Agnes Lockwood Mysteries Collection

Chapter 12

The police officers spoke to the Chief Inspector, leaving the Pathologist to see to the body. Alan quickly filled them in with what he knew, though it was precious little.

“And who is this?” one of them asked, pointing towards Agnes.

“This is Mrs Lockwood,” replied Alan. “We discovered the body together. While I was bending over the body, she saw a window close up above.” He pointed upwards.

“Did you see which window it was?” The police officer was now addressing Agnes.

“Yes, it was that one on the first floor.” She pointed towards the window she meant. “There, just above that plaque on the wall.” She placed her hand in front of her mouth and looked at Alan. “Oh my goodness, this is Bessie Surtees House.” She paused. “And the window I saw being pulled shut, was the one Bessie climbed out of all those years ago when she eloped with her young man.”

The name of Bessie Surtees was well known on Tyneside. However, the story of the plucky young woman, who edged her way through the tiny window to run off with a man called John Scott, was now known worldwide.

Her father disapproved of his daughter marrying the penniless young man and had f*******n her to see him. But Bessie disobeyed her father and, despite wearing a crinoline dress, she managed to squeeze through the window and run off with her young man. There was a happy ending to the story as John proved his worth by becoming 1st Earl of Eldon and Chancellor of England.

“But that room is a museum now.” The officer took off his hat and scratched his head. “Why would anyone be in there at this time of night?”

“I don"t know,” said Agnes. “But that is the window I saw being closed after we found the body.”

“Did you see the face of the person closing the window?” asked the officer. He held his pen over his notebook ready to take down any useful notes.

“No,” said Agnes thoughtfully. “The window was almost closed when I looked up. I wasn"t able to see anyone"s face.”

“I see,” said the officer, lowering the notebook. “Not much to go on, is it?”

Agnes picked up the note of sarcasm in his voice.

“I suppose not. But on the other hand, you wouldn"t have known anyone was up there and that there is the possibility the woman was shot inside the house and thrown out of the window,” she retorted. “You would have simply assumed she was shot right here on the spot where she lies and begun your investigation in the wrong place.”

“The lady is right,” said Alan. He had been about to intervene when the officer made his curt remark. But Agnes had beaten him to it. “Therefore we now know we need to begin our investigation by checking out this old house.” He paused. “I suggest you get on with it, constable.”

“Yes sir.” The officer gave Agnes a sweeping glance before striding across to the door and tugging on the handle. “It"s locked,” he said with a shrug.

Alan stared at him. “Of course it"s locked. This is a museum. You need to find out who has the keys and get that person here tonight. Then you will have to check out all the other key holders. Find out where they were this evening – do I really need to spell it out for you?” He paused. “And you,” he said looking towards the other officer, “take a look around the back; see if any of the windows are open or broken. Meanwhile, I am going to commandeer your car and take Mrs Lockwood back to her hotel. I will return in a few minutes.”

“Right, sir.” The officer glanced at Agnes and mumbled something under his breath, before pulling out his phone.

The other officer had already disappeared to check out the rear of the building.

“I heard that,” Agnes said, as she strode past him towards the police car.

“Sorry, ma"am,” he said. He looked towards the senior officer hoping he hadn"t heard. Alan continued to walk to the car without as much as a glance at him. It seemed he hadn"t picked up his tetchy remark.

Alan pulled up at the hotel to find another police car parked outside. Looking further up the road, he was surprised to see his sergeant"s car.

“Now, what?” he mumbled under his breath as he opened the car door and stepped out onto the pavement.

Agnes didn"t wait for Alan to come around to open the passenger door; she quickly heaved the door open and clambered out. This evening was becoming more thrilling as the hours passed by.

“Gosh,” she uttered, excitedly. “I wonder what has been going on here.”

“I think we are about to find out,” Alan hissed as he saw his sergeant waiting for him at the entrance to the hotel.

“There"s been another theft. I put in a call for you, but I got a routed message saying you were on your way.” He paused, when he suddenly saw Agnes hurrying around from the other side of the car. “Good evening, Mrs Lockwood. I"m sure you don"t want to be caught up in another robbery. You must be very tired.”

“No, I"m fine,” she replied. “I think I need a drink. What about you,” she added looking at Alan, hinting that there was no way she was going to go anywhere without hearing all the details.

Alan shook his head. “Nothing for me,” he said. “But, yes, you go ahead.” He knew there was no way Agnes was going to disappear upstairs like a good little girl. “You say there"s been another robbery here at the hotel?” he added, turning back to Sergeant Andrews.

“Yes sir.”

“The woman is dreadfully upset.” He paused for a moment. “The manager is in his office. He"s in a bit of a state about all this.”

“I"m sure he is and what I have to tell him isn"t going to help.”

“Why, what"s happened?” Andrews asked.

“One of the guests has been murdered. Mrs Lockwood and I discovered the body about half-an-hour ago. Mrs Lockwood recognised her as a guest at the hotel.”

“Murdered! How? Where?”

“We found the body outside Bessie Surtees House. She had been shot in the head. We assume she had been thrown out of a window. Mrs Lockwood saw someone closing the window while I was examining the body. I left a couple of officers at the scene. I said I would only be a few minutes.”

“Please call me Agnes. Mrs Lockwood sounds so formal.”

Alan turned around in surprise. “I thought you had gone for a drink.”

“I did. I have it here.” Agnes held up her glass. “Have I missed anything?”

Alan shook his head. “No I was just telling Sergeant Andrews about the murder.” He turned back to his sergeant. “I think I better have a word with the manager. Is he in his office?”

Andrews nodded.

“Okay, I"ll just be a few minutes, and then you can bring me up to speed on the robbery before I go back to the murder scene.” Alan called out as he strode off through the reception.

Back at Bessie Surtees House, the chief inspector found more officers had arrived and the area had been cordoned off. Dr. Nichols, the pathologist, and his assistant loaded the body into the van. At this point, he was unable to tell Alan any more than he already knew. The woman had been shot within the last three hours. The bruises to her head had occurred after death. He explained that any further information would only be found once he had carried out a post mortem.

At that moment a man, escorted by a police officer, headed towards them. He was brandishing the key to the museum and didn"t look too happy at being dragged from his bed at such an unearthly hour.

“This is Mr Donaldson,” said the officer. “He is the museum curator.”

Mr Donaldson glanced briefly at the pathologist still dressed in white coveralls, before turning his attention to the chief inspector. “Your officer told me that you believe the victim was killed in the museum and the body was pushed through a window.”

Alan nodded. “Yes, that one.” He pointed to the window Agnes had seen being closed. He held his hand out for the key.

“That"s impossible. No one can get into the building without a key, the curator mumbled. He dropped the key into Alan"s hand.

“Well, it appears someone managed to do it,” replied the chief inspector. He handed the key to one of the police officers and nodded towards the door. “Unless of course one of the keys was stolen or…” he broke off and peered at the curator.

“Or,” Mr Donaldson prompted.

“Or one of the key holders is responsible,” Alan continued. “We need a list of everyone who carries a key to the building.”

“Isn"t it possible someone could have got in through a window at the back of the house – where they wouldn"t be seen?”

“Mm, now there"s a thought.” Alan folded his arms. “Why didn"t we think of that? So, are you saying the windows at the back of the building are usually left unlocked?”

“No! Of course not, I simply meant that it might have been forced or even broken,” Mr Donaldson snapped.

“Do you think we didn"t check the back of the house while we were waiting for you to turn up? None of the windows appear to have been forced or broken.” Alan was trying to stay calm, but this man was beginning to grate on his nerves. “We"ll take a better look once we are inside.”

While they had been talking, two police officers, followed by two forensic experts, had gone inside to check out the building. One of the officers now arrived back at the front door and told the chief inspector that there was no one inside. “Whoever did this has gone,” he said, gesturing towards where the body had been found. “Officers are checking for any evidence the perpetrators might have left behind. My colleague is making sure the windows haven"t been tampered with.” He paused and looked at the curator. “But this is starting to look like an inside job.”

The chief inspector nodded. It was certainly beginning to look that way. Or else, they were dealing with one very clever individual.

The pathologist had gone through the dead woman"s pockets before the body was moved, hoping to find something the chief inspector could work on. But there was nothing. Not even a driving license. Someone had removed all forms of identification before throwing the body from the window.

Alan had taken a photograph of the woman"s face earlier. He had shown it to the manager of the hotel when he had taken Agnes back. However, without a room number, the manager couldn"t name her. Yet he felt sure his reception staff would recognize her, once they saw the photo. “They deal with the guests on a one to one basis every day,” he"d said.

Alan had already forwarded the photo to his sergeant"s phone; instructing him to show it to all the night staff. If no one recognised her he was to have a copy printed off ready for the day staff coming on duty. For goodness sake, someone must know who the woman was.

Back at the hotel, Agnes was far from sleepy.

Once DCI Johnson went back to the murder scene, Sergeant Andrews tried again to persuade her to retire for the night. “Why not go to upstairs to your room? There is nothing you can do here.”

Are you kidding me? No way! Agnes thought. “I am a witness to the murder – well, a witness to seeing a window close after the body was found,” she told him. “What if Alan comes back and needs to speak to me? Anyway, what"s all this about another robbery? I mean that"s why you are here isn"t it?”

Are you kidding me? No way!“Yes it is,” Andrews replied. “But I can"t discuss the case with you.”

Agnes eyed him as she took another sip of her wine. “Was it Mrs Hargreaves again?”

“No it was…” The sergeant stopped mid-sentence and frowned. “You know I can"t tell you who it was.”

“Well, shouldn"t you be up there now questioning the woman about her missing jewellery?” She paused. “Asking all those questions about when she last saw it.”

“I have already tried to speak to…” He stopped short and frowned at her. “Look, I"m sorry, but I must go back upstairs. I left a constable with her until she calmed down a little.” Andrews started walking towards the door. “She was quite upset about the robbery.”

“Is the constable a man or a woman,” Agnes asked, catching up with him.

“It"s a man.” The sergeant stopped and looked at her. “I didn"t have any women constables with me.”

“Then perhaps I could be of help,” Agnes insisted. “I mean, as a woman, I could comfort her while you ask the necessary questions.”

Andrews looked at her. Perhaps she was right. When he had tried to question the woman earlier, she had been too distraught. It seemed the missing item was the last gift her husband had given her before he died.

“Okay,” he said after a long pause. “But if she is unhappy at you being in the room, you must leave immediately.” He sighed. This wasn"t supposed to be how it was done. But there seemed to be no alternative.

“Understood,” Agnes nodded. She placed her glass on a nearby table and followed the sergeant across the reception area.