'Where are we?'
'I don't know. I'm following Carter. But you were about four miles from home when I found you and we've done a mile or so since then. If only this snow would ease!'
'Paul will be frozen solid with the top down.'
'How sad,' said Hugh.
* * *
When Gerry eventually walked stiffly into the house she was blue with cold. Her mother fussed around, plying her with questions, as she made her way thankfully to the fireplace and sank down in the chair closest to it.
'Don't laugh,' she said, 'but Paul ran out of petrol.'
The Countess brought a cup of coffee across to her. 'Oh, thanks, Mummy. I need that.'
Her father asked, 'Where are the boys?'
'Just putting the cars away.'
At that moment Hugh came in. Lord Burford said, 'Ah, the good Samaritan. Come and have some coffee, Hugh.'
'No, thank you, Lord Burford. I'll go straight up. Just looked in to say good night.'
'Thank you very much, Hugh,' Gerry said.
'That's all right.'
He went out, closing the door. A minute later Paul entered. He avoided Gerry's eye, refused coffee, but accepted a whisky and stood chatting to Lord Burford while he drank it. Then he too said good night and left the room. The Earl followed him upstairs a couple of minutes later, after bolting the front door.
Gerry and her mother remained talking for a further ten minutes, until Gerry had thawed out a little; then they also made their way rather wearily upstairs.
After kissing her mother goodnight and going to her room, Gerry stood hesitating, trying to decide whether to have a bath. She did need one in order to warm up fully. On the other hand, it was very late - nearly ten past two - and she was extremely tired.
Golly, what a day it had been! First that row with Gilbert - Oh no! Thinking of Gilbert had made her recollect the appointment she'd had with Rex.
She wondered if he could conceivably still be waiting for her. It was surely unlikely. But, on the other hand, he might have been expecting her any minute for the last hour and not have liked to go to bed.
Gerry sighed. She'd have to go and knock on the door of his sitting room, just in case. If he had turned in, that wouldn't disturb him. She left her room again.
There was no reply to her tap on Rex's door and, relieved, she started to turn away. She'd done her duty.
Then suddenly the door was pulled open with great force and Rex stood in the doorway.
* * *
He was still wearing evening dress, minus the coat, and for a moment there was an utterly unfamiliar expression on his usual cheerful countenance. In that second Gerry saw the face of a worried, even frightened, man behind the actor's mask. Then he was smiling.
'Why, Gerry. This is an unexpected pleasure.'
She stared. 'Unexpected? You mean, you weren't waiting up for me?'
'No.' He looked blank. 'Should I have been?'
'We had an appointment. Granted I'm absurdly late.'
Recollection came into his eyes. 'Of course! Come right in.'
'Just for a few seconds.'
Gerry went in and he closed the door. She said, 'It's a bit late to talk tonight. I'm at fault, though not really to blame. Paul had car trouble. So could we have our discussion about Gilbert tomorrow?'
'Gilbert?' He looked dazed and his manner was so odd she wondered if he'd been drinking. 'I don't want to talk about Gilbert. You must have misunderstood me.'
'I did no such thing!' she said indignantly. 'You asked if I'd been having trouble with him, as you had been. He'd been prowling about your room, you were worried and wanted to tell me a story.'
'Oh, I must have been exaggerating - professional failing, to dramatise situations.' He gave a decidedly unconvincing smile. 'We had a few words about the script, buts all sorted out now.'
She gazed at him incredulously. He looked back, smiling stiffly, and there was silence.
At last she said, 'I see. Well, if you're sure there's nothing—'
'No, nothing,' he said sharply. 'Nothing at all.'
'Whatever you say.' She went towards the door.
'Good night, then.'
'Good night.'
Her hand touching the doorknob, on a sudden impulse she turned. 'Rex, are you all right?'
The eyes that met hers looked almost wild. Then, unexpectedly, he gave a harsh laugh. 'All right? Well, how would you feel if a career you'd spent all your adult life building up looked like it was over? Oh, yes, I feel just dandy!'
'I - I don't understand.'
'Well, I shouldn't try. I'm sure you've got your own problems. So why don't you go sleep on them?'
On the verge of demanding a fuller explanation, Gerry changed her mind. This wasn't the time. So she just said, 'Very well, if that's what you want. Good night again.'
This time she did go out, closing the door behind her. She made her way slowly back towards her room. What had happened to change him so? Could he have been drinking? There'd been no smell of it. If not, it really seemed he might be on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
She went into her room and sat down on the bed. Suddenly she felt wide awake. She decided to have a bath, after all. Perhaps a good soak would help her think. Her maid was long in bed, so Gerry left her room again to go and run the bath. Not wanting to disturb Gilbert, she decided not to use the next-door bathroom, but the one across the corridor.
She had just entered it when, in the distance - but definitely indoors - she heard an utterly unexpected but quite unmistakable sound.
It was a gunshot.
Gerry's heart gave a leap, and for seconds she stood quite still, as the report reverberated through the corridors.
Rex. Could it be? Had that been his meaning when he'd talked about his career being over?
Gerry ran from the bathroom and sprinted along the main corridor. She reached the door of the Royal Suite. But as she got there the conviction came to her that the shot had come from farther away. She ran to the corner and stared along the east wing. At the far end a shaft of light streaming into the corridor showed that a door on the left was open.
Gerry started to run again. She was conscious of doors opening beside and behind her, of voices calling - alarmed, questioning. Then she saw that the light came from the end room, Laura's room. She arrived in the doorway. She gazed fearfully through it, then hesitantly stepped inside. The heat from a huge fire in the grate hit her, but she was hardly conscious of it. Her legs turned to jelly.
Lying on her back in front of the fire, her beautiful eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, was Laura. Just visible on the breast of her evening gown, looking like a ruby brooch, was a small dark red stain.
And standing near her, staring down, an expression of blank horror in his eyes, was Paul. In his hand was a revolver.
Chapter Thirteen
At Gerry's cry Paul jerked his head towards her. For perhaps six or seven seconds they stood motionless, staring at each other, both quite unable to speak. Then Paul got out just two words:
'She's dead.'
Automatically Gerry gave a jerky nod. She was barely conscious of the footsteps outside, or of Hugh's voice in the doorway. 'What's up?'
Then he came into the room and stopped short. He didn't speak.
'Is anything wrong?' It was Maude Fry's voice, slightly alarmed. Then the older woman, too, had entered the room. She gave a gasp.
The next moment everybody seemed to be there. There was a buzzing of questions, exclamations, muted screams. And then suddenly everyone was silent. As if at a given signal all eyes turned to Paul.
For a few seconds he met them, unflinching and wide-eyed. He said, 'I just—' Then something in their faces seemed to hit him. His expression changed from one of uncomprehending horror to appalled realization.
He gasped, 'You don't think I—?' He broke off, then shouted, 'I found her dead, I tell you!'
No one spoke. Seconds passed. Then Lord Burford stepped forward. There seemed a sudden new
authority in his manner, as he held out his hand and said quietly, 'Better let me have that, my boy.'
Paul gazed at him blankly. Then his eyes followed the Earl's downwards and he seemed, almost for the first time, to become aware of the revolver in his hand. He looked up again and his expression altered once more. Suddenly he looked frightened. He took a step backwards, and as he did so he raised the gun.
'No,' he said.
There was an instantaneous ripple of movement among the others. Cecily gave a little scream. Gerry gasped, 'Paul!'
He spoke hoarsely. 'Listen, all of you. I didn't do it. The gun was on the floor.'
Lord Burford, the only one present who hadn't moved when Paul had raised the gun, said, 'We can talk about that later. Give it to me now.'
Paul hesitated. His gun hand dropped again. There was the slightest relaxing of tension in the room. Then a thought seemed to occur to Paul. He swallowed. 'Wait, just a minute.'
He looked quickly round the room and in a few strides crossed to the dressing-table. He picked up an inlaid mother-of-pearl jewel box and opened it. It was empty. He placed the gun inside, closed the box, locked it, removed the key, and handed the box to Lord Burford. He said, 'My fingerprints are on that gun. But just possibly somebody else's - the killer's - are as well. They mustn't be smudged.'
With the pistol now safe, the Earl turned his attention to Laura Lorenzo. He knelt down by her and took her wrist, then looked up and shook his head. 'Dead, all right. Not that I doubted it, but must go through the formalities.' He got to his feet. Avoiding Paul's gaze, he said, 'Better try and get hold of a doctor, I suppose, all the same. And the police. I'll go and ring up. We'd better lock this room - not touch anything. Look, do you mind all, please, moving out?'
Desperately, Paul said, 'Listen, I beg you all. You've got to believe me. I didn't do this. I was walking along the corridor when I—'
Haggermeir interrupted him. 'I don't know what you want to say, son, but take my advice and don't say it.'
'But I'm innocent.'
'Innocent or guilty you're in a tight spot. I know a bit about the law. Don't say another word until you've spoken with an attorney.'
Gerry moved near Paul and took his arm. 'He's right, darling.'
Paul closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Then he said, 'OK, except for one thing. A few minutes ago the real murderer was in this house. By now he may have got away. Or he may still be in the building.' He looked round the assembled throng. 'Or he may even be in this room.'
Lord Burford said, 'Let's go outside.'
Everybody shuffled slowly out, several people casting backward glances at the mortal remains of Laura Lorenzo. Most of those present seemed anxious to keep their distance from Paul. Only Gerry stayed close to him, even tucking her arm through his.
The Earl let everybody leave, then removed the key from the keyhole, closed the door and locked it. He addressed Paul again, 'I've got to call the police. You'd better go to your room and wait there. I don't want to have to do anythin' undignified like locking you in, so will you give me your word you won't try and do a bolt before they get here?'
Paul licked his lips. Then to everyone's alarm he gave a shout, 'I can't! I won't see the police!' He backed a few paces down the corridor. There was sweat on his brow. 'They'll arrest me. And I'm innocent. I've — I've got to get away. Now.'
And before anyone could even attempt to stop him, he turned and sprinted down the corridor.
Gerry screamed, 'Paul, no! Don't be a fool!'
She ran as fast as she could after him. But by the time she'd reached the corner of the corridor he'd disappeared down the stairs. She followed and caught sight of him, scrabbling with the bolts of the great front door. Before she'd got to the bottom of the stairs he'd heaved it open and vanished into the storm.
Gerry ran across the hall and out through the doorway. The driving snow was thicker than ever, and seemed to have swallowed Paul up. She called his name twice at the top of her voice, but the wind whipped the words from her lips. She stood helplessly, staring into the darkness.
Then, from the direction of the stable yard, she heard the familiar roar of the Hispano Suisa's engine. A few seconds later she saw the blaze of its headlights, and the next moment the car shot past her. As it did so, she heard Paul's voice, calling one word:
'Sorry.'
Then the car, sliding on the snowy surface, disappeared down the drive.
Forlornly, Gerry retraced her steps indoors, to meet the others, who'd descended in a body, in the hall. 'He's gone,' she said dully.
The Countess hurried forward and put an arm round her shoulder. 'Come and lie down, my dear.'
'I don't want to lie down, Mummy.' Then she burst out, 'Oh, the idiot - the stupid, stupid idiot! Why did he have to bolt? They'll never believe him now.' She gazed at her father. 'Will they?'
The Earl looked awkward. 'Well, er, couldn't say, my dear. Doubtful, I should think. No point in speculatin', though. I must go and phone them now, tell 'em exactly what's happened.'
'Daddy, you will tell them, won't you, that in spite of all the appearances, we don't believe he did it?'
Lord Burford avoided her eyes. 'Don't think I could actually do that, sweetheart.'
Gerry was white-faced. 'But - but you don't really think he killed her, do you?'
The Earl didn't answer. Gerry gave a gasp. 'I don't believe it!' She stared round the circle of faces. 'Tell him, somebody. Tell him Paul couldn't have done it.'
But the appeal got no response. Some eyes met hers squarely. Others fell. But in none was there any sign of agreement.
Gerry burst into tears. She shouted, 'You're a lot of beasts!' Then she turned, ran across the hall, up the grand staircase and out of their sight.
Hugh took a couple of steps to go after her, but the Countess put a hand on his arm. 'Leave her alone for a while. She'll be all right.'
Lord Burford turned to his wife. 'While I phone the police, will you ring for Merryweather, Lavinia? Explain what's happened and let him tell the others, if he thinks fit.'
The Countess nodded grimly. 'He won't like it, you know, George; he won't like it at all. None of them will.'
'Can't say I'm absolutely overjoyed about it myself, Lavinia.' He started to move away.
Lady Burford said sharply, 'Oh, George, I've just remembered. You can't use the telephone. Signorina Lorenzo tried to make a call. The line's dead.'
The Earl gave a groan. 'Oh, of course, I remember. Gad, that's all we need. Well, then Hawkins will just have to drive to the village.'
He turned away a second time, only to bump into Jemima Dove, who'd been witnessing everything with large, frightened eyes. She gave a little squeak.
'Oh, sorry, my dear,' Lord Burford said absently. Then he stopped and looked at her. 'Who the deuce are you?'
Lady Burford said hurriedly, 'Oh, this is Miss Dove, George. In the anxiety about Geraldine earlier I forgot to tell you.' She made a hasty explanation.
'Well, sorry you've had such an inauspicious welcome to Alderley, Miss Dove,' Lord Burford said. 'Should explain: this sort of thing - murders and suchlike - doesn't happen here often. Only every few months.'
* * *
Merryweather entered the library, crossed to the hearth and coughed discreetly. Lord Burford abruptly stopped snoring. Merryweather coughed a second time and the Earl's eyes opened sleepily.
'Mm?' he said.
'Another police officer, my lord.'
'Oh.' The Earl sat up, rubbing his eyes. 'Expect he's got news. What time is it?'
'Ten a.m., my lord.'
'Any of the guests up yet?'
'No, my lord.'
'Good. Hope they keep out of the way as long as possible. All right, show him in.'
Merryweather went out. Lord Burford stood up, ran his fingers through his hair, and blew his nose.
Merryweather reappeared in the doorway. 'Inspector Wilkins, my lord.'
He stood aside and hesitantly into the room came a s
hort, plump man with a drooping moustache and worried expression.
Lord Burford gave an exclamation. 'Wilkins.'
He held out his hand as the other came across the room and with a somewhat diffident air shook hands.
'Good morning, my lord,' he said in a deep and mournful voice. Then he added, 'Though, perhaps not.'
'Not?'
'Not good, my lord. Another melancholy occasion, I fear. However, not with some nostalgic appeal. I must admit. Quite like old times, as they say.'
'Yes, well, come and sit down, Wilkins. Merryweather, coffee, please.'
The Earl and Wilkins sat down as Merryweather went out. Lord Burford gave a huge yawn. 'Excuse me. Been up all night. Not strictly necessary, I suppose. But seemed a bit heartless, just to turn in. All the rest of the household stayed up till about five, too. Think they all felt the same. It was quite a night. Constant stream of people: first the village bobby; then those plain clothes men of yours - they were here for hours, taking statements from everybody; then your photographers and fingerprint men all over the place; doctor, ambulance men. And every time the door opened a howling gale sweeping through, snow coming in. Has it stopped?'
'Yes, my lord, a couple of hours ago. A slight thaw has already set in.'
'Thank heavens for that. Then there was the—' He broke off. 'Sorry. Wafflin' too much. Always do when I'm sleepy.'
'That's all right, my lord. Anyway you'll only have to put up with me and Sergeant Leather from now on.'
'Good. Sure if anyone can clear the business up quickly it's you. Not, of course, that it's going to present the problems of the last affair. Open and shut case, what? Just a question of catching Carter, really. Haven't done so yet, I suppose?'
'No, my lord, but it's only a matter of time.'
'You know he took my daughter's car? Oh, yes, of course, you're bound to.'
'Yes, my lord.'
At that moment Merryweather entered with coffee. When both he and Wilkins were gratefully sipping from steaming cups, Lord Burford said, 'Just how much do you know, Wilkins?'
2 The Affair of the Mutilated Mink Page 13
