Detection Unlimited (9 page)

what he was doing when the housekeeper sounded the gong for his supper. She states that she had to sound it twice, him not hearing it the first time.'

'Where was the housekeeper all this time?'

'Between the kitchen and the dining-room, getting supper ready, and laying the table. The dining-room's at the front of the house, and the kitchen's behind it, at the back. There's a pantry between the two, with communicating doors. She states that she always goes from one room to the other through the pantry, which would account for her not having seen Mr Drybeck. What I mean is, she never went into the hall during that half-hour, so there was no reason why she should have seen him.'

'If the kitchen's at the back doesn't it overlook the garden?'

'No, sir, not properly speaking. There's just a bit of ground outside the kitchen-window, like a gravel-yard, and then there's a laurel-hedge, shutting off the kitchen from the garden.'

'Nice, cheerful look-out,' commented Hemingway, his eyes on the plan. 'So what it boils down to is that from about seven o'clock to seven-thirty this Mr Drybeck might have been anywhere. If this plan of yours is accurate, I make it under half a mile from his place to Fox House.'

'Yes, sir. He'd have had to pass Miss Patterdale's cottage, of course.'

'Any reason why he shouldn't have walked across this common?'

'He could have done that,' admitted the Sergeant.

'Well, that isn't to say he did,' said Hemingway, in consoling accents. 'I can see he isn't a popular candidate for the chief role in this highly interesting drama. What terms was he on with Sampson Warrenby?'

The Sergeant hesitated, casting a glance at Colonel Scales. But the Colonel did not raise his eyes from his pipe, which had gone out, and needed attention. The Sergeant said, a little awkwardly: 'Well, sir, I wouldn't say they was on good terms. I don't want to put it too high, but it's a fact that Mr Warrenby has done Mr Drybeck a good deal of harm, professionally speaking -- him being what you might call very go-ahead, and Mr Drybeck more old fashioned, like. Very successful, Mr Warrenby has been.'

'All right,' said Hemingway, apparently dismissing Mr Drybeck.' Tell me a bit about the rest of the dramatis personae! You can skip this Miss Patterdale of yours, and young Mr Haswell, and the niece -- I've forgotten her name, but as she's got an alibi, same like the other two, I daresay it doesn't matter.'

The Colonel looked up. 'You have a good memory, Chief Inspector!'

Inspector Harbottle, casting upon his superior a look of vicarious and slightly melancholy pride, made his voice heard. 'He has that, sir.''That'll be all from you, Horace!' said the Chief Inspector conclusively. 'Let's take this Pole of your first, Sergeant! If I'd been told there was a Pole mixed up in this case I'd have reported sick. What's his unnatural name?'

The Sergeant once more consulted his notes. 'Zamagoryski,' he enunciated painstakingly. 'Though they mostly seem to call him Mr Ladislas, that being his Christian name.'

'Well, we'll call him that too, though a more unchristian name I never heard!' said Hemingway. 'The sooner we can be rid of him the better. I've had one case with a Georgian mixed up in it, and two more with Poles, and they pretty nearly gave me a nervous breakdown. This Ladislas, now, who was seen riding his motor-bike up Fox Lane shortly after five-thirty, how does he come into the picture?'

'Well, sir, they do say, in the village, that he's running after Miss Warrenby, and that her uncle wouldn't have him, not at any price. He's some sort of an engineer by profession, and he's got a job at Bebside's. He lodges with Mrs Dockray, in one of the cottages beyond Mr Drybeck's house. That one,' the Sergeant added, indicating it on the plan. 'Nice-looking young fellow, in his way, but a bit excitable. By what he told me, though I'm bound to say I wasn't attending very closely, it not being any of my business, he used to be very well-off before the War. Estates, and such, in Poland. He was so keen on telling me I thought it best to let him get it off his chest. One or two of the gentry have taken him up, but most of them don't know him. He got to know Miss Warrenby, through meeting her at the Vicarage, and it seems she took a fancy to him. She's a very kindhearted young lady. She told me she was sorry for him in the first place, and got to like him enough to be very friendly. Quite frank she was about it. Said it was true her uncle had forbid her to have anything to do with him, but that she hadn't held with that kind 63 of snobbishness. Seems they used to go for walks together, and to the pictures once or twice, when Mr Warrenby was away. Well, it was like I told you, sir. He was seen turning into Fox Lane on his motor-bike, round about five-thirty, by Miss Kingston. She keeps the sweet-shop in the village, and she'd gone out for a bit of an airing on the common, after she closed the shop. Quite definite it was him. Well, you wouldn't mistake him: he's a very dark, handsome sort of chap, and foreign-looking.'

'Didn't see him come out of the lane again?'

'No, sir. She wouldn't have, though, being on her way back to the village.'

'What's his story?'

'First he swore he hadn't been near Fox Lane, but I don't set much store by that, because by the time I saw him it was all over the village Mr Warrenby had been shot, and I don't doubt he had the wind up. After we got through with that, and with him working himself into a state because of him being foreign and everyone against him, he admitted he had gone to Fox House, to try if he could see Miss Warrenby. He didn't know she'd gone to a tennis-party. On account of its being Saturday, and Mr Warrenby likely to be at home, he says lie left his bike a little way away from the house, and went in the side-Kate that leads to the kitchen, meaning to ask the maid if he could have a word with Miss Warrenby. Only, Saturday's her half-day, so she wasn't in. He says he knocked on the kitchen-door, and when he Hot no answer he went away again. Swears he was back at Mrs Dockray's before six, and never stirred out again. But as she'd gone off to the pictures, here in Bellingham, leaving him a bit of cold supper, she can't corroborate that.'

'Does he own a rifle?'

'He says not, sir. So far, I haven't been able to discover that he docs. Mrs Dockray said she's seen him with one once, but that turned out to have been a couple of weeks ago, and was Mr Lindale's 22 which he lent him, and which was subsequently returned to him. Corroborated by Mr Lindale. He's the gentleman who owns Rushyford Farm -- this place, on the Hawkshead Road.'

' Well, let's take him next,' said Hemingway. 'I see his farm is very conveniently placed for this footpath which leads to the stile at the top of Fox Lane. Any reason why he should want to murder Sampson Warrenby?'

The Colonel answered this. 'None at all, on the face of it. He's a newcomer to the district. Bought Rushyford Farm a matter of two years ago. Used to be a stockbroker. Got a very pretty wife, and one child. I fancy they're fairly newly-wed: the child's only an infant.'

'That's right, sir,' corroborated the Sergeant. 'There doesn't seem to be any reason to think he could have had anything to do with the murder, barring the fact that he didn't like the deceased, which he makes no bones about, and having been pestered by him a bit to try to get him appointed as solicitor to the new River Board. Mr Warrenby seems to have been set on that, but by what I can make out they none of them wanted him.'

'Who are 'they'?' demanded Hemingway. 'Shouldn't have thought it was much of a job to be after, but I don't know a lot about River Boards.'

'Oh, no, it isn't!' said the Colonel. 'That is to say, there's not a great deal to be got out of it, but it would make quite a pleasant addition to his business. My own view of the matter is that he wanted it for social reasons. It would bring him into contact with the sort of people he was ambitious to know. Give him more of a finger in county affairs, too. Pushful sort of man, you understand. The appointment is pretty well in the hands of just those people: the Squire, Gavin Plenmeller, Henry Haswell, and Lindale. They're all riparian owners, and they represent the interests of the Fishery rights. The Rushy runs through the Squire's and Lindale's lands; and Haswell and Plenmeller both own property on it. I can't see what bearing a thing like that has on murder. If Lindale hadn't been at that party, he wouldn't, in my opinion, have come into the case at all.'

'Well, sir, seeing as his movements, between the time he left The Cedars, at 6.50, as near as I can get at it, till close on 7.30, aren't corroborated by any witness --'

'Oh, yes, yes, Carsethorn, you were quite right to interrogate him!' the Colonel said impatiently. . 'What does he say his movements were?' asked Hemingway.

'At or around 6.50,' said the Sergeant, his eyes on his book, 'he left The Cedars, in company with Mr Ainstable, by way of the gate on to the footpath. Mrs Lindale had gone off home by the same route about a quarter of an hour earlier. The woman who works for her daily isn't prepared to swear to the time when she got back to the farm, but she says she'd been in a considerable time by seven o'clock, 65 which is when the woman leaves. Of course, she could have gone out again later, but it don't seem likely, not with the baby. She's not one to leave her baby. Mr Lindale accompanied Mr Ainstable a little way up the path. Then the Squire turned off to look at his new plantation, and Mr Lindale walked on to Rushyford Farm. He says he didn't go into the house immediately, but went off to see whether his chaps had finished a job they had to do, repairing some fencing in one of his water-meadows. That's some little distance from the house. The men had gone off by that time, of course, and he didn't meet anyone. He says he went home by way of his wheat-field, and was in by 7.30. Which Mrs Lindale corroborates.'

'Well, that's all right, as far as it goes,' said Hemingway.'What about this Squire you talk of?'

'Mr Ainstable. It's like I told you, sir. He went off to look at the plantation, and didn't get home till about a quarter to eight. Mrs Ainstable, I should mention, had left the party early, by car, at 6.30. That's corroborated by Mr Plenmeller. He met her in the drive -- he'd been back to his house to fetch some papers the Squire wanted -- and she stopped to have a word with him. Seems she wasn't very well: he says she looked bad, and was very nervy. She's a bit of an invalid. Another person who went away early was Mr Cliburn, the Vicar. He went directly after tea, to visit a sick parishioner. I should say that's all right, sir. I haven't yet checked up on him, but --'

'Well, don't, unless you're hard up for a job,' Hemingway advised him. 'Of course, we may have to fall back on him, but if we do, all I can say is I shall be surprised, and it takes a lot to surprise me. I might he able to swallow the Vicar's wife, at a pinch, but even that'll take a hit of doing.'

'Mrs Cliburn and Miss Warrenby were the last to leave, sir,' said i he Sergeant, uncertain how to take the Chief Inspector. 'They both left at ten past seven, Miss Warrenby going by way of the garden-gatc, and Mrs Cliburn down the drive to Wood Lane. I've checked up on that. There's an old chap who lives in one of the cottages in the High Street, facing Wood Lane. He was sitting on his doorstep, and he saw Mrs Cliburn come down the lane. He couldn't say what time that was, because he wasn't noticing particularly, but it seems Mrs Cliburn stopped to pass the time of day with him, and then went straight into the Vicarage. He says he saw Mr Plenmeller too, and that he didn't go to Thornden House but along the street to the Red 66 Lion. And he didn't have a rifle, because that's something old Rugby would have been bound to have noticed.'

'Well, we can rule out Mrs Cliburn, too,' said Hemingway. 'Which brings us to this chap with the queer name. I've heard it before, but I don't seem able to put a face to it.'

'I suppose you might have heard it,' said the Colonel grudgingly. 'He writes detective stories. Don't read 'em myself, but I'm told they're very ingenious.'

'Yes, I thought this case sounded a bit too good to be true,' said Hemingway. 'So I'm stuck with one of these amateur crime-specialists, am I, sir? Has he got an alibi?'

'There seems to be some doubt about that,' replied the Colonel, on a dry note. 'You'd better tell him what Plenmeller said to you, Sergeant. He may as well know what he's up against.'

'Well, sir, it's a fact I don't know what to make of him,' confessed the Sergeant. 'Anyone would think there was nothing he liked better than to be mixed up in a case of murder! I ran him to earth at the Red Lion this morning, drinking a pint with Major Midgeholme, just after twelve. Quite the life and soul of the bar, he was, holding forth about the murder, and saying how he was sure the Major's wife had done it, because of Mr Warrenby having been brutal to one of her little dogs. All by way of a joke, of course, but you could see the Major didn't like it. So then Mr Plenmeller started in to prove how he might have done it himself. Very humorous he was, I'm sure, but not having the whole day to waste I stepped up to the bar, and told him who I was, and said I'd like a word with him. And if you was to ask me, sir, that was all he needed to make him quite happy. Anyone would have thought the whole thing was a play, and we was having drinks between the acts, and talking it over. Indecent, I call it, not to say coldblooded! Naturally I'd no thought of asking him questions in a public bar: my idea was we'd step up to his house, but that wouldn't do for him. 'Oh', he says, 'you want to know where I was at the time the crime was committed, and I'm sure I haven't got an alibi!' The Major took him up pretty sharp on that, and said as how he knew very well he was on his way home when the rest of them -- him, and Mr Drybeck, and Miss Dearham -- set off in young Mr Haswell's car. 'Ah!' says Mr Plenmeller, 'but how do you know I did go home? I might have been anywhere,' he says, 'and Crailing -- that's the landlord of the pub -- will swear I didn't come in here till 67 close on eight last night!' Which, however, Crailing didn't do, not by a long chalk! He said he was positive Mr Plenmeller came in long In-fore that, though he couldn't be sure what the exact time was. Then I'm blessed if Mr Plenmeller didn't tell him not to go saddling him with an alibi he didn't want. Before I could say anything, the Major spoke to him, very military. Told him not to make a fool of himself, and to stop trying to turn the whole thing into a farce. So then he laughed, and said it was all such good copy he wasn't going to he pushed out of it, and it was going to be very valuable to him to know how it felt to be what he called a hot suspect. However, he got a bit more serious after that, and he said that actually he had gone home before stepping down the street to the Red Lion, though he didn't think he could prove it, because so far as he knew Mrs Blindburn -- that's his housekeeper -- couldn't have seen him, being in the kitchen, and certainly wouldn't have heard him, because she's as deaf as a post. Which is true enough: she is.'