Cold Blood

by Leo Bruce

  Uninvited Beef sat down.

  “It wasn’t my fault as you’ll see when you know everything.”

  “When will that be? When the cows come home?”

  “No. Tonight, if you’ll help me.”

  “Help you? And you asking Gabriel where he was that afternoon as though he might have had something to do with it!”

  “Come now,” said Beef. “I’ve done nothing to hurt either of you. And you do want to find out the truth about all this, don’t you?”

  “Well, what is it you want?”

  “I want you to have the Duntons up here this evening.”

  “What, ’er?” shouted Mrs. Gabriel as though she were speaking of the Chaldean city. “You must be off your rocker. I wouldn’t have her in this kitchen not if you was to offer me a thousand pounds.”

  “I’m offering you rather more than that,” said Beef. “You want your share of what’s left, don’t you? Well, they can’t do anything about the will till all this is cleared up.”

  “I’m not going to have her in my kitchen,” said Mrs. Gabriel obstinately. “Besides, what do you want her here for?”

  “I want all the suspects up here tonight.”

  “You mean to say she’s a suspect?”

  Mrs. Gabriel was evidently delighted.

  “Yes; so is Dunton.”

  “Well, if you want them here because you suspect them, that’s different.”

  “Only no trouble, mind,” said Beef, following up his advantage. “I don’t want them to think there is any unfriendliness between you.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Beef sighed with relief, and soon we were on our way to see the Duntons. Here we were met at first with much the same decision. Wild horses, Mrs. Dunton said, would not drag her into the house again while “certain people” were still in the kitchen, still less persuade her to visit them. After all the mischief that “some” had made and the tales they had borne and the lies they had told she was surprised that Beef should even suggest such a thing.

  Beef, undaunted, used tactics rather like those he had employed with the Gabriels. Things were coming to a head tonight, he said, and he wanted all suspects to be under observation. He could not, he pointed out, be in two places at once and while he was upstairs with the family he wanted someone to be with the Gabriels. Wouldn’t Mr. and Mrs. Dunton undertake it for him?

  Mrs. Dunton was persuaded. She would bring Dunton up at about eight o’clock.

  “Though mind you,” she added wistfully, “I wouldn’t have my old job back not whatever they was to pay me.”

  From the lodge we went to look for Inspector Liphook as Beef said pompously that he wanted to “brief” him. We found him at the police station with Sergeant Eels and Constable Spender-Hennessy.

  “Yes,” said Liphook indifferently. “I’ll come if there is going to be anything worth seeing.”

  Beef chuckled.

  “You’ll see all you want and a bit more,” he promised.

  Constable Spender-Hennessy lit a cigarette.

  “Are you really going to stage one of these old-fashioned melodramas in which the detective demonstrates the guilty man before everyone else? It sounds about the last word in corn, but I should rather like to be there.”

  “Never mind what I’m going to do. Haven’t you got your duties to attend to? What about turning-out time?”

  “I can look after that if you want him,” said Sergeant Eels.

  “I don’t want him!” shouted Beef angrily.

  “Temper! Temper!” grinned Constable Spender-Hennessy. “What about when the guilty man pulls out a pistol and makes a last bold bid for freedom? That always happens, you know. ‘Stay where you are, all of you!’ he cries, edging towards the door. Wouldn’t I be useful then?”

  “I shouldn’t think so,” said Beef. “But if Inspector Liphook wants you with him I’ve no objection. Now Inspector, may I explain the layout? Where I want you and Mr. Townsend and this young man, if you bring him, is on the roof.”

  “Good gracious me,” said Liphook. “Whatever for?”

  “It’s going to be a clear moonlit night. You’ll be able to see everything from there. Now if you’ll just look at this plan you’ll see that the house has two sides to it, as it were, two wings, you might say, which are uniform in every respect. I’ve been up there this morning. I know.

  “Each of these wings comes out a bit in front of the flat front of the house, and from each of them there is a way down into the house. So if you want to get out on to the roof of that wing you would go to the landing outside the Gabriels’ room and go up by the little staircase there which leads to the attic floor. There you would find a set of wooden steps fixed permanently for anyone wanting to get out on the roof. Townsend knows where the Gabriels’ room is and must have seen the staircase.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed it.”

  “If you wanted to get to the roof of the other wing you would go along to Cosmo’s old room at the other end of the passage and find an exactly similar staircase leading to the attic floor again where there is another set of steps leading to another door out on to the roof. I want you to go with Mr. Townsend to the Gabriels’ end and get out on to the roof of that wing. You ought to be out there at 20.50 hours precisely.”

  “You’re not going to say ‘synchronize watches’, are you? That would be too much.” This was from Constable Spender-Hennessy, of course.

  “Not a bad idea,” said Liphook tactfully, and we all did as suggested.

  “Any questions?” asked Beef.

  “Yes. Is it possible to get from one wing to the other when you’re out on the roof?”

  “I was coming to that. Yes, it is possible. Round those chimney stacks. But I don’t want you to do so until it’s necessary.”

  “How shall we know that?” I asked.

  “Put it this way. I only want you to cross from one wing to the other in order to arrest a murderer.”

  “Oo-er!” said Constable Spender-Hennessy.

  Beef ignored this.

  “You’ll know the moment for yourselves, if it comes. Any more questions?”

  “Yes. What are we supposed to be watching for?”

  “Developments,” said Beef quickly. “Particularly on the other wing.”

  “I feel rather like a footballer,” said Constable Spender-Hennessy.

  “It’s a pity you aren’t one,” said Beef. “Now . . .”

  “Where do you want me and the Constable to be until we go out on the roof?”

  “I’ll leave that to Townsend. He will let you in at the best time and get you unseen into his bedroom. You can stay there till zero hour. I’ll see if we can’t get you a drink in there, but don’t let anyone, staff or family, see you get in. And, Townsend, one point for you. Nothing cancels these arrangements. You understand? Nothing at all. Never mind what happens downstairs, unless I actually tell you, this arrangement stands. And for God’s sake don’t start using your own initiative or something. You get the Inspector and Constable into your room and then out on the roof at the right time and without being seen and you’ll have done your part. Oh, and when you’re up there don’t let yourselves be seen. Get so that you can see across to the other wing without anyone seeing you. That’s all.”

  With an unnecessarily loud snap of his notebook, Beef closed the conference and, clumsily playing for effect, made his exit.

  I turned to the policemen.

  “The best way for you to enter would be during dinner, I think. I could leave the french windows in the library open.”

  I then went into a detailed explanation of the geography of the house so that they could not make a mistake in finding my room.

  “Your only danger during dinner is from Gabriel. There is a serving hatch from the kitchen to the dining-room so he is at that most of the while. But just be cautious as you cross the hall.”

  “Really,” said Constable Spender-Hennessy, “this might be a detective novel.”

&nb
sp; I left them at that and hurried after Beef, catching him up as he walked slowly across the park. We decided to go in by the back way in order to tell the Gabriels the news about Duntons. As we crossed the yard we met Mills, dressed in a rather showy grey suit.

  “Hullo, where are you off to, Bomb?” asked Beef.

  “Cinderhurst. To meet my girl. It’s my evening off.”

  “But you can’t go today. I need you here.”

  “Sorry, Sarge. All fixed to take my girl to a dance. You seen her photo, haven’t you? Well then . . .”

  “Now listen, Bomb. You’ll have to let her know you can’t come tonight. You’ve got to be here. Everyone else is.”

  “I know, but you said it was for suspects. There’s no reason why I should stay.”

  “I’m asking you as a favour. Besides, it would look very bad, wouldn’t it? As though you had something to hide. You don’t want to be involved in a lot more enquiries, do you?”

  Mills hesitated.

  “All right. I’ll stay,” he said at last. “It’s a bind though. I’d been looking forward to tonight.”

  “There’ll be plenty more nights for you, I expect,” said Beef. As we walked away he said to me: “That’s everything, I think. I hope there’s no hitch. For your sake, and mine.”

  22

  I would not willingly live through that afternoon again. Beef’s ostentatious making of arrangements in preparation for what everyone supposed would be some sort of showdown had set us all on edge. Even Theo Gray, who had shown himself remarkably cool throughout the proceedings so far, seemed jumpy and bad-tempered, and Gulley looked as though he were seeing ghosts.

  I realized that my own position was a difficult one. Whatever Beef’s scheme might be, its success depended on my securing the co-operation of the two police officers, who were both rather sceptical about it. Nor could I rid myself of the notion that Beef might be playing to the gallery, and under some mistaken impression that he was providing me with a better story, be risking a fearful anti-climax. He seemed to be counting on the murderer behaving in a certain way, and that was surely a foolish thing to do. The man or woman who had been clever enough to kill one, and perhaps two, people under the very noses of a number of others would not walk into any trap clumsily set by Beef.

  If he intended to expose the guilty person downstairs then expect him to make a dash for the roof, how could Beef know that the murderer would do anything of the sort? There were plenty of means of escape from the house; why should anyone be foolish enough to make for the roof?

  Then the tow-rope. I imagined that to mean that Beef had some clumsy scheme connected with cars, if the murderer made a dash for it that way. Perhaps he and Mills had prepared something on the drive which would cause a car to be ditched. Beef’s ideas were apt to be naïve, and I was prepared to find that he had worked out some elaborate nonsense which might fail to produce the effect he wanted. I only wished he would discuss these things with me, for my caution in them was an asset he lacked.

  Then, at about a quarter to six and just as I was finding the strain unsupportable, Beef disappeared. I could scarcely believe that even he would go out to drink at such a time, but when I asked Gabriel where he was the answer left little doubt of it. Gabriel spoke with undisguised and understandable disgust.

  “Where do you think? Young Mills has driven him off in the guv’nor’s car. I heard him say he needed a livener.”

  This was too much for me, and I resolved to go and bring him back at once. I saw Cosmo Ducrow’s Daimler outside the beerhouse in which we had spent yesterday evening and hurried in. I found him with a pint glass in his hand.

  “Beef!” I whispered fiercely, “I’m not going to stand for this! With everything we have on our hands you can’t come here and waste time. It’s madness to drink when you need a cool head for tonight.”

  “Oh go away, for God’s sake,” said Beef rudely. “You’re worse than an old woman. There’s plenty of time before I have to show up, and I need a drink to steady me.”

  “There is not plenty of time. The guests are expected at any moment. You’ve arranged this party—you’ve got to be there.”

  “I’ll be there all right, when the time comes. You look after your part of it and I’ll look after mine.”

  “Don’t you realize, you stupid fool,” I hissed, “that your whole reputation depends on your handling of this?”

  He suddenly looked quite serious.

  “More than my reputation,” he said. “My life, very likely. And perhaps yours. And others.”

  “Then come back at once!”

  “I’ll come back when I’m ready.” He turned to Mills. “Nearest the middle for a start,” he said and I could do nothing but show my disapproval by stamping out.

  Yet, I thought as I drove back to Hokestones, yet there had been something in the way in which he said that his life and perhaps mine depended on his handling of this, something which was not buffoonery. Perhaps he really did need a drink to steady him, and his game of darts might be like Drake’s bowls.

  I remembered that Beef had promised the two policemen that there would be a drink in my room, and went to the library to see whether I could arrange anything. Among the bottles in a side cupboard I found a half-empty bottle of gin and was just holding it under my coat to see whether I could carry it through the hall without being seen when, most unfortunately, Zene Ducrow walked in. I was so embarrassed that I scarcely noticed that she was wearing slacks, and it was not until afterwards that I remembered George’s remark about the person under the umbrella: “Well, it had never occurred to me. I suppose it is possible if she was wearing trousers.” I tried to replace the bottle.

  “Well, well!” she exclaimed in that unpleasantly loud and manly voice of hers. “A spot of secret drinking, what?”

  I felt myself blushing.

  “I scarcely drink at all,” I said with what dignity I could. “I was just . . . I wanted to see . . .”

  “Quite. Suppose you pour us out one each instead of sneaking away with it somewhere. What does your old Sergeant want us for this evening? A showdown, I suppose?”

  “I really don’t know. Sergeant Beef does not confide in me in these matters.”

  “It’s a frantic bore. I’ve only come because I expect to see the murderer unmasked.”

  “Beef has made no promises,” I warned. “He only says that he wants to ask a few questions.”

  “Who do you think murdered Cosmo?”

  I was saved from the difficulty of answering by the entrance of Gulley with Esmeralda Tobyn. He quickly introduced the two women and hurried over to the drinks. I noticed that he poured out liberally for both himself and Esmeralda.

  “This is going to be a cheery party!” said Zena.

  “I only hope that at least it clears this horrible suspense,” Gulley answered. “We can’t go on much longer like this. If Beef knows who is guilty why can’t he tell the police, instead of staging an elaborate mise en scène?”

  “Perhaps the police know as much as he does,” I conjectured, “but they cannot use his unconventional methods.”

  Gray came in with Rudolf—the latter looking remarkably steady and at ease considering the circumstances. When at last Ernest Wickham arrived our party was complete, with the exception of Beef.

  “Where is the man?” asked Gulley.

  “He’s engaged at the moment. Something unexpected has turned up,” I haltingly explained.

  More drinks were poured and there were attempts at general conversation, but they were not very successful. I related a little anecdote about an uncle of mine whose raspberries were always disappearing until he discovered that they were being eaten by a retriever dog he owned. On previous occasions this story had held the interest of my audiences but tonight it had not its usual success. We all kept watching the door, expecting Beef to put in an appearance.

  At seven o’clock there was still no sign of him and Gabriel, questioned, said that neither he nor Mills was back.


  “I cannot think what is delaying him,” I protested though unfortunately I knew too well. “I’m sure he will be here in a few minutes.”

  “I hope you’re right,” said Gray. “We have all taken great trouble to be here at his request, and unless it’s a matter of life and death there is no excuse for his failure to arrive.”

  I saw an opportunity of defending Beef and looking as grave and mysterious as I could, I said: “I rather think it is—a matter of life and death.”

  This produced the silence I had anticipated. But I knew that I could not keep up this bluff for long, and when at half-past seven dinner was announced and still there was no word from Beef I made no further excuses but followed the party into the dining-room.

  It was a strange meal. We sat and conversed and ate as other people were doing at such a small gathering as this, but with the sinister difference that one or more of those present, I reflected, might soon be facing retribution for a cruel, cold-blooded crime. One or more of those who ate the excellent roast pheasant which Mrs. Gabriel had provided, who tried to converse with his neighbour, must see in his mind’s eye the frail figure of Cosmo Ducrow before the weapon had crashed down on the skull, must hear perhaps the last incoherent pleading of Freda Ducrow before she had been sent to her terrible death.

  Perhaps if the guilty person was present he was trying to take some comfort from Beef’s absence, as though this could save him.

  “You find yours interesting work, Mr. Townsend?”

  This was Esmeralda Tobyn who was on my right. I tried to make some sort of reply.

  “Oh yes, indeed. It is not usually as nerve-racking as this. Beef’s previous investigations have been just as . . . puzzling, but there has never been quite this anxiety before.”

  She looked at me for a moment and I thought there was something like sympathy in her attractive face.

  “I suppose nothing could have happened to him, could it?” she asked.

  This had never occurred to me. I have come to depend so much on Beef’s burly confidence, his faculty for extricating himself from difficult situations created by his own impulsiveness, his undeniable strength both of muscle and character, that I had never thought of danger to him. Yet now I remembered his words about his life depending on his handling of the case and I felt a new fear.