A Blunt Instrument (19 page)

"Not much," said Hannasyde.

"Well, if it comes to that I don't fancy it a lot myself," confessed the Sergeant. "The trouble is that whichever way you look at it that North dame's story gums up the works. We've got to believe she hid behind the bush at some time or other, because we found her footprints. Similarly we've got to believe she went back into the house, because of the postman's evidence."

"Exactly," said Hannasyde. "And, according to your latest theory, she went back into the study when Fletcher was dead. Now, you've seen the photographs. Do you seriously think that a rather highly strung woman, seeing what she must have seen from the window, deliberately went into the study?"

"You never know what women will do when they want something badly, Chief. She wanted her IOUs."

"That won't do, Hemingway. She could not have opened the desk drawer without moving Fletcher's body. She must have known that before she set foot in the room. We can take it she didn't go in to try and render first aid, because if she had she'd have called for help, not stolen out of the house without saying a word to anyone."

"She might have done that if she knew the murderer was her husband."

"If she knew that I can't think she'd have gone into the study at all. Unless she and he are working together, which hypothesis is against all the evidence we have, I don't believe she saw the murder done."

"Wait, Super! I've got it!" the Sergeant said. "She couldn't see into the study from behind the bush, could she?"

"No."

"Right! North leaves at 10.02. He's the man Ichabod saw. Mrs. North, not knowing what's been happening, creeps up to the study window to see. That's reasonable, isn't it?"

"So far," agreed Hannasyde. "Where's Carpenter? Still in ambush?"

"That's right. Now, you say Mrs. North wouldn't have gone through the study. She had to!"

" Why?"

"Ichabod!" said the Sergeant triumphantly. "By the time she was all set to do a disappearing act down the path, he must have reached the gate. She wouldn't risk hiding in the garden with the late Ernest lying dead in the study. She had to get clear somehow, and her best chance was through the house."

Hannasyde looked up with an arrested expression in his eyes, "Good Lord, Skipper, you may be right! But what happened to Carpenter?"

"If he was hidden behind one of the bushes by the path he could have sneaked back to the gate as soon as Ichabod passed him on his way to the study. Must have done."

"Yes, possibly, but bearing in mind the fact that the other man left the garden at 10.02, and made off as fast as he could walk towards the Arden Road, and was seen by Glass to turn the corner into it, how did Carpenter manage (a) to guess in which direction he'd gone, and (b) to catch up with him?"

"There you have me," owned the Sergeant. "Either he had a lot of luck, or it didn't happen."

"Then how do you account for his having known who North was? The Norths have been kept out of the papers so far." He paused, tapping his pencil lightly on the desk. "We've missed something, Hemingway," he said at last.

"If we have, I'd like to know what it is!" replied the Sergeant.

"We've got to know what it is. I may find it out from North, of course, but somehow I don't think I shall. He's more likely to stand pat, and say nothing."

"He'll have to account for his movements last night, and the night of the late Ernest's murder."

"Yes. But if he gives me an alibi he can't substantiate and I can't check up on, I shall be no better off than I am now. Unless I can trace the connection between him and Carpenter, or prove he was in Barnsley Street last night, I haven't any sort of case against him. Unless I can rattle his wife into talking - or him, through her," he added.

"I suppose it's just possible North may have had a meal at that restaurant friend Charlie was working at," suggested the Sergeant doubtfully.

"I should think it in the highest degree unlikely," replied Hannasyde. "North's a man of considerable means, and if you can tell me what should take him to a fly-blown restaurant off the Fulham Road I shall be grateful to you. You were with me when I visited the place: can you picture North there?"

"No, but no more I can at any of those joints in Soho," said the Sergeant. "But it's a safe bet he's dined at most of those."

"Soho's different." Hannasyde collected the scattered documents before him, and put them away in his desk. "Time we both went home, Skipper. There's nothing more to be done till we've seen North. I propose to pay him a visit first thing in the morning - before he's had time to leave the house, in fact. I'll leave you to look after this end of the business. No need for you to attend the inquest. See what you can dig out of Carpenter's past history. I'll take Glass along with me to the Norths', just in case I need a man."

"He'll brighten things up for you, anyway," remarked the Sergeant. "I'm sorry I shan't be there to hear him give his evidence at the inquest. I bet it's a good turn."

Superintendent Hannasyde reached Marley at halfpast eight on the following morning, but he was not the first visitor to the Chestnuts. At twenty minutes to nine, as Miss Drew sat down to a solitary breakfast, a slender figure in disreputable grey flannel trousers, a leather patched tweed coat, and a flowing tie, was ushered into the room by the slightly affronted butler.

"Hullo!" said Sally. "What do you want?"

"Breakfast. At least, I've come to see if you've got anything better than we have. If you have, I shall stay. If not, not. Kedgeree at home. On this morning of all mornings!"

"Are you going to the inquest?" asked Sally, watching Neville inspect the contents of the dishes on the hotplate.

"No, darling, but I'm sure you are. Herrings, and kidneys and bacon, and a ham as well! You do do yourselves proud. I shall start at the beginning and go on to the end. Do you mind? Something rather nauseating in the sight of persons eating hearty breakfasts, don't you think?"

"I am what is known as a good trencher-woman," replied Sally. "Roll, or toast? And do you want tea or coffee, or would you like a nice cup of chocolate to go with all that food?"

"How idly rich!" sighed Neville, drifting back to the table."Just coffee, darling."

"You're one of the idle rich yourself now," Sally reminded him. "Rich enough to buy yourself a decent suit, and to have your hair cut as well."

"I think I shall get married," said Neville meditatively.

"Get married?" exclaimed Sally. "Why?"

"Aunt says I need someone to look after me."

"You need someone to furbish you up," replied Sally, "but as for looking after you, I've a shrewd notion that in your backboneless way, Mr. Neville Fletcher, you have the whole art of managing your own life weighed up."

He looked up from his plate with his shy, slow smile. "Art of living. No management. Is Helen a witness?"

She was momentarily at a loss. "Oh, the inquest! No, she hasn't been subpoenaed so far. Which means, of course, that the police are going to ask for an adjournment."

"I expect she's glad," said Neville. "But it's a great disappointment to me. One of life's mysteries still unsolved. Which story would she have told?"

"I don't know, but I wish to God she'd tell the true story to John, and be done with it. You've no idea of the atmosphere of cabal and mystery we live in. I have to think before I speak every time I wish to make an observation."

"That must come hard on you," said Neville. "Where are they, by the way?"

"In bed, I should think. John didn't get in till very late last night, and Helen hardly ever appears till after breakfast. I suppose Miss Fletcher's going to the inquest?"

"Then you suppose wrong, sweetheart."

"Really? Very sensible of her, but I made sure she'd insist on going."

"I expect she would if she happened to know it was being held today," he agreed.

She regarded him curiously. "Do you mean you've managed to keep it from her?"

"No difficulty," he answered. "Entrancingly womanly woman, my aunt. Believes what the male tells her."

"But the papers! Doesn't she read them?"

"Oh yes! Front and middle page of The Times. All cheaper rags confiscated by adroit nephew, and put to ignoble uses."

"I hand it to you, Neville," said Sally bluntly. "You've been a brick to Miss Fletcher."

He gave an anguished sound. "I haven't! I wouldn't know how! You shan't tack any of your revolting labels on to me!"

At that moment Helen came into the room. Her eyes looked a little heavy, as though from lack of sleep, and the start she gave on seeing Neville betrayed the frayed state of her nerves. "Oh! You!" she gasped.

"I never know the answer to that one," remarked Neville. "I expect it's similarly dramatic, but I can't be dramatic at breakfast. Do sit down!"

"What are you doing here?" Helen asked.

"Eating," replied Neville. "I wish you hadn't come down. I can see you're going to disturb the holy calm which should accompany the first meal of the day."

"Well, it's my house, isn't it?" said Helen indignantly.

Sally, who had risen, and walked over to the sidetable, came back with a cup and saucer, which she handed to her sister. "You look pretty rotten," she said. "Why did you get up?"

"I can't rest!" Helen said with suppressed vehemence.

"Night starvation," sighed Neville.

Helen cast an exasperated glance at him, but before she could retort, the butler came into the room, and said austerely: "I beg your pardon, madam, but Superintendent Hannasyde has called, and wishes to see the master. I have informed him that Mr. North is not yet down. Would you have me wake the master, or shall I request the Superintendent to wait?"

"The Superintendent?" she said numbly. "Yes. Yes, you must tell the master, of course. Show the Superintendent into the library. I'll come."

"What for?" asked Sally, when the butler had withdrawn. "He didn't ask for you."

"It doesn't matter. I must see him. I must find out what he wants. Oh dear, if only I could think!"

"Can't you?" asked Neville solicitously. "Not at all?"

"For the Lord's sake, drink your tea, and don't agitate!" said Sally. "If I were you I'd let John play his own hand."

Helen set her cup and saucer down with ajar. John is not your husband!" she said fiercely, and walked out of the room.

"Now we can resume the even tenor of our way," said Neville, with a sigh of relief.

"I can't," replied Sally, finishing her coffee in a hurry. "I must go with her, and try to stop her doing anything silly."

"I love people who go all out for lost causes," said Neville. "Are you a member of the White Rose League too?"

Sally did not trouble to reply to this, but went purposefully out of the room. Her arrival in the library coincided with that of the butler, who informed Hannasyde that Mr. North was shaving, but would be down in a few minutes.

Helen looked at her sister, with a frown in her eyes. "It's all right, Sally. I don't need you."

"That's what you think," said Sally. "Morning, Superintendent. Why, if it isn't Malachi! Well, that is nice! Now we only want a harmonium."

"A froward heart," said Glass forbiddingly, "shall depart from me. I will not know a wicked person."

Helen, who had not previously encountered the Constable, was a little startled, but Sally responded cheerfully: "Quite right. Evil associations corrupt good manners."

"Be quiet, Glass!" said Hannasyde authoritatively. "You have asked me, Mrs. North, why I wish to see your husband, and I will tell you quite frankly that I wish to ask him to explain his movements on the night of Ernest Fletcher's death."

"And what could be fairer than that?" said Sally.

"But my husband told you! You must remember. Surely you remember! He spent the evening at the flat."

"That's what he told me, Mrs. North, but it was unfortunately not true."

Sally had been engaged in the task of polishing her monocle, but this remark, dropped like a stone into a mill pond, made her look up quickly. "Good bluff," she remarked. "Try again."

"I'm not bluffing, Miss Drew. I have proof that between the hours of 9.00 p.m. and 11.45 p.m. Mr. North was not at his flat."

Helen moistened her lips. "That's absurd. Of course he was. He can have had no possible reason for having said so if it weren't true."

Hannasyde said quietly: "You don't expect me to believe that, do you,. Mrs. North?"

Sally stretched out her hand for the cigarette-box. "Obviously not. According to your idea, my brother-inlaw may have been at Greystones."

"Precisely," nodded Hannasyde.

A flash of anger made Helen's eyes sparkle. "Be quiet, Sally! How dare you suggest such a thing?"

"Keep cool. I haven't suggested anything that wasn't already in the Superintendent's mind. Let's look at things sanely, shall we?"

"I wish you'd go away! I told you I didn't need you!"

"I know you wish I'd go away," replied Sally imperturbably. "The Superintendent wishes it too. It stands out a mile that his game is to frighten you into talking. If you've a grain of sense you'll keep your mouth shut, and let John do his own talking."

"Very perspicacious, Miss Drew," struck in Hannasyde. "But your words imply that there would be danger in your sister's being frank with me."

Sally lit her cigarette, inhaled deeply, and expelled the smoke down her nostrils. "Quite a good point. But I'm nearly as much in the dark as you are. Not entirely, because I have the advantage of knowing my sister and her husband pretty well. Do let's be honest! It must be evident to a child that things look rather black against my brother-in-law. He apparently had a motive for killing Ernest Fletcher; his sudden return from Berlin was unexpected and suspicious, and now you seem to have collected proof that the alibi he gave you for 17 June was false. My advice to my sister is to keep her mouth shut. If her solicitor were here I fancy he would echo me. Because, Mr. Superintendent Hannasyde, you are trying to put over one big bluff. If you'd any real evidence against my brother-in-law you wouldn't be wasting your time talking to my sister now."

"Very acute of you, Miss Drew; but aren't you leaving one thing out of account?"