Ngaio Marsh - Death At The Bar

by Ngaio Marsh

  "'Od rabbit it,"he shouted, "don't George Nark stuff that thurr chunk of science down my gullet every time he opens his silly face? Lookee yurr, sir I Twas twentyfour hours and more, since I put bottle o' poison in cupboard. I'd washed my hands half a dozen times since then. Bar had been swabbed down. Ax yourself, how could I infectorite they darts i " Alleyn looked at the sweaty earnest countenance before him and whistled soundlessly.

  "Yes,"he said at last, "it seems unlikely." "Unlikely. It's slap down impossible." "But----" "If pison got on thicky dart,"said Abel, "'twasn't by accident nor yet by carelessness. Twas by malice.

  'Twas with murderacious intent. Thurr I " "But how do you account----" "Account? Me? "asked old Abel agitatedly. "I don't. I leaves they intellectual capers to Superintendent Nicholas Harper and a pretty poor fist he do be making of it. That's why----" "Yes, yes,"said Alleyn hurriedly. "But remember that Mr. Harper may be doing more than you think.

  Policemen have to keep their own counsel, you see. Don't make up your mind that because he doesn't say very much----" "It's not what he don't say, it's the silly standoffishness of what he do say. Nick Harper 1 Damme, I was to school with the man, and now he sits behind his desk and looks at me as if I be a fool. ' Where's your facts?' he says.

  ' Don't worry yourself,' he says, ' if there's anything fishy us'U fish for it.' Truth of the matter is the man's too small and ignorant for a murderous matter. Can't raise himself above the level of motor licences and afterhour trade, and more often than not he makes a muck of them. What'll come to the Feathers if this talk goes on?

  Happen us'U have to give up the trade, after a couple of centuries." "Don't you believe it,"said Alleyn. "We can't afford to lose our old pubs, Mr. Pomeroy, and it's going to take more than a week's village gossip to shake the trade at the Plume of Feathers. It is just a week since the inquest, isn't it? It's fresh in Mr. George Nark's memory. Give it time to die down." "If this affair dies down, sir, there'll be a murderer unhung in the Coombe." Alleyn raised his brows.

  "You feel like that about it? " "'Ess, I do. What's more, sir, I'll put a name to the man." Alleyn lifted a hand but old Abel went on doggedly.

  "I don't care who hears me, I'll put a name to him and that there name's Robert Legge. Now I " n

  "A very positive old article,"said Alleyn when Fox returned from seeing Abel Pomeroy down the corridor.

  "I can't see why he's made up his mind this chap Legge is a murderer,"said Fox. "He'd only known deceased twenty-four hours. It sounds silly." "He says Watchman gibed at Legge,"said Alleyn.

  "I wonder if he did. And why." "I've heard him in court often enough,"said Fox.

  "He was a prime heckler. Perhaps it was a habit." "I don't think so. He was a bit malicious though.

  He was a striking sort of fellow. Plenty of charm and a good deal of vanity. He always seemed to me to take unnecessary trouble to be liked. But I didn't know him well. The cousin's a damn good actor. Rather like Watchman, in a way. Oh well, it's not our pidgin, thank the Lord. I'm afraid the old boy's faith in us wonderful police has been shaken." "D'you know the Super at Illington, Mr. Alleyn? " "Harper? Yes, I do. He was in on that arson case in South Devon in '37. Served his apprenticeship in L.

  Division. You must remember him." "Nick Harper? " "That'a the fellow. Devon, born and bred. I think perhaps I'd better write and warn him about Mr.

  Pomeroy's pilgrimage." "I wonder if old Pomeroy's statement's correct. I wonder if he did make a bloomer with the rat poison, and is simply trying to save his face." "His indignation seemed to me to be supremely righteous. I fancy he thinks he's innocent." "Somebody else may have mucked about with the bottle and won't own up,"Fox speculated.

  "Possible. But who'd muck about with hydrocyanic acid for the sheer fun of the thing? " "The alternative,"said Fox, "is murder." "Is it? Well, you bumble off and brood on it. You must be one of those zealous officers who rise to the top of the profession." "Well, sir,"said Fox, "it's funny. On the face of it, it's funny." "Run away and laugh at it, then. I'm going home, Br'er Fox." But when Fox had gone Alleyn sat and stared at the top of his desk. At last he drew a sheet of paper towards him and began to write.

  '. dear nick,—It's some time since we met and you'll wonder why the devil I'm writing. A friend of yours has just called on us, Abel Pomeroy of the Plume of Feathers, Ottercombe. He's in a state of injury and fury and is determined to get to the bottom of the Luke Watchman business. I tried to fob him off with fair words but it wasn't a howling success and he's gone away with every intention of making things hum until you lug a murderer home to justice. I thought I'd just warn you, but you'll probably hear from him before this reaches you. Don't, for the love of Mike, think we want to butt in. How are you? I envy you your job, infuriated innkeepers and all. In this weather we suffocate at C. l.

  Yours ever, "roderick allbyn." Alleyn sealed and stamped this letter. He took his hat and stick fro'm the wall, put on one glove, pulled it off again, cursed, and went to consult the newspaper files for the reports on the death of Luke Watchman.

  An hour passed. It is significant that when he finally left the Yard and walked rapidly down the Embankment, his lips were pursed in a soundless whistle.

  CHAPTER EIGHT ALLEYN AT ILLINGTON

  Superintendent nicholas harper to Chief DetectiveInspector Alleyn.

  "Illington Police Station, "South Devon, "8th August.

  "dear mr. alleyn,—Yours of the 6th inst. to hand for which I thank you. As regards Mr. Abel Pomeroy I am very grateful for information received as per your letter as it enabled me to deal with Pomeroy more effectively, knowing the action he had taken as regards visiting C. I.

  For your private information we are working on the case which presents one or two features which seem to preclude possibility of accident. Well Mr. Alleyn—Rory, if you will pardon the liberty—it was nice to hear from you.

  I have not forgotten that arson case in '37 nor the old days in L. Division. A country -Super gets a bit out of things.

  "With kind regards and many thanks, "Yours faithfully, "N. W. harper, Superintendent." Part of a letter from Colonel the Hon. Maxwell Brammington, Chief Constable of South Devon, to the Superintendent of the Central Branch of New Scotland Yard.

  "—and on the score of the deceased's interests and activities being centred in London, I have suggested to Superintendent Harper that he consult you. In my opinion the case is somewhat beyond the resources and experience of our local force. Without wishing for a moment to exceed my prerogative in this matter, I venture to suggest that as we are already acquainted with Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn of C. i., we should be delighted if he was appointed to this case. That, however, is of course entirely for you to decide.

  "I am, "Yours faithfully, "maxwell brammington, C. C." "Well, Mr. Alleyn,"said the Superintendent of C. l., staring at the horseshoe and crossed swords that garnished the walls of his room, "you seem to be popular in South Devon." "It must be a case, sir,"said Alleyn, "of sticking to the ills they know." "Think so? Well. I'll have a word with the A. C.

  You'd better pack your bag and tell your wife." "Certainly, sir." "You knew Watchman, didn't you? " "Slightly, sir. I've had all the fun of being turned inside out by him in the witness-box." "In the Davidson case? " "And several others." "I seem to remember you were equal to him. But didn't you know him personally? " "Slightly." "He was a brilliant counsel." "He was indeed." "Well, watch your step and do us proud." "Yes, sir." "Taking Fox? " "If I may." "That's all right. We'll hear from you." Alleyn returned to his room, collected his emergency suitcase and kit, and sent for Fox.

  "Br'er Fox,"he said, "this is a wish-fulfilment.

  Get your fancy pyjamas and your toothbrush. We catch the midday train for South Devon."

  II

  The branch-line from Exeter to Illington meanders amiably towards the coast. From the train windows Alleyn and Fox looked down on sunken lanes, on thatched roofs and on glossy hedgerows that presented millions of tiny mirrors to the afternoon sun. All
eyn let down the window and the scent of hot grass and leaves drifted into the stuffy carriage.

  "Nearly there, Br'er Fox. That's lUingtoa church spire over the hul and there's the glint of sea beyond." "Very pleasant,"said Fox, dabbing at his enormous face with his handkerchief. "Warm though." "High summer, out there." "You never seem to show the heat, Mr. Alleyn.

  Now I'm a warm man. I perspire very freely. Always have. It's not an agreeable habit, though they tell me it's healthy." "Yes, Fox." "I'U get the things down, sir." The train changed its pace from slow to extremely slow. Beyond the window, a main road turned into a short-lived main street with a brief network of surrounding shops. The word "Illington "appeared in white stones on a grassy bank, and they drew"into the station.

  "There's the super,"said Fox. "Very civil." Superintendent Harper shook hands at some length.

  Alleyn, once as touchy as a cat, had long ago accustomed himself to official handclasps. And he liked Harper who was bald. scarlet-faced, blue-eyed, and sardonic.

  "Glad to see you, Mr. Alleyn,"said Harper. "Good- afternoon. Good-aftemoon, Mr. Fox. I've got a car outside." He drove them in a police Ford down the main street.

  They passed a Woolworth store, a departmental store, a large hotel, and a row of small shops amongst which Alleyn noticed one labelled "Bernard Noggins, Chemist." "Is that where Parish bought the cyanide? " "You haven't lost any time, Mr. Alleyn,"said Harper who seemed to hover on the edge of Alleyn's Christian name and to funk it at the last second. "Yes, that's it. He's a very stupid.sort of man, is Bernie Noggins. There's the station. The colonel will be along presently. He's in a shocking mood over this affair, but you may be able to cope with him. I thought that before we moved on to Ottercombe, you might like to see the files and have a tell,"said Harper whose speech still held a tang of West Country.

  "Splendid. Where are we to stay? " "That's as you like, of course, Mr. Alleyn, but I've told that old blatherskite Pomeroy to hold himself in readiness. I thought you might prefer to be on the spot.

  I've warned him to say nothing about it and I think he'U have the sense to hold his tongue. No need to put anybody on the alert, is there? This car's at your service." "Yes, but look here----" "It's quite all right, Mr. Alleyn. I've a small two- seater we can use here." "That sounds perfectly splendid,"said Alleyn and followed Harper into the police station.

  They sat down in Harper's office while he got out his files. Alleyn looked at the photographs of past superintendents, at the worn linoleum and varnished woodwork, and he wondered how many times he had sat in country police stations waiting for the opening gambit of a case that, for one reason or another, had been a little too much for the local staff. Alleyn was the youngest chief-inspector at the Central Branch of New Scotland Yard, but he was forty-three. "I'm getting on."he thought without regret. "Old Fox must be fifty, he's getting quite grey. We've done all this so many times together."And he heard his own voice as if it was the 'voice of another man, uttering the familiar phrases.

  "I hope we won't be a nuisance to you. Nick. A case of this sort's always a bit tiresome isn't it? Local feeling and so on." Harper clapped a file down on his desk, threw his head back and looked at Alleyn from under his spectacles.

  "Local feeling? "he said. "Local stupidity 1 I don't care. They work it out for themselves and get a new version every day. Old Pomeroy's not the worst, not by a long chalk. The man's got something to complain about or thinks he has. It's these other experts, George Nark and Co., that make all the trouble. Nark's written three letters to the Illington Courier. The first was about finger-printing. He called it the Bertillion system, of course, ignorant old ass, and wanted to know if we'd printed everyone who was there when Watchman died.

  So I got him round here and printed him. So he wrote another letter to the paper about the liberty of the subject and said the South Devon constabulary were a lot of Hitlers. Then Oates, the Coombe P.C., found him crawling about outside Pomeroy's garage with a magnifying glass and kicked him out. So he wrote another letter saying the police were corrupt. Then the editor, who ought to know better, wrote a damn-fool leader, and then three more letters about me appeared. They were signed, ' Vigilant,' ' Drowsy ' and ' Moribund.' Then all the pressmen who'd gone away came back again. I don't care. What of it? But the C.C. began ringing me up three times a day and I got fed up and suggested he asked you and he jumped at it. There's the file." Alleyn and Fox hastened to make sympathetic noises.

  "Before we see the file,"Alleyn said, "we'd very much like to hear your own views. We've looked up the report on the inquest so we've got the main outline or ought to have it." "My views? "repeated Mr. Harper moodily. "I haven't got any. I don't think it was an accident." "Don't you, now I " "I don't see how it could have been. I suppose old Pomeroy bleated about his injuries when he went screeching up to the Yard. I think he's right. Far as I can see the old man did take reasonable precautions. Well, perhaps not that, the stuff ought never to have been left on the premises. But I don't see how, twenty-four hours after he'd stowed the bottle away in the cupboard, he could have infected that dart accidentally. We've printed the cupboard. It's got his prints on it and nobody else's." "Oh,"said Alleyn, "then it isn't a case of somebody else having tampered with the bottle and been too scared to own up." "No." "How many sets of Pomeroy's prints are on the cupboard door? " "Several. Four good ones on the knob. And he turned the key in the top cupboard when he put the cyanide away. His print's on the key all right and you can't do the pencil trick, for I've tried. It's a fair teaser." "Any prints on the bottle? " "None. But he explained he wore gloves and wiped the bottle." "The cupboard-door's interesting." "Is it? Well, when he opened the parcel of darts he broke the seals. I got hold of the wrapping and string.

  The string had only been tied once and the seals have got the shop's mark on them." "Damn good, Nick,"said Alleyn. Mr. Harper looked a little less jaundiced.

  "Well, it goes to show,"he admitted. "The dart was O.K. when old Pomeroy unpacked it. Then young Will and Parish handled the darts, and then Legge tried them out. Next thing--one of 'em sticks into deceased's finger and in five minutes he's a corpse." "The inference being----? " "God knows I They found cyanide on the dart but how the hell it got there's a masterpiece. I suppose old Pomeroy's talked Legge to you." "Yes." "Yes. Well, Legge had his coat off and his sleeves rolled up. Cubitt and young Pomeroy swear he took the darts with his left hand and held them point outward in a bunch while he tried them. They say he didn't wait any time at all. Just threw them into the board, said they were all right, and then waded in with his trick.

  You see, they were all watching Legge." "Yes." "What about the other five, Super? "asked Fox.

  "He used six for the trick, didn't he? " "Meaning one of them might have contrived to smear cyanide on one dart, while they looked at the lot? " "It doesn't make any sort of sense,"said Alleyn.

  "How was Cubitt or young Pomeroy to know Legge was going to pink Watchman? " "That's right,"agreed Harper, relapsing. "So it must be Legge but it couldn't be Legge; so it must be accident but it couldn't be accident. Funny, isn't it? " "Screamingly." "The iodine bottle's all right and so's the brandy bottle." "The brandy glass was broken? " "Smashed to powder except the bottom and that was in about thirty pieces. They couldn't find any cyanide." "Whereabouts on the dart was the trace of cyanide? " "On the tip and half-way up the steel point. We've printed the dart, of course. It's got Legge's prints all over it. They've covered Abel's or anybody else's who touched it except Oates, and he kept his head and only handled it by the flight. The analyst's report is here. And all the exhibits." "Yes. Have you fished up a motive? " "The money goes to Parish and Cubitt. Two-thirds to Parish and one-third to Cubit. That's excepting one or two small legacies. Parish is the next-of-kin. It's a big estate. The lawyer was so close as an oyster, but I've found out it ought to wash up at something like fifty thousand. We don't know much beyond what everybody knows. Reckon most folks have seen Sebastian Parish on the screen, and Mr. Cubitt seems to be a well-know
n artist. The C.C. expects the Yard to tackle that end of the stick." "Thoughtful of him 1 Anyone else? " "They've found a bit already. They've found Parish's affairs are in a muddle and he's been to the Jews. Cubitt had money in that Chain Stores Unlimited thing, that bust the other day. There's motive there all right." "Anyone else? Pomeroy's fancy? The mysterious Legge? " "Him? Motive? You've heard Pomeroy, Mr.

  Alleyn. Says deceased behaved peculiar to Legge. Chaffed him, like. Well, what is there in that? It seems there was a bit of a collision between them, the day Mr.

  Watchman drove into the Coombe. Day before the fatality that was. Legge's a bad driver anyway. Likely enough Mr. Watchman felt kind of irritated, and let Legge know all about it when they met again. Likely, Legge's views irritated Mr. Watchman." "His views? " "He's an out-and-out communist is Legge. Secretary and treasurer of the Coombe Left Movement and in with young Will and Miss Moore. Mr. Watchman seems to have made a bit of a laughing stock of the man but you don't do murder because you've been made to look silly." "Not very often I should think. Do you know anything about Legge? He's a newcomer, isn't he? " Harper unhooked his spectacles and laid them on his desk.