The Curious Death of Henry J. Vicenzi (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 5)

by R. A. Bentley

  'She ran straight out, yes.'

  'Via the front door?'

  'Yes.'

  'What about a hat?'

  'Good heavens! I don't know,' cried Mr Curry. 'Maybe she was wearing one already.'

  'You can't remember if she was wearing a hat?'

  'No I can't!'

  'And while you were in the house or on the property, did you see anyone else at all?'

  'No, no-one.'

  'Not even a servant?'

  'No, no-one.'

  'You can remember that, then?'

  'Yes, I can.'

  'Did you murder Henry Vicenzi, Mr Curry?'

  'What? No!'

  'Did Miss Vicenzi?

  'No, of course not.'

  'Do you own a gun?'

  'No.'

  'Who do you think did murder him?'

  'I haven't the slightest idea.'

  'And don't care?'

  'I have no idea who murdered him. One hopes he is in a better place.'

  Felix observed him balefully for a while. 'All right, you may go. Sergeant Rattigan has been taking down your statement. He'll make a fair copy and one of my officers will visit you with it. If you consider the contents fairly represent your words he'll ask you to sign it. Good afternoon.'

  The curate all but ran from the room, nearly colliding with Mary. 'I came to ask if you'd like a cuppa, sir.'

  'Very much, Mary. But before you bring it, perhaps you will give me your own statement?'

  'Er, yes all right, sir,' said Mary, settling nervously on the edge of a chair. 'I don't know that I can tell you very much; I was upstairs when it happened.'

  'But presumably you heard the shot?'

  'Oh yes, sir, really loud it was. I couldn't properly tell where it came from and I started to come down, and then I decided it was more likely outside so I went back up and looked out of the window. Then I heard people running about and came down to see. Not straight away because I was a bit frightened by then, to be honest.'

  'I expect you were,' said Felix sympathetically. 'And when you looked out of the window, did you see anyone? How soon did you get to the window, would you say?'

  'Quite quickly, because I ran into Miss Pickles' room, where I'd been dusting, and that's near the top of the stairs. All I saw was Mrs Entwistle, sir. No-one else. She'd just come back from her walk.'

  'What was she doing, exactly?'

  'Just standing, sir, on the terrace. I expect she heard the shot and was trying to make out what it was. She's very deaf now, sir. She's got an ear trumpet, when she remembers it.'

  'Yes, we've encountered the ear trumpet. Why was she on the terrace? Is that a part of her route home?'

  'Yes it is really, because she always comes in the back gate then turns off into the flower garden and walks up through it to the house. Well, she always has when I've seen her. You can come straight up the back path – it's behind that privet hedge, sir – but she always turns off. I expect she likes to see what's in flower at the moment, and there's a seat by the fishpond where she sits sometimes. You can get off the terrace back onto the path again.'

  Felix stood up and went to the door. 'Ah yes, through that arch. And do you think that's where the murderer would have gone, if he left this way?'

  Mary looked doubtful. 'He'd have had to, sir, unless he'd gone straight down past Mrs Entwistle, but no-one came out while I looked, and I was bound to see them from Miss Pickles' room, whichever way they went. If you go upstairs and look, you'll see.'

  'Can I just ask Mary, sir,' said Rattigan, 'how close Mrs Entwistle was to the garden-door, when she saw her?'

  Mary considered this. 'Not all that close, sir. Maybe ten or twelve feet. I don't think she could have seen anything going on inside, if that's what you're wondering. Her eyesight's not much cop either. I'd have thought she'd see someone running off though, same as I would.'

  'And finally, were you aware of anyone coming up the stairs soon after the shot, or going down before it?'

  'No, I don't think so, sir. Who would that have been?'

  'Well, we just have to ask, you know. Anyway, thank you, Mary, that's an excellent piece of description. And more generally, has anything happened in the house a bit strange or unusual in the last few days? Something you've wondered about?'

  But Mary hadn't, or said she hadn't, but she did think Mrs Andrew had a photo-album and she said she'd go and see if she'd taken it with her, after she'd got their tea.

  Chapter Five

  They were chatting in what was nominally the servants' hall, a small but cheerful room next to the kitchen.

  'Another one, Dottie?' offered Cook.

  Dottie accepted a second cup of tea. 'It was really rather exciting,' she continued, helping herself to sugar. 'We finally ran him to earth at St Edwold's; hiding in the crypt, would you believe? I don't know what he was thinking of, silly man.'

  'Hardly a man, to my way of thinking,' declared Mary. 'Effeminate, I calls him. He's not right for our Esme. I said that from the start.'

  'Surely she won't want him now?' said Cook. 'He's blotted his copybook good and proper, running off like that.'

  'Very cold to him the inspector was,' said Ida. 'Very fierce. You should've heard him.'

  'You shouldn't have been earwigging,' said Mabel. 'You'll get caught one of these days.'

  'Now there is a man,' sighed Mary. 'Tall, handsome and charming with it. A real gent.'

  'Talks like one too,' agreed Mabel. 'Mostly they tend to coarseness in their speech and manner.'

  'How many police inspectors have you known, then?' asked Ida. 'Can't be many.'

  'I meant policemen in general,' said Mabel with dignity.

  'Sergeant Yardley is quite good looking,' opined Mary, 'in a boyish sort of way.'

  'You can't have him; he's married.'

  'That's the trouble. The best ones always is.'

  'Sergeant Nash isn't. Or he doesn't wear a ring anyway.'

  'No, and I wouldn't trust that one as far as I could throw him. The way he looks at you! A girl's not safe.'

  'Suppose she don't want to be safe?' enquired Ida.

  'Ida Turner!' cried Cook. 'I sometimes wonder about you!'

  'Reads too many romances,' opined Mabel. 'Overheats the blood.'

  'John's all right,' laughed Dottie. 'He just likes to flirt. Anyway, I don't think he's interested in single ladies.'

  'You mean he goes for married ones?' cried Mary, scandalized.

  'I get that impression.'

  'Well that's shameful!'

  'They can always say no,' said Mabel. 'It's not obligatory.'

  'You might not want to refuse a policeman.'

  'How do you know anyway?' asked Mabel curiously. 'Do you know him?'

  'He was talking to me,' said Dottie, 'while he took his pictures. He has to take pictures of Sergeant Yardley's dabs. That's what they call fingerprints, apparently. He said he'd rather take pictures of me.'

  'You wouldn't catch me posing for him,' said Mary darkly. 'He might take liberties.'

  'You'll be all right with your young man anyway,' said Cook. 'Very solid is Mr Lewis, working so hard at the shop and looking after his poor brother like he does. Devoted he is, and to Mrs Andrew. Ida, haven't you got a hankie dear? Honestly, you couldn't take her anywhere!'

  'Except the second time to apologise,' said Mabel.

  One knows and three don't, noted Dottie. I wonder how much he slipped her to keep quiet? 'Does anyone know where they've gone?' she asked.

  'No,' said Cook, 'It's a mystery. But I do know they wouldn't have murdered their father. I've known them since they were children and they just wouldn't. And nor would Mrs Andrew, neither. And at least with them gone they can't accuse them of it.'

  *

  Fetched from the garden by Yardley, Mrs Entwistle sat with her knees wide apart, resting a hand on her stick and her hearing trumpet permanently applied to one ear. This she kept trained on her interlocutor while observing him sideways.

  'No
I didn't see 'im shot, more's the pity,' she said. 'Wasn't close enough. I should've liked to watch 'im die but that new girl dragged me away. Don't recall 'er name.'

  'I believe you're referring to Miss Pickles,' shouted Felix. 'She's a friend of Lewis's.'

  Mrs Entwistle looked surprised. 'What's he want her for? That other one keeps 'im busy enough I shoulda thought. Settled in quick; I'll say that. Saw 'er in the kitchen this mornin,' chattin' away like she'd been 'ere years.'

  'To what other one were you referring, Mrs Entwistle?'

  'Heh, heh. That's what I say,' agreed Mrs Entwistle. 'She'll get into trouble, see if she don't. You want nice plain girls for servants.'

  Felix decided to concentrate on the big questions. 'Why did you want to watch Mr Vicenzi die?' he shouted. 'Didn't you like him?'

  'Like 'im! I hated 'im. I'll die hatin' 'im,' said Mrs Entwistle. 'He killed my daughter.'

  'How did he do that? How did he kill your daughter?'

  'Worked her to death,' growled Mrs Entwistle. 'Never let her rest, mornin,' noon and night, even when she was nursin' 'er babbies, even when little Edward, died. He'd have been the eldest now. Lovely little boy. He killed her and he killed Eddie. I hate 'im.'

  'I'm very sorry to hear that, Mrs Entwistle,' shouted Felix, 'But two wrongs don't make a right, you know. What about your grandchildren? They surely want their father's murderer caught?'

  Mrs Entwistle's expression became intransigent, her remarkably hairy chin thrust forward. 'I never saw the beggar,' she snapped, 'and I wouldn't tell you if I had, so it's no good askin'. Deserves a medal he does, and that's a fact.'

  'Mrs Entwistle,' said Felix, 'did you kill Mr Henry Vicenzi?'

  Mrs Entwistle nodded vehemently. 'Heh, heh, that's right!'

  Seeing the old lady out, Felix closed the door behind her and leant wearily upon it. 'I don't know why,' he said, 'but I'm finding today particularly hard going. Is it me or is it them others?'

  *

  'Lewis, you made me jump!' cried Dottie. 'What are you doing in the garden? Where have you been?'

  'I needed somewhere to think. Jessup has just told me the news. What about you?'

  'I'm looking for Dennis. I said I'd play with him for a while. Lewis, I'm terribly sorry about your father. I know how I felt when I lost mine. Why don't you tell me what's been going on? I might be able to help.'

  Lewis shook his head. 'Nothing to be done I'm afraid. Not for now anyway. Dottie, I know I've treated you very shabbily, but things have been pretty bloody for me lately, and now there's this ghastly business to deal with. I hope to make it up to you eventually if you'll give me the chance. It was good of you to wait for me. I don't deserve it.'

  Dottie decided not to tell him she'd been about to leave. 'What are you going to do now' she asked.

  Lewis smiled ruefully. 'Hand myself in, I suppose.'

  'And please accept, of course, our sincere condolences, Mr Vicenzi,' said Felix, ushering him into the study. 'Do sit down. You'll understand, I'm sure, that given the circumstances I need to ask some pretty searching questions. This is Sergeant Rattigan. He'll be taking notes on our interview. Smoke?'

  'Thank you Inspector,' said Lewis, accepting a cigarette. 'I see you've made yourselves at home.'

  'It seemed the best place,' said Felix. 'If it disturbs you, we can go elsewhere.'

  Lewis shrugged. 'I don't suppose it matters. I'd like to see the old boy. Is that possible?'

  'Yes of course. I'll arrange it for you. May we have a few biographical facts to start with?'

  They waited while Rattigan went through the usual questions.

  'Thank you, Sergeant. Mr Vicenzi, I believe you left here very early this morning. May I ask where you've been?'

  Lewis was thoughtful for a while, then sighed resignedly. 'I was seeing my brother and sister-in-law off on a journey.'

  'Where were they going?'

  'I'm afraid I don't know. It was agreed that I shouldn't know.'

  'Why is that?'

  'So that I shouldn't be able to tell anyone, Inspector.'

  Felix smiled. 'Ask a silly question! Has he done anything illegal? Anything we would look askance at?'

  Lewis considered this, his head on one side. 'In the light of subsequent events,' he said carefully, 'I doubt there's anything that would bother you unduly.'

  'Care to elucidate?'

  'No, I don't feel I can. Sorry.'

  'Diverted funds to his own use?' suggested Felix. 'Sold company secrets to a rival?'

  Lewis pulled heavily on his cigarette and examined it. 'I see you've been this way before, Inspector.'

  'A well-trodden path, Mr Vicenzi. Can I take it that your father's untimely demise has put, shall we say, a different slant on things?'

  Lewis looked relieved. 'Much as I regret the circumstances, yes.'

  'All right, we won't pursue that now. Let's get back to your own movements. It's three o'clock. Where have you been since seeing your brother off?'

  'Wandering the streets. I didn't want to come home or go to the shop, and I had a lot to think about. Even more now, of course.'

  'Any witnesses to your peregrinations?'

  'Not that I know of.'

  'That's a pity; it means you remain a suspect. How did your brother and his wife leave, by the way?'

  'By tube. I can't help you more, I'm afraid.'

  'Whom do you think might have murdered your father? Did he have any enemies?'

  'I can't imagine so. He seldom went out and didn't care for socialising. He lived for business.'

  'Commercial rivalry?'

  Lewis shook his head. 'This is hardly New York or Chicago, Inspector. And in any case we have no real competition in our part of town.'

  'What about the servants?'

  'Not the maids, surely? As for Jessup, I suppose it's possible. He told you he's working out his notice, I expect?'

  'He's found another position?'

  'Not that I know of. Father sacked him.'

  'What for?'

  'Insubordination. He's inclined to speak his mind. I suppose I'll have to make a decision about him, in my brother's absence. I've nothing against him personally.'

  'You do realise we'll have to have your brother back?'

  'I hadn't thought. But he couldn't have had anything to do with it, you know. They were probably still travelling at the time.'

  'To where was it again?'

  'To their destination, Inspector. I truly don't know where that is.'

  'What sort of terms were you on with your father, Mr Vicenzi?'

  Lewis smiled sadly. 'We got on well enough. He was a miserable old sod with no interests outside of business, but we understood each other. We didn't actually spend much time in each other's company.'

  'Did you love him?'

  'Yes, I did.'

  'What about your brother?'

  'You'll have to ask him that. And no, I don't know where he's gone.'

  They observed each other silently for a while.

  'Would it be in order if I went into work?' asked Lewis. 'There is no-one at the helm at the moment and ninety people are relying on me. Had I known about this before I should have been there now.'

  'What about Mr Drake?'

  'He's little more than a sleeping partner; he knows almost nothing about the day to day running of the store. I need urgently to arrange for someone to do my brother's job. It's not going to be easy.'

  'What was his job?'

  'He was buying manager.'

  'And yours?'

  'General manager. I run the show.'

  'Might he come back to it now?'

  'Goodness knows. First he has to hear the news. I suppose he'll see a newspaper soon enough.'

  'All right, I'll let you get on with that,' said Felix, rising, 'but you must report to the local police station daily until this business is resolved. I'll make the necessary arrangements. Have you seen Miss Vicenzi since you got home?'

  'I've learned all about it. She's as
leep at the moment. Good riddance to the little twerp as far as I'm concerned. You must wonder what sort of household you're investigating, Inspector.'

  'Murder tends to be disruptive,' said Felix dryly. 'Oh, and one more thing. You weren't in the war presumably?'

  'No, I missed it by a few weeks. My brother was; he was badly wounded. He's not a well man.'

  'I'm sorry to hear that. Now don't jump to conclusions but do you know if he retained his service pistol, a Webley Mk VI?'

  'Is that what killed my father?'

  'It was the right calibre. That's all we know.'

  'Hmm, well he did have one. I honestly don't know if he's still got it. If he has, I should imagine it's in his room somewhere.'

  'Might he have taken it with him?'

  'I really don't know. I should hardly think so. He's not some desperado, Inspector; he just needed to get away for a while and consider his options. I'll just see if my sister is up and about and then I'll be off. You know where to find me.'

  'Seeing him out, Felix encountered the butler. 'Ah, Mr Jessup; just the man I wanted. Kindly get me my wife on the telephone.'

  *

  'Hello darling, it's me.'

  'You're not going to be late are you?' said Connie. 'Only Daisy's arrived.'

  'I don't know; we've got a murder,' said Felix, checking to see if he was overheard. 'What do you two have planned for this afternoon?'

  'There's not much of it left. Why?'

  'Well I'm hoping you'll do a little job for us. It's rather onerous, I'm afraid, but it utilises your natural skills to perfection.'

  'Oh yes?' said Connie suspiciously, 'And what might that be?'

  'I want you to go shopping at Pumfreys, all expenses paid. And maybe patronise their tea room if you can fit it in. Take a taxi of course, there and back.'

  'He wants us to go shopping at police expense, in a taxi,' reported Connie. 'What do you think?' There was a brief, muttered consultation. 'Yes, all right. Daisy says she supposes it's our civic duty. That's the department store isn't it? What are we to buy?'

  'Anything you like. Baby clothes or something.'

  Connie laughed. 'Miles, we are replete with baby clothes. Given the rate at which my mother is knitting we'll be able to stock an orphanage. Can't it be something else?'