“Nothing is wrong with it, if that will please you.”
“I think the locals are right and the body was dumped from a boat.”
“I suppose that is as likely as my own theory that it was taken by car to the spot where it was found.”
“Islands are always fun. Do let’s go. By the way, isn’t there a suspect we haven’t mentioned?”
“Is there? Of whom do we speak?”
“Didn’t you tell me there was an Indian chap who brought his little boy to be the changeling child?”
“I dismissed Narayan Rao from my calculations when I discovered that he left the scene long before Rinkley’s illness and Bourton’s death. It is true that he was in sight of the tables which held the properties, but I see no way in which he could have tampered with the daggers without being seen to do so. Moreover, he had seen neither of the previous performances and could not possibly have known which belt held the theatrical dagger, neither could he have provided a lethal weapon which resembled it, since he could not have known beforehand what it looked like.”
“I am greatly impressed by your metal detector,” said Dame Beatrice.
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to test one of these things. This island will be the very place.”
The boat which they had hired, ran gently into shallow water. Laura stepped over the side into a couple of feet of rippling, innocent little waves and held out her arms to Dame Beatrice and carried her ashore before the placid local boatman could offer his help. She returned to the boat for the metal detector. Her shoes were round her neck. She sat down on deep dry sand, unfastened the laces and put on the shoes.
Behind the dunes the land rose a little and soon they were among trees. In clearings they came upon two very shallow but fairly extensive ponds and around these were traces of footpaths. Laura followed one of these, Dame Beatrice another. Their paths crossed and they met again after they had passed each other at the side of a small wood. They then found themselves in sight of the dunes and the mainland again.
“This,” said Dame Beatrice, “is opposite the road which runs between the Old Town and the ferry.” She led the way down the sandy slope to the shore. “Go to your left and I will go to the right.”
Laura demurred. The deep, soft, dry sand made very heavy going. She said:
“No point in both of us ploughing through this stuff. I’m going to make for that belt of trees. I’m all agog to try the metal detector up there. I shouldn’t think it could locate metal down here. I don’t really expect to find anything worth while, but I must say that this is rather fun.” She ploughed upwards. Dame Beatrice seated herself on the warm, dry sand and gazed at the opposite shore. A constant procession of cars was using the road over there, coming and going between the town and the ferry, and she realised, even more clearly than she had done before, the risks that would have been run by anybody planting a body on the strand at any time before about one o’clock in the morning, for not only was the traffic to and from the ferry very heavy, but the road passed through one of the most desirable residential districts of the place, and even though the ferry closed down each evening, the local cinemas, theatres and concert halls, as she had known previously, did not, so there would be cars along the road until after midnight. There were also the numerous houses, flats and bungalows which overlooked the bay. During the small hours, however, anybody prepared to take a chance might have driven on to the grass verge and tumbled a dead body down on to the mud, hoping, perhaps, that the receding tide would carry it away. Tyre marks, if any had been left, would count for nothing. On grass the treads would be indistinguishable from those of other cars which had used the verge as a parking place. There were two cars standing on the grass verge already and a third was pulling up alongside them.
She decided that there was no reason to change her mind. She still felt certain that the body had been dumped from a car, not thrown into the water from a boat. The police had not only made an exhaustive search of yachts and cruisers for bloodstains or other crucial evidence, she was also certain that the presence of boats lying off the island had been carefully checked. Even if one had gone out at night, she felt convinced that it would have been reported by somebody or other, by a fisherman, perhaps, or from the ever-watchful coastguard station.
She sat there for the better part of an hour until Laura came bounding and slithering down the slope towards her.
“Fun, but no dice, not so much as an old tin can,” Laura said. “All the same, I’m going to produce a fifty-pence coin to show the boatman. I’ve put some dirt on it. That ought to convince him I’m not as dotty as he thinks I am. I observed a sly Dorset smile when he eyed the metal detector.”
“You think of everything,” said Dame Beatrice.
“I only wish I could think where the lower half of that weapon is.”
Chapter 17
Mute and Other Witnesses
“Nothing impaired, but all disordered.”
« ^ »
Yes,” said the Chief Constable, taking his cigar out of his mouth and studying the length of ash on it. “We’ve had what you might call fun and games after Mrs Wells clinched the identification of the lad who bought the rapier.”
“With poor Mr Lynn, I suppose,” said Dame Beatrice, “you had what you call the fun and games.”
“Yes, with Mr Lynn. Nothing would satisfy him but an exhumation. He demanded to be allowed to examine the corpse we found dumped on the shore opposite Castle Island. We applied for permission and got it. I don’t know what his idea was. Seems ghoulish to me to dig people up once they’re decently buried. It wasn’t as though any further identification was necessary. Mrs Wells’ evidence was quite clear.”
“Perhaps Mr Lynn was not satisfied that his adopted son
“That was part of his argument. The lad had been buried in a common grave as, at the time, nobody knew who he was, but once you’re dead and in a coffin, what does the rest of it matter?”
