‘Then there’s William Bondy. We know nothing about his relationship with Juliet Rugg except what he’s told us. He says he wouldn’t touch her with a barge-pole, but he’s a man and she’s a woman, or was, and we all know what that can lead to! He’s no fool-he’s bright enough to have done this job. There’s a good chance he knows the address of Sir John’s bank and he certainly knows all about that wheel chair. And when it comes to the actual killing, he’d probably be the most capable one of the lot. After all, he’s been trained and he’s no doubt had a bit of practice in his time. Whichever way you look at it, he’s been a professional killer all his life. He’d most likely have less scruples than anybody about removing Juliet from the scene.’
Dover paused for breath and scratched his stomach vigorously.
‘Anybody else, sir?’ asked MacGregor, a trifle overwhelmed with all this.
‘Well,’ said Dover, ‘apart from your favourites, Hoppold and Bogolepov, I’ve still got my eye on Mrs Rugg and Gordon Pilley. And what about Amy Freel? She let it out that she was a keen student of detective stories – and she tried to “collaborate” with us, remember? And if there’s one thing that stands out a mile in this whole damned case it’s the’- he groped for the word – ‘bloody ingenuity of the thing!’ He smirked triumphantly. ‘It’s got cleverness written all over it-typical amateur stuff. Oh, I know your professional villain sometimes thinks up a fancy scheme, but you’ve got to admit, generally he goes in with a crowbar and a cosh – straightforward like. No real crook’d produce anything as elaborate as this lot, but somebody like Amy Freel might. You can get lots of smart ideas from detective stories – most of ’em won’t work for a minute in real life, but they might, with a bit of luck, give people like us a minor headache or two to begin with. Let’s face it, there are one or two details in this case we haven’t got cleared up yet.’
MacGregor’s jaw dropped fractionally at this majestic understatement of the extent of their difficulties. ‘But, sir,’ he said, ‘you don’t really think Amy Freel had anything to do with murdering Juliet Rugg, do you? Why, she’s no motive and, good heavens, physically it’s surely quite beyond her.’
‘She’s as likely a suspect as your Eulalia Hoppold anyhow!’ snapped Dover, losing patience with the whole thing. ‘And if you’re going to give the Hoppold woman an accomplice, well – how about Amy in conjunction with her brother, Basil? He looks capable of anything! Or what about three of ’em – Amy Freel, Colonel Bing and Miss McLintock, banding together to rid Irlam Old Hall of one who has brought shame and disgrace on her sex?’ Dover chuckled richly at this thought. ‘It’s not a bad idea, you know! Working together, I reckon that trio could manage anything they set their minds on!’
‘Yes, sir,’ said MacGregor, who disapproved of this sort of frivolity – after all, it was a murder case. ‘Well, I’ll be getting off to Irlam Old Hall now, shall I, sir?’
Dover’s lower lip stuck out sulkily. ‘Yes, you do that,’ he growled.
As MacGregor strode out of the room, the chief inspector pulled another chair up, put his feet on it and let his head drop back comfortably. Then he gently closed his eyes.
‘Toffee-nosed young bugger!’ he murmured softly to himself.
Chapter Thirteen
IT was nearly twelve o’clock when Sergeant MacGregor got back to The Two Fiddlers. He found Dover wide awake and ensconced in the bar, tucking into the Long Herbert again. The landlord had offered him a drink on the house and Dover, not surprisingly, had accepted it. Sergeant MacGregor arrived just in time to pay for the next round.
‘Get anything?’ asked Dover, toying idly with a tin ash-tray. MacGregor grimly took the hint and pulled out his cigarette- case. ‘Not a damned thing,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a long time but I thought it was worth counterchecking to be absolutely sure. There’s nobody up at Irlam Old Hall who could possibly have been in London on Saturday. You can take my word for that! Mrs Rugg wasn’t there either. Nor was Gordon Pilley nor was his wife. I’ve just checked with the local police.’
‘Hm,’ said Dover, and turned for consolation to his fresh pint. ‘What about this celluloid stencil thing?’
‘Most of ’em had never even heard of one and none of ’em could remember seeing one.’
‘Hm.’ Dover thoughtfully took a long drink and belched gently. ‘What about the green nail varnish? Did you ask your girlfriend about it?’
‘She wasn’t there!’ snapped MacGregor. ‘I’d forgotten she was going into Creedon to collect the ransom money. But I did ask Sir John. He was pretty certain she’d never worn green nail varnish, but I think we’ll want something a bit stronger than that. Incidentally, he was asking when we were going to get some results. Said the Lord Lieutenant of the county was an old friend of his. Sort of hinted he might mention we didn’t seem to be getting on very quickly.’
‘Oh,’ said Dover with a sneer, ‘and what’s the Lord Lieutenant of the county going to do about it, for God’s sake?’
‘He’s an old friend of the
