Death of a Burrowing Mole (Mrs. Bradley)

by Gladys Mitchell

  “I don’t see how that can be avoided. One reads so many things that, in the end, it becomes very difficult to sort out what is original from what one has unconsciously absorbed.”

  “That last line isn’t true, anyway. Look at prostitutes and gigolos and those sort of seedy adventurers who make love to silly rich women for their money and marry them.”

  “The line belongs in the context. I wasn’t thinking about prostitutes and gigolos and seedy adventurers.”

  “You know I’m likely to find myself in trouble, don’t you?—about Veryan’s death I mean,” said Fiona.

  “That smooth-talking policeman made it plain. He knows you spent the weekend alone in an empty house, but, after all, I told him I spent it with people I couldn’t possibly identify. Anyhow, you have to have a motive for murder and neither of us had any reason to kill Professor Veryan.”

  “I read somewhere that the police don’t bother all that much about motives. What they go for are means and opportunity.”

  “Well, I suppose you had the means and we both had the opportunity. I can’t prove I was in London and you can’t prove you spent Sunday night at home.”

  “I had the means? What means?”

  “Well, I’ve been turning things over in my mind. I have a strong visual imagination and I think I can see what happened on that tower.”

  “So can everybody else. The coping is very low and is broken away and Veryan was a tall man. Somebody gave him a shove and over he went.”

  “You couldn’t be sure that would happen. People standing on their feet have a lot of resistance to a push or shove. I have thought of a much better way.”

  “Then I wouldn’t tell that detective, if I were you.”

  “I don’t think it would work in my case; I’m not big enough or strong enough, but an average person could do it.”

  “Which average person do you have in mind?”

  “Nobody in particular.”

  “Come on! You can trust me.”

  “Can I? Susannah Lochlure couldn’t. You let her think your parents would be at home, and that she would go riding and play golf and there might be a small, select dance on the Saturday night. It’s no use denying it. I heard you. You must have known you were lying to her.”

  “Will you give me a copy of that sonnet? I like it very much. May I have it?”

  “Yes, of course. All right, then, the average person in my mind is Edward Saltergate.”

  “And the method?”

  “I envisage Veryan seated on the broken wall with both hands holding his telescope to his eye. You know the way he always sat leaning right back with his knees together—”

  “And his hands clasped behind the back of his head—”

  “In this case holding the telescope, as I say. Well, all the average person would have to do is to make a swift dive at his legs, get him behind the knees, and tumble him over backwards. He could not possibly save himself.”

  “There are two objections to your choosing Saltergate.”

  “He’s the one with a motive.”

  “I thought we agreed that motive was of secondary importance. I can pick holes in your theory. For one thing, you couldn’t be certain that your method would kill a person. It might only injure him and then he could testify against you. My other objection is that, as soon as anybody else climbed the tower, Veryan would automatically lower the telescope and certainly would not be taken by surprise. In fact, if the visitor was Saltergate and he came by night, I’m sure Veryan would have been on the alert and very suspicious.”

  “He despised Edward. He would not have been afraid of him. Then, once Edward had done the job, you see, he could have got down from the tower, picked up Veryan’s head and smashed it down on that pile of stones to make sure.”

  “I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty.”

  “All poets are bloodyminded. Didn’t you know?”

  “More work for the police, then,” said Mowbray. “I’ll send my sergeant. He’s a lady-killer and a snake in the grass. I have faith in his future. He should go far.”

  Detective-Sergeant Harrow sought out Bonamy who, with Tom, was filling in a narrow causeway over the trench so that it could be crossed and another row of pegs inserted in order that a second trench inside the first one could be dug when the two workmen had finished their present assignment.

  “Can you spare a minute? I’ve orders from Mr. Mowbray,” he said. The young men straightened their backs. “He wants the names of the two young ladies you have been in the habit of dating since you’ve been here. We have the name of the pub you frequent.”

  “Oh, Lord! Dame Beatrice has blown the gaff on us!” said Tom. “Look here, Virginia and Sarah had nothing whatever to do with this rotten business. They’ve never so much as met anybody here except ourselves. You are not going to badger them.”

  “Far from it, I assure you, sir. The top brass are just clearing the dead wood out of the case. Our only concern is to make sure of your alibi for the time of the murder. You see, so far as our information goes, you and these young ladies were the only persons actually here at the castle at the time of Professor Veryan’s death. Mr. and Mrs. Saltergate were in the village, but not, of course, at the castle. All we need is confirmation that you and the ladies were actually in the caravan on that Sunday night. Once that has been established, we can eliminate you from our list of suspects. Have they surnames?”

  “We didn’t bother about surnames. We knew them as Virginia and Sarah.”

  “Nor they, sir?”

  “They knew us as Tom and Bonamy. No names, no packdrill. It was just one of these holiday pickups, you know.”

  “And enjoyed by all, I have no doubt, sir. I envy you.”

  “Why? Think of Starsky and Hutch. Look at that Greek Romeo Kojak. The police have all the opportunities.”

  “I have nothing to learn from American police methods, sir. So far as my duties are concerned, stuffed shirt is my middle name.”

  “OK, so no muscling in on our preserves,” said Tom, eyeing the handsome young sergeant with little favour.

  “No such luck, sir.”

  The landlord of the public house in Stint Magna knew Harrow and greeted the sergeant with resignation.

  “Don’t tell me my ladies have been getting into mischief,” he said.

  “You’ve read about the death of Professor Veryan at Holdy Castle, I suppose, Sam?”

  “Very unfortunate, that. Shows how careful people ought to be, climbing about on ruins.”

  “Yes. Did your ladies sleep here on that Sunday night?”

  “No, nor on the Friday and Saturday neither. Paid their bills—I charge by the week—on the Friday morning, told me they wouldn’t be back till the Monday, and had a midday snack and a drink with two young fellers been coming here regular, and then went gallivantin’ off with them. Not much call to ask how they spent the weekend, I reckon. Lady students they may be, but larky as they come. Oh, well, you’re only young once.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Sunbathin’ and studyin’ out on my back lawn. It ain’t overlooked and we gives ’em warning of opening time so’s they can get their shorts and shirts on over their bikinis and come respectable into the bar.”

  “Call them in now.”

  “It wants half an hour.”

  “I haven’t got half an hour to mess about. Besides, I want to talk to them before those young fellows get here.”

  “That won’t be yet awhile. What’s the big idea?”

  “Orders from up top. That’s all I know.”

  “OK. Get ’em in the back way, Dilly. Tell ’em it’s the police and they better look slippy.”

  Virginia and Sarah proved to be long-legged, attractive hoydens, well up to the exacting standards which Tom, at any rate, set for the women of his fancy. They eyed the sergeant with approval.

  “The fuzz gets scrummier and scrummier,” said Virginia, when she had introduced herself by this name.

  �
�And crumbier and crumbier,” said Sarah. “Just look at this innocent boy!”

  “You’re welcome to do that as long as you want,” said Harrow, “but, while you’re doing it, I have to ask you a few questions concerning the death at Holdy Castle.”

  “Not guilty, me lud,” said Virginia.

  “You were in a caravan parked just below the ruins of Holdy Castle when the death occurred, and two young men whom you knew as Bonamy and Tom were with you.”

  “But the two boys weren’t. We spent Friday afternoon and Saturday and Sunday all day together, but when it came to bedtime they chickened out on us, even though we assured them we were on the pill.”

  “Look, ladies, this is a very serious matter. The inquest has been adjourned because there is some evidence—not much, but some—that Professor Veryan was murdered. I do ask you, for your own sakes, not to play games. Do you swear that you were alone in the caravan on the nights in question?”

  “Yes,” said Virginia. “They done us wrong—in reverse.”

  “We was stood up,” said Sarah, copying her friend’s flippant tone; then she caught Harrow’s eye and became serious. “It wasn’t very flattering,” she said.

  “But you yourselves definitely were in the caravan on that Sunday night?”

  “We were hardly likely to have crawled back here to Uncle Sam and Aunt Dilly and ask for our beds back because our favours had been rejected,” said Virginia. “The boys brought us back first thing on Monday morning, as promised, and our wounded feelings could not survive in the face of their contrition for having let us down.”

  “None of that matters very much, miss. I now come to a leading question and you, being educated ladies, will recognise it as such and will not be tempted into making any false statements concerning it.”

  “Oh, Lord! I know what’s coming. That drunken bellowing,” said Sarah. “Very unpleasant.”

  “What time was this, and which night?”

  “The Sunday night, at about half-past eleven.”

  “Bellowing? Not a single shout?”

  “No. There was quite a bit of it. It sounded like a first-class row, and it was too close to be pleasant. I got up and locked the door of the caravan and closed the windows. It made the place horribly stuffy, but if there is one thing I bar it’s people who are fighting drunk.”

  “Are you sure of the time, miss?”

  “Yes, I’ve got a luminous watch.”

  “What made you look at it?”

  “I said to Virginia that surely the pubs had closed long before, and that made me look at my watch.”

  “Of course we were there,” said Tom. “Do you impugn our virility?”

  “No, only your veracity, sir,” said Mowbray. “Sergeant Harrow is convinced that the young ladies were telling him the truth. He sums them up as the last types who would have denied sleeping around, if sleep around they did. He asserts that they were humiliated and distressed by what they saw as your unchivalrous behaviour.”

  “The world has turned itself upside down,” said Tom, “so what’s the use? We never dreamed you’d be swine enough to question the girls.”

  “Pigs is the word for us, not swine, sir,” said Mowbray, with an avuncular smile.

  “So our alibi has gone up in smoke.”

  “According to Dame Beatrice, you are not the only liars in your party, sir. She is far from satisfied with the interviews she had, although, strangely enough, she was inclined to accept your own story. Just as a matter of interest, may I ask why you let the young ladies down?”

  “In winter-time a young man’s fancy

  From his love will not be sundered,

  But there’s no fun in bed with Nancy

  When the temperature’s a hundred,”

  said Tom and he added, “The July nights were much too hot for fornication. We preferred to sleep under the stars.”

  “In other words,” said Bonamy, “we did spend Sunday night in my godmother’s paddock and on the other two nights we were equally far from the madding crowd.”

  “That may turn out very awkward from your point of view, gentlemen. My advice is to stick to your assignments, however inconvenient, insanitary, or uncomfortable they may be.”

  “So there it is, ma’am,” said Mowbray later to Dame Beatrice. “One helpful pointer has emerged, though. There seems no reason to doubt those girls. Harrow, who is my barometer where the young of the female sex are concerned, is convinced that they were vexed and chagrined when the young fellows dodged the column.”

  “Was their excuse for so doing a genuine one? Did it ring true?”

  “Oh, indeed, ma’am. I myself slept in the porch those nights. I thought we were going to end up with violent thunderstorms, it was so hot and humid down here.”

  “It is never too hot for me. Old bones are sensitive only to the cold. I wonder if the quarrel the girls mentioned was between Saltergate and Veryan. The time Sarah quoted was eleven-thirty and that fits.”

  “And doesn’t help, ma’am.”

  “Well, now, have you Miss Broadmayne’s home address?”

  “With all the others, yes, ma’am. We had it in mind that all work at the castle would cease, at any rate for a time, after Professor Veryan’s death, and that the parties would disperse to their homes.”

  “Yes, one would have thought so. It might be interesting to take a look at Miss Broadmayne’s home and check whether one of the bedrooms, or any other part of the house, has been redecorated recently. Then I think you might find it equally interesting to ask Mr. and Mrs. Saltergate to reconsider the story they told me, or, at any rate, to add to it.”

  “They made the damaging admission, you tell me, ma’am, that they were both at the ruins on the Sunday night and that Mrs. Saltergate was actually on the tower with the professor and was engaged in diverting his attention from Mr. Saltergate, who was busy snooping around down below.”

  “I don’t think that is the whole story.”

  “I have checked at the Horse and Cart. They were seen to come in at the time they told you.”

  “And were not seen to go out again, but, of course, there is that fire escape.”

  “Are you suggesting—?”

  “No, no. I do not know for certain whether they were responsible for the death. I think they did see someone on the tower, but that was not necessarily Professor Veryan.”

  “I suppose it wouldn’t help if I could find out how Professor Veryan spent the daylight hours of Sunday, would it, ma’am?”

  “I cannot say, but it might be interesting, especially if he spent them with his divorced wife, although it would prove nothing, so far as I can see. Indeed, her alibi stands firm.”

  “I had not lost sight of the lady, ma’am. She stands to gain considerably by the death.”

  “Hardly considerably, I fancy, but it will be interesting to hear how much he had to leave. He is reputed to have been a man of wealth, but archaeological research is not cheap. From Mrs. Veryan’s point of view, it might have been more advantageous that he should remain alive, receive a university stipend, write (possibly) books, and continue paying her alimony.”

  “You advised me to check on Miss Broadmayne. Any particular reason?”

  “Only that she is an unusually muscular young woman, a match for most men, especially if they were not prepared for her onslaught. She was also, if reports can be believed, in a very frustrated state of mind and may have been blindly determined, like a child which smites or kicks its toys, to get her own back on somebody, no matter whether that person had offended her or not.”

  “You don’t seriously think she would commit murder?”

  “Intentionally, no, but then probably the child who feels it has been punished unjustly does not really intend to break the doll or the toy. If you find that home decorations were carried out recently, that would do something to support Miss Broadmayne’s alibi, but, if nothing of the sort was done, it does not prove anything except that she is prepared to bend the truth if it
seems politic to do so.”

  “That was a queer caper on the part of the other young lady. She doesn’t strike me as the sort to go up to London and cut loose.”

  “She has produced an alibi which she cannot prove and which you would find almost impossible to disprove. Of course, she is a highly intelligent girl.”

  “If she weren’t such a meagre little helping of skin and bone—asking your pardon for the description, ma’am—if she were like Miss Broadmayne or if she were a young gentleman, I mean, I might think of keeping her under suspicion, but, as it is, I haven’t even checked at that farm where she was supposed to be staying. I had better, though, I suppose.”

  “She may have told the London story out of bravado. I think you might do worse than check on her friends at that farm, as you say, and find out whether she did not go to them for the weekend after all.”

  “I would have done that earlier if I had thought she had either the guts or the strength to push Veryan off that tower, ma’am, but the idea seemed ludicrous.”

  12

  Disappearance of the Hired Help

  Mowbray had enough to keep him busy. Accompanied by Laura and Detective-Sergeant Harrow, who drove the car, he took Fiona to her home. The house was still empty, but there were letters on the doormat which she picked up, glanced at, and placed on a side table in the hall. She had not uttered a word during the journey.

  “Now, miss,” said Mowbray, “it is not that I don’t believe you, but you will appreciate that I have my duty to do. People have given various accounts of how they spent the weekend and I need to check their statements very carefully in view of the serious nature of my investigations. Perhaps you will kindly take me to look at the painting and decorating you claim to have done in this house.”

  “Yes, well, all right,” said Fiona. She led the way up the stairs. A door on the second-floor landing was wide open and was kept so by a wooden doorstop in the form of a black cat. A strong draught which blew into the faces of the investigators showed that the window was also wide open. There was a strong smell of paint.