do you think brought us to Sittingbourne, Wyatt?’
Wyatt frowned.
‘I haven’t the least idea,’ he said.
Sir James puffed out a stream of smoke.
‘You remember Mildred Gillow,’ he said quietly.
‘Of course,’ nodded Wyatt. ‘She worked with me on the Ariman job – smart little blonde – one of the best women police I ever came across when it came to tailing a suspect – next to Sally, of course!’
Sir James could not repress a smile, for the romance between Lionel Wyatt and policewoman Sally Spender had been the talk of the Yard for weeks. Sally had been very temperamental, and it had taken a lot of persistence on Wyatt’s part to persuade her to abandon her career for the less exciting duties of the home. In fact, he never ceased to marvel secretly at the manner in which she had settled down to life on the small-holding.
‘Sally used to know Mildred Gillow quite well, too,’ went on Wyatt. ‘Nothing wrong with her, I hope?’
Sir James shook his head.
‘She hasn’t been too well, lately. Hasn’t been sleeping – generally off colour. She was given a few days special sick leave, and was due back on duty two days ago. She spent the leave with an aunt in Sittingbourne, and left there in good time to catch a train to report for duty … but she never arrived. This morning, her father received a bracelet of hers, with a small slip of paper wrapped round it. Here it is.’
Sir James took out his wallet, extracted a piece of paper and passed it over to Wyatt, who examined it carefully, then handed it back.
‘Why pick on this “Mr Rossiter” stunt?’ he mused with a puzzled frown.
‘He’s probably trying to confuse us,’ said Lathom. ‘When he was over here before, he was known as Ariman – that was a touch of vanity all right, but he left no messages lying around. He’s out to keep us guessing, and this “Mr Rossiter” business is one way of sidetracking us. As a matter of fact, there was a petty blackmailer named Rossiter operating when Ariman was last over here, but we know for certain he’s been going straight ever since he came out of Wandsworth two years ago. And he was never the type to go through with murder and then advertise the fact!’
Wyatt carefully knocked the ashes out of his pipe.
‘So you’ve been down to Sittingbourne to check up with Mildred Gillow’s aunt, I take it,’ he said. ‘Did you have any luck?’ Almost as soon as he had spoken, he felt himself blushing.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he said to Perivale. ‘It’s no business of mine, of course. But I wouldn’t like to think anything had happened to Mildred and—’
‘It’s all right, Wyatt,’ interrupted Sir James, waving aside the apology. ‘This matter may well concern you very closely indeed. In fact, you may be able to help us more than anyone – you know this customer better than any of us. It was you who chased him out of the country.’ He hesitated a moment, then asked: ‘Wyatt, d’you think Ariman knew Mildred Gillow was helping you?’
‘Certainly,’ replied Wyatt at once. ‘He made at least one attempt to get her out of the way.’
Sir James and Chief Inspector Lathom exchanged a significant glance which did not escape Wyatt.
‘You think “Mr Rossiter”, alias Ariman, has been gunning for Mildred, and that maybe he’ll try and settle a few old scores with me?’ he demanded with a faint grin.
‘That would be yet another confirmation that Ariman and Mr Rossiter are one and the same person,’ Sir James reminded him.
‘Yes,’ agreed Wyatt thoughtfully, ‘I suppose it would. But what am I supposed to do about it?’
Sir James shifted rather uneasily in his chair.
‘You can listen to the rest of my story, and then give us the benefit of your advice, if nothing else,’ he suggested in a tone that carried a hint of mild reproof.
‘Of course, Sir James,’ said Wyatt at once. ‘I’m only too willing to help, but I’m rather out of touch these days. Smoking out bees is more in my line.’
‘All the same, something might occur to you …’ Wyatt took Sir James’ glass and refilled it. Lathom, however, refused a second glass. When he had returned to his chair, Wyatt demanded with obvious interest:
‘Is there anything else about Mildred Gillow, Sir James? Did you find anything at her aunt’s place?’
‘Nothing of any importance except an empty medicine bottle on the shelf in her bedroom. We took it down to the local chemist, who had made up the prescription, and got him to look up the doctor’s name in his book. It was a Doctor G. H. Fraser, in Wimpole Street.’
‘Do you know the doctor?’
Sir James shook his head.
‘And the prescription?’
‘Just a sedative.’
‘Then why was the bottle so important?’
‘Because,’ explained Sir James deliberately, ‘a prescription was found on the dead body of Barbara Willis, made out by the same doctor.’
Wyatt thoughtfully smoothed the bowl of his pipe against, the palm of his hand.
‘That’s certainly a point,’ he agreed. ‘Have you interviewed this doctor yet?’
It was Lathom’s turn to speak.
‘I did telephone the doctor as a matter of routine, before we found the bottle, but there was no reply. It’ll be my first port of call when we get back to Town.’
‘I hope nothing’s happened to Mildred,’ said Wyatt with a thoughtful frown. ‘Sally would be upset; they were great chums in the old days. It’s a nasty business all round – isn’t there any sign of a motive in the other girl’s death?’
Sir James shrugged.
‘All I can tell you is that Barbara Willis’ body was found at a little Devonshire fishing village called Shorecombe, not far from Dawlish. A Norwegian named Hugo Linder was out fishing with one of the locals, an old chap called Bill Tyson. Linder was on holiday there – I believe he still is.’
‘Have you questioned him?’
‘Yes, he seems reasonable enough. Both he and the old boy got rather a nasty shock, and I think it genuinely upset them.’
Wyatt nodded absently, picturing the two men hauling at their nets and suddenly revealing the ghastly sight of the dead girl’s body.
‘Was it death by drowning?’ he asked.
‘No, the girl had been strangled. The body had been in the water somewhere between five and eight hours, as far as we could judge.’
Wyatt picked up his pencil and began doodling on his scribbling pad. The Ariman case had worried him more than any of his others, and the memories
