A Sprig of Sea Lavender Read online

‘We got to the motor-cruiser as instructed, and I went on board,’ Inspector Lennard said. ‘The cabin door was open, but there was no one there. As I got off the boat onto the river bank a man and a woman came up. They were carrying parcels, which turned out later to be gold bars. They didn’t wait to be challenged. They both had pistols, and they opened fire. One of the Lowestoft men was hit and gravely wounded. There were four of us left. I told two of my men to run like blazes and get behind them from different sides. The other man and I took cover on the boat and fired back. One of us had a lucky shot and knocked the pistol from the man’s hand. I’m afraid his hand was rather hurt, but I can’t say that I’ve any sympathy for him. Then it was all over. My chaps were marvellous – simply rushed them and took them. The woman fired again and hit one of my men on the arm, but it was only a graze. We got handcuffs on them and two of my men are guarding them. The third man went to the mill, again as instructed. We radioed for an ambulance and for reinforcements, and they should be here any moment now. I don’t know what happened at the mill because I didn’t wait to see. I had to get down here to see if I could help you.’

  ‘Cast your mind back to the bullion robbery trial,’ Piet said. ‘Four men were arrested and tried, one of whom was Rupert Lexington. There were several references to a “Mr Big”, a criminal organiser behind the whole thing. The accused all denied knowledge of him – under cross-examination none of them squeaked. But it was fairly obvious that there was such a Fifth Man, only he was never caught. I believe that your prisoner, the man we know as Malcolm Winterer, is that man. The gold bars they were carrying when you arrested them are damning evidence, and I hope we shall get a lot more when we can search the mill. All we have to do at the moment is to get them all locked up. The Winterers can appear in court tomorrow on charges of attempted murder and assaulting the police. We can bring further charges later. This man doesn’t need to be charged. He has not denied being Rupert Lexington and fingerprints will make it certain. He has already been sentenced and we’ve simply got to keep him in custody to await an escort to take him back to prison. He’ll have to appear before the prison authorities, of course, in connection with his escape, and there may have to be new charges relating to offences committed while he was on the run. But we must do what we can for him. He undoubtedly saved Constable Macleod’s life, and at least he’s told us how to try to recover some of the stolen bullion. Can your people organise a salvage party to try to recover the gold from the wreck?’

  ‘It had better be Lowestoft, I think. I can radio about that. And when the reinforcements come we’d better have some men on the beach to watch the wreck in case anybody else knows about it.’

  ‘I doubt if anybody does, except the woman who’s missing, presumed drowned. But you can’t be too careful. The ambulance for your wounded man can look after Macleod, too. I think I can see it on the road now.’

  The Fen seemed to be swarming with policemen. When the bedraggled little party from the beach got to the wooden bridge over the sluice they found the wounded man being lifted into the ambulance. Piet asked if the ambulance men could collect Constable Macleod, but a doctor with them said ‘I’m afraid not. This man is so badly hurt that his only hope is to be rushed to hospital, and I think I must go with him. I’ll send another ambulance as soon as possible.’

  ‘The injured man on the beach is soaking wet,’ Piet said.

  ‘One of the ambulance men can stay – he knows how to lift an injured patient and can probably get some of the wet clothes off him and make him more comfortable with dry blankets. There are plenty of spare blankets in the ambulance. He ought to be all right – I’ll send help as quickly as I can.’

  The ambulance drove off.

  The Superintendent from Lowestoft had come to the Fen with the reinforcements. Inspector Lennard introduced Piet to him. The Superintendent knew nothing yet beyond the shooting charges against the Winterer couple. Piet told him about the recapture of Rupert Lexington, and of the further charges likely to be brought against Winterer.

  ‘I don’t understand it all at present, but you seem to have pulled off a remarkable job, Chief Inspector,’ the Superintendent said.

  ‘Your men did the pulling. Can you get the prisoner Lexington into custody straightaway? He’s soaked to the skin and he is suffering from exposure. He saved Constable Macleod’s life at real risk to his own. He needs some dry clothes and a hot drink. At least he deserves that.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll send him off now, with a driver and two men.’

  ‘And can you ensure that he has no chance of contact with the Winterer couple while he awaits his prison escort? I’d like them held in different places, if possible.’

  ‘I can arrange that.’

  The man Piet had known as Roger got into a police car with the same surrender to fate that he had shown all along. He did not look back at Piet.

  From another radio car Inspector Lennard sent off messages about a search for Trudi and the dispatch of a salvage party to the wreck.

  The Superintendent came back to Piet. ‘If I may say so, Chief Inspector, you’re looking pretty well done in yourself. I recommend that the next job is to get you some dry clothes.’

  ‘There’s a girl looking after Constable Macleod who has done a lot to help me. She was in the wreck, too, and also needs dry clothes.’

  ‘We’ve plenty of men here to look after Macleod. I’ll send you both into Southwold, where we can certainly fit you out with something, and a policewoman can look after your girl. Do you want to question the Winterers before we send them away?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I shall have to interview them later, but I’d like to search the mill first, and there are important inquiries to be made at Lavenham.’

  ‘Right. We’ll send off the Winterers to be locked up. The man will need some treatment for his hand, but I don’t think he needs to go to hospital. A doctor can see to him in his cell at the police station. Now I want you and your girl to get away to Southwold. It won’t take long for you to be fixed up. I’ll stay here and we’ll hold all the people who appear to be living at the mill until you get back. I expect you’d like to make the search yourself?’

  ‘I think so, yes.’

  ‘We’ll wait for you, then. Can we do anything for you at Lavenham?’

  ‘I want to know the maiden name of a woman called Mrs Marshall, who works as a cleaner at a place called Moat Cottage Studio at Lavenham, but I don’t want anyone to question her directly. She’s lived at Lavenham for years, the local police are bound to know her address and can get her Christian names from the electoral register. As I don’t know where she was married, it will be a matter of getting on to the Registrar General’s department for a copy of the marriage certificate. The Records Division at the Yard can handle that. If you can get hold of the woman’s full names, I’d be awfully grateful if you could ring Records and ask them to find out about the marriage for me. Tell them it will probably have been about fifty years ago.’

  ‘I’ll ring Lavenham as soon as we’ve got you off. Anything else?’

  ‘I want to try to find out the real name of the woman who runs Moat Cottage Studio – it’s a sort of combined tea-place, art gallery and antique shop. She calls herself Mrs Vincent, but I doubt if that really is her name. Again, I don’t want anyone to question her, so it had better wait until I can get to Lavenham. It’s not so urgent as discovering Mrs Marshall’s maiden name.’

  *

  Sally was shivering as they sat in the back of a police car. Piet put his arm round her. ‘Comforting, but not much drier!’ She tried to laugh and didn’t succeed. ‘Oh, Piet, how long have you known about Roger?’

  ‘I was slightly suspicious on that first evening when we met him. In profile, the back of his skull has a slightly unusual curve. He’s been a very much wanted man since his escape from prison, and photographs of him were circulated to all police divisions. I’ve always had a good visual memory, perhaps because of painting. I checked on the photographs th
e first time I went back to London and I thought I was right. I knew for certain when I saw his little finger at breakfast in the mill yesterday.’

  ‘Was it really only yesterday?’

  ‘You’ve been through a lot, Sally. Do you feel that you know me any better?’

  ‘Yes. But I think I could be rather afraid of you. Unless . . .’

  ‘Unless what?’

  ‘Unless we were always on the same side.’

  *

  News travels fast in the police force, and Piet was a hero to the men at Southwold. They hadn’t known about Sally, but when he told them how she had been in the wreck and nursed Constable Macleod until other help came, she at once became a heroine. Piet thought that they’d better try to buy some clothes, rather than borrow them, but Sally’s handbag had gone down with the boat, and when he looked at his wallet the notes it had held were a mass of soggy pulp. So was his cheque book.

  ‘Look, sir,’ said the station sergeant, ‘don’t worry about that. I know the bank manager, and I’m sure he’ll fix you up.’ It turned out that the bank was a branch of Piet’s own bank, and when the sergeant had explained things, the manager, thrilled to be among the first to know of the recapture of Rupert Lexington, and sworn to secrecy (though every newspaper would soon be carrying the news), was delighted to help. A policewoman took Sally to a local draper, where she was re-equipped with underclothes, a skirt and rather pretty blouse. She had lost her shoes, and was wearing a pair of police boots, many sizes too big for her. A shoe shop almost next door to the draper soon put that right. Piet found a men’s outfitter and emerged looking, he thought, reasonably respectable for the work he still had to do. The shoe shop re-equipped him, too, for his own sodden shoes had been more or less cut to pieces on the sharp shingle in the effort to get Macleod ashore and carried up to the beach. He wanted to get back to Poplar’s Fen, but hot coffee was waiting for him and Sally at the police station, and it would have been churlish to decline it. They were also glad of it, and for some excellent ham sandwiches that the policewoman got for them.

  *

  ‘Do you want to go back to the Fen?’ Piet asked Sally. ‘I can get a police car to take you back to London from here, if you like. It might be better so.’

  ‘I want to stay with you.’

  Had she not stayed, the mystery of Sandra’s death might never have been cleared up.

  *

  The art colony at the mill were a subdued, pathetic group. As Piet had thought, they gave no trouble at all and were shocked by the events that had been taking place around them. They were also rather shocked to discover that someone they had accepted as one of themselves turned out to be a Chief Inspector of the Metropolitan Police. ‘Never thought I’d go drinking with a copper,’ one of the men muttered. ‘I thought him quite a decent bloke.’

  Clare, more practically, asked, ‘Shall we be allowed to go on living here?’

  ‘I don’t think any of you were mixed up in the matters that brought me to Poplar’s Fen – I think you, and your way of life, were used as a cloak for the criminal activities of other people,’ Piet said. ‘But you will all have to be interviewed and give an account of yourselves. That will be done as soon as possible by other officers. You will be interviewed individually. After that you will be free to leave, unless, of course, anything comes to light to give reason for detaining any of you. I hope it doesn’t. You can help yourselves best by being absolutely frank in answering questions. Please don’t be afraid of the police. It is our job to enforce the law – the law that makes civilised life possible – but no one wants to trap you into anything, or to make difficulties for you. As for going on living here – for tonight, certainly, but there is a great deal of investigation to be carried out, the mill will have to be under police guard for some time, and you might find all this very inconvenient. You would be wise to move out. If any of you really has nowhere else to go, the police will put you in touch with organisations that may be able to help. Do you know who the mill belongs to?’

  ‘I don’t. I always thought it belonged to Roger, but I don’t know. We never had to pay rent to anybody.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think you can count on it as offering a permanent home. Try not to worry. This is an appalling experience for you, but it is experience of life, and it may turn out to be gain in the end.’ Privately he hoped that it would persuade at least some of them that contracting out of the more normal responsibilities of life seldom offers much of a future.

  *

  When Malcolm Winterer was searched a bunch of keys was taken from him. Among them were keys to his car, to his boat, and several that were not immediately identifiable. When these were tried, one of them was found to unlock the door on the top floor of the mill tower that Trudi had not opened when she was showing the place to Piet. The room here was also a studio, but it contained many other things as well. There were stacks of gold bars remaining from the great bullion robbery. Rupert Lexington had presumably taken what he regarded as being his share. The Winterer couple had been removing the rest when Inspector Lennard and the Lowestoft men arrived. They had not had time to complete their business – gold is heavy stuff to carry. Important as the recovery of the gold was, more interesting to Piet was a pile of unfinished canvases that looked like genuine sketches and pieces of work in progress by John Constable. There were other paintings, all unframed, in the manner of Gainsborough and other famous artists.

  The room had to be photographed as it was, and then everything had to be carefully checked for fingerprints. All this was left to the Regional CID. Having had a look at the room in the tower, Piet and the Lowestoft Superintendent walked over to the motor-cruiser. Sally went with them. While the men looked in the lockers and under the floorboards in the cockpit, finding several more gold ingots, Sally stayed in the cruiser’s well-furnished little saloon. On one of the settees, in a corner, apparently left as it had been thrown down, was a woman’s handbag. Sally called out urgently. ‘Piet, please come! I’ve found Sandra’s handbag.’

  XI

  The Skein of Tragedy

  SALLY’S IDENTIFICATION OF Sandra’s handbag loosened the key thread in the unravelling of a dreadful skein of human passion, greed and jealousy. Had the bag been found by Piet or one of the other CID officers engaged on the case its contents would, of course, have been examined, but it held nothing to link it positively with Sandra, and it would reasonably have been assumed that it belonged to the woman on the boat, who would undoubtedly have claimed it. Why Trish hadn’t thrown it away remained a mystery. Sally thought that it was probably because it was rather a nice bag, and that may indeed have been the reason – yet another example of the pettiness so often mingled with much larger human affairs.

  There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary in the bag – about thirty pounds in notes and coin, an unmarked handkerchief, a comb, a small mirror, the usual lipstick, face powder and things, and a bottle of anti-travel-sickness pills. Such pills are, perhaps, a little uncommon in the contents of everyday handbags, but not on a boat. As soon as Sally saw them, she said, ‘Remember how I told you that Sandra was always liable to be travel-sick, in cars or on trains as well as at sea? She always carried travel-sickness pills, and those are the ones she always used.’

  Piet wondered why there was no latchkey in the bag. Then he thought of the robbery or attempted robbery at Sandra’s studio in Finsbury Park. Before setting off for Lavenham he collected the unidentified keys from Winterer’s key ring and took them with him.

  *

  Since Piet had come to Yarmouth by train the old Riley was in London. The Mini which Sally had borrowed from his mother was still safely on the Fen road, and although the key had gone down with Sally’s handbag the local police soon fixed him up with a spare. So he took the Mini to go on with Sally to Lavenham.

  On the way he stopped at a phone box in a village and telephoned the Yard. Put through to Records, he spoke to one of the men he knew and asked, ‘Have you had any luck in t
racing the marriage certificate of that Mrs Marshall?’

  ‘Oh, yes. It turned out to be quite easy, because you were almost right about the date – it wasn’t quite fifty, but it was forty-nine years ago. She was Emily Beatrice Winterer, of the Mill House, Poplar’s Fen, near Walberswick.’

  ‘Thanks a lot. You’ve helped enormously.’

  *

  Some late teas were still being served at Moat Cottage. Mrs Vincent wasn’t in the tea-room. ‘Do you know where she might be?’ Piet asked Sally.

  ‘Probably in the cottage. Shall I go and see?’

  ‘No. Stay here and talk to people as if nothing had happened. I shall have to see Mrs Vincent alone.’

  Piet knocked on the door of the cottage two or three times. Nobody answered. He tried the door. It was unlocked, and he walked in. As with many country cottages, the door opened directly to a living room. Mrs Vincent was sitting with her head in her hands. A radio was turned on, but she wasn’t listening to it. It was some talk about orchid-hunting in the Amazon forests. Piet had heard the radio news earlier, in his car – it had been full of the recapture of Rupert Lexington and of the shooting at Poplar’s Fen. He learned to his sorrow that the wounded constable had died. The Winterers were not named. It was stated simply that a man and a woman were helping police with their inquiries.

  He turned off the radio, and Mrs Vincent looked up. ‘What do you want?’ she said. ‘I’ve seen you before.’

  ‘Yes, I had tea here and bought some pictures from you last week. I should explain that I’m a police officer. I’d like to ask you some questions.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s all happening again. Have you come to take me away?’

  ‘That depends on your answers to my questions. What is your relationship to Malcolm Winterer?’

  ‘He is my husband.’

  ‘And Mrs Marshall is his aunt?’

  ‘Yes. If you know everything about us, why do you want to ask questions?’

  ‘Because there is very much that I don’t know. I’m inclined to think that you may have been more sinned against than sinning,’ Piet said gently, ‘but I can’t be sure unless you tell me the truth.’