A Blunt Instrument (22 page)

Hannasyde was awaiting them in the library still with Neville. North said to him, with a slight, rueful smile: "We owe you an apology, Superintendent. I rather think we've rendered ourselves liable to criminal prosecution."

"Yes, you've been thoroughly obstructive," replied Hannasyde, but with a twinkle. "Now, Mrs. North, will you please tell me exactly what did happen while you were at Greystones on the 17th?"

"I did tell you," she said, raising her eyes to his face. "It was quite true, my story. Really, it was!"

"Which one?" inquired Neville.

"The one I told the Superintendent at the police station that day. I did hide behind the bush, and I did go back into the study to look for my IOUs."

"And the man you saw enter the study? You're quite sure that Fletcher saw him off the premises before 10.00 p.m.?"

"Yes, absolutely.,

"And you heard Fletcher returning towards the house just before you left the study?"

She nodded. "Yes, and he was whistling. I heard his step on the gravel path. He was strolling, I think, not hurrying at all."

"I see. Thank you."

Sally saw that he was frowning a little, and said shrewdly: "You don't like my sister's evidence, Superintendent?"

"I wouldn't say that," he answered evasively.

Just a moment," said Neville, who had been jotting some notes down on the back of an envelope. "Do you think I could have done this? 10.01, my uncle alive and kicking; 10.02, man seen making off down Maple Grove; 10.05, my uncle discovered dead. Who was the mysterious second man? Did he do it? Was I he? And if so, why? Actions strange and apparently senseless. I shall resist arrest."

"No question of arrest," announced Sally. "There's no case against you. If you did it, what was your weapon?"

Neville pointed a long finger at Hannasyde. "The answer is in the Superintendent's face, loved one. The paper-weight! The paper-weight which I myself introduced into the plot."

Hannasyde remained silent. Sally replied: "Yes, I see that. But if you had murdered Ernie, it would have taken some nerve to make the police a present of your weapon."

"Yes, wouldn't it?" he agreed. "I should have stuttered with fright. Besides, I don't see the point. What would I do it for?"

"Oh, the overweening conceit of the murderer!" said Sally. "That's a well-known feature of the homicidal mind, isn't it, Superintendent?"

"You have made a study of the subject, Miss Drew," he answered non-committally.

"Of course I have. But my own opinion is that Neville doesn't suffer from that kind of conceit. You can say it was a piece of diabolical cunning, if you like, but there again there's an objection. There was no reason why you should suspect the paper-weight more than any other of the weapons there must be at Greystones. So why should he have brought it to your notice?"

"Perverted sense of humour," supplied Neville. "The murderer's freakish turn of mind. I shall soon begin to believe I'm guilty. Oh, but just think of me murdering a man for his millions! No, I won't subscribe to it: it's a repulsive solution to an otherwise recherche crime."

"Yet it is, I believe, a fact that your financial condition, at the time of your uncle's death, was extremely precarious?" said Hannasyde.

North, who had been standing behind his wife's chair in silence, intervened at this, saying in his even way: "That question, Superintendent, should surely not be put to Mr. Fletcher in public?"

Neville blinked. "Oh, isn't that sweet of John? And I quite thought he didn't like me!"

Hannasyde said, with something of a snap: "Quite right, Mr. North. But as, at the outset of this interview, I made it plain that I wished to interrogate him in private, and he refused to allow Miss Drew to leave the room, you will agree that discretion on my part would be quite superfluous. I am, however, still prepared to see Mr. Fletcher alone, if he wishes it."

"But I don't, I don't!" said Neville. "I should dither with fright if closeted with you alone. Besides, Miss Drew is acting as my solicitor. I shouldn't dare to open my mouth if she weren't here to check my irresponsible utterances."

"Then perhaps you will tell me whether I am correct in saying that you were very awkwardly placed, as regards finance, at the time of your uncle's death?"

"Well, no," answered Neville diffidently. "I didn't find anything awkward about it."

"Indeed! Are you prepared to state that you had a credit balance at your bank?"

"Oh, I shouldn't think so!" said Neville. "I never have at the end of the quarter."

"Were you not, in fact, very much overdrawn?"

"I don't know. Was I?"

"Isn't this a- little unworthy of you, Mr. Fletcher? Did you not receive a communication from your bank, on the 14th of the month, informing you of the state of your overdraft?"

"Ah, I thought that was what it was about!" said Neville. "It generally is. Though not always, mind you. The bank once wrote to me about some securities, or something, of mine, and it led to quite a lot of trouble, on account of their stamping the name of the bank on the envelope. Because, of course, when I saw that I put the letter into the waste-paper basket. I mean, wouldn't you?"

"Are you asking me to believe that you did not open the bank's letter?"

"Well, it'll make things much easier for you if you do believe it," said Neville engagingly.

Hannasyde looked a little non-plussed, but said: "You did not, then, apply to your uncle for funds to meet your liabilities?"

"Oh no!"

"Did you perhaps know that it would be useless?"

"But it wouldn't have been," objected Neville.

"Your uncle had not warned you that he would not be responsible for your debts?"

Neville reflected. "I don't think so. But I do remember that he was most annoyed about an episode in my career that happened in Budapest. It was all about a Russian woman, and I didn't really want Ernie to interfere. But he had a lot of hidebound ideas about the honour of the name, and prison being the final disgrace, and he would insist on buying me out. He didn't like me being County Courted either. I've always thought it would probably save a lot of bother to be declared bankrupt, but Ernie couldn't see it in that light at all. However, I don't want to speak ill of the dead, and I expect he meant well."

"Unpaid bills do not worry you, Mr. Fletcher?"

"Oh, no! One can always fly the country," said Neville, with one of his sleepy smiles.

Hannasyde looked rather searchingly at him. "I see. A novel point of view."

"Is it? I wouldn't know," said Neville innocently.

Helen, who had been leaning back in her chair, as though exhausted, suddenly said: "But I don't see how it could have been Neville. It isn't a bit like him, and anyway, how could he have done it in the time? He wasn't anywhere in sight when I left the house."

"Peeping at you over the banisters, darling," explained. Neville. "When you think that Helen was in the study at 10.00 p.m., and my dear friend Malachi at 10.05, I had a lot of luck, hadn't I? What do you think, Superintendent?"

"I think," said Hannasyde, "that you had better consider your position very carefully, Mr. Fletcher."

Chapter Thirteen

"What do you suppose he meant by that?" asked Neville, as the door closed behind Baker, ushering Superintendent Hannasyde out.

"Trying to rattle you," replied Sally briefly.

"Well, he's succeeded," said Neville. "I'm glad I ate that handsome breakfast before he came, for I certainly couldn't face up to it now."

"Talking of breakfast -'began North.

"How insensate of you, if you are!" said Neville. "Helen, darling, you have such a fertile imagination: are you quite sure you really saw Ernie showing his strange visitor out?"

"Of course I'm sure! What would be the point of making up such a tale?"

"If it comes to that, what was the point of deceiving John all this time?" said Neville reasonably. "Irrational lunacy - that's tautology, but let it stand - peculiar to females."

She smiled, but replied defensively: "It wasn't irrational. I know now it was silly, but I - I had a definite reason."

"It would be nice to know what that was," he remarked.

"Or no, on second thoughts, it would probably tax my belief too far. Only inference left to John was that you had committed what the legal profession so coyly calls misconduct with Ernie. Sally and I nearly wrote him an anonymous letter, divulging the whole truth."

"In some ways, I wish you had," said North. "If you will allow me to say so, it would have been far more helpful than your efforts to get your uncle to give back those IOUs. I've no doubt your spirit was willing, but -'

"Then you know very little about me," interrupted Neville. "My spirit was not in the least willing. I was hounded into it, and just look at the result! Being regarded as a sort of good Samaritan, which in itself is likely to lead to hideous consequences, is the least of the ills likely to befall me."

"I'm terribly sorry," sighed Helen, "but even though you didn't get my notes back, and we did land ourselves in a mess, my bringing you into it did lead to good. If I hadn't, John and I might never have come together again."

Neville closed his eyes, an expression on his face of acute anguish. "What a thought! How beautifully put! I shall not have died in vain. Ought I to be glad?"

"Look here!" Sally interposed. "It's no use regretting what you've done. You've got to think about what you're going to do next. It's obvious that the police suspect you pretty hotly. On the other hand, it's equally obvious that they haven't got enough evidence against you to allow of their applying for a warrant for your arrest. The question is: can they collect that evidence?"

Neville opened his eyes, and looked at her in undisguised horror. "Oh, my God, the girl thinks I did it!"

"No, I don't, I've got an open mind on the subject," said Sally bluntly. "If you did it, you must have had a darned good reason, and you have my vote."

"Have I?" Neville said, awed. "And what about my second victim?"

"As I see it," replied Sally, "the second victim - we won't call him yours just yet - knew too much about the first murder, and had to be disposed of. Unfortunate, of course, but, given the first murder, I quite see it was inevitable."

Neville drew a deep breath. "The weaker sex!" he said. "When I recall the rubbish that has been written about women all through the ages, it makes me feel physically unwell. Relentless, primitive savagery! Inability to embrace abstract ideas of right and wrong utterly disruptive to society. Preoccupation with human passions nauseating and terrifying."

Sally replied calmly: "I think you're probably right. When it comes to the point we chuck all the rules overboard. Abstractions don't appeal to us much. We're more practical than you, and - yes, I suppose more ruthless. I don't mean that I approve of murder, and I daresay if I read about these two in the papers I should have thought them a trifle thick. But it makes a difference when you know the possible murderer. You'd think me pretty rotten if I shunned you just because you'd killed one man I loathed, and another whom I didn't even know existed."

"I'm afraid, Sally, you're proving Neville's point for him," said North, faintly smiling. "The fact that he is a friend of yours should not influence your judgment."

"Oh, that's absolute rot!" said Sally. "You might just as well expect Helen to have hated you when she thought you were the murderer."

"So I might," he agreed, apparently still more amused.

"Well, we've wandered from the point, anyway," she said. "I want to know whether the police can possibly discover more evidence against you, Neville."

"There isn't any evidence! I keep on telling you I had nothing to do with it!" he said.

"Who had, then?" she demanded. "Who could have had?"

"Oh, the mystery man!" he said airily.

"With what motive?"

"Same as John's. Crime passionnel."

"What, more IOUs?"

"No. Jealousy. Revenge. All the hall-marks of a passionate murder, don't you think?"

"It's an idea," she said, knitting her brows. "Do you happen to know if he'd done the dirty on anyone?"

"Naturally I don't. I should have spilt the whole story, dear idiot. But lots of pretty ladies in Ernie's life."

"You think some unknown man murdered him because of a woman? It sounds quite plausible, but how on earth did he manage to do it in the time?"

"Not having been there, I can't say. You work it out."

"The point is, will the Superintendent be able to work it out?" she said.

"A much more important point to me is, will he be able to work out how I could have committed both murders?" retorted Neville.

Both points were exercising the Superintendent's mind at that moment. Having told PC Glass in a few well-chosen words what he thought of his conduct in condemning the morals of his betters, he set off with him towards the police station.

"The Lord," announced Glass severely, "said unto Moses, say unto the children of Israel, Ye are a stiffnecked people: I will come up into the midst of thee in a moment, and consume thee."

"Very possibly," replied Hannasyde. "But you are not Moses, neither are these people the children of Israel."

"Nevertheless, the haughtiness of men shall be bowed down. They are sinners before the Lord."

"That again is possible, but it is no concern of yours," said Hannasyde. "If you would pay more attention to this case, and less to other people's shortcomings, I should be the better pleased."

Glass sighed. "I have thought deeply. All is vanity and vexation of the spirit."

"There I agree with you," said Hannasyde tartly. "With the elimination of both Mr. and Mrs. North, nearly everything points now to Neville Fletcher. And yet - and yet I don't like it."

"He is not guilty," Glass said positively.

"I wonder? How do you arrive at that conclusion?"

"He has not seen the light; he has a naughty tongue, and by his scorning will bring a city into a snare; yet I do not think him a man of violence."

"No, he doesn't give me that impression either, but I've been wrong in my summing up of men too often to set much store by that. But whoever murdered Fletcher must also have murdered Carpenter. Perhaps it was young Fletcher - but I'd give a year's pension to know what he did with the weapon!"

"Is it so certain that the same weapon was used?" asked Glass in his painstaking way.

"It seems extremely probable, from the surgeon's reports on the injuries in each case."

"What of the man whom I saw? He was not Neville Fletcher."

"Perhaps Carpenter."

Glass frowned. "Who then was the man seen by Mrs. North?"

"I can't tell you, unless again it was Carpenter."

"You would say that he returned, having been sent away? For what purpose?"

"Only he could have answered that, I'm afraid."

"But it seems to me that the matter is thus made darker. Why should he return, unless to do Fletcher a mischief? Yet, since he himself is dead, that was not so. I think the man Fletcher had many enemies."

"That theory is not borne out by what we know of him. There was always the possibility that North might have been the murderer, but no one else, except Budd, who does not correspond with the description of the man in evening dress seen last night, has come into the case. And we've been into Fletcher's past fairly thoroughly. A nasty case. The Sergeant said so at the start."

"The unholy," said Glass, his eye kindling, "are like the chaff which the wind driveth away!"

"That'll do," said Hannasyde coldly, terminating the conversation.

When the Sergeant heard, later, that North's innocence was established, he spoke bitterly of resigning from the Force. "The hottest suspect we had, and he must needs go and clear himself !" he said. "I suppose there's no chance his alibis were faked?"

"I'm afraid not, Skipper. They're sound enough. I've been into them. We seem to be left with Neville Fletcher only. He has no alibi for last night. He admits, in fact, that he was in London."

"Well," said the Sergeant judicially, "if it weren't for his work on Ichabod, I'd as soon pinch him as anybody."

"I know you would, but unfortunately there's a snag - two snags. He stated, quite frankly, that he was wearing a dinner jacket suit last night. But he also said that his hat was a black felt. The man we want wore an opera hat."

"That's nothing," said the Sergeant. "He probably made that up."

"I don't think so. No flies on that young man. He said it was the only hat he possessed. I could so easily disprove that, if it weren't true, that I haven't even tried to. What is more, he is either a magnificent actor, or he really didn't know what I was driving at when I questioned him on his movements last night."

"All the same," said the Sergeant, "if North's out, young Neville's the only one who could have done it in the time."

"What time?"

The Sergeant answered with a touch of impatience: "Why, between Mrs. North's leaving and Ichabod's arrival, Chief!"

"Less time than that," corrected Hannasyde. "The murder must have been committed after 10.01 and before 10.02."

"Well, if that's so there hasn't been a murder," said the Sergeant despairingly. "It isn't possible."

"But there has been a murder. Two of them."

The Sergeant scratched his chin. "It's my belief Carpenter didn't see it done. If he left at 10.02, he couldn't have. Stands to reason."

"Then why was he killed too?"

"That's what I haven't worked out yet," admitted the Sergeant. "But it seems to me as though he knew something which would have told him who must have committed the murder. Wonder if Angela Angel had any other boy-friends?" He paused, his intelligent eyes more bird-like than ever. "Suppose he was shown out at 9.58? And suppose, when he was walking off, he caught sight of a chap he knew, sneaking in at that side gate? Think that might put ideas into his head? Seems to me he'd add two and two together and make 'em four when he read about the late Ernie's being found with his head bashed in."

"Yes, quite reasonable except for one detail you've forgotten. You're assuming that the man Glass saw at 10.02 was not Carpenter, but the murderer, and we're agreed that whenever that man may have entered the garden he cannot have murdered Fletcher until after 10.01. And that won't do."