I
On night duty in Hurst St. Cyprian Police Station, Sergeant Green yawned. The telephone rang and he picked up the receiver. A moment later his manner had changed completely. He began scribbling rapidly on a pad.
“Yes? Meadowbank? Yes—and the name? Spell it, please. S-P-R-I-N-G-for greengage?-E-R. Springer. Yes. Yes, please see that nothing is disturbed. Someone’ll be with you very shortly.”
Rapidly and methodically he then proceeded to put into motion the various procedures indicated.
“Meadowbank?” said Detective Inspector Kelsey when his turn came. “That’s the girls’ school, isn’t it? Who is it who’s been murdered?”
“Death of a Games Mistress,” said Kelsey, thoughtfully. “Sounds like the title of a thriller on a railway bookstall.”
“Who’s likely to have done her in, d’you think?” said the Sergeant. “Seems unnatural.”
“Even Games Mistresses may have their love lives,” said Detective Inspector Kelsey. “Where did they say the body was found?”
“In the Sports Pavilion. I suppose that’s a fancy name for the gymnasium.”
“Could be,” said Kelsey. “Death of a Games Mistress in the Gymnasium. Sounds a highly athletic crime, doesn’t it? Did you say she was shot?”
“Yes.”
“They find the pistol?”
“No.”
“Interesting,” said Detective Inspector Kelsey, and having assembled his retinue, he departed to carry out his duties.
II
The front door at Meadowbank was open, with light streaming from it, and here Inspector Kelsey was received by Miss Bulstrode herself. He knew her by sight, as indeed most people in the neighbourhood did. Even in this moment of confusion and uncertainty, Miss Bulstrode remained eminently herself, in command of the situation and in command of her subordinates.
“Detective Inspector Kelsey, madam,” said the Inspector.
“What would you like to do first, Inspector Kelsey? Do you wish to go out to the Sports Pavilion or do you want to hear full details?”
“The doctor is with me,” said Kelsey. “If you will show him and two of my men to where the body is, I should like a few words with you.”
“Certainly. Come into my sitting room. Miss Rowan, will you show the doctor and the others the way?” She added, “One of my staff is out there seeing that nothing is disturbed.”
“Thank you, madam.”
Kelsey followed Miss Bulstrode into her sitting room. “Who found the body?”
“The matron, Miss Johnson. One of the girls had earache and Miss Johnson was up attending to her. As she did so, she noticed the curtains were not pulled properly and going to pull them she observed that there was a light on in the Sports Pavilion which there should not have been at 1 a.m.,” finished Miss Bulstrode dryly.
“Quite so,” said Kelsey. “Where is Miss Johnson now?”
“She is here if you want to see her?”
“Presently. Will you go on, madam.”
“Miss Johnson went and woke up another member of my staff, Miss Chadwick. They decided to go out and investigate. As they were leaving by the side door they heard the sound of a shot, whereupon they ran as quickly as they could towards the Sports Pavilion. On arrival there—”
The Inspector broke in. “Thank you, Miss Bulstrode. If, as you say, Miss Johnson is available, I will hear the next part from her. But first, perhaps, you will tell me something about the murdered woman.”
“Her name is Grace Springer.”
“She has been with you long?”
“No. She came to me this term. My former Games Mistress left to take up a post in Australia.”
“And what did you know about this Miss Springer?”
“Her testimonials were excellent,” said Miss Bulstrode.
“You didn’t know her personally before that?”
“No.”
“Have you any idea at all, even the vaguest, of what might have precipitated this tragedy? Was she unhappy? Any unfortunate entanglements?”
Miss Bulstrode shook her head. “Nothing that I know of. I may say,” she went on, “that it seems to me most unlikely. She was not that kind of a woman.”
“You’d be surprised,” said Inspector Kelsey darkly.
“Would you like me to fetch Miss Johnson now?”
“If you please. When I’ve heard her story I’ll go out to the gym—or the—what d’you call it—Sports Pavilion?”
“It is a newly built addition to the school this year,” said Miss Bulstrode. “It is built adjacent to the swimming pool and it comprises a squash court and other features. The racquets, lacrosse and hockey sticks are kept there, and there is a drying room for swim suits.”
“Was there any reason why Miss Springer should be in the Sports Pavilion at night?”
“None whatever,” said Miss Bulstrode unequivocally.
“Very well, Miss Bulstrode. I’ll talk to Miss Johnson now.”
Miss Bulstrode left the room and returned bringing the matron with her. Miss Johnson had had a sizeable dollop of brandy administered to her to pull her together after her discovery of the body. The result was a slightly added loquacity.
“This is Detective Inspector Kelsey,” said Miss Bulstrode. “Pull yourself together, Elspeth, and tell him exactly what happened.”
“It’s dreadful,” said Miss Johnson, “it’s really dreadful. Such a thing has never happened before in all my experience. Never! I couldn’t have believed it, I really couldn’t’ve believed it. Miss Springer too!”
Inspector Kelsey was a perceptive man. He was always willing to deviate from the course of routine if a remark struck him as unusual or worth following up.
“It seems to you, does it,” he said, “very strange that it was Miss Springer who was murdered?”
“Well yes, it does, Inspector. She was so—well, so tough, you know. So hearty. Like the sort of woman one could imagine taking on a burglar single-handed—or two burglars.”
“Burglars? H’m,” said Inspector Kelsey. “Was there anything to steal in the Sports Pavilion?”
“Well, no, really I can’t see what there can have been. Swim suits of course, sports paraphernalia.”
“The sort of thing a sneak thief might have taken,” agreed Kelsey. “Hardly worth breaking in for, I should have thought. Was it broken into, by the way?”
“Well, really, I never thought to look,” said Miss Johnson. “I mean, the door was open when we got there and—”
“It had not been broken into,” said Miss Bulstrode.
“I see,” said Kelsey. “A key was used.” He looked at Miss Johnson. “Was Miss Springer well-liked?” he asked.
“Well, really, I couldn’t say. I mean, after all, she’s dead.”
“So, you didn’t like her,” said Kelsey perceptively, ignoring Miss Johnson’s finer feelings.
“I don’t think anyone could have liked her very much,” said Miss Johnson. “She had a very positive manner, you know. Never minded contradicting people flatly. She was very efficient and took her work very seriously I should say, wouldn’t you, Miss Bulstrode?”
“Certainly,” said Miss Bulstrode.
Kelsey returned from the bypath he had been pursuing. “Now, Miss Johnson, let’s hear just what happened.”
“Jane, one of our pupils, had earache. She woke up with a rather bad attack of it and came to me. I got some remedies and when I’d got her back to bed, I saw the window curtains were flapping and thought perhaps it would be better for once if her window was not opened at night as it was blowing rather in that direction. Of course the girls always sleep with their windows open. We have difficulties sometimes with the foreigners, but I always insist that—”
“That really doesn’t matter now,” said Miss Bulstrode. “Our general rules of hygiene would not interest Inspector Kelsey.”
“No, no, of course not,” said Miss Johnson. “Well, as I say I went to shut the window and what was my surprise to see a light in the Sports Pavilion. It was quite distinct, I couldn’t mistake it. It seemed to be moving about.”
“You mean it was not the electric light turned on but the light of a torch or flashlight?”
“Yes, yes, that’s what it must have been. I thought at once ‘Dear me, what’s anyone doing out there at this time of night?’ Of course I didn’t think of burglars. That would have been a very fanciful idea, as you said just now.”
“What did you think of?” asked Kelsey.
Miss Johnson shot a glance at Miss Bulstrode and back again.
“Well, really, I don’t know that I had any ideas in particular. I mean, well—well really, I mean I couldn’t think—”
Miss Bulstrode broke in. “I should imagine that Miss Johnson had the idea that one of our pupils might have gone out there to keep an assignation with someone,” she said. “Is that right, Elspeth?”
Miss Johnson gasped. “Well, yes, the idea did come into my head just for the moment. One of our Italian girls, perhaps. Foreigners are so much more precocious than English girls.”
“Don’t be so insular,” said Miss Bulstrode. “We’ve had plenty of English girls trying to make unsuitable assignations. It was a very natural thought to have occurred to you and probably the one that would have occurred to me.”
“Go on,” said Inspector Kelsey.
“So I thought the best thing,” went on Miss Johnson, “was to go to Miss Chadwick and ask her to come out with me and see what was going on.”
“Why Miss Chadwick?” asked Kelsey. “Any particular reason for selecting that particular mistress?”
“Well, I didn’t want to disturb Miss Bulstrode,” said Miss Johnson, “and I’m afraid it’s rather a habit of ours always to go to Miss Chadwick if we don’t want to disturb Miss Bulstrode. You see, Miss Chadwick’s been here a very long time and has had so much experience.”
“Anyway,” said Kelsey, “you went to Miss Chadwick and woke her up. Is that right?”
“Yes. She agreed with me that we must go out there immediately. We didn’t wait to dress or anything, just put on pullovers and coats and went out by the side door. And it was then, just as we were standing on the path, that we heard a shot from the Sports Pavilion. So we ran along the path as fast as we could. Rather stupidly we hadn’t taken a torch with us and it was hard to see where we were going. We stumbled once or twice but we got there quite quickly. The door was open. We switched on the light and—”
Kelsey interrupted. “There was no light then when you got there. Not a torch or any other light?”
“No. The place was in darkness. We switched on the light and there she was. She—”
“That’s all right,” said Inspector Kelsey kindly, “you needn’t describe anything. I shall be going out there now and I shall see for myself. You didn’t meet anyone on your way there?”
“No.”
“Or hear anybody running away?”
“No. We didn’t hear anything.”
“Did anybody else hear the shot in the school building?” asked Kelsey looking at Miss Bulstrode.
She shook her head. “No. Not that I know of. Nobody has said that they heard it. The Sports Pavilion is some distance away and I rather doubt if the shot would be noticeable.”
“Perhaps from one of the rooms on the side of the house giving on the Sports Pavilion?”
“Hardly, I think, unless one were listening for such a thing. I’m sure it wouldn’t be loud enough to wake anybody up.”
“Well, thank you,” said Inspector Kelsey. “I’ll be going out to the Sports Pavilion now.”
“I will come with you,” said Miss Bulstrode.
“Do you want me to come too?” asked Miss Johnson. “I will if you like. I mean it’s no good shirking things, is it? I always feel that one must face whatever comes and—”
“Thank you,” said Inspector Kelsey, “there’s no need, Miss Johnson. I wouldn’t think of putting you to any further strain.”
“So awful,” said Miss Johnson, “it makes it worse to feel I didn’t like her very much. In fact, we had a disagreement only last night in the Common Room. I stuck to it that too much P.T. was bad for some girls—the more delicate girls. Miss Springer said nonsense, that they were just the ones who needed it. Toned them up and made new women of them, she said. I said to her that really she didn’t know everything though she might think she did. After all I have been professionally trained and I know a great deal more about delicacy and illness than Miss Springer does—did, though I’ve no doubt that Miss Springer knows everything about parallel bars and vaulting horses and coaching tennis. But, oh dear, now I think of what’s happened, I wish I hadn’t said quite what I did. I suppose one always feels like that afterwards when something dreadful has occurred. I really do blame myself.”
“Now sit down there, dear,” said Miss Bulstrode, settling her on the sofa. “You just sit down and rest and pay no attention to any little disputes you may have had. Life would be very dull if we agreed with each other on every subject.”
Miss Johnson sat down shaking her head, then yawned. Miss Bulstrode followed Kelsey into the hall.
“I gave her rather a lot of brandy,” she said, apologetically. “It’s made her a little voluble. But not confused, do you think?”
“No,” said Kelsey. “She gave quite a clear account of what happened.”
Miss Bulstrode led the way to the side door.
“Is this the way Miss Johnson and Miss Chadwick went out?”
“Yes. You see it leads straight on to the path through the rhododendrons there which comes out at the Sports Pavilion.”
The Inspector had a powerful torch and he and Miss Bulstrode soon reached the building where the lights were now glaring.
“Fine bit of building,” said Kelsey, looking at it.
“It cost us a pretty penny,” said Miss Bulstrode, “but we can afford it,” she added serenely.
The open door led into a fair-sized room. There were lockers there with the names of the various girls on them. At the end of the room there was a stand for tennis racquets and one for lacrosse sticks. The door at the side led off to showers and changing cubicles. Kelsey paused before going in. Two of his men had been busy. A photographer had just finished his job and another man who was busy testing for fingerprints looked up and said,
“You can walk straight across the floor, sir. You’ll be all right. We haven’t finished down this end yet.”
Kelsey walked forward to where the police surgeon was kneeling by the body. The latter looked up as Kelsey approached.
“She was shot from about four feet away,” he said. “Bullet penetrated the heart. Death must have been pretty well instantaneous.”
“Yes. How long ago?”
“Say an hour or thereabouts.”
Kelsey nodded. He strolled round to look at the tall figure of Miss Chadwick where she stood grimly, like a watchdog, against one wall. About fifty-five, he judged, good forehead, obstinate mouth, untidy grey hair, no trace of hysteria. The kind of woman, he thought, who could be depended upon in a crisis though she might be overlooked in ordinary everyday life.
“Miss Chadwick?” he said.
“Yes.”
“You came out with Miss Johnson and discovered the body?”
“Yes. She was just as she is now. She was dead.”
“And the time?”
“I looked at my watch when Miss Johnson roused me. It was ten minutes to one.”
Kelsey nodded. That agreed with the time that Miss Johnson had given him. He looked down thoughtfully at the dead woman. Her bright red hair was cut short. She had a freckled face, with a chin which jutted out strongly, and a spare, athletic figure. She was wearing a tweed skirt and a heavy, dark pullover. She had brogues on her feet with no stockings.
“Any sign of the weapon?” asked Kelsey.
One of his men shook his head. “No sign at all, sir.”
“What about the torch?”
“There’s a torch there in the corner.”
“Any prints on it?”
“Yes. The dead woman’s.”
“So she’s the one who had the torch,” said Kelsey thoughtfully. “She came out here with a torch—why?” He asked it partly of himself, partly of his men, partly of Miss Bulstrode and Miss Chadwick. Finally he seemed to concentrate on the latter. “Any ideas?”
Miss Chadwick shook her head. “No idea at all. I suppose she might have left something here—forgotten it this afternoon or evening—and come out to fetch it. But it seems rather unlikely in the middle of the night.”
“It must have been something very important if she did,” said Kelsey.
He looked round him. Nothing seemed disturbed except the stand of racquets at the end. That seemed to have been pulled violently forward. Several of the racquets were lying about on the floor.
“Of course,” said Miss Chadwick, “she could have seen a light here, like Miss Johnson did later, and have come out to investigate. That seems the most likely thing to me.”
“I think you’re right,” said Kelsey. “There’s just one small matter. Would she have come out here alone?”
“Yes.” Miss Chadwick answered without hesitation.
“Miss Johnson,” Kelsey reminded her, “came and woke you up.”
“I know,” said Miss Chadwick, “and that’s what I should have done if I’d seen the light. I would have woken up Miss Bulstrode or Miss Vansittart or somebody. But Miss Springer wouldn’t. She would have been quite confident—indeed would have preferred to tackle an intruder on her own.”
“Another point,” said the Inspector. “You came out through the side door with Miss Johnson. Was the side door unlocked?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Presumably left unlocked by Miss Springer?”
“That seems the natural conclusion,” said Miss Chadwick.
“So we assume,” said Kelsey, “that Miss Springer saw a light out here in the gymnasium—Sports Pavilion—whatever you call it—that she came out to investigate and that whoever was here shot her.” He wheeled round on Miss Bulstrode as she stood motionless in the doorway. “Does that seem right to you?” he asked.
“It doesn’t seem right at all,” said Miss Bulstrode. “I grant you the first part. We’ll say Miss Springer saw a light out here and that she went out to investigate by herself. That’s perfectly probable. But that the person she disturbed here should shoot her—that seems to me all wrong. If anyone was here who had no business to be here they would be more likely to run away, or to try to run away. Why should someone come to this place at this hour of night with a pistol? It’s ridiculous, that’s what it is. Ridiculous! There’s nothing here worth stealing, certainly nothing for which it would be worthwhile doing murder.”
“You think it more likely that Miss Springer disturbed a rendezvous of some kind?”
“That’s the natural and most probable explanation,” said Miss Bulstrode. “But it doesn’t explain the fact of murder, does it? Girls in my school don’t carry pistols about with them and any young man they might be meeting seems very unlikely to have a pistol either.”
Kelsey agreed. “He’d have had a flick knife at most,” he said. “There’s an alternative,” he went on. “Say Miss Springer came out here to meet a man—”
Miss Chadwick giggled suddenly. “Oh no,” she said, “not Miss Springer.”
“I do not mean necessarily an amorous assignment,” said the Inspector dryly. “I’m suggesting that the murder was deliberate, that someone intended to murder Miss Springer, that they arranged to meet her here and shot her.”
[Cat Among the Pigeons -Agatha Christie] Eight Murder