A Murder is Arranged (4 page)

Richardson took up his blue pencil and underscored the names “Nice” and “Paris.” Then he continued to read.

Richardson marked the paper “further report”, threw it into the registry basket and took up the papers relating to another case marked “pressing.”

During that afternoon fingers tapped on Richardson's door and the tap was followed by the entry of Inspector Dallas.

“I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir, but information has just been given me bearing on that case at Scudamore Hall in Surrey and I think that you ought to know it. This morning Chief Inspector Vernon was rung up by Mr Forge and was asked to come round without delay. I was in his office at the time so he asked me to go with him. We found Mr Forge in a state of great agitation. He told us that he had just discovered the loss of a very valuable uncut emerald which he kept in a locked drawer in his bureau. We asked him when he had last seen it. He said that it was on the evening before Miss Gask's body was found in Crooked Lane. He had shown it to her and other ladies of the party; he then replaced it in the drawer. He showed me the key of this drawer on a key ring in his pocket but said that though his instinct was always to keep the drawer locked he could not say positively that he had locked it on that occasion.”

“Ah!” sighed Richardson. “That's the type of man that makes things easy for criminals. Has Mr Forge mentioned his loss to any of his guests?”

“No sir; I found that he was reluctant to do this and I told him that in my view it would not help the course of justice if he did. Mr Vernon and I went over the bureau with camel-hair brush and powdered chalk but such fingerprints as we disclosed were blurred and quite useless for identification purposes.”

Richardson laughed shortly. “If you were writing detective fiction, Mr Dallas, no fingerprint would ever be blurred; they would always be made with the care necessary to assist police investigations.”

“Indeed, sir? I never read detective fiction.”

“Wise man. Real detective work doesn't leave much room for fiction. You are going to have your hands full over this case, I'm afraid. Half London and Paris seem to have been in and out of Scudamore Hall about that time. Of course there's the ex-convict butler.”

“Yes sir, but I think we may rule him out. He knows on which side his bread is buttered and with C.I.D. men from the Yard fussing round he'll not take risks.”

“Have you obtained a list of Mr Forge's guests at the Hall—I mean the guests who left in consequence of the murder?”

“Yes sir, and their addresses: that is what I am now going into.”

“Was he able to give you a good description of the emerald?”

“Only as regards the size and weight.”

“And have you circulated this in the pawnbrokers' list?”

“Yes sir; I've just sent that out to all pawnbrokers but I'm afraid this emerald may be in the hands of a receiver and we know how difficult it is to bring one of those fellows to justice.”

“Of course Mr Forge had no suspicion of any of his guests. Were they all chance acquaintances picked up in hotels?”

“Not all of them, sir. I've got one couple on this list who seem to be in the habit of living in hotels or on their friends. They are Mr and Mrs Ermine. Nothing is known against them in the Criminal Record Office and they may turn out to be beyond reproach. The other people on the list have all settled addresses and I should think that they are beyond suspicion.”

“Has Mr Vernon received any information from Paris about the murdered woman?”

“Yes sir. The information came this morning that she had lived in France for the last five years and that nothing is known against her. I've been round to the Passport Office and have seen the chief officer, who gave me the names of the two persons who recommended her when she took out the passport five years ago. Unfortunately both these persons are dead. They were men of position—a solicitor and a doctor both in considerable practice. Probably she knew them professionally.”

“Have you found out how she derived her income?”

“Not yet, sir. Her bankers say that she brought in sums of money in notes from time to time and had them credited to her current account. She seemed to have spent her time between France and England. There was only one cheque for three hundred pounds signed by Mr Forge. When asked about this he said that it was a loan to Miss Gask to enable her to start a dressmaking business.”

“Why should Mr Forge have lent this woman three hundred pounds?” said Richardson half to himself.

“From facts I have gathered I should think that Miss Gask was a young woman who lived on her wits and reaped little harvests from men of the type of Mr Forge.”

“Then in that case she may have picked up a number of shady acquaintances.”

“Yes sir, that is what I mean.”

“I noticed in your first report that you mentioned Huskisson as a young man in financial straits. Have you made any further enquiries about him?”

“Yes sir. He lives with his widowed mother, who has a small pension as the widow of a colonel. In business he has been more sinned against than sinning. He went into partnership with a man who had started on the road downhill. This man got away with Huskisson's share of the capital and left him stranded. Since then he has secured odd jobs as salesman for second-hand cars.”

“He was supposed to be in love with the dead woman, Miss Gask. Have you got any further details about that side of the story?”

“The only details I could get came from Mr Forge, who is a garrulous type of man and apt to embroider what he knows with details drawn from conjecture. On one point Mr Forge was emphatic. He said that the dead woman was very good looking and fascinating and Huskisson was extremely jealous if he saw her being civil to other men. He was even jealous of Mr Forge himself, who was his host.”

“I see from your report that there had been a quarrel between Huskisson and this woman. Who knew about this quarrel?”

“The report came originally from one of the servants but it was confirmed by Mr Forge. According to the servant who first reported the quarrel she went into the library during the morning to fetch Mr Huskisson, who was wanted on the telephone, and came upon him and the dead woman apparently struggling together. Neither heard her approach and as far as she could judge Huskisson was trying to wrest something from Miss Gask's hand by force. The struggle was quite silent.”

“Was this woman called as a witness at the inquest?”

“No sir; as it seemed likely to become a police case of some importance, Chief Inspector Vernon and I decided against giving the incident publicity.”

“What was Mr Forge's account of the quarrel?”

“Miss Gask herself had told him that she and Gerald Huskisson had had a quarrel during the morning about a letter she had received. She had refused to show it to him.”

“Then it may have been quite unimportant.”

“Yes sir; it may, but the servant told me that if it had been a letter she would have seen the paper. This was something solid that Miss Gask was holding in her clenched hand.”

“H'm. We all know the weakness servants have for importing cheap drama into everything that goes on in the household upstairs.”

“Yes sir; I'm taking that into account.”

S
OON AFTER BREAKFAST
on the day following the inquest on Margaret Gask a police officer called at Scudamore Hall and asked for Mr Oborn, who went down to the front door to see him. A few minutes later Oborn sought out his host and showed him a blue paper.

“Look at this,” he said.

“A summons? For dangerous driving? Lucky for you the woman isn't dead.”

“Why lucky for me? I've already told you that I never hit a woman or caused an accident.”

“Then you'll have a job to prove it. That reminds me of a question I meant to ask you. What made you put your car into a shed instead of the garage?”

“Well, there was no one about and I didn't want to give trouble. The fog was pretty thick and I shoved the car into the first empty shelter I could find. The next morning your garage man told me that he'd been attending to the boiler house when I came in. The car's in the garage now.”

“What beats me is why you took four hours and a half to get here from Kingston, which is only eight miles away. That woman was knocked down at three o clock and you arrived at 7.30 P.M.”

“I can see that you have swallowed the story of those two women. Why don't you come along with me to the court and hear the proceedings. I can promise you quite an amusing time.”

Forge showed his annoyance by his tone. “Why can't you give me a straightforward explanation if you've got one?”

“Oh, I'm saving that up for the court. I always like to make the police look foolish if I can. Besides, they should have served this summons last night. I'll have to take my car and go straight away if I'm to be in time. Are you sure I can't give you a lift?”

“No thanks,” said Forge shortly. “I shall hear all about it soon enough.”

“You resent the notoriety Scudamore Hall is getting and I don't blame you. I should feel just the same in your place.”

Forge watched him from the front door and saw him enter the garage, then on a sudden impulse he decided that he would like to hear the proceedings, though not in the company of the man most concerned. He entered the library in quest of Huskisson, who was immersed in a newspaper.

“Your newspaper can wait, my friend. Why not drive over with me to Kingston police court and hear how Oborn conducts himself from the dock.”

“What? Is he in trouble?”

“Yes; he's got a summons for dangerous driving when that woman was knocked down. I'm curious to hear how he will lie his way out of it.”

Huskisson threw down his paper and said, “When do we start? We seem to be getting quite a lot of police attention these days.”

“We do,” agreed Forge gloomily. “A good deal more than I like. Do you drive?”

“Rather—any kind of car. You forget that it's my job.”

“Good; then we needn't take Strong with us.”

He watched Huskisson examine the water in the radiator and start up the engine, then he took his place beside him in the car. There were none of the delicacies about Forge. They had scarcely reached the public road before he blurted out, “Do you like that fellow Oborn?” It might have been more delicately put by a host speaking of a guest but Huskisson had his answer ready.

“I don't know him well enough to say but I can see that you haven't taken to him.”

“You never spoke a truer word. I haven't taken to him. I was wondering whether he had the same effect upon others.”

“Well, if you won't think the question impertinent, why did you ask him here at all?”

“You know how it is when one's knocking about in hotels; one meets people and if they're decent folk one asks them to stay when one has a house of one's own. I wanted to fill the house for Christmas. You knew poor Margaret quite well; did you ever hear her mention Oborn's name?”

“Never.”

“That's curious. She told me that she knew him and he swears that she never met him before.”

“Another person of the same name, probably.”

“That's the explanation he gave when I tackled him but Oborn is not a common name in my experience…If it had been Osborn now…But here we are. That's the police court.”

There was only a sparse attendance in the public benches in the courthouse. When they entered the three magistrates sitting on the bench were disposing of two vagrants charged with hawking without a licence; these were wretched specimens of humanity and very dirty. Oborn was sitting on the front bench of the space reserved for the public. The constable acting as officer of the court called his name and ushered him into the dock. The solicitor acting as prosecutor engaged in a private colloquy with the chairman of the three magistrates sitting above him. It was his duty to keep them straight.

“The defendant is charged with dangerous driving at 3 P.M. on the nineteenth. He failed to stop at a pedestrian crossing, knocked down a woman and drove on without stopping to render aid. Happily the woman was not fatally injured. If she had been killed this man would have been charged with manslaughter.”