Death in the Stocks: Merely Murder

by Georgette Heyer

  ‘Yes,’ said Hannasyde, ‘I have.’

  Fifteen

  The smile vanished from Giles Carrington’s eyes, but it was in the same lazy, rather humorous voice that he said: ‘That sounds exciting. What has happened?’

  They began to walk up the stairs together. The Superintendent said with a twinkle: ‘Don’t worry, neither of your clients is implicated in the new developments.’

  ‘I’m glad of that,’ replied Giles, pressing the front door bell. ‘Roger was in England at the time of the murder. Is that it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Hannasyde. ‘That is it.’

  ‘Poor old Roger!’ remarked Giles. ‘I rather suspected he was when he forgot the name of his ship.’

  Hannasyde bent an accusing stare on him. ‘You’re as bad as the rest of them,’ he said severely. ‘The instant you set eyes on Roger Vereker you not only suspected that he’d been in England some time longer than he admitted, but you were pretty sure also that he was the shabby stranger who visited Arnold Vereker that Saturday. Isn’t that true?’

  ‘Not quite,’ said Giles. ‘I suspected it several hours before I set eyes on him. As soon as I heard he had turned up, in fact. Good afternoon, Murgatroyd. Miss Tony in?’

  ‘Oh yes, she’s expecting you, sir,’ said Murgatroyd, holding the door wide. ‘But what call you’ve got to bring the police back again I’m sure I don’t know. Seems as though we can’t call the place our own these days. They’re both in the studio, Mr Giles.’

  Giles Carrington nodded, and walked across the little hall, followed by the Superintendent. In the studio Roger Vereker was apparently working some problem out on scraps of paper, critically but not unamiably watched by his half-sister, who sat with her chin in her hands, looking over his calculations. She glanced up quickly as the door opened, and, when she saw Giles, smiled in her confiding way. ‘Hullo!’ she said. ‘Roger’s trying to work out a System. I think it’s all rot myself.’

  ‘Long may you continue to think so,’ said Giles.

  Antonia perceived Superintendent Hannasyde, and raised her brows. ‘I didn’t know you were coming too,’ she said. ‘I rather wish you hadn’t, because, to tell you the truth, I’m getting awfully sick of the Family Crime. However, come in if you must.’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to,’ answered Hannasyde, closing the door. ‘I want to ask your half-brother a few questions.’

  Roger, who had started violently at the sight of him, said: ‘It’s no good anyone asking me questions, because I’m very busy at the moment. As a matter of fact, I was hoping for a quiet afternoon, now we’ve got rid of Kenneth.’

  A rough sketch in pastels, propped on the mantelpiece, caught Giles’s attention. ‘Good Lord, that’s clever!’ he said involuntarily. ‘Kenneth’s?’

  ‘I don’t see anything clever in it at all,’ said Roger. ‘In fact, if I weren’t a very easy-going man, I might be quite annoyed by it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Giles. ‘I – I should think you might.’

  ‘Moreover, it isn’t anything like me,’ pursued Roger. ‘Can’t be, because Kenneth had to tell me who it was meant to be.’

  ‘He’s caught the look, hasn’t he?’ said Antonia. ‘He did it this morning. After saying portrait painting’s a debased art, too. It is good, isn’t it?’

  ‘Wicked!’ said Giles, under his breath. ‘Really, it’s indecent, Tony!’

  Hannasyde, who had been also looking in considerable astonishment at the sketch, overheard this, and found himself in complete agreement, and wondered whether it was fanciful to feel convinced that the man who could perpetrate so merciless a portrait would be capable of anything, even murder. He transferred his gaze from it to the original, and said without preamble: ‘You informed me last night, Mr Vereker, that you landed in England two days ago.’

  ‘I daresay I did,’ admitted Roger. ‘One way and another there was a lot of chatter going on last night, and I don’t remember all I said. But I won’t want to start an argument, so have it your own way.’

  ‘Do you still adhere to that statement?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ said Roger cautiously.

  ‘Principally because it is untrue,’ replied the Superintendent, with disconcerting directness.

  ‘I object to that,’ said Roger. ‘That’s a very damaging thing to say, and if you think that just because you’re a detective you can go round giving people the lie you’ll find you’re mistaken.’ He paused, and reflected for a moment. ‘Well, as a matter of fact, you probably won’t,’ he said gloomily, ‘because it seems to me there’s no limit to what the police can get away with in this country.’

  ‘There is a limit,’ said Hannasyde, ‘but your cousin is here to see that I don’t overstep it. Your name, Mr Vereker, does not figure on the lists of passengers on board any vessel arriving from South America two days ago.’

  ‘Well, that’s a very extraordinary thing,’ said Roger, ‘But when I said I landed two days ago, I didn’t say I landed from South America.’

  ‘You said that you had come from Buenos Aires,’ Hannasyde reminded him.

  ‘That’s true enough,’ agreed Roger. ‘So I did. Of course, if I’d known you were interested I could have told you the whole story. The fact of the matter is, I got off at Lisbon.’

  ‘What on earth for?’ demanded Antonia.

  ‘There was a man I wanted to see,’ said Roger vaguely.

  ‘About a dog, I should think,’ said Antonia, with considerable scorn.

  ‘No, it wasn’t about a dog. It was about a lot of parrots,’ said Roger, improvising cleverly.

  ‘You got off at Lisbon to see a man about a lot of parrots?’ repeated the Superintendent.

  ‘That’s right,’ nodded Roger. ‘Amazon parrots. Not those grey ones with pink tails, but green ones. The sort that screech.’ The story began to grip him; warming to the theme, he continued: ‘Thought I could do a deal. You’d be surprised at the demand there is for parrots in Portugal.’

  ‘I should,’ interpolated Hannasyde grimly.

  ‘Anyone would be,’ said Roger. ‘I was myself. But there it is. The idea was to ship a lot over to this man I was telling you about. The only trouble was we couldn’t come to terms, so the best thing for me to do was to see him in person.’

  ‘I trust you arrived at an agreement,’ said Hannasyde, with heavy sarcasm.

  ‘Well, no,’ said Roger, ever fertile. ‘We didn’t, and the whole thing is more or less in abeyance, because he wanted to buy the parrots in bulk, which is ridiculous, of course. However, now I’ve come into money I shan’t bother any more about it.’

  ‘I say, what a shame Kenneth’s missing all this!’ said Antonia. ‘Where are the parrots supposed to be?’

  ‘Round about the Amazon,’ said Roger. ‘You have to catch them.’

  ‘Yes, I can just see you penetrating into forests and laying snares for parrots. You are an ass!’

  ‘Well, I shouldn’t do that myself. I should employ people,’ said Roger. ‘Of course, if the business grew, and I daresay it would, the idea was to start a farm and breed them the same way that people breed silver foxes and things. Properly managed there might be a lot of money in it, because if the purchaser has to pay ten pounds for a parrot (and very often a good parrot costs more than that), you can see for yourself that the profit per parrot is pretty considerable.’ He decided that the parrots had served their turn, and jettisoned them. ‘But, as I say, I’ve given up thinking about it now that I’ve come into money. They’re really beside the point.’

  ‘I agree with you,’ said Hannasyde. ‘I have ascertained, Mr Vereker, that you were a passenger on board the SS Pride of London, which docked at Liverpool on 16th June – the day before that on which your brother was murdered.’

  Roger leaned back in his chair. ‘Well, if you’ve ascertained it, that’s that,’ he observed. ‘It’s silly to argue points like that with detectives, so I’ll tell you right away that the parrots were just a little joke of mine.’


  ‘I am aware of that,’ replied Hannasyde. ‘We shall get on better and faster if you don’t make any more jokes.’

  ‘A lot of people think that speed is the curse of the age,’ said Roger. ‘I can’t say I’m keen on it myself. Mind you, I’m not at all sure there isn’t something in the parrot scheme. The more I think of it the more I think there might be. Supposing people started trimming hats with parrot-feathers, for instance?’

  ‘Mr Vereker, I am not quite fool enough to believe that you are the fool you pretend to be. Shall we abandon the subject of parrots?’

  ‘Just as you like,’ said Roger amiably.

  ‘You admit that you landed in Liverpool on Friday, 16th June?’

  ‘If you’ve been nosing round the shipping agents, there’s no point in asking me whether I admit it or not. It’s a great pity you’ve been so inquisitive, because you’re bound to waste a lot of time trying to make out I murdered Arnold, and I can tell you at the start I didn’t.’

  ‘If you are so sure that I shall be wasting my time, Mr Vereker, why did you try to conceal the fact that you were in England on the 17th June?’

  ‘Now that’s what I call a damned silly question,’ said Roger. ‘It’s obvious that if it was known that I was in England then I should have had the police after me like a pack of bloodhounds. Well, what I mean is, look at the way you’re behaving now! Not that I blame you, because naturally you’re bound to do it. But that’s just it. I turn up one day, broke to the wide, and Arnold gets himself murdered the day after. I should be a bigger fool than any I’ve ever met with if I didn’t see who was going to be suspected once that leaked out. I don’t like unpleasantness, and I don’t like policemen. What’s more, I find all this sort of thing very exhausting, because I’m not one of these people who always want to be using their brains, trying to remember a lot of unimportant details. It makes my head ache. All I want is peace and quiet.’

  ‘Nevertheless, Mr Vereker, I must ask you to cast your mind back to the day you landed, and tell me just what you did.’

  Roger sighed, but he seemed to be more or less resigned to the necessity of answering, and said in a weary voice: ‘Well, I came to London. Naturally. What else should I do?’

  ‘On the Friday?’

  ‘If you’ve been making a lot of inquiries, you must know as well as I do that we didn’t dock till late,’ said Roger.

  ‘Certainly I know it, but you could still have journeyed to London that day.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t. I don’t like night travel. Never did. Some people sleep better on a train than anywhere. All I can say is, I don’t.’

  ‘When did you come to London, then?’

  ‘Next day, of course. But it’s no use asking me what time the train got in, because I don’t remember. I had lunch on it.’

  ‘And when you arrived in London, what did you do?’

  Roger thought this over for a moment, and then asked: ‘Do you know what I did?’

  ‘I am asking you,’ replied Hannasyde.

  ‘I know you are, and that’s just the trouble. The point is, if I know just how much you know, it’ll save a great deal of bother. I mean, it’s no use my telling you I went to the Zoo if you’re going to prove I spent the day in the British Museum. At the same time, I don’t want to tell you anything I needn’t. You see my difficulty?’

  Giles Carrington interposed before Hannasyde could reply: ‘May I give you a piece of advice, Roger?’

  ‘Anybody can do whatever they like as far as I’m concerned,’ said Roger. ‘Mind you, I don’t particularly want your advice, because as far as I can see you’re hand in glove with this Superintendent Osric – no, not Osric, but, anyway, whatever his name is.’

  Giles disregarded this. ‘Don’t play the fool. You’re not dealing with a fool.’

  ‘Is that your advice?’ demanded Roger incredulously.

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think much of it. You can’t expect me to change my habits at my time of life. I’ve always had a gift for taking things cheerfully.’

  ‘This particular brand of cheerfulness is likely to land you in trouble,’ said Giles rather sternly.

  There was a distinct gleam of intelligence in the hazy, bloodshot eyes. ‘Oh no, it isn’t!’ said Roger. ‘Nobody’s going to land me in trouble. Of course, I don’t say that there may not be a great deal of unpleasantness. I daresay there will be. But Tony’s been telling me all about this murder, and it looks pretty water-tight to me. You haven’t got any clues at all, not even a finger print; you don’t know who was with Arnold that night – in fact, you don’t know anything at all except that he was murdered.’

  ‘We have one clue,’ said Hannasyde. ‘The weapon which was used.’

  ‘Well, you prove that it belonged to me and you’ll be cleverer than I take you for,’ retorted Roger. ‘You won’t do it, because it didn’t belong to me. Then where are you? Back at the beginning again. You’d much better give it up now.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Hannasyde. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll stick to it a little longer. I should take your cousin’s advice, if I were you. What did you do when you reached London?’

  ‘This and that,’ said Roger airily.

  ‘For one who is so convinced that nothing will land him in trouble you are singularly reluctant to admit that you went to call on your brother, Mr Vereker.’

  ‘Ah, you did know that, did you?’ nodded Roger. ‘Oh, well, that makes it easier, I must say. I was getting very tired of hedging. Yes, I went to call on Arnold.’

  ‘A very natural thing to do,’ agreed Hannasyde.

  ‘Of course it was a natural thing to do. I hadn’t any money left.’

  ‘I see. Am I to understand that you shared your half-brother’s and sister’s dislike of him?’

  ‘No, I didn’t dislike him,’ said Roger, reflecting. ‘Not that I’ve really considered the matter.’

  ‘You were, in fact, indifferent?’

  ‘That’s it,’ said Roger. ‘Just the word I wanted. Though I must say that now I know what he was worth, I’m not at all surprised he was disliked. Mean, very mean. You’d hardly believe this, but fifty pounds was all I could get out of him, and he only gave me that because he didn’t want it to get about that a brother of his was spending the night on the Embankment. He’d picked up a lot of very respectable ideas, I thought. Didn’t like me coming to his house at all. If I were one of these sensitive people, which thank God I’m not, I should have been quite offended at the way he took it. You’d hardly believe it, but he only gave me that miserable fifty pounds on condition I didn’t come near him again.’

  ‘I’m surprised you were satisfied with fifty pounds, Mr Vereker.’

  ‘I wasn’t at all satisfied with it, but I’m a reasonable man, and you can’t expect people to carry much more than fifty pounds on them. Besides, I didn’t know he’d made such a packet out of the old mine.’

  Antonia suddenly elected to take part in the conversation, and said forcefully: ‘Look here, I don’t want to crab your story, but if it’s got to be Kenneth or you or me (the murderer, I mean), I’d rather it was you. So don’t tell me you were going to fade out of Arnold’s life for fifty pounds!’

  ‘Certainly not,’ replied her imperturbable half-brother. ‘As a matter of fact, the story is rather funny. Because I hadn’t actually thought how much Arnold was probably good for. The poor fellow was very upset at seeing me; oh, very upset! Well, you can’t really blame him, because I’ve always been the disreputable member of the family, and I daresay he was afraid I might drag the name in the mud, or something. Naturally, as soon as I saw how green he was looking I realised that this was where I tried my hand at a little polite blackmail. I said I’d come to stay with him. He didn’t like that at all. In fact, he got a bit violent at one time. However, he cooled off after a bit and offered me fifty pounds to clear out. So I pocketed that, and said I’d think it over. Then he came out with what he thought was a very good idea, though I wasn
’t so struck with it myself. He was to give me a ticket to Australia, or any other place I liked at the other side of the world, and pay me two hundred pounds a year for as long as I stopped there.’

  ‘I call that a good offer,’ said Antonia.

  ‘Yes, only I don’t want to go to Australia,’ explained Roger.

  ‘What has become of the money your father left you?’ asked Giles.

  Roger looked faintly surprised. ‘I don’t know. That was a long time ago. You don’t expect money to last for ever. Anyway, it didn’t.’

  ‘Good lord!’ said Giles. ‘Well, go on!’

  ‘Forgotten where I was. All this talk is making me very thirsty,’ said Roger, getting up and going across the room to the sideboard. ‘Anyone else join me in a spot?’ Receiving no answer to this invitation, he said: ‘Oh, well!’ and poured himself out a double whisky. Armed with that he returned to his chair.

  ‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘Where was I?’

  ‘Two hundred pounds a year to stay in Australia,’ prompted Hannasyde.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Well, I said I’d think it over, and Arnold said I could take it or leave it. I may have been a trifle rash – though I don’t think so, because from all I’ve heard Australia wouldn’t suit me at all – but I said I’d leave it. That was more or less the end of the meeting. Arnold had a date, and wanted to be off.’

  ‘With whom?’ asked Hannasyde quickly.

  ‘How on earth should I know? I didn’t ask him.’

  ‘Do you know where he meant to dine?’

  ‘Look here,’ said Roger, ‘you don’t seem to have got the hang of things very well at all. We weren’t having a friendly chat.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Hannasyde. ‘What happened next?’

  ‘Oh, nothing much! I told Arnold he could give me a lift as far as Piccadilly, and we got into his car and drove off. He didn’t much want to give me a lift, but he seemed to be afraid I might tell his butler who I was, or something, if he refused. On the way he said his offer would stand open till Monday, and I could think it over. However, the more I thought about it the less I liked the scheme. Besides, I’d got fifty pounds.’