They Found Him Dead (25 page)

Hannasyde shook his head. "No. He certainly went to Brotherton Manor to play tennis, precisely as he says. He arrived at a quarter to four, the day Clement Kane was murdered, having been invited for half-past three. It all fits in quite clearly with the possibility of his having shot Clement Kane, but it doesn't make it any more than a possibility. According to his story, he lunched with a Mrs. Trent that Saturday and went on from her house to Brotherton Manor afterwards. She corroborates his story down to the last detail."

The sergeant, who knew his chief well, cocked an intelligent eye and said: "Oh, she does, does she? Pretty Paul make it worth her while to do so?"

"It wouldn't surprise me to learn that he had, but I've nothing to go on. She's a flashy blonde widow. Quite cool and collected. I couldn't catch her out."

"Ah, one of the hard-boiled Hannahs," said the sergeant, nodding. "There's just a bit of talk about her and Master Paul. Does she happen to remember what time he left her on Saturday to go to this tennis party?"

"Oh, she says he left her at five-and-twenty minutes past three. From her house in Portlaw to Brotherton Manor is just over twelve miles, by the coast road running past Cliff House. It's a good road, and not crowded. I should think he could have made the distance in twenty minutes, if he stepped on it a bit, which he says he did."

"Any servants to corroborate Mrs. Trent's valuable testimony?" inquired the sergeant.

"No. One general servant, who went off for her half-day immediately after lunch."

"Slight smell of dead rat about this story," said the sergeant; "looks to me like a put-up job. Any bright young fellow on point duty happen to remember seeing Paul's car leave the town?"

"Not a hope," replied Hannasyde. "She lives in Gerrard Avenue, and the only big crossing he had to negotiate before getting clear of the town is governed by traffic lights."

The sergeant said disgustedly: "That's what they call Progress, that is. It beats me what the world's coming to."

Hannasyde smiled a little but said, "Someone may have seen the car. Carlton is going into that."

"Not they," said the sergeant bitterly. "Or if anyone did, they won't be able to say for certain whether it was at a quarter-past three or a quarter to four. I've had some!"

"Well, it is just possible that if he's lying, and he did shoot Clement Kane, someone may have seen his car pulled up outside Cliff House. He didn't drive in the main gate, and I should think it unlikely that he drove in the tradesmen's gate. It's true there's no lodge there, but he'd hardly dare park his car inside the grounds. If he murdered Clement, I think he must have left his car in the road, entered the grounds by way of the tradesmen's gate, and reached the house under cover of the rhododendron thicket. Quite simple."

"Super," said the sergeant; "how many cars have you seen parked along the cliff road with their owners having a nice picnic inside?"

"Oh, I know, I know!" replied Hannasyde. "Any number. But Mansell's car must be well known in this district and might well have caught the attention of anyone familiar with it. It's a long shot, but sometimes our long shots come off, Skipper."

"Come unstuck, more like," said the sergeant, still in a mood of gloom. "A proper mess, that's what this case is. We don't know where it started, and if Terrible Timothy's right, we don't know where it's going to end. You don't know where to take hold of it, that's what I complain of. It's more like my missus's skein of knitting wool, after one of the kittens has had it, than a decent murder case. I mean, you get hold of one end and start following it up, and all it leads to is a damned knot worked so tight you can't do a thing with it. Then you grab hold of the other end, and start on that, and what you find is that it's a bit the kitten chewed through that just comes away in your hand, with the rest of the wool in as bad a muddle as ever. Well, I ask you, Super! Just look at it! First there's the old man. Perhaps he was murdered and perhaps he wasn't. And if he was murdered the same man did in Clement, unless it was another party altogether making hay while the sun shone. It makes my head go round. It doesn't make sense."

"Not as told by you," agreed Hannasyde. "It is a teaser, I admit. There are so many possibilities, and the worst of it is, we weren't in at the start."

"If it was the start," interposed the sergeant.

"If it was the start, as you say. I don't think we shall ever know for certain what happened to Silas Kane, though we may get at it by inference. The local police accepted Clement's story of his own movements that night, and he, on the face of it, was the likeliest suspect. But the fact of his having been murdered doesn't make it look as though he killed Silas."

"Unless the whole thing's a snowball," said the sergeant, "with each new heir doing in the last. I wouldn't put it beyond them."

"A trifle unlikely," said Hannasyde. "Try and get the case straight in your mind, Skipper. We have to consider it in several lights. First, we'll assume that both men were murdered, and by the same person, and presumably for the same motive. That rules out Dermott, Mr. Kane, Ogle, Lady Harte and Rosemary Kane. Lady Harte wasn't in England at the time of Silas Kane's death, and neither she nor Rosemary could have pushed a man over the cliff edge. They haven't the necessary strength. So we're left with James Kane and both the Mansells. Any one of the three could have committed both murders. James Kane has no alibi for the time of Silas Kane's death; Joe Mansell's depends entirely on his wife's testimony; Paul's once more on the ubiquitous Mrs. Trent, with whom he spent that evening."

"Yes, but there's a snag in all this, Super," objected the sergeant.

"There are several, because so far we're only working on assumption. We've got to look at the case from a second angle. Let us suppose that both men were murdered, but by different people and for different motives."

The sergeant moaned: "I can't get round to that."

"Most unlikely," assented Hannasyde. "But it could have happened. I'm by no means satisfied that Clement could not have motored his wife home on the night of Silas' death and himself driven back to Cliff House without her knowledge. They didn't occupy the same bedroom, remember. Clement wanted Silas' money badly, not for himself, but for his wife, with whom he seems to have been utterly infatuated. Assuming for the moment that he killed his cousin, just glance over the subsequent events. Upon his coming into the Kane fortune, Rosemary Kane, who, if gossip is to be believed at all, was on the verge of leaving him for Trevor Dermott, immediately gave Dermott the air. Well, you've seen Dermott. He's exactly the type of unbalanced man who sees red on very little provocation and behaves violently."

The sergeant stroked his chin. "It fits," he admitted. "The trouble is, all the theories fit. You can even have that one without making the old man's death out to have been murder."

"Oh, that's looking at the case from the third angle," said Hannasyde. "I haven't finished with the second yet. Having considered the combination of Clement Kane and Dermott, let's glance at the other combination. Clement remains fixed as Silas' murderer——"

"What about the Mansells?"

"Certainly not. The Mansells and James Kane must belong to the first angle—that both men were killed by the same person for the same motive. Retaining Clement, then, let's put Dermott aside. We are left with Mr. Kane, Ogle, and Lady Harte as suspects for the second murder. None of them very likely, but all of them possible. Now we'll take a look at it from the third angle, that Silas Kane met his death by accident."

"That's the worst of the lot," said the Sergeant. "It gives us the whole boiling to suspect."

"No, not quite. I think we must rule the Mansells out. If they didn't murder Silas for standing in their way over a business deal, it isn't very likely that they murdered Clement for doing so."

"Well, I suppose that's something," said the Sergeant. "All the same, it doesn't alter the stage much, does it? We've still got Jim Kane and his mother, Mrs. Kane and her maid, Rosemary Kane and her fancy boy, and, for all we know, Terrible Timothy. I make that seven."

"I refuse to consider Timothy," retorted Hannasyde. "Six."

"Don't know so much. What with these gangster films, and him being pretty well nuts on Crime, I wouldn't say it wasn't him. Still, I'll call it six."

"There may be a seventh," said Hannasyde. "But that depends on whether someone really is trying to make away with James Kane or not."

The sergeant blinked. "But that brings it round to the Mansells again, doesn't it, Chief?"

"Not quite conclusively. There's the cousin alleged to be living in Australia," said Hannasyde. "To be on the safe side, I've cabled to the police at Sydney for any information they can give us."

Discussion, incessantly promoted by Mr. Harte, on the probable cause of the
Seamew
's end was put a stop to by his mother, who forbade him to mention the matter again in her hearing. She herself, disbelieving his story, had no particular objection to his exercising his imagination in speculating upon the possibility of his stepbrother's life having been threatened, but Emily Kane, overhearing one of his more lurid flights, demanded to be told the whole and was so much disturbed by it that Patricia had considerable difficulty in soothing her alarms and coaxing her back to tolerably good humour.

Agitation in Emily invariably made her short-tempered.

She would have scorned to betray a feminine weakness or to ask for reassurance. She reassured herself by denouncing the bare idea of Jim's life being in danger as stuff and nonsense and saying she had never heard anything to equal it, found fault with everyone who came near her, and supposed that Timothy got his silly notions from his mother.

Norma took this in good part, laughing in genuine amusement and saying: "Quite wrong, Aunt Emily; he got these particular notions from his friend Roberts. I think they're ridiculous."

Emily's mouth worked. She glared at Lady Harte and said: "That man! What's it got to do with him? Encroaching ways! I've no patience with him!"

Jim came into the room in time to hear this familiar phrase and said promptly: "Somebody been annoying you, Aunt? You look horribly fierce."

From no one but Jim would Emily have tolerated such a teasing form of address, but since he could do no wrong in her eyes she merely nodded at him and replied: "If you take my advice, you'll send him about his business!"

"Who?" inquired Jim, beginning to fill his pipe.

"That Roberts. Your cousin wouldn't have anything to do with his flibbertigibbet scheme. I don't know what he wants here, treating the house as though it belonged to him!"

Jim let this somewhat unfair accusation pass unchallenged. "I imagine he's trying to unravel the mystery of Clement's death. Sometimes I think he's on to something the police haven't discovered, but he doesn't give away much."

Emily's twisted hands gripped the handle of her ebony stick more tightly. "Impudence! Poking his nose into our affairs! I'd like to give him a piece of my mind!"

"You probably will," said Jim, smiling down at her over the lighted match he was holding above the bowl of his pipe.

"Serve him right!" said Emily. "If people would mind their own business it would be a better thing for everyone."

"Well, I don't know," replied Jim. "If Roberts can clear up the mystery, I'm all for it. I think we've had about enough of it, and the police don't seem to be doing much, do they?"

"They're doing more than they're wanted to!" said Emily angrily. "Getting us into the papers and digging up what's best left alone! I don't know what your great-uncle would say if he were alive to see it."

"It's got to be dug up, Aunt, whether we like it or not."

She made no reply to this, but folded her lips, and sat with her remote stare fixed on the space before her.

Lady Harte said: "I don't think the publicity matters at all. One gets used to that sort of thing. I've had so much of it I never think twice about it."

"I dare say," said Emily disagreeably. She transferred her gaze to Jim's face. "What's this pack of nonsense I hear about your being in danger?"

"Just that," he answered. "A pack of nonsense."

"One of that Roberts' tales. What next, I wonder! The sooner we see the back of him the better. Putting ideas into Timothy's head!"

"To do him justice, I don't think he mentioned the matter to Timothy at all. He warned me. And though I personally think it's rot, you must admit it was a kindly act on his part."

Emily gave a short laugh. "Trying to get round you to fall in with his scheme, I've no doubt. Don't you go making any rash promises!"

He smiled and shook his head. Emily glared suspicion. "Have those Mansells been at you again?" she demanded.

"No. I met Joe Mansell in Portlaw today, and he said he wanted to talk things over with me. I've arranged to call and see him at the office tomorrow morning. I expect he'll bring the question up then."

"What are you going to say?"

"Nothing. I've been talking to Adrian about it——"

"I should like to know what he thinks he knows about it!" interjected Emily scornfully.

"Oh, Adrian's no fool!" said Lady Harte.