Death of a Burrowing Mole

hers.’

‘The young hardly seem to come out of this with untarnished truthfulness, do they?’

‘Well, we’re certainly back to square one with Mr Monkswood and Mr Hassocks, ma’am. Besides, the Saltergates and Mr Tynant and even Dr Lochlure are also anything but in the clear. What to do about them I don’t know, although I’m inclined to dismiss Dr Lochlure from my considerations. I’ve combed through the staff at the Holdy Bay hotel and there’s no doubt she and Tynant booked out on the Sunday evening separately, the way they had booked in, although they shared a table in the dining-room, and there’s no doubt Dr Lochlure came back shortly afterwards with the story that her car – she does not appear to have mentioned Tynant, neither did anybody see him again that night – that her car had broken down and she would be glad of a bed for the night.’

‘And, so far as is known, she occupied it.’

‘Yes, and got them to ring up a taxi for her in the morning. Tynant may have brought her back to the Holdy Bay hotel, but he did not go in that Sunday night.’

‘What about the Saltergates?’

‘Same old story. They came back to the Horse and Cart when they said they did, went up to their room and appeared at the usual time for breakfast before preparing to go off to the castle for their morning’s work on the ruins, only to be stopped by a phone call from Tynant informing them of Veryan’s death. What they did or where they went between about midnight and breakfast time, with that fire-escape so safe and handy, is anybody’s guess. My trouble is that they don’t fit the picture.’

‘In what way?’

‘I can imagine Saltergate getting sore enough with Veryan to throw him off the tower and hurl his telescope after him, but I can’t imagine him wiping his own fingerprints off the telescope. I don’t believe it would have occurred to him to take those sort of precautions.’

‘So we are dogs chasing our own tails. There is just one source of information we might tap, although I doubt whether we shall get much help from it. I wonder what the arrangements were in respect of giving permission to three separate parties to go to work on the castle ruins?’

‘Three separate parties, ma’am?’

‘Certainly, and each had to get permission from the landowner. The Saltergates wanted to tidy up and, to some extent, to restore the defences of the castle; Professor Veryan, assisted by Mr Tynant, wanted permission to excavate, as I understand it, a late Neolithic or Early Bronze Age burial mound; and my godson and his friend had heard rumours of treasure hidden in one of the castle wells. Each party must have asked permission and none seems to have been refused it.’

‘You regard that as significant, ma’am?’

‘Yes, indeed I do. The interests of the various parties were bound to clash and it is my opinion that, if the owner is away from home, permission may well have been granted only by the caretaker and to give three separate permits seems extremely strange unless there was some very good reason for it, don’t you think? It seems to me that if the owner is absent he may not even have been consulted. I am told that the caretaker has visited the ruins, yet, from what I have gathered, one would hardly suspect him of taking an interest in mediaeval fortifications or prehistoric burials. What kind of man is the owner? Is anything known about him?’

‘Bought the estate only a couple of years ago. Not a native, as they call it in these parts. Made money and is a bit jumped up. Not exactly out of the top drawer, so to speak. He wouldn’t care tuppence whether the castle is a historical monument or a broken-down cowshed, so far as I can make out from the local people. A good enough chap in his way, by all accounts, charitable and a good landlord and all that, but your view that the caretaker gave permission for the tidying-up and the dig is very interesting.’

‘Would you describe the owner as a wealthy man?’

‘Made his money on the stock market, so I’m told, ma’am.’

‘Go and see whether he has returned. If not, contact the agent or whoever is in charge. Ask which of the three parties was first in getting permission to carry out a survey of the castle ruins. Somebody must have had priority and that may be the answer to our problem of why Veryan was killed and who killed him.’

The next development was unexpected but occasioned no particular surprise. It was reported by Bonamy to Dame Beatrice.

‘I say, you know,’ he said, ‘those chaps who are supposed to do most of Tynant’s digging, well, they don’t turn up any more and Tom and I are getting a bit cheesed off at lugging our guts out. It’s not as though we are ever going to get anywhere with the wells. If the treasure is in one of them, there it’s likely to stay and, that being so, our real reason for being here and using up the vac has gone.’

Dame Beatrice responded sympathetically, but offered no advice as to his and Tom’s future procedure. She was far more interested in Mowbray’s attempts to confirm or discredit the rest of the alibis. His next move had been to check with Tynant exactly what had happened concerning the breakdown of the car on the night of Veryan’s death, but made no headway against a practised debater, particularly as the outdoor staff at the Barbican were fully prepared to confirm Tynant’s story that they had found him waiting patiently to be admitted to the hotel before breakfast time on the Monday morning.

Susannah proved equally obdurate. The car had broken down, Tynant had escorted her to the hotel, they had provided her with a bed and she had asked them to ring up a taxi after she had had an early breakfast on the following morning. The all-night garage consulted their records at Mowbray’s request and confirmed that they had had the car, adjusted what had proved to be a very slight fault and had returned the car at midday to the Barbican hotel, where Tynant, ‘in a tizzy because he had found the other gentleman dead’, had paid for the repairs and got a receipt for the money. Tynant produced the receipt.

Mrs Veryan stuck to the story she had already told Mowbray.

‘I told you,’ she said somewhat peevishly, ‘I was on a friend’s cruiser for the whole weekend. We were off the Suffolk coast and did not land until Tuesday morning, when I read of the death. Of course I can prove it. You said yourself that my friends had backed up my story. Besides, why on earth would I want to kill Malpas? He was generous and understanding and much more use to me alive than dead. It has now been confirmed that the income his money will bring me in is a good deal less than the alimony which he most faithfully paid and, as my lawyers have told you, I can’t touch the capital. That remains in trust until I die and then it will go to archaeological research. I’ve told you all this. Why do you go on badgering me?’ Mowbray left it at that.