inspector, who could remember a time when his old friend’s eyes had born a permanently haunted look; when it had seemed that the legacy of the war and the sufferings he’d endured in the trenches would pursue him to the grave.
‘How can I help you, Angus? You say you’ve seen the file?’
Madden had drawn him aside, out of earshot of the crowd milling about in front of the tent, and as he took up his stance, arms folded and head bent, his face masked in the shadow cast by his hat brim, Sinclair was assailed by a painful sense of familiarity, aware all at once of how much he had missed this man’s presence by his side these past years.
‘I’ve studied the various reports and read the interviews taken. Based on what I know so far, I’d have to say the tramp’s the most likely suspect.’
‘So he is,’ Madden agreed. ‘And they have to find him, in any case. He may turn out in the end to be their key witness.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Why, the evidence, of course.’ Madden frowned under his hat brim. ‘It all depends how you read it, Angus. The Surrey police have their version. Wright thinks the tramp picked up the child on the road to Craydon-’
‘Wright-?’
‘The officer in charge. He’s a good detective. Sharp. No fool. He reckons the tramp brought her back to the wood and that after he’d killed her and hidden her body he ran off down the stream, wanting to get away as quickly as possible, dropping his knife and bandana in the confusion.’
‘And?’ Sinclair was listening intently.
‘It holds water, as a theory, up to a point. But there’s another way of interpreting the facts. You see, Beezy, the tramp, ran off in the wrong direction…’
‘The wrong direction – how do you know that?’
‘Because he must have come into the wood originally from the fields. He had an appointment at a camp site by the stream with another tramp called Topper.’
‘A friend of yours, I gather.’ Sinclair nodded.
‘When Beezy fled, it wasn’t back the way he came, it was in the opposite direction, towards Brookham, and that doesn’t make sense, unless you take Wright’s view that he was confused, in a panic, and didn’t know which way he was heading.’
‘Could there be another explanation?’
‘Yes, it’s possible he heard someone moving towards him through the bushes. And from the same direction he’d come himself, from the fields. Since he was expecting Topper to arrive, that shouldn’t have alarmed him. So if he did run off then – and in the other direction – it could well have been because he saw something that frightened him.’
‘A man carrying a young girl in his arms? The killer?’
Madden nodded mutely.
Sinclair let out a sigh. The morning was growing warm. He took off his homburg and fanned his face. ‘What you say is interesting, John. But supposition, just the same.’
‘No more so than Wright’s version. All the evidence is circumstantial.’
‘Yes, but you can’t overlook the fact he’s disappeared. This Beezy. Gone into hiding. That’s not the behaviour of an innocent man.
‘It’s the behaviour of a tramp, Angus. An outcast. I know these men. They’ve no faith in the courts or our system of justice. It’s quite possible he’s afraid of going to the police in case he’s charged with the crime himself. And he wouldn’t be far wrong.’
Sinclair grunted as the shaft went home. ‘Very well. But I’m still at a loss. As I understand it, either way the Surrey police must find this man. That’s not a job for the Yard. Why did you suggest to Boyce that he get in touch with us?’
Madden was slow in responding. He stared at the ground before him. As the silence between them lengthened, Sinclair felt a premonition growing in him. He knew he hadn’t yet discovered the true reason behind the other man’s concern. But he thought the moment might be approaching.
‘You saw the photographs of the girl’s face?’ Madden looked up.
‘What remained of it. The degree of damage inflicted is unique in my experience. I can only imagine the killer was in a frenzy.’
‘Perhaps. But did you note what a thorough job he did?’
‘Thorough?’ Sinclair showed distaste at the word.
‘He set out to obliterate her features. That’s what it looked like. This wasn’t simple abuse of a victim’s body. It was something more. Has it been determined yet what was used in the way of a weapon? I spoke to the pathologist a few days ago and he seemed to think it might have been a hammer.’
‘That’s confirmed now.’ Sinclair nodded. ‘I read it in the file. He was able to take some measurements from holes made in the cranium. He believes a common workman’s tool was used.’ He shot a glance at Madden. ‘There’s no reason why the tramp shouldn’t have had one in his bundle.’
‘Agreed. Whereas, if the killer was someone else, someone who picked her up off the road in his car, then the implication becomes quite different.’
The chief inspector took some moments to assure himself he had understood his former partner correctly. He didn’t like the direction their conversation was taking. ‘You’re wondering – if it was someone else – why he should have had a hammer with him at all. Supposing that’s the case, what does it signify to you?’
‘That the assault on her face was planned.’ Madden spoke quietly, but his voice had grown tense, and the chief inspector, feeling a sudden chill, glanced at him sharply. ‘It was what he had in mind all along.’
Sinclair removed a handkerchief from his lapel pocket and dabbed at his perspiring brow. The crowd on the green was beginning to converge on the judges’ table, spreading in their direction, and instinctively he moved a little closer to Madden, lowering his voice.
‘I want to be clear about this. You’re suggesting he was following a pattern? That he’s done this sort of thing before?’
Madden nodded mutely.
‘But surely, if that’s the case, it would have come to our notice. A crime of that kind?’ The chief inspector scowled in turn. His companion shrugged.
‘I can’t explain that. But don’t forget, he tried to hide Alice Bridger’s body. If it hadn’t been for the accident of him choosing a tramps’ hideout to commit the murder in we might be searching for her still.’
‘So you think he might have killed elsewhere without our knowing it…’ Sinclair brooded on the thought. ‘Children do go missing, it’s true.’
Madden saw that his argument was gaining ground. He pressed harder. ‘The Surrey police can’t be expected to pursue a theory of this kind. The tramp’s the obvious suspect; they have to keep looking for him. But it’s different with the Yard. They can afford to take a broader view.’
‘Which is why you urged Boyce to ring us? Yes, I see now.’
An island of stillness in the shifting throng around them, the two men stood silent while Sinclair ruminated. Above the hum of country voices, the sudden wail of a baby sounded a summons. The chief inspector came to himself with a grunt.
‘You make a good case, John. I won’t say I’m persuaded. Not yet. But half-persuaded…? Yes… possibly.’ He caught the other’s eye. ‘I’ll certainly look into the matter. You can rest assured.’
The smile of relief on Madden’s face was testimony to a burden shed, and the chief inspector warmed to it. Helen’s words came back to him and he acknowledged the truth of them. Among the many reasons he had for regretting the departure of his old colleague had been the depth of commitment Madden had brought to his work, an impulse born of the sense of obligation he seemed to feel towards others; those whose lives touched his.
It was a rare quality among policemen: a rare quality anywhere.
8
