Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

12 "Can't you see I'm busy?" he said. "What is it?" ,. , "A case, inspector," Clinton replied. "A case? I have only four days iu which to get this show on, and you come here Btid burble about a case! I can't take it. Go But Clinton didn't Rt) auny. He shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably and cleared his throat. . , "The Assistant Commissioner says its murder," he remarked. Then he looked at tlie beauty cho*us. " Yoii know, tir, you oughtn't to be doin^ aU this. Those men will never be the same again." , ■ , , „ "Well, that's sometbinR to be thankful for, Slade replied. "A murder, eh? Where's the "Down at tlio Arsenal Stadumi. sir. Slade nodded briskly and turned to a pile of props. He rummased for a moment or so. then found o hat. Ho put it on his head and turned to the door. Then he saw tlie look on Clinton's face, and chuckled. "You haven't seen this one before, have you?" he said. "Not bad for ten bob— f' uarantoed to put any suspect at his ease at rst sight." , _,,. ^ "You and your hats!" muttered Clinton disrespectfuny. , » , n, i "I like this one especially. It has a lyrolcan flavour, and the small ercoii feather at the back is a mark of the well-dietsed man. Lead ithe \vay to tlie coijise, Clinton. We will settle this little matter immediately, hand over tlio culprit to justice, and return to our reheai-sal." He reached the door, stopped, and turned to the pianist. "Keep them at it." he s;iid cheerfully. X want all their feminine qiuilitics developed to the full. When I return, I shall expect to be able to lose my heart to all ot them. Good- afternoon I" . Then he went out, draitKuiff Clinton alon;,' behind him. . , ^, When the police car drew up outside the fltadium the crowds were pourin<; out of the ^ates, tafkinR excitedly. The match had been abandoned, but a replay had been pi-omise<l for the followiuK Wednesday—the same day on \\hich the police concert «as to be held. Slade and Clinton made their way to the treatment-i-oom. It was connected by a sliding door to the dressinp-room in which the Trojan players were pathered. Lying on a table was Doyce's body. JTlie doctor had stripped it and was just comviletinR a detailed examination. Slade stci)ped over to him, and asked; "Gun, dagger, or poison?" "Poison," the doctor replied briefly. He jioitited to Doyce's right thumb. " Sec that ? A tiny puncture." "Aim, dirty work!" said Slade, and turned to George Allison, who was standing near. "How did it happen, George? By the way, ^•ou don't mind me calling jou George, do vou?" "Not a bit," George Allison replied. He inn his fingers through his hair. "It is a most extraordinary business. Nobody wa'^ actually near Doyce when he fell—not within five yai-ds at least. If the doctor is right, and it was murder, he must have been killed in full view of a crowded stadium and two teams of v^layers. It doesn't make sense, does it?" "Murder never makes sense," Slade replied tuively. Another man came forward. He had a tired- looking face. "I don't believe it was murder, inspector," he said. "I think it must have been heart failure. I've seen it happen before." "I dare say you're right, but I'd like to have a look round, all (he same," Slade answered. " Lot me see, you're IMr._ Kindi- Ktt, the Trojan manager, aren't vou?" "Yes." "Well, %ve must have another chat later. I'm going to look over (he (cams now. Come along, Clinton." Ho passed through the conneding door (o ilic dressing-room. Gporg(> Allison, close behind him, made introductions. "This," ho said, "is Inspector Slade of Scotland Yard. He has come to ask some (jui. ions about the death of Doyce." Slade looked the men over carefully, but JW>f«*ry 24th, ltNM>. BOY'S CINEMA learnt nothing from their faces. He smiled at theru di.saruiiugly. "Let me see, now," he murmured. "Who was nearest to Doycc when he fell?' "I was," said Joncs of Arsenal promptly. "I had just cleared the ball from him, and was running upfield, when ho staggered and fell down." "H'm!" Slade said. ''And what did he look like?" " He was sweating badly and looked very grey." One of the Trojan players started forward suddenly. He was twitching with nerves. "All this is a farce," ho said. "The man is dead, isn't ho? And it must be obvious to anyone that he died of heart failure or some- thing." < Slado turned to him blandly. Ho looked tho speaker up and down slowly, smiling to himself. " You know, Mr. Kindilett said much tho same thing a few moments ago, Mr.—cr- -" "My name is Raille." "Thank you. Mr. Eaillc. And now toll mc something. Did you see Dojco eat or drink anything at half-time?" "He took a .slice of lemon," Railh^ answered .shortly. "But then so did most of the others." " I sec. Can you think of anything else which is likely to help mc?" "I can." It was the commissionaire w'ho spoke. His job was to keep watch over the dressing-rooms while the players were on the field. "He got a parcel at half-time." "Ah!" Slade was .suddenly interested. "What kind of a parcel?" "It was only a small thing, sir." Ho pointed to a bench. " There are the wrappings, sir." Clinton instantly started across the room to retrieve them. Slade's voice stopped hiin dead. "Don't touch it, Clinton!" He turned to the commissionaire again. "Ajiything else?" " Well, sir, I don't know if it's important, but after the—tho accident a young lady came here to see what had happened. When I told her that Doycc was dead she pretty nearly fainted." "What did this young lady look like"?" Slade asked quickly. "Well, sir, she was fair and tall—blonde, as you might say. She was a good-looker, too. Of course, I didn't let her in." " Of course not. And did aii3 body else come in during the time of the match?" "Positively not, sir." "Thank you."' Slade turned and stared hard at the remains of the parcel. Then he reached out suddenly and gentlj- lifted a tic- pin out of George Allison's tie. "Excuse mc, George!" he said politely. He bent down and found a tiny hole in the wrappings of the parcel. He stuck the tiepin through it. then stood up again and handed the tiepin back. "Clever, isn't it, George?" he said, and beckoned to Clinton. "We've got to look for a small, shaiii-pointed object. When you find it be very careful." Ho turned to the doctor. " Evidently he pricked his tluunh when open- ing the parcel and died of an obscure form of tetanus—a sort of lockjaw. Am I right, doctor?" The doctor coughed awkwardly. but followed tho load Slade had given him. "Oil, yes—or—quite so," he answered. "But we must find the object on which Doyce injured himself, owing to the risk of infection. Therefore, in your own interests, the doctor and I think you all ought to be searched. Isn't that right, do<tor?" The doctor opened his mouth to reply, but Kaille broke in with : "Very tactful of you, inspector. But why not say you think Doycc Avas murdered and have done with it." Slado looked at him, smiling. "Do you object to a search, Mr. llaille?"' he asked. "No, certainly not. Do what you like." Slade bowed and the .searching began. But neither he nor Clinton found a thing. Slade was not di.scoiKerlcd. He had expected some- thing like that. Every Tuesday FIND THE aiRLl HE and Clinton left the Stadium shortly afterwards. The dressing-rooms and treatment-room were sealed and left under police guard. Slade went to the btulding where Doyce had a flat and there found a olintty porter. The porter already knew about the murder, for the evening newspapers were carrying the story in thoir stop-press column. Slado asked him a few qiiestions, and the porter answered with a wealth of detail. He told Slade all about a young lady, blonde and tall and a good-looker who was « friend of Doyce's. " She came hero yesterday afternoon and let herself in with a key," the porter said. "She looked sort of funny, and I said to myself, I said, young lady, you're up to no good. Then she came again last night. Quito late it was, and she drove up in a taxi with Mr. Dojto himself." "1 see. How was she dressed?" "Well, sir, .she had on a long white coat with some blue trimmings. Her hat was white, too, sir, and rather like yours as to shape." Slado looked slightly downcast at that. "Tho man in the shop told mc it was a model!" he muttered. "I think I shall ask for mj' money back." He went into Doyce's flat, Clinton and the porter bohind him. There were a number of photographs iu frames standing about. "Which of these?" he asked. "None of them, sir," the porter replied. " She was much better-looking than any of them." Slade nodded and thought for a moment. Then he turned to Clinton. "Get into touch with tho Yard," he said. "Tell them to broadcast tho young woman's description through tho B.B.C. and to hand it out to the newspapers. .Say we want to get into touch with her." He started a methodical search of tho flat while Clinton did the telephoning. In the end he found a diary—evidently Doyce's. He turned over the pages and gave a low whistle. "Perhaps now we're getting somewhere," ho said. " Look at this. An entry for February 24 which says ' S-;-£120.' Think of B girl whose name begins with S. Clinton." "Sylvia, Sybil, Susan, Sitch " "Sitch?" Slade scratched his head. "Oh, JOU mean Psyche—begins viith a P. Here's another entry—March 19, S, £75, cash. Now, why cash?" "Blackmail?" Clinton suggested. " Perhaps." Just then the telephone bell rang. Slade snatched off the receiver and heard a voice say; " Inspector Slade ? Information-room here, sir. We thought we'd find you there still. The Homo Office pathologist reports that Doyce was poisoned—with one of the digitalin group, so far as he can tell at this early stage. He'll give a fuller rejKirt later." "Thanks," said Slade, put the receiver on, and told Clinton. Clinton iniUod out a huge notebook and consulted it. "There's a man in the Trojan team who is a chemist, sir," he said. "His name is Sketchlcy." "All!" said Slade. "Now things get more and more interesting. We can exi>ect " He broke off as the lelephono bell went a second time. "luformation-room again, sir," said a voice. "We've had a lejjort from the Stadium, sir. Sonieono tried to break into the treatment-room, but was disturbed and got away. We thought you'd like to kiiow without delay, sir." "Thanks," said Slade. "You might ring through there on another line and ask for the address of Skelchley of the Trojan team, will yen ? I'll hang on." A minute later he replaced the receiver. He put Doyce's diary into his i)ocket and walked towards the door. "Come on, Clinton," he said. "We will now find the weapon thai did tho min-der." They got into (he waiting police car and drove out to the Stadium. They were met by I