The Killing of Katie Steelstock by Michael Gilbert Read Free Book Online

but I shall need a bit of space to work in. Could you organise some screens?”
    “Screens?” said Dandridge vaguely.
    Detective Sergeant Esdaile, who had just arrived on his bicycle, said, “There should be a few screens and posts in the boathouse. They had them up round the Gents’ at the regatta.”
    “Is the boathouse locked?”
    “Cavey’s got the key.”
    Hearing his name, Cavey climbed out of the car and shambled forward. He averted his eyes from the thing on the ground. Yes, he had a key of the padlock which held the big sliding doors, but it was back at his cottage.
    “If he goes back to fetch it,” said the doctor, “he could telephone for help. You’re going to need all the hands you can get.”
    Dandridge turned this over in his mind and then said, “Right. Give McCourt a ring, too. He can get down here quick on his moped. And then get onto Detective Superintendent Farr, at Reading.” He pulled out a pocket book and scribbled down the numbers.
    “Tell him we’ve got a case of suspected murder. Will he please contact the Chief Constable and then get here as quickly as he can. After that, you might pack up the dance at the hall. Don’t say anything about this, of course. The last thing we want is a lot of people coming down to have a look.”
    The doctor drew a line with his toe in the dust. “Screens here and here,” he said. “And we ought to think about blocking the towpath altogether.”
     
    McCourt ignored the telephone as long as he could before stretching out a hand. He listened to Mr. Cavey, said “What?” and “Where?” and then “Right” and tumbled out of bed. By the time he got to the boathouse, progress had been made. Three hessian screens had been put up, one along the edge of the path and one at either end, forming three sides of a square inside which Dr. Farmiloe was at work. A long flex had been run out from the boathouse. The light he was working by was an incongruous string of red, white and blue bulbs which had last been used to adorn the rostrum at the annual regatta. White tapes marked off a further area of grass on each side of the screens.
    Sergeant Esdaile said, “Now we’ve got Ian here, Skipper, couldn’t he go and break the news to Mrs. Steelstock?”
    Dandridge brought himself back from wherever his thoughts had taken him and said, “Mrs. Steelstock?”
    “She’ll have to know sometime. It doesn’t hardly seem right just to telephone her. Ian’s got his moped. He could do it easiest.”
    “Yes,” said Dandridge. He moved across and peered over the top of the screen as though he was hoping that Dr. Farmiloe might have brought Katie back to life. “I suppose that’s right. You do that.”
    McCourt looked as if the job was one he would willingly have refused and started to say something. But Dandridge had retired into the hinterland of his own thoughts and was staring at him blankly as McCourt remounted his moped and bumped off along the towpath. When he reached the corner of River Park Avenue, he noticed that there were lights still on in Heavealong, but that Shalimar was dark. There was a little coolness in the air now and he was glad of it. He was not looking forward to what he had to do.
    The front door of the Manor House was opened to him by Walter. He said, “Come in. You were lucky to find me up. The others are in bed. Is there some trouble?”
    McCourt told him what had happened. Walter seemed to take in the information with deliberate slowness, absorbing it piece by piece, as though to cushion the shock. He said, “Have we really got to wake Mother up? She’s probably just got off to sleep.”
    “The Superintendent thought she ought to know as soon as possible.”
    “Then I’d better do it. Peter needn’t know until tomorrow.”
    He had himself well under control, the Sergeant thought. He said, thankfully, “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He was outside the front door when he heard Mrs. Steelstock cry out. It was a cry of pain and