Bobby McGee

Chapter Fifty-one. Scarsgill?

Chapter Fifty-one.

Scarsgill?

"Here comes the hero of the hour. You'd better go straight on through. His lordship wants to see you."

McGee hesitated, wondering what had happened. The duty officer at the front desk reacted to his perplexed look. "Haven't you heard? We caught the Watsons, all three of them, red-handed. They're all down in the cooler now, charged with possession of stolen property. Of course they're claiming innocence, saying they had nothing to do with the theft, that they bought the stuff, but their lorry was seen outside the church on the night of the robbery, and would you believe we found a collection plate in their shed. I think we've got 'em this time."

"That's great. Any connection to Mellanby?"

"This lot! They're all connected. I believe they're cousins."

"I mean was he involved?"

"Probably, but we've nothing on him. Now stop your yapping and git in there."

McGee for once could legitimately enter the situation room. His entrance was greeted with thumbs up signs from officers working the murder case. D.I. Wolfe, as usual was seated at his desk in his glass walled office. He was on the phone. He held up his left hand in his customary traffic cop manner. It was a signal for McGee to wait until the conversation was at an end. McGee sidled over to a table that was covered with oddments; a canvas bag, a couple of plastic bin liners, ropes tied with intricate knots, lead drainage pipes spotted with dark cherry paint and a collection of blue-veined rocks.

"Is this what I think it is?" He asked one of the detectives.

The young officer gave a curt nod in reply.

McGee's ruminations over the significance of the array were interrupted by Wolfe's sudden emergence from his office. Uncharacteristically, he came up to McGee, and congratulated him in front of his own detectives.

"A fine piece of police work, McGee. Two robberies solved in one swoop. Die stamping those lead sheets was the key. Well done! I shall be making sure that your contribution will be recognised in the report."

"Thank you, Sir."

Wolfe gave McGee a slap on the shoulder and started back to his office. He turned at the door. "One other thing, McGee. I've also been getting good reports about your work in the village. Keep it up, and maybe we'll be able to put the submarine fiasco behind us."

McGee blushed. If Wolfe only knew the whole story.

"Once again, well done McGee, now back to work."

McGee smiled in appreciation, nodded at the watching detectives, and made his way out of the situation room. As he did so he glanced at the situation board. There were no changes. They were at a dead-end too.

*****

McGee was convinced that Mo Mellanby was the key to solving the murder, but where was she? He wasted little time before broaching the subject with Meg at their next breakfast meeting.

"What can you tell me, Meg?"

"Nothing much, Dad. It happened over the summer holidays. I never saw her. The last I knew she was living at Three Bridges. The place where..."

"I know," interrupted McGee, wanting to keep the details of the encounter at Pine Cottage from Fletch's ears.

"I didn't know she was gone until school started. Giselle told me. She said that Mo had gotten herself pregnant and had gone away to have the baby."

"How did she know?"

"Hearsay, she was told by the housekeeper at Pine Cottage. Giselle told me that she hadn't seen Mo for weeks either."

"Have either of you heard from her since?"

"Not a peep."

"Strikes me," said Fletch in his ponderous tones, "that we might be looking at more than one murder here."

"I've been thinking that too," said McGee. "People can't just vanish off the face of the earth like this."

"Maybe she's hiding," suggested Meg.

"From who?"

"From whom, Dad?" Meg couldn't resist the opportunity to correct her father after years of being subjected to his complaints about her own sloppy speech. "I've been racking my brains over this. There are so many possibilities. She was such a tease."

"Is there any way we can narrow this down? Whoever dumped the body had access to a boat, lead drain pipes, some fancy rocks and knew how to tie a wicked knot."

"How do you know all this, McGee?"

"I saw the evidence on a table in the Situation Room."

*****

Meg mulled over this latest information. It seemed to fit. "Crikey, Dad, I think I know who could have done it."

"Well, out with it."

"Scarsgill, the chemistry teacher. He had a thing for Mo, and I know for a fact that he was a sailor. He didn't come back to school after the summer holidays either. Some kids said that he was fired, but maybe he just quit and scarpered."

McGee cringed at his daughter's use of the vernacular.

"How do the lead and the rocks fit?" Fletch asked.

"That's the clincher. I distinctly remember when I was going to the tutorials that he was having his drain pipes replaced, and he had quite a rockery."

"With blue-veined rocks?" McGee asked.

"Gee, I don't remember that. You'll have to check it out."

*****

McGee made two calls that Saturday afternoon. First, he arranged a viewing of Pine Cottage, on the pretext of buying the property. He was given a tour of the building, including the cringe inducing pink love nest. The elderly lady showing him the house had looked after the property ever since Mo's hurried departure,

"Do you remember the girl?"

"Of course I do. A gorgeous little thing! You would never have known she was pregnant."

"How did you know?"

"She told me."

"Have you any idea where she went?"

"No idea."

"Did she leave anything behind?"

"No. The house was clean as a whistle. I don't think she had any intention of coming back."

"Who drove her away?"

"A tall fellow driving a fancy car. I think it might have been a Bentley. He wasn't from round here - too much of a tan."

"Was he English?"

" I'm not sure. I didn't hear him speak. He might have been a Yank.

"What makes you think that?"

"His crew-cut."

*****

Later, McGee cycled down Springfields to Scarsgill's former home. The house had been sold, and the new owners had no objection to McGee searching the grounds. He found no old drain pipes, but noticed the wood frame of the house had been painted a dark cherry red. The clincher, as Meg would put it, was the discovery of blue-veined ornamental stones in the rockery.

Amazingly, the new owners were in regular contact with Scarsgill. They were able to give McGee an address in Whitby.

How careless could a murderer be? Maybe Scarsgill never expected the body to be found.

McGee worked late that night, writing and rewriting a report summarizing the evidence against Scarsgill. The report was on D.I. Wolfe's desk by the next morning.