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

by R. A. Bentley

  'I shouldn't be surprised. Instantly forgotten, probably. He had some files in his tray when we went in, and a sheet of figures out, I think. There was to be a meeting later.'

  'Twelve o'clock?'

  'Yes it was.'

  'What about a page of newspaper?' Felix took it from his case and passed it over. 'This was found when we moved him, folded to show the small ads.'

  Taking it off him, Esme frowned and tucked in her chin. 'He never read the papers, and certainly not the advertisements. He relied on me to find anything he might be interested in and read it out to him.'

  'No idea why he'd have it?'

  'Not the foggiest!'

  'Might he have been considering stocking these items?'

  'He had trade catalogues for that, and Andrew mostly did it now anyway.'

  'Do you actually take this paper?'

  'It's the Express, isn't it? We do have it sometimes, and the Telegraph.'

  'Yes, it's the Express. Where might we look for the rest of it?'

  'The kitchen probably. The servants mostly read that.'

  'All right, we'll check. Did either of you come near him while you were in here this morning? Did you approach the desk at all?'

  She shook her head. 'No. . . Yes, sorry. Cedric attempted to shake his hand. Father wouldn't, so he came back and stood with me by this chair. We didn't even sit down.'

  'You'd be able to see out of the garden door from there. Was there anyone in the garden just then?'

  'Only Grandmamma. She was walking towards the house.'

  'No-one else?'

  'No. Well, not that I saw. Then he, Father, told me I was too old and plain to marry and was put into the world to look after him, and that Cedric was a nasty little . . . well I won't say what he called him, not that he mightn't be right, and to get out. So we did.'

  'Then what happened?'

  'I'm afraid I bolted; slapped a hat on and cleared out. I simply couldn't bear it.'

  'And Mr Curry?'

  'He was ahead of me. He was off like a scalded cat.'

  'And from the time you left the study, did you see anyone else?'

  Esme looked doubtful. 'No, I don't think I did, though there might have been.'

  'And, sorry to be brutal, but did you hear the shot that killed him?'

  'I don't think so. When was it?'

  'Quite soon after you left.'

  Esme looked mournful. 'So if I'd stopped, I might have prevented it?'

  Felix shook his head. 'We can't re-shape the past, Miss Vicenzi. It's best not to think like that. And then you went to the park?'

  'Yes, but not straight there. I thought he was going to walk me to his digs but then we turned off for the park. He was a bag of nerves. I don't think he knew what to do with me.'

  Felix sat and observed her for a moment or two. 'Miss Vicenzi, your fiancé—'

  'Ex-fiancé,' corrected Esme. 'He was careful not to say it in so many words, not that I care, but he as good as dumped me before we got home. Sorry, you were saying?'

  'Miss Vicenzi, Mr Curry has given us different accounts of events after you left this room. At first he said you'd both quit the house together but he now tells me he ran straight from here into the cloakroom. He says that he heard the shot that killed your father while he was in there and then left the house, seeing no-one except Mabel and Jessup running by. They didn't see him.'

  It was Esme's turn to be silent for a while. 'And he didn't tell me! I can scarcely credit it.'

  'Where did you meet up?'

  'In the road. I thought to catch him up but then wondered if he'd gone the other way. Either direction will get you to St Edwold's. I turned back and found him coming to meet me.'

  Felix nodded thoughtfully. 'I see. Miss Vicenzi, if one accepts Mr Curry's most recent account of events, there is now no witness to your own movements from the moment you entered the study until you encountered him again in the road. Can you think of anyone who just might have seen you leaving the house?'

  'Not really,' said Esme, 'I suppose they'd have said if they did. There might have been passers-by; I didn't notice. And I didn't see any neighbours. Does that mark me as a suspect?'

  'Technically, yes. Would it incommode you not to leave the house for the time being?'

  'I've no plans to do so.'

  'Then I'll assume that you won't. If, however, you need to, you will kindly telephone to me or my office first. I must ask you this. Did you shoot your father?'

  Esme gave him a thin smile. 'No.'

  'And Mr Curry?'

  'I can think of nothing less likely.'

  'Tougher, than I expected,' said Felix. 'She'll be all right.'

  'She'll come to see he did her a favour,' chuckled Rattigan. 'That's if she hasn't already. What happens now?'

  'Call it a day, I think. You've got your reports to do and I want a chat with Polly. We'll need to check the provenance of this newspaper at some point. A job for the lads. And I must arrange for that constable.'

  *

  'How did you get on today?' asked Felix, throwing himself on the sofa. 'How's Ian?'

  'He's all right,' said Daisy. 'He's home for the holidays at the moment but he's working for his dad as part of his course so I don't see him much. Have you solved it yet?'

  'The murder? We've barely begun. Teddy sends his regards, by the way.' He looked around him. 'No purchases? I was expecting a table-full of consumer merchandise spread for my delectation.'

  Connie held up a rubber toy. 'It squeaks,' she said, and squeaked it.

  'What a hideous object. What is it?'

  'A sort of bear, I think.'

  'Is that all?'

  'I bought some nappies. They say you can't have too many. The department wasn't really paying was it? You were having us on.'

  'You must think we're daft,' said Daisy censoriously.

  Felix chuckled. 'Knowing how tight the uxorial purse-strings can be, I thought it worth a try.'

  Connie gave a little cluck of annoyance. 'Honestly darling! You wouldn't want me to waste money, would you?'

  'Anyway, we got your information,' said Daisy.

  'We got some information,' corrected Connie. 'It's lucky you suggested hats because we didn't learn much until we got to millinery. Not that we'd have bought any because they were hopelessly démodé.'

  'It was all tams and Cavaliers,' sniggered Daisy.

  'Is that bad?'

  'Miles, when did you last see anyone in a Cavalier?'

  'Well, not recently, I suppose.'

  'Nor would you,' said Connie, 'except for gardening or something. And as for the one with half a fruit stall on it, who on earth do they think would buy that nowadays? They had about three cloches that might have done if they'd come in a decent colour, and that was it. It was rather quiet in there, unsurprisingly, and the assistant, a middle-aged woman, was happy to chat. Apparently it was quite the place to shop when Henry Vicenzi ran it, but under his sons it's rather gone downhill. The brother that runs the buying department – Mr Andrew, as they call him – doesn't seem very interested in it. There's never enough stock, or the right kind of stock, and if they complain he says it's on its way but it never arrives. He also lets Mr Drake, Mr Henry's partner, boss him about, and he lives in the stone age apparently.'

  'What they need is a woman to advise them,' said Daisy. 'Someone who understands fashion.'

  'Then there's Mr Lewis Vicenzi,' said Connie, 'who is supposed to run the place but seems to spend all his time sorting out the various problems, mostly caused by his brother and Mr Drake. He's a bit of a sheik apparently, and all the girls fancy him, but rather fierce and you have to watch what you say to him. He's the only one who gets anything done because Mr Drake spends all his time finding dust and things not folded properly and generally being a nuisance, and it's no good asking him anything because he just says he'll get back to them and doesn't. She as good as said everybody hates him. The unfortunate Henry was a semi-invalid, apparently, and never came near the
place.'

  'He had osteoarthritis. Did anyone make any remarks about him, especially pejorative ones? Anyone who seemed to know more than they ought? They don't yet officially know it's murder, don't forget, unless Drake or someone has blabbed.'

  'They didn't seem to have done when we were there. There was no hostility or anything like that. They all said something about him because we used his death to get them talking, but mainly that they'd never set eyes on him, except the hat woman who's been there since the war and remembers him struggling about on two sticks. He hasn't been near the place in five years apparently, so to most of the counter staff he's probably ancient history. If you're looking for the murderer I don't think you'll find him there.'

  'Don't forget the scandal,' said Daisy.

  'Oh yes, and Mr Lewis is carrying on with the Mr Andrew's wife. Everyone knows about it, the hat woman said, except for Mr Andrew presumably. There's a lot of other gossip but it's the sort of stuff you get everywhere. The tea room was closed out of respect. Have you eaten?'

  'I'm famished,' said Felix. 'What are we having?'

  'Nothing, unless you take us somewhere.'

  'Haven't you prepared anything?'

  'No, of course not. We could hardly do that and buy nappies for Scotland Yard.'

  'I'll go and change,' sighed Felix.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning saw two detectives – one anonymous in bowler and worn dark-grey suit, the other in trilby and rather assertive plus-fours – wandering the aisles of Pumfreys.

  'Connie says it's somewhat old fashioned,' observed Felix. 'I must say, it does look a bit drab and run-down. The counters and fittings remind me of our own place, twenty years ago. I can well see why they might stock Cavaliers.'

  'I'll have to take your word for that,' said Rattigan. 'I scarcely go shopping at all, and then I favour the small outfitters, where I'm known.'

  'I wouldn't give up my tailor for a place like this either. Not until the school fees drive me to it. As for underclothes and things, the wife deals with that. How quickly we become dependent on them. Here's the lift.'

  Arriving at the third floor they made their way to the door marked "Accountancy," first pausing to peer down, as one felt impelled to do, onto the floor below.

  'Shouldn't it be busier than this?' said Felix, leaning on the rail.

  'Again, I don't know. You'd think so, wouldn't you?'

  'I'd say that this is a shop in decline, Teddy. Something to bear in mind.'

  'I thought I might see you again, gentlemen,' said Mr Crossland, shaking their hands. 'Take a seat.'

  Felix came straight to the point. 'Mr Lewis Vicenzi hinted that there has been some irregularity here involving Mr Andrew Vicenzi. We know no more than that, but we'd like to.'

  Mr Crossland, looking grey-skinned and suddenly elderly in the harsh office lighting, sat back and regarded them thoughtfully. 'Does Mr Lewis know you're here? I don't think he's in yet this morning.'

  Felix glanced at his watch. 'Eleven o'clock. I thought he was supposed to be captain and crew at the moment. Where is he?'

  Mr Crossland smiled. 'To continue your metaphor, I believe he is wearing his first officer's hat at the moment, visiting some suppliers. I'm expecting him back around lunchtime.'

  'Oh I see. Well, it was you I wanted to talk to. You will probably wish to consult him before you tell me anything substantial but if you would like a private word with me first, now is your chance.'

  But the accountant shook his head. 'I have no secrets from Lewis, Inspector. We necessarily work very closely together. Nor do I have any suspicions concerning him, if that's what you are wondering. He's in a very difficult position and I have nothing but sympathy for him. However, regarding Mr Andrew Vicenzi, I should point out that following his father's death he is very likely to inherit a part of the firm, with all that follows. As will Lewis, of course.'

  'Yes, we realise that.'

  'That said,' continued Crossland, 'and pending probate, Pumfreys presently has only one owner, and to him I must necessarily defer. Excuse me for a few moments.'

  'Worth knowing,' grunted Rattigan, when he'd gone. 'That he trusts Lewis, I mean.'

  'Yes, it is. I don't think he cares much for Drake, though, do you?'

  'Chilly, definitely.'

  'Gone to find him presumably, or telephone to him.'

  'I wonder how much he knows? Drake, I mean.'

  'Surely he must know something? The meeting yesterday was probably to discuss this business. Hence, one assumes, Andrew Vicenzi's abrupt disappearance.'

  'Very likely. But why tell Lewis first, which he appears to have done?'

  'We don't know that for certain. We'll ask him.'

  'I'm sorry to keep you,' said Crossland, returning. Mr Drake has given me his permission to talk to you. May I ask, just out of interest, whether I'm legally obliged to answer you?'

  No, but it may make things easier for us if you do. Everything you tell me will be in strict confidence unless it has a direct bearing on the case.'

  Mr Crossland nodded, apparently satisfied. 'Very well, it amounts to this. A very large sum has been fraudulently expropriated from the firm over a period of at least four years, possibly longer. I have known something was amiss for some time but the source of the problem eluded me. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say I wouldn't allow myself to believe it. Finally I set a little trap, and working late on Friday night I found incontrovertible evidence that Mr Andrew Vicenzi must at least have known about it and was probably the guilty party.'

  'How long has Lewis Vicenzi known this?'

  'I told him on Saturday morning in anticipation of the Monday meeting. Like me, he'd had his suspicions but preferred not to believe it. Indeed, I had some difficulty in finally convincing him. It is much harder for him, of course, being family. I had hoped that he might be able to appeal to his brother's better nature. If he could have induced him to pay the money back or make some other restitution it might have been possible to limit the damage. However, it seems he was unsuccessful.'

  'You think he's made off with it?'

  'That's the obvious inference. Margins are not high in this business, and on top of everything else it has done us no good at all. However from my own point of view the breach of trust is perhaps the worst thing. I'm just glad that poor Henry was spared the pain of it.'

  'You say on top of everything else. What do you mean by that?'

  Mr Crossland looked a little awkward. 'Oh, you know, the economy, taxes and so on. There is always something for an accountant to worry about.'

  'How much is missing?'

  'That is not easy to say. You'll know what shrinkage is, of course.'

  'We call it thieving, sir.'

  Mr Crossland smiled. 'There are other aspects of it, Inspector. Human error, largely but, yes, theft is what concerns us most. No shop is immune from it of course, but here it has been steadily rising. Much of it is the real thing, and occasionally we secure a conviction, but even a quarter percentage point of turnover will amount to a considerable sum over time.'

  'How was it fenced? Have you found who was passing it?'

  'No-one did. The loss was all on paper. Shrinkage was what it was concealed within. It was only Mr Andrew's position that has put him above suspicion. Until now.'

  'Would this sum, if saved up, be enough for a man to live on for a few years? To make a new life for himself, perhaps?'

  'That would depend on one's standards, Inspector.'

  'Enough to take them abroad, for example?'

  Mr Crossland sighed. 'Since you press me, it would be in excess of ten thousand pounds.'

  Rattigan gave a little whistle. 'Well that should keep the wolf from the door!'

  'When did you inform Mr Drake of this?' asked Felix.

  'I felt obliged to give him a résumé before we set off for the meeting.'

  *

  'Felt obliged,' mused Felix as he nosed the car into the traffic.

  'An intere
sting way to talk about your boss.'

  'Not loved by the staff,' Connie said. 'Nor yet by senior management it seems.'

  'Pompous bore, I thought. And now he's in charge. For now anyway.'

  'Poor old Crossland. No wonder he looks worn out. Who's on our list?'

  'In no particular order,' said Rattigan, getting out his spectacles and notebook, Lewis Vicenzi, Andrew Vicenzi, Esme Vicenzi, Cedric Curry—'

  'If only!' cut in Felix.

  'That'd be satisfying, wouldn't it? Conceivably Mrs Entwistle or one of the servants, and that's it. Not forgetting person or persons unknown. I suppose Jessup is out of it now?'

  'Unless he's got the redoubtable Mabel and the postman on his side, yes. This is turning into a poser ain't it? I don't fancy any of them to be honest, although if Andrew Vicenzi proves dishonest it would give one to wonder.'

  'What about Drake? I know you washed him out, but if the brothers are on the list, I don't see why he shouldn't be as well. He could easily have acquired a key, or induced someone to let him in. And he does stand to gain. Has gained, if only temporarily.'

  'I didn't exactly wash him out,' said Felix, 'but you're quite right. I was distracted, you know, by the thought of a place like Pumfreys with no-one looking after it. Must be in the blood still.'

  'Add him on then?'

  'Yes, by all means. Though I should think he's about as capable of slipping away unseen as you are.'

  'We could call on him,' said Rattigan, ignoring this slight.

  'On Drake?'

  'Yes. It's not far, and we may have to eventually anyway.'

  'A hunch, would it be?'

  'Perhaps.'

  *

  Charles Drake's flat was in an undistinguished "mansion block" north of the river. There was a lift but they took the stairs.

  'You can learn a lot from the public spaces,' remarked Felix, bounding ahead. 'Gives you the measure of the place. Keeps you fit anyway.'

  'I daresay,' puffed Rattigan, struggling to keep up.

  They paused in the third-floor corridor. Elegantly proportioned but none too clean, it would have welcomed a lick of paint. There was the slightest redolence of cabbage.