Chapter 2
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"So we start off with our intrepid hero, Peter Newkirk," Peter Newkirk narrated, "who, after thrashing the Germans, ending the war, and being decorated by the weeping and grateful King of England himself, has, through his unbelievable intelligence and cunning, his encyclopaedic knowledge of the streets and his breathtaking comprehension of the criminal mind, decided to become a detective."
"What about his steely-eyed bravery and his gallant, heroic nature?"
"No need to get snippy, Andrew. I realize that I learned the lesson at a young age, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try to grasp it yourself."
"Lesson? What lesson?"
Newkirk looked heavenwards. "That we can't all be me," he pronounced nobly.
"I got news for ya, buddy - I don't even think you can be you."
"Carter, are you trying to see the inside of your skull?"
"What the heck are you talking about? No, I'm not trying to see the inside of my skull."
"Then stop doing that with your eyes! Blimey, I'm never going to get this story started."
"Sorry."
"All right. So Peter Newkirk - "
"Our intrepid hero."
"Carter!"
"Okay, okay." Carter pretended to zip his lips and Newkirk went on.
--x--
"So Peter Newkirk, or I should say I, since it's me," Newkirk started,
"I was sitting in my favourite arm-chair, in my tastefully done flat, and reading the Times when the telegram came. Postmarked from…um…
--x--
"What's the hold up?"
"I'm trying to think of a good name. What do you think about Squinchley-on-the-Green?"
"That's awful!"
"What about…Upper Tidwell, then?"
"Peter Newkirk, the intrepid hero of Upper Tidwell. Yeah, that sounds about right."
"You must've been a right bundle of joy for your parents come bedtime, Andrew."
"Just tell the story."
--x--
Postmarked from Upper Tidwell, Newkirk started once more, the telegram ran like this:
YOUR ASSISTANCE VITAL ON HOCHSTETTER CASE STOP WILL CALL ON YOU 12:00 TODAY STOP HOGAN
Now, this was a big case. It was all over the papers and the wireless. Gruesome job, too. That being the case, I'd reckoned I'd be called in sooner or later and so I'd followed it closely, but there'd been no mention of the name Hogan.
Just then, my assistant came in. Useful enough bloke to have around, I suppose, but a bit dim. So let's call him… Carter.
--x--
"Hey!"
"Oi! No shouting out from the cheap seats, if you please."
--x--
Carter came in and I told him to take a seat so we could hash out who might have had a hand in the whole business.
"I don't know anything," Carter said to me. No surprises there, but I was willing to fill him in.
"Squire Hochstetter of Upper Tidwell, Sussex; local magistrate, richest sod in the district and a thoroughly nasty bit of work by all accounts, was murdered in his home last night. There's a whole household of suspects - butler, house servants, chauffeur, groom, lodge-keeper, couple of gameskeepers, and whatnot. - but it looks as though his nephew James Kinchloe is the one what's gonna be sent up for the job."
"Why him?" Carter asked.
"It's like this: last night it said, the squire and his nephew were having their dinner, round about 8:00. Then, afterwards, the squire sent for his horse and went out for a ride, which took about an hour. After he came back, 'im and his nephew went into the study and sent for some port. When the butler came with the port, he were just outside the door when he said he heard a right to-do going on inside. He knocked and went in with the port and, according to him, the two gents must've been having a blazing row, because they were flushed in the face and very brusque with him. Now that was pretty usual for the old squire, he says, but the nephew was never like that with any of the staff and so it was something what the butler remarked on to himself. In fact, he never even saw the nephew's face. Klink, that's the butler, said Kinchloe stood by the window, looking out onto the night with his arms crossed over his chest, and wouldn't even turn to look at him, let alone say 'Thank you, Klink' like he always does."
"Then what happened?"
"Later that night, just after midnight the butler says, the whole house was woken by a scream from the hall. Rushing down, still in their night-clothes, they were shocked to find Squire Hochstetter lying senseless in a pool of blood, with his skull split like the skin of bursting grape. And standing in 'is dressing-gown, right next to the body of the dying man, was Jimmy Kinchloe with a blood-stained axe in his hand!"
--x--
"For Pete's sake, Newkirk, an axe-murderer? You're trying to help me get to sleep with a story about an axe-murderer?"
"Blimey, Carter, you can't have a good story without a murder in it! It wouldn't be British!"
--x--
As I went on to explain to my assistant, things looked very dark for poor James Kinchloe. Not only was he holding the murder weapon in his very own hands, but Squire Hochstetter, not quite dead yet, his head in Klink's lap as the valiant butler tried to staunch the blood, has to up and raise himself on his elbows, and with his dying breath, condemn his nephew by whispering 'It - was - Catch - low! It - was - Catch -!' before sinking back and passing from this earth.
The local constabulary were summoned, just in time to confuse the issue and generally bugger things up no doubt, but in this case it did look as though things were open and shut. James Kinchloe was arrested for the murder of his uncle, Squire Hochstetter, and in the papers it says he was removed to Lewes.
Carter sat for awhile, puzzling over the whole thing. "What did Kinchloe say about the fight with his uncle?" he finally asked me.
"According to the Times, he told the police he and his uncle had been rowing about the Squire selling off part of the estate. Said his uncle had been doing that a lot of late - selling bits off, I mean - and Kinchloe wanted to know why. Told all this to the police voluntarily, I might add."
"Does that mean he's innocent?" Carter asked eagerly. He hates to see people hang, you see.
"Could be a clever ploy on his part, mate, so don't get your hopes up," I cautioned. "With the facts the way they are, I can't see any way out of it for this Kinchloe bloke. Why this Hogan is even coming here is a mystery - I don't think even I can see where things happened any different than what the police say they did."
There was a knock on the door and Carter went to open it. He showed our visitor into the room and took his coat for him.
Mr. Hogan was dynamic and handsome man, with dark hair and wearing the suit of a successful chap who knows how to dress. However, his face was pale and wore the expression of a beaten man.
"I'm grateful you could see me, Mr. Newkirk. By your reputation, you're the only man who can help me now."
"I'm willing to lend a hand, mate," I said, "but I don't see what I can do."
"Just hear me out, that's all I ask. If you can't shed any light on the whole mess, I'll know it's over."
--x--
" 'Ere! Wot you laughing at then?"
Carter clasped his hands together like someone praying in supplication. "Oh, Mr. Newkirk! Please, please, help us! We don't know what to do without you! Save us, Mr. Newkirk! You're our only hope!"he pleaded in a high falsetto, just barely managing to get through it before bursting out into hysterical laughter.
"Your parents didn't smack you nearly enough as a child, you know that? It would serve you right if I stopped telling you the story," Newkirk pouted.
"Oh, c'mon Peter, I'm sorry. I didn't mean nothing by it. Go on with the story. I'll be quiet, I promise."
"Fine."
--x--
"I'm James Kinchloe's lawyer," Mr. Hogan told us. "And I swear to you the police have got it wrong. Kinch is one of the finest men I know. He could never have done something like this."
"Not the way I read it."
"But you've never met the man. His whole life he's had a reputation for being both a gentle and honourable individual."
"Very well, we'll hear you out. By the way, who's in charge of the case?"
"In view of the horrific nature of the murder, Scotland Yard has sent down Inspector Lebeau - Mr. Newkirk, is there something wrong?"
"No. Why do you ask?"
"The strangest look went across your face when I mentioned the Inspector's name."
"It's no matter, mate. But I think I will take your case after all."
And I was smiling. Now we were going to have some fun!