Bloodhounds

Diamond observed all this in a tactful silence. Mr. Musgrave's genial manner masked a sharp wit. He was leagues ahead of Wigfull.

'I realized it was no ordinary theft,' said Wigfull.

'Well, you would,' Mr. Musgrave amiably agreed.

'Exactly, sir. It was a theft, but it was also a stunt. And it could only have been planned by someone with inside information. The perpetrator had to know in advance that one of the Bloodhounds, Mr. Milo Motion, was going to bring his copy of The Hollow Man to the next meeting and read from it. They were due to discuss locked room mysteries, and Dickson Carr's book contains the famous chapter on the subject. That is to say, famous to people who still have an interest in such things.' Wigfull gave a superior smile. He liked to project the image of a modern man, more excited by information superhighways than detective stories.

'The missing Penny Black cover was dramatically discovered at precisely that chapter in the book-just as Mr. Motion was about to read it aloud.' Now Wigfull leaned forward, eyes gleaming. 'In the classic tradition of the detective story, we had a closed circle of suspects and, even more intriguingly, a locked room puzzle of our own, because the book had been on the boat all week and the boat was kept locked. Naturally I interviewed Mr. Motion at length-to his credit, he came to us at once-and I satisfied myself that he was not the man we were looking for. What would have been the point-giving himself away? He was genuinely shocked, I'm certain, and at a loss to explain what had happened. He insisted that the boat was remarkably secure. Bolted inside at the prow and padlocked outside with this.' Dramatically Wigfull produced a sturdy-looking padlock from his drawer and held it out for inspection like Houdini preparing to perform.

'Is that it?' asked the ACC. 'The very one?'

'The very one, sir.'

'May I see?'

Mr. Musgrave first felt the weight of the padlock in the palm of his hand and then turned it over. 'Looks pretty solid. German-made?'

'Yes, sir. It's a heavy-duty padlock, all right. Bought from Foxton's, the best locksmith in the West Country. This is top-of-the-range equipment.'

Mr. Musgrave turned to Diamond. 'Care to examine it?'

'Thank you, sir, but I already have.'

Wigfull took hold of the padlock again and gave a fair impression of a sales rep, pointing out its special features, stressing that each padlock sold was unlike any other. 'They are supplied with two keys. Mr. Motion informed us that he accidentally dropped one of his in the canal some time ago. I have no reason to disbelieve him. So for all practical purposes, the remaining key is unique. Mr. Motion is adamant that it never left his possession. It was on the key ring that he carried in his pocket with his car keys. I have it here now. You see?' Wigfull produced a key about two centimeters long, inserted it into the slot, and turned it clockwise. The steel shackle sprang open. 'You push the top down again, and it closes. Would you care to try it, sir?'

This whole presentation was so spirited that it would have been churlish to refuse. Obligingly Mr. Musgrave took the padlock and tried the mechanism.

'One key,' reiterated Wigfull. 'I myself watched Mr. Motion unlock the padlock on Monday night prior to discovering the body aboard the boat. I am perfectly satisfied that it was properly locked and that he opened it with this key from his pocket. Yet there was Sid Towers in the cabin, dead. The impossible crime.'

At this point Diamond thought Wigfull was overegging the cake.

Mr. Musgrave said, 'You must have considered the possibility that Motion left the boat earlier without securing the padlock?'

'Indeed, I did, sir. I questioned him closely. He insists that it was locked.'

'What other explanation is there?'

'If you'll bear with me, I'm coming to that. He says he has a clear memory of pressing the shackle home and rattling the padlock to make sure it was secure. After all, that boat is his home.'

'You believe him?'

'I do, sir.'

Diamond gave a nod. 'He satisfied me, for what it's worth.'

'All right,' said Mr. Musgrave. 'How was it done?'

Wigfull placed the padlock and key on his desk and pushed them aside as if they no longer mattered. 'Most of my inquiries-and I dare say yours, Peter-have centered on the events of last Monday evening. Who had the opportunity and a reason to visit the narrowboat? But the point about the crime, the theft of the Penny Black, I mean, is that it happened the previous week. On the Thursday we had that erroneous tip-off from Bristol, and on the Friday the first of those rhyming riddles, and on the same morning the theft occurred.' He raised a finger to give significance to his next statement. 'The whole thing was planned ahead.'

'Most crimes are, in my experience.' Even Mr. Musgrave seemed to have decided that Wigfull's theatrical manner was starting to reek of ham.

'How right you are, sir, but I'm suggesting that this was intricately plotted. Dovetails, every part: the tip-off to Sergeant Plant; the riddles; the theft at the Postal Museum; and the planting of the stamp in Motion's book. It was a high-risk undertaking, and the planning was worthy of the SAS. And it worked like a dream. The thief always intended to return the stamp after making monkeys out of everybody-ourselves and the Bloodhounds.'

'With some success.'

'True. But lets concentrate on the locked room.'

'Good idea.'

'Chummy knew a week in advance-'

There were limits to Diamond's tolerance. 'For Christ's sake, John,' he appealed to Wigfull. 'Let's not call him 'Chummy.' We both agree Sid Towers is the man.'

'Is he?' said Mr. Musgrave, showing more interest than he had for some minutes.

'He fits the frame, sir,' said Diamond. 'The silent man with a lot to prove to some of those motormouths in the Bloodhounds. Trained in security, so breaking into the Postal Museum wouldn't be such a problem. He'd know plenty about locks and bolts. An expert on Dickson Carr. And of course he was found in the boat. Either Towers or the killer must have found a way into that cabin, and the logic is that it was Towers and he was followed in there and killed. Agreed, John?'

Wigfull muttered his assent, peeved that Diamond had hijacked the narrative.

Mr. Musgrave said, 'This is fine as far as it goes, but it's all circumstantial, isn't it?'

Keen as he was to lead the discussion again, Wigfull had no answer. He turned to Diamond.

'Everything I just mentioned is,' Diamond admitted, and added, straight-faced, 'unless Mr. Wigfull here has some evidence I'm not aware of.'

Wigfull's eyes narrowed. The opportunity was there, and he still had nothing to say.

For Peter Diamond, the silence was as good as a fanfare. 'In that case, I'd better show you mine,' he announced. Resisting the flourish he might have made-there was no need- he took from his inside pocket the brown paper bag he had recovered from Jessica Shaw. He unfolded it. 'This, gentlemen, was the bag Towers produced on Monday evening when Miss Chilmark was hyperventilating. I'm sure you heard about the incident. He handed the bag to Jessica Shaw, who knew what to do. She held it against Miss Chilmark's face and stopped the attack. Afterward, Mrs. Shaw kept the bag, in case of a recurrence. Miss Chilmark felt well enough to remain at the meeting, you see. In the confusion at the end, Mrs. Shaw popped it into her handbag and forgot about it. I recovered it from her this afternoon.'

'Is it important?' asked the ACC.

'The bag on its own is not, sir. But if you look at it…' Diamond smoothed the bag against the surface of Wigfull's desk and handed it to Mr. Musgrave.

'There's writing.'

Wigfull got up and came around the desk to look. 'May I see?'

'Doesn't make a lot of sense,' said Mr. Musgrave.

There were three lists of words in rows, written in an untidy hand in black ballpoint:

'They rhyme,' said Wigfull. 'They're rhyming words.'

'Take a little time over it,' Diamond suggested, as if he were coaching a five-year-old in reading.

Mr. Musgrave said, 'Looks to me as if he was working on apiece of verse.'