The Hyde Park Headsman - Anne Griffin Perry [129]
“What time was Yeats killed?”
“Probably between midnight and half past,” Pitt replied.
“Probably?” Farnsworth said sharply. “How accurate can the medical examiner be? Maybe it was later. Maybe it was a couple of hours later. That would give Carvell plenty of time to have taken a hansom to Shepherd’s Bush.” He looked from Tellman to Pitt, his face triumphant.
Tellman looked at him very deliberately.
“Wouldn’t matter, sir. Yeats would hardly have been hanging around the Shepherd’s Bush bus terminal a couple of hours after he came in. He’d set off home, the driver said that. And since it’s only fifteen minutes or so at a good walk, that narrows down the time of his death rather fine.”
Farnsworth’s lips tightened. “Then you’d better get on with finding out who else was at that concert,” he said. “If the man was there, someone must have seen him! He’s a well-known figure. He didn’t sit in a room alone. For God’s sake, man, you’re a detective. There must be a way of proving if he was there or not. What about the interval? Did he take refreshment? He must have spoken to someone. Concerts are social occasions as well as musical.”
“He says he didn’t,” Tellman answered. “It was shortly after Arledge’s death, and he wasn’t feeling like speaking to anyone. He simply went for the music, because it carried memories for him. He went in without speaking to anyone, and came out the same way.”
“Then arrest him,” Farnsworth repeated. “He’s our man.”
“What if it turns out to be Mr. Mitchell, sir?” Tellman said ingenuously. “Seems he could have had cause as well, and he can’t prove where he was either, except for Mrs. Winthrop’s word, and that doesn’t count for much.”
Farnsworth turned towards the door.
“Well you’d better do something, and quickly.” He ignored Tellman and faced Pitt. “Or you will have to be replaced by someone who will be more effective. The public have the right to expect something better than this. The Home Secretary is taking a personal interest in the case, and even Her Majesty is concerned. The end of the week, Pitt—no more.”
As soon as he was gone Pitt looked at Tellman curiously.
Tellman affected a certain indifference.
“They would,” he said casually. “Pity they can’t think of some useful suggestions. Damned if I know what else to do. We’ve got two men trying to find out everything they can about the damned bus conductor. He’s so ordinary he could be changed with ten thousand other ordinary little men and no one would know the difference with any of them. Pompous, bossy, lived with his wife and two dogs, fancied pigeons, drank ale at the Fox and Grapes on a Friday night, played dominoes badly, but was rather good at the odd game of darts. Why would anybody murder a man like that?”
“Because he saw something he shouldn’t have,” Pitt answered simply.
“But he was on his bus when Winthrop and Arledge were killed,” Tellman answered in exasperation. “And it didn’t run anywhere near the park. And even if Arledge was killed somewhere else, we know exactly where Winthrop was killed.”
“Then put someone further onto searching for the place where Arledge was killed,” Pitt said without hope. “Search all the area ’round Carvell’s house. See if you can find an excuse to call on Mitchell, and search that house again too.”
“Yes sir. What are you going to do?” For once it was asked without insolence.
“I am going to attend the Requiem service for Aidan Arledge.”
There was never any question that Charlotte would accompany Pitt, first to the Requiem service itself, and then to the reception afterwards. The new house was very nearly completed and there were a score more minor things to be seen to: curtains to be hung, loose floorboards to be screwed down, a water tap replaced, tiles to be affixed in the kitchen and more in the pantry, and so on. However, they