Read Online The Killing of Katie Steelstock by Michael Gilbert - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Gilbert
Ads: Link
Walter.
Eight o’clock struck from St. Michael’s Church. The side door behind the stage opened and Detective Superintendent Knott stumped up the steps onto the stage and stationed himself in the centre of it.
All eyes were on him. The silence was absolute.
SIX
Knott said in his gravelly voice, “I have been informed by the representatives of the press that what I am doing here tonight is reconstructing the crime. That’s journalistic imagination. What I’m doing is quite different. I’m asking you to help me.”
There was a slight relaxing of tension. Was the man human after all?
“Most of you knew Katie and most of you, I guess, were very fond of her.” His eye rested for a moment on Mrs. Steelstock sitting at the back of the hall. There was evidence of a sleepless night in her grey face and a livid smear under each eye, but her mouth was set in an uncompromising line.
“Our first job in a case like this is to establish times and places. Then we can do some elimination and get down to facts. It seemed to me that the quickest way of doing this was for all of you to write down – Sergeant Shilling here has got plenty of paper – as accurately as you possibly can, when you left the hall last night and who left with you and where you went. That’s the reason I’ve got you all together. If one can’t remember, the chances are someone else will be able to help him out. If you were in a party, discuss the matter. Someone will be sure to have looked at his watch. Someone will have said, ‘We promised the babysitter we’d be home by eleven,’ or ‘We wanted to get back to see the late night film on the box.’ Talk about it. Argue about it. And when you’ve got the best answers you can, write your name and address on the top of the paper and give it back to the Sergeant. And let me assure you once more. There’s no trick about this. All we’re doing, in a manner of speaking, is to clear away the undergrowth. When that’s done, we may be able to see a few of the trees.”
As he said this he shifted his weight slightly, in a movement which seemed to throw his head forward. His eyes scanned the blur of faces in front of him. They were eyes which had seen a lot of brutality and stupidity and evasion and guilt.
“I believe he’s trying to hypnotise us,” said Mr. Beaumorris loudly to Mrs. Havelock. The audience was breaking up and re-forming into groups. A murmur of voices broke out and increased in volume. Suddenly everyone seemed to be talking at once.
“Like a cocktail party,” said Georgie Vigors.
“A slow start,” agreed Mr. Beaumorris, “but getting nicely under way with the second round of gins.”
He had taken a fountain pen from his pocket and was staring at the sheet of paper which Sergeant Shilling had put into his hand.
“Not bad,” said Knott as he shuffled through the papers. “Really not bad at all.”
He was seated behind a big table in the room behind the courtyard at the back of Hannington police station. It had been cleared and equipped for him. The wall facing the window was papered with an overlay of map sheets of West Hannington. These were from the Land Registry Map Section at Tunbridge Wells and were on a scale of twenty-five inches to the mile, large enough to show individual houses and gardens. There was a smaller-scale map of the surrounding area, with the new M4 running like a yellow backbone down the middle of it, from Exit 12 south of Reading to Exit 13 on the Newbury-Oxford road.
“We’ve got three estimates of the time Kate left the hall. Young Vigors, who was dancing with her, says it was about eleven o’clock. He says she slipped away quietly, saying she didn’t want to attract attention. Tony Windle confirms that. Another person who saw her go was Sally Nurse. She says it was a few minutes after eleven. Why she noticed the time was that she was surprised to see her go so early. Our Katie was usually one of the last to leave a party.”
Shilling
Eight o’clock struck from St. Michael’s Church. The side door behind the stage opened and Detective Superintendent Knott stumped up the steps onto the stage and stationed himself in the centre of it.
All eyes were on him. The silence was absolute.
SIX
Knott said in his gravelly voice, “I have been informed by the representatives of the press that what I am doing here tonight is reconstructing the crime. That’s journalistic imagination. What I’m doing is quite different. I’m asking you to help me.”
There was a slight relaxing of tension. Was the man human after all?
“Most of you knew Katie and most of you, I guess, were very fond of her.” His eye rested for a moment on Mrs. Steelstock sitting at the back of the hall. There was evidence of a sleepless night in her grey face and a livid smear under each eye, but her mouth was set in an uncompromising line.
“Our first job in a case like this is to establish times and places. Then we can do some elimination and get down to facts. It seemed to me that the quickest way of doing this was for all of you to write down – Sergeant Shilling here has got plenty of paper – as accurately as you possibly can, when you left the hall last night and who left with you and where you went. That’s the reason I’ve got you all together. If one can’t remember, the chances are someone else will be able to help him out. If you were in a party, discuss the matter. Someone will be sure to have looked at his watch. Someone will have said, ‘We promised the babysitter we’d be home by eleven,’ or ‘We wanted to get back to see the late night film on the box.’ Talk about it. Argue about it. And when you’ve got the best answers you can, write your name and address on the top of the paper and give it back to the Sergeant. And let me assure you once more. There’s no trick about this. All we’re doing, in a manner of speaking, is to clear away the undergrowth. When that’s done, we may be able to see a few of the trees.”
As he said this he shifted his weight slightly, in a movement which seemed to throw his head forward. His eyes scanned the blur of faces in front of him. They were eyes which had seen a lot of brutality and stupidity and evasion and guilt.
“I believe he’s trying to hypnotise us,” said Mr. Beaumorris loudly to Mrs. Havelock. The audience was breaking up and re-forming into groups. A murmur of voices broke out and increased in volume. Suddenly everyone seemed to be talking at once.
“Like a cocktail party,” said Georgie Vigors.
“A slow start,” agreed Mr. Beaumorris, “but getting nicely under way with the second round of gins.”
He had taken a fountain pen from his pocket and was staring at the sheet of paper which Sergeant Shilling had put into his hand.
“Not bad,” said Knott as he shuffled through the papers. “Really not bad at all.”
He was seated behind a big table in the room behind the courtyard at the back of Hannington police station. It had been cleared and equipped for him. The wall facing the window was papered with an overlay of map sheets of West Hannington. These were from the Land Registry Map Section at Tunbridge Wells and were on a scale of twenty-five inches to the mile, large enough to show individual houses and gardens. There was a smaller-scale map of the surrounding area, with the new M4 running like a yellow backbone down the middle of it, from Exit 12 south of Reading to Exit 13 on the Newbury-Oxford road.
“We’ve got three estimates of the time Kate left the hall. Young Vigors, who was dancing with her, says it was about eleven o’clock. He says she slipped away quietly, saying she didn’t want to attract attention. Tony Windle confirms that. Another person who saw her go was Sally Nurse. She says it was a few minutes after eleven. Why she noticed the time was that she was surprised to see her go so early. Our Katie was usually one of the last to leave a party.”
Shilling
Similar Books
