
āNo, indeed,ā agreed Bobby, nodding acceptance of this axiom.
āBut it has brought him and Miss Livia together. Common tastes. Naturally.ā
āNaturally,ā agreed Bobby once more, beginning to see light. āDoes Mrs Holcombeā?ā
He left the sentence unfinished, but Mr Lawson knew what was meant.
āOne can understand a certain hesitation,ā he said. āI donāt say itās very marked, but there it is. Of course, Mrs Holcombe is a wealthy woman, and you know yourself what pay in the police is like.ā
āI do indeed,ā said Bobby, now all yearning sympathy. āRather. I should say I did. And the Barāall right when you get going, if you ever do. Iām told the best plan is to marry the daughter of a busy solicitor,ā and to himself he thought: āAll this means they are saying in the village that any case there is against Mrs Holcombe wonāt be pressed because Lawson hopes his boy may get the girl and wants to make sure Mrs Holcombe gives her consent. Nasty. Bit of an awkward situation.ā He said aloud: āDynamite all right.ā
āOh, thatās Colonel Yeo-Young,ā said Mr Lawson, looking surprised.
āSomething else?ā asked Bobby, beginning to understand now why Mr Lawson had described the case as ācomplicatedā. āWho is he? Where does he come in?ā
āThe Yeo-Youngs used to be the big people about there,ā Mr Lawson explained. āVery old family, owned all the land for miles round. Years ago, that is. There was a peerage once, not now. Thereās still a tradition. Everyone quite glad to see one of the old family back, even if thereās still no money. He is on the county council and a member of the Standing Committee. He just about is the local Tory party, and very keen on winning the seat back from Labour at the next election. Thereās talk about him and Mrs Holcombe being likely to make a match of it. Nothing in it, probably, but people will talk. Canāt stop āem.ā
āNo, indeed,ā Bobby said. āUseful too, sometimes.ā
Mr Lawson evidently didnāt agree with this remark, and seemed inclined to object, but instead went on:
āShe has the money, and he has the old family name. If young Harry Holcombe does get in at the next election, theyāll all stand in big with the Tories, and some say if the colonel and Mrs Holcombe did make a match of it, then they might get the peerage back. Might make all the difference. Very susceptible to titles, the ladies.ā
āYes, indeed,ā agreed Bobby. āAll the men always tell you they only accepted a title to please their wives.ā
āAny hint of a scandal,ā Mr Lawson continued, āand any chance of thatādone in. Just dynamite. If you see what I mean.ā
āDynamite all right,ā agreed Bobby again. āCaesarās wife as well. Plenty of reason for a nasty line in gossip getting started. Family, social, political. Jolly awkward. Youāll have to watch your step, or next thing we know thereāll be questions in Parliament, and no one wants that.ā
āNo, indeed,ā declared Mr Lawson fervently, and he had even become a little pale.
āPolitical parties being what they are,ā Bobby went on, āI donāt expect the local Labour people would be awfully sorry if rumours got about involving the other sideās prospective candidate as well as their chief local leader, if the colonelās that.ā
āOh, he is,ā Lawson declared. āAnd if it turned out that way, they would light bonfiresāin a manner of speaking.ā
āOne head of local police, one member of Joint Standing Committee,ā Bobby commented without satisfaction, āand tongues wagging about a possible suspect they both have private connections with.ā
āThereās the Communists, too,ā Mr Lawson went on. āA nasty lot. Mischief-makers, thatās them. Simply jump at any chance of undermining respect for law and order. They hate us police for keeping an eye on them, and if they can find any excuse for spreading malicious gossipāwell, thatās what theyāre out for.ā
āNeed you bother about them?ā Bobby asked. āNoisy. Thatās all.ā
āNoise,ā Mr Lawson pointed out severely, āisāwell, noise.ā With a flash of sudden insight, he translated this into āPublicity. Publicity,ā he repeated impressively, and waited to see if Bobby had anything to say to that. Bobby hadnāt. He knew he had been silenced by that modern word of power. A little pleased with himself, Mr Lawson continued: āThen thereās the Standing Committee Chairman. Hand in glove with them, he is, if he isnāt one himself, and would give a lot to get me out. It was him was behind trying to hand us over to the Westshire East and Central lot, lock, stock, and barrel, us thatās been an independent force since there was police in Westshire, and a record second to none.ā
āNo, indeed,ā confirmed Bobby sympathetically.
āI did manage to put a stopper on that,ā explained Mr Lawson, with much satisfaction, āand now heās all out to get rid of me if he can, so he could push it through. Pals with the Home Secretary, he is, too. Birds of a feather, if you ask me. Iāve no politics myself,ā he added hastily. āWouldnāt do, in my position, but I must say I donāt know how any one can stick that lot.ā
āThe beginning and the end of political thought,ā Bobby approved. āWe could send you two of our best men,ā but already he knew what was coming and already he was casting an apprehensive eye on his paper-laden desk.
But Mr Lawson was prepared, for this had been talked over beforehand, and he knew just what to say.
āThat would be fine,ā he began, but without enthusiasm, and then he continued: āOnly, if you see what I meanāchief inspector and sergeantāwell, they wouldnāt carry weight, not with the public, same as a really top-ranking officer would, would they?ā
āOh, I donāt know,ā Bobby said. āA Yard Chief Inspector.ā
āYou know and I know,ā Mr Lawson interrupted. āBut the public donāt. Now, some one like yourself, Mr Owen, a Commander. No one could believe there was any hushing-up going on or the case not being handled properly. No one could talk then, could they?ā
āCould you give me a few more details?ā Bobby asked.
Mr Lawson proceeded to do so. The spot where Mrs Holcombe, the great lady of the district, had found the dead body was quite near her residence, Castle Manor, in a copse through which ran a path providing a short cut from a ābus stop on the high road. The time had been somewhere about ten in the evening. It had not been noted exactly. The copse path was one not much used, very seldom indeed in the evening, and at all times chiefly by the inmates of, or those having business with, Castle Manor. No weapon had been found, though the copse had been most carefully searched, nor any other clue. One small detail, Mr Lawson almost apologized for mentioning, was that a tree at the entrance to the copse, some distance from the scene of the murder, showed signs of having been recently climbed. Boy probably, Mr Lawson said, and Bobby nodded agreement and thought this satisfactory proof the copse had in fact been well and truly searched. The motive was not robbery, for the dead manās watch and his money had not been touched. Unfortunately the village constable, called to the spot at once and unused to murders, had rather lost his head. He had allowed the body to be taken away immediately, and so much indiscriminate and excited running to and fro had taken place that any chance of discovering useful footprints or anything of the sort had been utterly destroyed. All that was certain was that a brutal murder had been committed and that the victim was a stranger in the neighbourhood for whose presence there no reason was at present known.
This said, Mr Lawson suggested that it might be better if, having now given Bobby the bare bones of the case, he didnāt put forward any theories of his own. He had them, of course, but he reminded Bobby of a lecture Bobby had delivered two or three years previously, in which great stress had been laid on the desirability of every investigator approaching his cases with a perfectly free and open mind, untrammelled by preconceived ideas or suggestions, seeking only his own interpretation of the known facts.
āBe sure your lectures will find you out,ā Bobby murmured sadly. āWell, Iāll see what the Commissioner says.ā
With that, Mr Lawson departed, leaving with Bobby, however, the full dossier of the case and on the whole well satisfied. He felt his battle was already half won, and when Bobby went to talk to the Commissioner, he found that that gentleman already knew all about it.
āThe Home Secretary has been on the āphone himself,ā he informed Bobby. āDoesnāt want any opening given for talk. Up ...