Waiting for Orders (8 page)

Mercer pulled himself together. ‘All right, Denton. I know Dr Czissar. Get on.’

Denton drew another breath. ‘Well, Sir, he oozed up to me after the inquest and asked me to give you his compliments. Then he asked me what I thought about the verdict.’

‘And what did you think?’

‘I didn’t get a chance to say, Sir. He didn’t wait for an answer. He just said, “Attention, please!” in that way of his and said that Wilder was innocent. All very polite, you know, Sir, but pretty straight.’

Mercer did know. Dr Czissar’s politeness set his teeth on edge. ‘I see. And did he tell you what the proof was, or did you discover it for yourself?’

‘Neither, Sir.’

‘But you said that you believe that Wilder is innocent.’

‘I do, Sir.’ Denton hesitated for a moment. ‘It’s that Dr Czissar, Sir. He gets under your skin. I don’t mind saying that, after he’d spoken to me, I took Blundell back with me to have another look at the place where Gregory was found; but I
couldn’t see anything wrong and neither could Blundell. The hedge varies in height, and there’s a bit of a dip in it just there. From the meadow you couldn’t see a man on a bike coming until he was right on top of you. The tree’s just opposite that dip in the hedge, too. It’s a big elm and there’s not another tree either side of it for a hundred yards. The whole thing looked as clear as daylight to me: the sort of accident that’s bound to happen if you let lads of nineteen play about with guns. And yet …

Mercer smiled dryly. ‘I should forget Dr Czissar’s little fancies if I were you, Denton. You must remember that he’s a refugee. His experiences have probably unhinged him a little. Understandable, of course.’

‘You mean he’s dotty, Sir?’ Denton considered the proposition. ‘Well, he does look it a bit. But, begging your pardon, Sir, he wasn’t so dotty about the Seabourne business. And there was that Brock Park case, too. If it hadn’t been for him … You see, Sir, it’s sort of worried me, him going on about Wilder being innocent.’ He hesitated. ‘He says he’s coming in to see you this afternoon, Sir,’ he concluded.

‘Oh, does he!’

‘Yes, Sir. About five.’ Denton looked anxious. ‘If you can let me know what he says, Sir, I’d be grateful.’

‘All right, Denton. I’ll let you know.’

Denton went out with the buoyant step and the revolting smile of one who realizes that he has handled a difficult situation with tact and resource. Mercer stared after him.

So, he reflected, it had come to this. His subordinates were hanging on the words of this precious Dr Czissar like – he cast about wildly for a simile – like schoolboys round a Test cricketer. It was worse than humiliating. It was demoralizing. Here was he, Assistant-Commissioner Mercer, sitting in his room waiting for an unemployed Czech policeman to teach him his job. Something would have to be done. But what? To refuse to see the man would be simply to invite trouble with that old fool at the Home Office. Besides – he wrung the confession from his subconscious mind with masochistic savagery – he
wanted
to see Dr Czissar, and not entirely in the hope of hearing the Czech make a fool of himself. He was – he admitted it bitterly – curious.

He was still staring helplessly at his untasted second cup of tea when Dr Czissar was announced.

Dr Czissar came into the room, clapped his umbrella to his side, clicked his heels, bowed and said: ‘Dr Jan Czissar. Late Prague police. At your service.’

Mercer watched this all too familiar performance with unconcealed dislike. ‘Sit down, Doctor,’ he said shortly. ‘Inspector Denton tells me that you wish to make a suggestion about the Mortons Hind case.’

Dr Czissar sat down carefully and leaned forward. ‘Thank you, Assistant-Commissioner,’ he said earnestly. ‘It is so good of you to receive me again.’

Mercer strove to detect the note of mockery which he felt might be there. ‘No trouble,’ he returned gruffly.

Dr Czissar shook his head. ‘You are so kind. Everyone is so kind. You see, Assistant-Commissioner, the thing which an exile misses most is his work. To me, police work is my life. I am grateful to you for the opportunities which you have given me, an intruder, to make myself of use again.’

‘Very nice of you to put it that way,’ Mercer said curtly. ‘And now, if you’ve got something to tell me …’

Dr Czissar sat back quickly. Mercer could almost feel his disappointment. ‘Of course, Assistant-Commissioner,’ he said stiffly. ‘I will not waste your time. If it had not been for the innocence of this boy Wilder, I would not have troubled you.’

Mercer cleared his throat. ‘To me, the case seems perfectly straightforward. Our expert, Blundell …’

‘Ah!’ Dr Czissar’s eyes gleamed. ‘That is the word. Expert. The witness which the lawyers always attack, eh?’

Mercer gave him a wry smile. ‘Our expert witnesses, Doctor, are practically lawyers themselves. They’re used to cross-examination.’

‘Precisely. Sergeant Blundell was obviously experienced. He answered honestly and sincerely just those questions which were put to him,
as
they were put to him. No more, no less. It is praiseworthy. Unfortunately, such testimony may be misleading.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Sergeant Blundell was asked, Assistant-Commissioner, whether a shot fired from a rifle held to the shoulder of a man in
the field to the left of the road at a bird in the tree on the right of the road could hit a passing cyclist and make a wound such as that found in Mr Gregory. He very properly answered that it could.’

‘Well?’

Dr Czissar smiled faintly. ‘Sergeant Blundell had taken measurements and made calculations. They were accurate. But he did not actually fire at any bird in that tree himself. His observations were therefore incomplete. His answer was legally correct. Mr Gregory
could
have been so killed. But he was
not
so killed. And for a simple reason. For Wilder to have fired the shot at that particular angle, the bird would have had to have been on a branch about eighteen feet from the ground. The lowest branch on that tree, Assistant-Commissioner, is about ten feet above that.’

Mercer sat up. ‘Are you sure of that, Doctor?’

‘I could not make a mistake about such a thing,’ said Dr Czissar with dignity.

‘No, no, of course not. Excuse me a moment, Doctor.’ Mercer picked up the telephone. ‘I want Inspector Denton and Sergeant Blundell to see me immediately.’

There was an embarrassed silence until they came. Then Dr Czissar was asked to repeat his statement. Denton snapped his fingers.

Mercer looked at Blundell. ‘Well?’

Blundell reddened. ‘It’s possible, Sir. I can’t say that I looked at the thing from that standpoint. Perhaps it was something on the trunk of the tree – a squirrel, perhaps.’

Denton grinned. ‘I can answer that one, Sir. I was brought up in the country. You wouldn’t find a squirrel climbing up the trunk of an odd elm tree by the side of a main road in November. That makes it murder, eh, Doctor?’

Dr Czissar frowned. ‘That,’ he said stiffly, ‘is for the Assistant-Commissioner to decide, Inspector.’ He turned courteously to Mercer. ‘If you will permit me, Assistant-Commissioner, to make a further suggestion?’

Mercer nodded wearily. ‘Go ahead, Doctor.’

A thin smile stretched the doctor’s full lips. He settled his glasses on his nose. Then he cleared his throat, swallowed hard, and leaned forward. ‘Attention, please,’ he said sharply.

He had their attention.

‘To you, Assistant-Commissioner Mercer,’ began Dr Czissar, ‘I would say that no blame in this matter belongs to Inspector Denton or Sergeant Blundell. They were obviously expected by the local police to prove a case of manslaughter against Wilder, and they contrived to do so. The case was spoilt for them before they arrived. This man Gregory was found shot. Either he was shot accidentally or he was murdered. A small community dislikes the thought of murder even more than a large one. But they do not have to think of murder, for here, under their noses, is a better explanation. Wilder was firing a .22 rifle. Gregory was killed with a .22 bullet. Ergo, Wilder killed Gregory. Everyone is happy – except Wilder and myself. I am not happy; especially when I see that the shooting could not have happened as is said. It seems to me that even though the local police dislike the idea, murder has been done. Who has done it? I begin, logically, with the victim.

‘At the inquest,’ resumed Dr Czissar, ‘Mr Wretford, so sad at losing his good chauffeur, said that Gregory had been in his employ for three years, and that he was sober, steady, and of excellent character. And the poor man had no friends or relations living. Such a pity, and so unusual. I decided to investigate a little. I went to the garage at Penborough and talked to a mechanic there. I found that Mr Wretford had made a little mistake about his chauffeur. Gregory was not very sober. Also, he betted a great deal for a man in his position. The mechanic was able to tell me that he dealt with a bookmaker in Penborough. To this bookmaker I went.’

Dr Czissar looked suddenly embarrassed. ‘I am afraid,’ he said apologetically, ‘that I have been guilty of an offence. You see, Assistant-Commissioner Mercer, I wished for information from this bookmaker. I said that I was from the police, without saying that it was the Prague police. I found that Gregory had, in the last twelve months, lost two hundred and thirty-seven pounds to this bookmaker.’

Mercer jumped. ‘What!’

‘Two hundred and thirty-seven pounds, Assistant-Commissioner. In addition, he had asked for no credit. He had received his winnings and paid his losses in pound notes. His wages, I think, could not have been sufficient to absorb such losses.’

‘He earned two pounds a week and his keep, according to Wretford,’ Denton put in.

‘Ah, quite so.’ Dr Czissar smiled gently. ‘The bookmaker had concluded that the bets were really made by Mr Wretford, who did not wish, for personal reasons, to have it known that he betted. It seems that such reticences are not unusual. But Gregory had been murdered. That
was
unusual. The bookmaker’s conclusion did not satisfy me. I made other inquiries. Among other things, I found that eight years ago, just before Mr Wretford retired, a clerk in his office was convicted of stealing the sum of fifteen thousand pounds in bearer bonds and three hundred pounds in cash. I was able to find a full report of the case in the newspaper files. The prosecution showed that he had got into debt through betting and that he had been systematically stealing small sums over a long period. The prosecution argued that, having gained confidence from the fact that his petty thefts went undiscovered, he had stolen the bearer bonds. There was one curious feature about the affair. The bearer bonds were not found and the prisoner refused to say anything about them except that he had stolen them. His sentence was, therefore, unusually severe for a first offender – five years’ penal servitude. His name was Selton.’

‘I remember the case,’ said Denton eagerly. ‘Gregory Selton - that was the name.’

‘Precisely!’ said Dr Czissar. ‘Gregory. A young man who right until his death, was too fond of betting. He must have changed his name when he came out of prison. Now, we find him in the last place we should expect to find him. He is Mr Wretford’s chauffeur. Mr Wretford, the man he robbed of fifteen thousand pounds!’

Mercer shrugged. ‘Generous gesture on Wretford’s part. It doesn’t explain why he was shot or who shot him.’

Dr Czissar smiled. ‘Nor why Mr Wretford lied at the inquest?’

‘What are you getting at?’

Dr Czissar held up a finger. ‘Attention, please! The only logical part of that case against Selton was that he had over a long period stolen sums in cash amounting to three hundred pounds and intended to pay off racing debts. That is the thieving of a clerk. That he should suddenly steal fifteen
thousand pounds is absurd. And we only have his word for it that he did steal them.’

‘But why on earth should …?’

‘Mr Wretford’s reputation,’ pursued Dr Czissar, ‘was not very good in the City. I believe that those bonds were converted by Mr Wretford for his own private profit, and that he was in danger of being found out when he discovered Selton’s thefts. He was desperate, perhaps. Selton, he thought, would go to prison, anyway. Let him agree to take a little extra blame and all would be well. Selton would have his reward when he came out of prison. Alas for Mr Wretford! Mr Gregory Selton was not content with comfortable and overpaid employment. He began, I think, to blackmail Mr Wretford. Those racing debts, you see. More money, more money always. Mr Wretford was very wise to kill him under the circumstances.’

‘But …’

‘But, how? Ah, yes.’ Dr Czissar smiled kindly upon them. ‘It was, I think, a sudden idea. The grounds of his house are extensive. He probably heard Wilder using the rook rifle near by and thought of his own rifle. He used to be a member of a City rifle club. Selton would, he knew, be returning soon. It would be possible for him to get from his house to that place behind the hedge without going on to the road and risking being seen. When Selton was found, the blame would be put on this boy. For him, a few months in prison; for the respectable Mr Wretford, safety. He stood behind the hedge at a range of perhaps ten feet from Selton as he cycled by. It would have been difficult to miss.’

Dr Czissar stood up. ‘It is a suggestion only, of course,’ he said apologetically. ‘You will be able to identify Selton from his finger-prints and arrest Mr Wretford on a charge of perjury. The rifle will no doubt be found when you search the Grange. An examination of Mr Wretford’s accounts will show that he was being blackmailed by Selton. Those large sums in one pound notes … but it is not for me to teach you your business, eh?’ He smiled incredulously at the idea. ‘It is time for me to go. Good evening, Assistant-Commissioner.’

For a moment there was a silence. Then:

‘I knew there was something funny about this case, Sir,’ said Denton brightly. ‘Clever chaps, these Czechs.’

A
SSISTANT
-C
OMMISSIONER
Mercer did not often attend inquests. It was not part of his duty to do so. The fact that on that foggy December morning he should be sitting in a coroner’s court in a London suburb instead of in his room at New Scotland Yard argued wholly exceptional circumstances.