The Judas Kiss (14 page)

"Did you find any trace of cyanide in any of them?"

"None whatever."

Further witnesses testified that the deceased had tea in the lounge with the other guests and appeared in good spirits. No food or indeed anything else had been taken to her room at any time.

The Coroner had a whispered colloquy with the superintendent and then announced that the hearing would be adjourned for ten days.

During the proceedings Roger had noticed a burly man in a front seat whom he thought he knew. When the Court rose this man came across to him.

"Major Bennion, isn't it?" he asked.

"It is. Unless I am mistaken, you are Inspector Grimsby of the C.I.D.?"

"Chief Inspector to be precise. We met over that Spectre in Brown business, as they called it. You put in some pretty smart work there."

"Thanks for the compliment." Roger smiled. "And congratulations on the promotion. How is my old friend Warren?"

"Just retired. I expect soon we shall hear he has got a new job at twice the pay, like so many who have left us. But may I ask how you come in on this?"

"I don't," Roger said. "I am here on holiday and the house I took happens to be next door to the Michelmores."

"Good heavens! They never told me! You must know the parties in the case."

"I have met most of them."

"I wonder if you would let me talk it over with you? It is a hell of a business, and the first of the sort I have had to tackle on my own. I don't want to fall down on it. Warren always said you saw further through a brick wall than most people, and I reckon he was right."

"Come home with me," Roger said, "and I will introduce you to my wife." He thought the big Londoner had improved with responsibility, but was not sure that Ruth would be pleased with her visitor!

"This, my dear, is Chief Inspector Grimsby from London. He wants to discuss that trouble next door."

Ruth glanced reproachfully at her husband and pleasantly at their visitor at the same time and in a way only a woman can.

"I am sure Roger will be pleased to help you," she said acid-sweetly.

"We think a lot of him at the Yard," the burly detective assured her.

"If you are to talk I expect some beer would be acceptable."

"Well, m'm, I do think better with a glass at my elbow. Inquests are dry affairs."

"I will send it in."

She vanished and a few minutes later Ben Orgles appeared with a tray bearing bottles and glasses. Roger introduced him. "He was once in the Force," he added.

"A long time since Grimmie and Orgles pounded the pavements in 'Olloway," Ben grinned.

"Some of us have moved on since then," the Chief Inspector replied, not too pleased at being greeted in such a manner by a companion of his humbler days.

"We moved others on then, didn't we?" smiled the ex-constable.

"All right, Ben," Roger said. "I will see to the drinks." He knew his man would get in a sly dig if he could, and he did not wish it.

"I suppose you have no idea who did the dirty work?" Grimsby began, when they were alone and had lighted their pipes and sampled the liquor.

"Not the least," Roger said. "I do not even know for certain that there has been any dirty work."

"Not much doubt of that," Grimsby replied gloomily, taking his notebook from his pocket. "A few points I would like to go through with you. It is like a sum that adds up differently every time you try it and none of the answers may be right."

Roger did not reply. The detective turned a few leaves and continued.

"First, what do we know? The woman died from cyanide poisoning. That's sure enough. There's a bottle in Teague's potting shed with sufficient cyanide crystals in it to poison half the village. Did it come from there? Apparently all the parties in the case, including the woman herself, could have had access to it."

"I did not know that. What did Teague want it for?"

"Usual thing. Said there was a plague of wasps last summer and it was the best way of getting rid of 'em."

"I thought the liquid soaked in rag and put in the nest was more general."

"I asked him that. He said the crystals kept better and he never knew when he would want it again."

"That then does not preclude the possibility of suicide?"

"It does not," Grimsby agreed. "It would be a dam' sight simpler if we could say it was suicide and leave it at that. But I don't believe it. Why should she kill herself? Why pack up and leave home to do it? Why change for dinner?"

Again Roger did not reply.

"Of course she was alone in the locked room. No way in. Windows fastened, and all the front visible from the street. No getting in or out. But I believe you showed us once before how to manage the locked door."

"How was that?" Roger smiled.

"Pass a pencil, or a bit of wood that fits, into the ring of the key, pointing upwards. Tie a string to it and pass it under the door. Close the door and pull the string. The lock is turned, the pencil falls out and you pull it away."

"As good a method as any," Roger said, "and I do not claim the copyright. But how does the person before leaving the room get the victim to swallow the poison?"

"There you have me. I don't think it was done that way. Of course I thought of the other usual dodges, chocolates with cyanide in them and that sort of thing, but there were no chocolates and no trace of 'em in the body. They all say she did not eat sweets. Slimming and all that; a pound of chocolates makes two pounds of girl. She was proud of her figure. I doubt if any room was ever combed like we went through that room. Not a glass or a bottle or a screw of paper that could have contained the stuff. We tested every dam' thing, including toothpaste and toothbrushes. And no fingerprints except her own and those of the maid."

"It could hardly have been an accident?"

"Accidents leave traces," Grimsby grunted, "and it is a dam' queer accident that puts cyanide in a person's bedroom!"

"Very puzzling."

"I'll say it is. No suicide, no accident, so we come to murder and the question of motive. Why should a healthy young woman who has just been left a fortune for life kill herself? No reason at all. Why should anyone else kill her? Plenty of reasons. I have seen the will."

"I understand on her death everything is divided equally between the four sons and daughters," Roger remarked. "Any special points to one more than another?"

"They share equally," Grimsby agreed, "and they might have planned it between them. Any one of 'em, any pair of 'em, or the whole lot of 'em could have done it, so far as motive is concerned. But, as you just said, how did they manage to get her to swallow the stuff when she was all dolled up for dinner?"

"Any other suspects?" Roger asked.

"I'll say there are! Best clear them up first."

Grimsby glanced at his notebook.

"There is the real husband, this Gaston Bidaut. The younger sister came to me with the story: said you told her to. She mentioned the name of a neighbour, Bennion, but I didn't connect it with you until I saw you in Court. Bidaut suddenly appears from nowhere, spends an hour with his unfaithful wife, and the next day she is poisoned. Plenty of motive but how the devil does he do it? I could understand it if he had shot or choked her, or given her a dam' good hiding. But he leaves her smiling and then the next day, the poison! Cyanide acts quick."

"I expected you to put the girl in the witness box, but was rather glad you did not find it necessary."

"May do later. We got it all from others and she begged me not to. She will keep. Meanwhile we have broadcast a request for Gaston Bidaut believed to be on holiday in England to communicate, as we think he may be able to help us. We 'phoned the police in St. Malo and they found he was still away, gone it was though a week. They will let us know directly he returns. I shall probably fly over."

"The family want him, too, for the funeral. But, apart from him, who else?"

Grimsby frowned and took a long drink before he replied. There was no doubt he was a very worried man. A good deal might depend on his handling of his first case of this magnitude.

"The servants at the hotel. I would not suspect them so much of the murder if the diamonds were not missing. That girl told me about them too. But they did not have much time to do it all. If the diamonds were lying loose when they found the body they might have pinched them. We have sent out a description of 'em and may hear something, though I don't bank on it. Besides she wasn't dead when they found her and for all they knew she might have recovered. They wouldn't have risked it. Then there is Teague, the gardener, and Hannah Wood."

"Old Nan, the housekeeper? What is there against them?"

"I dunno. Only a hunch. They both hated her from the day she came, so far as I can understand. Teague has the cyanide and Old Nan did the packing. It is also said they talk of getting married."

"Who told you that?"

"Jasper said they might if the home broke up."

"What do they gain by her death?"

"A nice nest-egg if they got the diamonds."

"Nothing in her will, I suppose? She had no reason to love them."

"So far as we know she never made a will. Hardly had time. The family might have rewarded them though. Or Old Nan might have done it for their sake. They were almost like her own sucklings, looked after 'em since they were babies. Women do queer things for those they love."

"Old Nan might be the avenging angel or the self-sacrificing type," Roger said thoughtfully. "Women have been known to do such things, or to confess to crimes of which they are innocent."

"Don't we know it? But they never get away with it; their tales don't hold water."

"We will hope not. Anyone else?"

"Only the family."

"Anything definite against any of them, except that they benefit by the death?"

"That's a pretty big thing when you remember how young she was, might have outlived them all. And it was a case of now or never for them. If she went away they might never get another chance. Take the parson first, the Reverend Garnet. We don't suspect the clergy as a rule, but they are pretty much as other men when you get down to brass tacks. I had a talk with him. He gave me a lot of texts but not much help. He said two or three times that the soul that sinneth it shall die. I asked whose soul, but he looked a bit wild and couldn't say. Is he quite all right?" Grimsby touched his head meaningly.

"He is highly strung," Roger said. "He was probably referring to the fact there had been no marriage and therefore Adelaide had been living in sin. I thought you might have put him in the box."

"I meant to, but he disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"I told him I should want him and took it for granted he would be there. He didn't show up and we couldn't find him. We will make sure of him next time. That is why we called the sister, Emerald."

"To confirm Jasper's identification?"

"That's right. We always want two."

"What of Jasper?"

"He was more helpful. Of course we are always suspicious of alibis but his was sound enough. Said he had gone to London on business and had sold a picture. Told us where he had stayed. We checked that and found he had all his meals in the hotel as well as sleeping there. No time to get here and back; away four days in all, covering the whole time. We also saw the people in Bond Street who bought his picture. He called there three times."

"Had he any bright ideas?"

"Not really. He could only suggest it was suicide because her secret had been discovered, but admitted he would not have expected her to mind all that badly. He told me more about the husband; thought he was still fond of her. He did not know at the time he had turned up; that happened afterwards. Said he was not really French, but he might be jealous."

"The man he had reason to be jealous of was already dead," Roger remarked, "but Jasper had, I believe, told him that. What of the girls, Emerald and Pearl?"

Grimsby shrugged. "Could be either of 'em or both. A stepmother of their own age and a lot better looking. If you talk of jealousy, that is as good a cause as I ever heard of, and where women are concerned jealousy is eldest-born of hell. I was taught that at school. Then there is the money; both girls get their share of that. Another point is they were the first in the room after the body was found and so had the best chance of removing the poison or any trace of it."

"Were they alone in the room?"

"Apparently not, but it is easy enough to slip a little bottle in your pocket if you know what you are after. Emerald admits she disliked the so-called wife from the first, but says she kept out of her way as much as she could. Pearl professes to have been rather fond of her, at any rate for a time. Both girls, according to local gossip, have been keeping company with men of doubtful character."

"Who would they be?" Roger asked.

"I am only telling you what I have heard," Grimsby replied. "Emerald is very taken with a fellow called Gore-Black and he spends a good deal of time in her rooms. He writes detective stories."

"Nothing necessarily criminal in that," Roger commented. "Police study crime, but it does not make them criminals, anyway not all of them. I am told Emerald and Gore-Black are writing a book in collaboration, not a crime story. You do not seriously suspect the younger sister, Pearl?"