Death in the Stocks: Merely Murder

by Georgette Heyer

  ‘That bloody cat, Rose Miller!’ exclaimed Mesurier, flushing. ‘Of course, if you’re going to believe what she says… ! She’s always had her knife into me. It’s a complete lie to say that we quarrelled. Vereker went for me, and I shan’t attempt to deny that he was in a bad temper. In fact, he actually accused me of embezzling. Utterly ridiculous, I need hardly say. As a matter of fact I got into a bit of a mess – I borrowed a little from the firm, just to tide me over. Of course I know I oughtn’t to have done it, but when you’re hard pressed you do silly things. But to say I stole the money is – is positively laughable! I mean, if I’d wanted to do that I shouldn’t be paying it back, which even Vereker admits I am doing. He simply had a down on me –’

  ‘Because he had discovered that you had become engaged to his half-sister?’

  ‘That had nothing to do with him at all!’ Mesurier said quickly. ‘He didn’t care a brass farthing about Tony.’

  ‘He seemed to think it had a great deal to do with him,’ said Hannasyde, a dry note in his voice. ‘He threatened you with exposure, didn’t he?’

  ‘Oh, he threatened me with all sorts of things!’ said Mesurier. ‘I can’t say I took him very seriously, though. I knew perfectly well he wouldn’t prosecute when he’d had time to think it over. I mean, it would be too silly, on the face of it.’

  ‘Would it?’ said Hannasyde. ‘You will admit, I imagine, that if he had prosecuted you for – er – borrowing the firm’s money, your career would have been ruined.’

  ‘I don’t know so much about that,’ Mesurier said uneasily. ‘Of course, it would have been damned unpleasant, but –’

  ‘I am speaking entirely in your interests, Mr Mesurier, when I say that the best thing you can do is to tell me the truth about your movements on Saturday night. Think it over.’

  ‘I don’t need to. You can’t prove it was my car that the bobby thought he saw – and even if it was it certainly wasn’t me driving it.’ He got up. ‘That’s absolutely all I have to say.’

  ‘Then I won’t keep you any longer,’ said Hannasyde. ‘But I still advise you to think it over.’

  By the time the Superintendent left the Shan Hills Mining Company’s premises it was past four o’clock. Awaiting him in the main hall of the building was his subordinate, one Sergeant Hemingway, a cheerful person with a bright eye and a persuasive manner. They went out together to the nearest tea-shop, and, over cups of strong tea, compared notes.

  ‘The trouble is,’ remarked the Sergeant at length, ‘there’s too many people with good motives. I never like that kind of case, Super. Do you remember the Ottershaw murder? Took ten years off my life, that did.’ He prodded one of the buns which the waitress had set before them, and shook his head. ‘Not at my age,’ he said. ‘You ought to be able to have ’em up for foisting that kind of food on the public. Keep me awake all night, that would. Take this young Vereker chap. He’s a new one on me, Super. Make anything of him?’

  ‘No,’ said Hannasyde slowly. ‘Nothing at all yet. He’s a new one on me too. I suspect, a mighty slippery customer.’

  ‘He’s got the biggest motive of the lot, I know that. Here, miss, you take these buns back where they came from, which was the dustbin, I should think, judging from the look of them, and bring me a nice plate of bread-and-butter, there’s a good girl.’

  ‘Sauce!’ said the waitress, tossing her head.

  The Sergeant winked at her, and turned back to Hannasyde. ‘Smart-looking girl, that. Well, now, I’ve got something for you. I went round to this studio, according to your instructions, and got talking to the skivvy there. Regular old cough-drop she is, too. Name of Murgatroyd. Used to be personal maid to the second Mrs Vereker before she was married, and after. Stopped on after Mrs Vereker died, and acted nurse to the kids. You get the layout, Super. She’s the devoted family retainer all right. Well, I did what I could, jollying her along, but she was close as an oyster – Thank you, miss.’ He waited until the waitress had removed herself out of earshot, and then continued: ‘Close as an oyster. Suspicious and wary. But one thing she did say and stuck to.’

  ‘What was it?’

  The Sergeant folded one of the slices of bread-and-butter in half, and put it into his mouth. When it was possible for him to speak intelligibly, he said: ‘She told me that whatever anyone might say to the contrary she was ready to get up and swear her Master Kenneth was safely tucked up in his bed and sleeping like a lamb at midnight on Saturday.’

  ‘Did she really say that?’ inquired Hannasyde, mildly curious.

  ‘I won’t swear to it those were her exact words,’ replied the Sergeant, unabashed. ‘I may have made it a bit more poetic. But that was the gist of it. Now you tell me that the said Master Kenneth admits he was rampaging round town up till four o’clock. Bit of a departmental muddle, Super. Looks like they haven’t got together enough over the question of alibis.’

  ‘I don’t make much of it,’ said Hannasyde. ‘It’s obvious that young Vereker’s position is very weak, and if this Murgatroyd is a devoted old servant, that’s just the sort of gallant attempt to protect him you’d expect her to make.’

  ‘I’m not saying it isn’t, Super. I’ll go so far as to say it is. But what I’ll say is that the old girl’s scared. She’s afraid young Vereker did it. If she was plumb-sure he didn’t she’d have bitten my head off for daring to come round suspecting her darling boy.’

  Hannasyde put down his cup. ‘Look here, did she talk like that or not?’

  ‘She did not,’ said the Sergeant. ‘That’s my point, Super. I figured she would.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Psychology,’ said the Sergeant, vaguely waving his fourth slice of bread-and-butter in the air.

  ‘Cut it out,’ said his superior unkindly. ‘What did you find out about Vereker’s chauffeur?’

  ‘It wasn’t him. You’ll have to rule him out, Super. No good at all. I’ll tell you what he was doing on Saturday.’

  ‘You needn’t bother. Put it in a report. I think I’ll pay a call on Miss Vereker.’

  The Sergeant cocked a wise eyebrow, ‘All on account of Light-fingered Rudolph? She gets a letter from Arnold, spilling the beans about him cooking the accounts, and threatening to ruin him, so down she goes to plead for Rudolph, and when that turns out to be no use, sticks a knife in the cruel half-brother. I haven’t worked out how she got him in the stocks, but from what I can make out about these Verekers that’s just the sort of joke they would pull, and think a proper scream. Myself, I haven’t got that type of humour, but it takes all sorts to make a world. It’s a wonder anyone ever gets out of these tea and bun bazaars, the trouble it is to get the girls to come across with the bill. I’ve been trying to catch Henna’ed Hannah’s eye for the past ten minutes. I know what my job is now, Super. I’ve got to check up on Friend Rudolph.’ He looked shrewdly at his chief, for he had worked with him often before, and knew him. ‘Worried about Rudolph, aren’t you, Super?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ replied Hannasyde. ‘He fits, and yet he doesn’t fit. See what you can find out, Hemingway.’

  The Sergeant nodded. ‘I will that, sir. But he can’t have done it. Not to my way of thinking. Here, Gladys – Maud – Gwendolyn, whatever your name is – tell me this: Are you standing us this tea?’

  ‘I never did! You haven’t half got a nerve!’ said the waitress, giggling.

  ‘I only asked because you seemed kind of shy of bringing the bill,’ said the Sergeant.

  ‘You are a one!’ said the waitress, greatly diverted.

  Nine

  Murgatroyd, opening the door to Superintendent Hannasyde, stood squarely in the aperture and asked him aggressively what he wanted. He asked if Miss Vereker was in and she said: ‘That’s as may be. Your name, please, and business.’

  His eyes twinkled. ‘My name is Hannasyde, and my business is with Miss Vereker.’

  ‘I know very well what you are,’ said Murgatroyd. ‘I’ve had another of you here to-day, and I’ve had
enough. If the police would let well alone it would be a good thing for everyone.’ She stood aside to allow him to enter, and led him across the tiny hall to the studio. ‘It’s the police again, Miss Tony,’ she announced. ‘I suppose you’d better see him.’

  Antonia was sitting by the window with two of her dogs at her feet. One of them, Bill, recognised an acquaintance in the Superintendent, and wildly thumped his tail; his daughter, Juno, however, got up growling.

  ‘Ah, who says dogs have no sense?’ said Murgatroyd darkly.

  ‘Shut up, Juno!’ commanded Antonia. ‘Oh, it’s the Superintendent! That means I’m going to be interrogated all over again. Have some tea?’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Vereker, but I’ve had tea,’ said Hannasyde, his eyes on a big canvas on the easel.

  Antonia said kindly: ‘Dawn Wind, but it isn’t finished yet. My brother’s new picture.’

  Hannasyde went up to look more closely at it. ‘Your brother told me to-day that his hands are worth more than all your half-brother’s money,’ he remarked.

  ‘Yes, he does think a lot of himself,’ agreed Antonia. ‘You’ll have to get used to that sort of swank if you mean to see much of him.’

  ‘Well, I was thinking that he’s probably right,’ said Hannasyde. ‘I don’t pretend to know much about art, but –’

  ‘Don’t say that!’ besought Antonia. ‘Every well-meaning idiot says it. What on earth are you standing there for, Murgatroyd?’

  ‘You may be glad of me staying,’ said Murgatroyd grimly.

  ‘Well, I shan’t. Not after the way you shoved your finger into Kenneth’s pie with all that rot about him being in bed at midnight.’

  ‘What I’ve said I stand by,’ replied Murgatroyd.

  ‘What’s the use of standing by it when nobody believes you?’ said Antonia reasonably. ‘Anyway, don’t stand there, because it puts me off.’

  ‘Well, you know where I am if you want me,’ Murgatroyd replied, and withdrew.

  ‘Sit down,’ invited Antonia. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘What was in that letter,’ replied the Superintendent promptly.

  ‘Which letter? – Oh, Arnold’s! Nothing much.’

  ‘If there was nothing much in it why did you destroy it?’ asked Hannasyde.

  ‘It was that sort of a letter.’

  ‘What sort of a letter?’

  ‘The sort you destroy – Look here, we’re beginning to sound like a pair of cross-talk comedians!’ Antonia pointed out.

  ‘Very like,’ agreed the Superintendent evenly. ‘Did you destroy the letter because it contained a rather serious accusation against Mr Rudolph Mesurier?’

  Antonia looked defensive. ‘It didn’t.’

  ‘Quite sure, Miss Vereker?’

  Antonia propped her chin in her hands and frowned. ‘I wish I could remember what I said in the ghoulish Police Station,’ she said. ‘I almost wish I hadn’t burned the letter, too. Because you seem to think it was frightfully important, and as a matter of fact it wasn’t. It was just a general hate against Rudolph.’

  ‘No specific charge?’

  ‘No. He just ran through Roget’s Thesaurus for synonyms of Scoundrel, and put them all into the letter.’

  ‘You say that there was no specific charge, Miss Vereker, but does a business man like your half-brother threaten to take legal proceedings against another man without any definite reason?’

  ‘The whole point is, did he mean it, or was he merely woffling?’ Antonia said, off her guard. ‘That’s what I went to find out.’ She broke off and flushed angrily. ‘Damn you, you don’t play fair!’

  ‘I’m not playing, Miss Vereker.’

  She looked up quickly, for there was a hint of sternness in his voice. Before she had time to speak, he went on: ‘Arnold Vereker wrote to you forbidding your engagement to Mesurier. According to you, he gave no definite reason for this. But you have admitted that he threatened to prosecute Mesurier for some offence or other, and you have also admitted that his letter made you exceedingly angry.’

  ‘Of course it did!’ she said impatiently. ‘It would make anybody angry!’

  ‘I expect so. Perhaps it may also have alarmed you?’

  ‘No, why should it? I wasn’t afraid of Arnold.’

  ‘Not on your own account, but were you not alarmed for Mesurier?’

  ‘No, because I didn’t take the letter seriously.’

  ‘You took it seriously enough to drive all the way to Ashleigh Green that day.’

  ‘Only because I wanted to know just what Arnold had against Rudolph, and to stop him spreading any filthy story about him.’

  ‘How did you propose to do that, Miss Vereker?’

  She considered this. ‘I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think I’d worked it out.’

  ‘In fact, you were so angry with him that you got straight into your car and drove to Ashleigh Green without having the least idea what you would do when you got there?’

  ‘Oh no!’ said Antonia sarcastically. ‘I took a knife and stuck it into Arnold, and then went and spent the night in his house just to make sure that you’d know I was the murderess; and finally told your silly policeman that there were blood-stains on my skirt.’ She broke off, her ill humour suddenly vanishing. ‘Which isn’t as idiotic as it sounds,’ she said. ‘Now I come to think of it, that wouldn’t have been at all a bad plan if I’d murdered Arnold. In fact, definitely brilliant, because no jury would ever believe I could have been fool enough to loiter around the scene of the crime and brandish blood-stained garments about. I must put that to Giles.’ At this moment Kenneth strolled into the studio. Antonia immediately propounded her notions to him.

  Superintendent Hannasyde had seen enough of the Verekers by this time to feel very little surprise at the enthusiasm with which Kenneth at once entered into a discussion.

  ‘That’s all very well,’ Kenneth said, ‘but what about the dog-fight?’

  ‘I could easily have staged that,’ his sister said napoleonically.

  ‘Not at that hour of night,’ objected Kenneth. ‘If you murdered Arnold and got blood on your clothes, meeting the retriever, or whatever it was, was sheer luck. Also you haven’t piled up enough evidence against yourself. Obviously if you were clever enough to commit a murder and plant yourself down in the murdered man’s house afterwards you ought to have told as many people as you could that you were going down to have it out with Arnold. No one’ld believe you killed him after that. What do you think, Superintendent?’

  ‘I think,’ replied Hannasyde, exasperated, ‘that your tongues are likely to lead you into serious trouble.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Kenneth, a wicked gleam in his eye. ‘That means you don’t know what to make of us.’

  ‘Quite possibly,’ said Hannasyde, unsmiling, and took his leave. But he admitted later to his subordinate that the young devil had gauged the situation correctly.

  Meanwhile Antonia had summoned her fiancé to come to see her as soon as he left the office. When he arrived, which was shortly after six o’clock, he found brother and sister arguing over the correct amount of absinthe to be put into the cocktail-shaker. Neither paid much attention to him until a decision had been reached, but when Kenneth had finally won his point on the score of being several years Antonia’s senior, and the mixture had been well shaken and poured into the glasses, Antonia nodded to her betrothed and said: ‘I’m glad you were able to come. I’ve had the Superintendent-man here, and I think we ought to talk things over.’

  Rudolph shot her one quick glance and said: ‘How very serious you look, darling! You mustn’t let all this get on your nerves, you know. What has the worthy Superintendent got in his bonnet now?’

  ‘This is a bloody cocktail,’ said Kenneth dispassionately. ‘You can’t have mixed it as I told you. If you think the human sleuth is interested in you you’re wrong. He’s hot on my trail, and I won’t have him diverted. Oh here’s Leslie! Leslie, my sweet, come on up!’ He leaned out of the window and
addressed Miss Rivers at the top of his voice. ‘The gyves are practically on my wrists, darling, so come up for a last cocktail. No, on second thoughts, don’t. Tony mixed it. I’ll stand you a drink at the Clarence Arms.’ He drew in his head, set his glass down on the table and vanished precipitately from the studio.

  Antonia, her attention once more distracted from her fiancé, hung out of the window and conferred with Miss Rivers until Kenneth presently emerged into the mews and swept the visitor off in the direction of the Clarence Arms. She then turned back to Rudolph and demanded to know what they had been talking about.

  ‘Oh, I think you were worried about the Superintendent, weren’t you?’ Mesurier said. ‘It’s all frightfully upsetting for you, dearest.’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ said Antonia bluntly. ‘But what I want to know is, what have you been up to, Rudolph?’

  He changed colour, but replied with an amused laugh. ‘Up to, Tony? How do you mean?’

  ‘Well,’ said Antonia, finishing her cocktail, ‘the impression I’ve got is that you’ve been forging Arnold’s name or something.’

  ‘Tony!’ he cried indignantly, ‘If that’s the opinion you have of me –’

  ‘Do shut up!’ begged Antonia. ‘This is serious. It’s why I went down to see Arnold on Saturday night. He said he was going to prosecute you.’

  ‘Swine!’

  ‘I know, but what was it all about?’

  Mesurier took a turn round the studio, his hands thrust into his pockets. ‘I’m in a damned awkward position!’ he said suddenly. ‘God knows I didn’t want you to be dragged into it, but if I don’t tell you some one else will. Think me what you like, but –’

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, but just open that cupboard and see if there’s a bottle of salted almonds, will you?’ asked Antonia. ‘I’ve suddenly remembered buying some and putting them either there or –’