Clutch of Constables

He shook Troy warmly by the hand. ‘Tillottson,’ he said. ‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Alleyn,’ and took her into his office.

‘Very pleased,’ said Superintendent Tillottson, ‘to meet Roderick Alleyn’s good lady. His textbook’s known as the Scourge of the Service in these parts and I wouldn’t mind if you passed that on to him.’

He laughed very heartily at this joke, placed the palms of his hands on his desk and said: ‘Yes. Well now, I’ve been talking to Mr Fox at Head Office, Mrs Alleyn, and he suggested it might be quite an idea if we had a little chat. So, if it’s not putting you to too much trouble –’

He led Troy, very adroitly, through the past eight hours and she was surprised that he should be so particular as to details. Evidently he was aware of this reaction because when she had finished he said he supposed she would like to know what it was all about and proceeded to give her a neat report.

‘This character, this K.G.Z. Andropulos, was mixed up in quite a bit of trouble: trouble to the Yard, Mrs Alleyn, before and after the Yard got alongside him. He was, as you may have supposed, of Greek origin and he’s been involved in quite a number of lines: a bit of drug-running here, a bit of receiving there, some interest in the antique lay, a picture-dealing business in Cyprus Street, Soho, above which he lived in the flat where his body was found yesterday evening. He wasn’t what you’d call a key-figure but he became useful to the Yard by turning informer from spite having fallen out with a much bigger man than himself. A very big man indeed in the international underworld, as people like to call it, a character called Foljambe and known as the Jampot, in whom we are very, very interested.’

‘I’ve heard about him,’ Troy said. ‘From Rory.’

‘I’ll be bound. Now, it’s a guinea to a gooseberry, to our way of thinking, that this leading character – this Jampot – is behind the business in Cyprus Street and therefore the Department is more than ordinarily concerned to get to the bottom of it and anything that connects with Andropulos, however slightly, has to be followed up.’

‘Even to Cabin 7 in the rivercraft Zodiac?’

‘That’s right. We’d like to know, d’you see, Mrs Alleyn, just why this chap Andropulos took the freakish notion to book himself in and when he did it. And, very particularly, we’d like to know whether any of the other passengers had any kind of link with him. Now Teddy Fox –’

‘Who!’ Troy exclaimed.

‘Inspector Fox, Mrs Alleyn. He and I were in the uniformed branch together. Edward Walter Fox, he is.’

‘I suppose I knew,’ Troy mused. ‘Yes, of course I knew. We always call him Br’er Fox. He’s a great friend.’

‘So I understood. Yes. Well, he’s a wee bit concerned about you going with this lot in the Zodiac. He’s wondering what the Chief-Super – your good man, Mrs Alleyn – would make of it. He’s on his way to this conference in Chicago and Ted Fox wonders if he shouldn’t try and talk to him.’

‘Oh, no!’ Troy ejaculated. ‘Surely not.’

‘Well now, frankly it seems a bit far-fetched to me but there it is. Ted Fox cut you short, in a manner of speaking, when you rang him from the Waterways office down there and he did so on the general principle that you can’t be too careful on the public phone. He’s a careful sort of character himself, as you probably know, and, by gum, he’s thorough.’

‘He is, indeed.’

‘Yes. That’s so. Yes. Now Ted’s just been called out of London, following a line on the Andropulos business. It may take him across the Channel. In the meantime he’s asked me to keep an eye on your little affair. So what we’d like to do is take a wee look at the passenger list. In the meantime I just wonder about these two incidents you’ve mentioned. Now, what are they? First of all you get the impression that someone, you’re not sure who, got a fright or a shock or a peculiar reaction when you said there were Constables all over the place. And second: you see this bit about Andropulos in the paper, you drop the paper on the seat and go to your cabin. You get the idea it might be pleasanter for all concerned not to spread the information that an intended passenger has been murdered. You go back for the purpose of confiscating the paper and find it’s disappeared. Right? Yes. Now, for the first of these incidents, I just wonder if it wouldn’t be natural for any little gathering of passengers waiting in a quiet lock in peaceful surroundings to get a bit of a jolt when somebody suddenly says there are police personnel all over the place. Swarming, I think you said was the expression you used. And clutch. Swarming with a clutch of Constables. You meaning the artist. They assuming the police.’

‘Well – yes. But they didn’t all exclaim at once. They didn’t all say: “Where, where, what do you mean, policemen?” or things like that. Miss Rickerby-Carrick did and I think Miss Hewson did a bit and I rather fancy Mr Caley Bard said something like: “What can you mean?” But I felt terribly strongly that someone had had a shock. I – Oh,’ Troy said impatiently, ‘how silly that sounds! Pay no attention to it. Really.’

‘Shall we take a wee look at the second item, then? The disappearance of the newspaper? Isn’t it possible, Mrs Alleyn, that one of them saw you were put out and when you went to your cabin picked up the paper to see what could have upset you? And found the paragraph? And had the same reaction as you did: don’t put it about in case it upsets people? Or maybe, didn’t notice your reaction but read the paragraph and thought it’d be nice if you didn’t know you’d got a cabin that was to have been given to a murder victim? Or they might all have come to that conclusion? Or, the simplest of all, the staff might just have tidied the paper away?’

‘I feel remarkably foolish,’ Troy said. ‘How right you are. I wish I’d shut up about it and not bothered poor Br’er Fox.’

‘Oh no,’ Tillottson said quickly. ‘Not at all. No. We’re very glad to have this bit about the booking of Cabin 7. Very glad indeed. We’d very much like to know why Andropulos fancied a waterways cruise. Of course we’d have learnt about it before long but it can’t be too soon for us and we’re much obliged to you.’

‘Mr Tillottson, you don’t think, do you, that any of them could have had anything to do with that man? Andropulos? Why should they have?’

Tillottson looked fixedly at the top of his desk. ‘No,’ he said after a pause. ‘No reason at all. You stay at Toll’ark tonight, don’t you? Yes. Crossdyke tomorrow? And the following day and night at Longminster? Right? And I’ve got the passenger list from you and just to please Mr Fox we’ll let him have it and also do a wee bit of inquiring at our end. The clerical gentleman’s been staying with the Bishop at Norminster, you say? And he’s an Australian? Fine. And the lady with the double name comes from Birmingham? Mr S.H. Caley Bard lives in London, SW3 and collects butterflies. And – er – this Mr Pollock’s a Londoner but he came up from Birmingham where he stayed, you said –? Yes, ta. The Osborn. And the Americans were at the Tabard at Stratford. Just a tick, if you don’t mind.’

He went to the door and said: ‘Sarge. Rickerby-Carrick. Hazel: Miss. Birmingham. Natouche: Doctor. G.F. Liverpool. S.H. Caley Bard, SW3. London. Pollock, Saturday and Sunday, Osborn Hotel, Birmingham. Hewson. Americans. Two. Tabard. Stratford. Yes. Check, will you?’

‘I mustn’t keep you,’ Troy said and stood up.

‘If you don’t mind waiting, Mrs Alleyn. Just another tick.’

He consulted a directory and dialled a number. ‘Bishopscourt?’ he said. ‘Yes. Toll’ark Police Station here. Sorry to trouble you, but we’ve had an Australian passport handed in at our office. Name of Bollinger. I understand an Australian gentleman – oh. Oh, yes? Lazenby? All last week? I see. Not his, then. Very sorry to trouble you. Thank you.’