2 The Affair of the Mutilated Mink

by James Anderson

  'Doesn't anybody ever fool you?'

  'Not for long. Well, what is it?'

  'It's a bit awkward, actually. But you said you wanted to be I old of any unusual incidents.'

  'You've remembered something?'

  'I never really forgot it, but my own troubles sort of drove it from my mind. I'm not at all sure it's relevant.'

  'Never mind.'

  Paul collected his thoughts. 'Yesterday morning I discovered I'd lost my fountain pen.'

  * * *

  'And that's all I heard,' Paul concluded. 'Suddenly the voice just faded and there was silence. I waited for a couple of minutes, then opened the panel and stepped into the room. There was nobody there.'

  Allgood shook his head. 'Remarkable.'

  Wilkins said, 'Mr Carter, could you explain why you didn't tell us, or anybody else, any of this before?'

  Paul wriggled uncomfortably. 'Well, dash it all, it was a bit tricky. I'd been eavesdropping. Quite unintentionally and all that, but it seemed hardly the done thing to take advantage of the situation.'

  Allgood nodded sympathetically. 'Yes, one can understand that. But surely you couldn't have just ignored the matter altogether. You obviously had some sort of obligation to the family.'

  'Of course. I didn't know what to do. I mentioned to Gerry that I'd heard something very odd, but not what it was. She advised me to wait. Then, as you can imagine, the murder put it out of my mind. When I did start to think about it again, I couldn't decide if it had anything to do with the murder.'

  'Well, you can rely on me to look into it fully, Carter. Please don't say anything about the matter to anybody from now on.'

  'Right. It's a weight off my mind.'

  At that moment they heard the faint sound of the dinner gong. Paul said, 'I must go. An event unique in the annals of Alderley is about to take place: we're not dressing for dinner. Whether Merryweather will ever recover I don't know.' He went out.

  'What do you make of that, sir?' Wilkins said.

  'Well, assuming he's telling the truth, and I'm sure he is—'

  'Yes, I agree, sir.'

  Allgood frowned. 'If I may finish, Chief Inspector.'

  'Sorry, sir.'

  'And if he heard and understood correctly, it opens up an entirely new aspect of the case. His allowing himself to be overheard by Carter like that suggests to me that our friend may be a little careless. After all, everyone knew of the existence of the passage, it seems. What's more, we know that the murderer can be careless, too. So it might be worthwhile having a search of his room.'

  'Now, sir?'

  'Yes, while everyone's in the dining-room. Wait here.'

  He left the room. Wilkins thankfully lowered himself into the nearest chair and lit a cigarette.

  It was ten minutes before Allgood reappeared. There was a gleam of triumph in his eyes. He opened his pocket book and extracted a piece of paper about four inches square. 'No incriminating documents, or anything of that kind - all been burnt, without doubt. But this escaped. It was down behind the coal scuttle.'

  He held the piece of paper out for Wilkins to get a closer look. It was charred all round the edges and covered with writing in ink. Wilkins read this and nodded slowly.

  'Suggestive, isn't it?' Allgood said.

  'Yes, sir, but ambiguous.'

  'Of course; there are only, what, forty words altogether?'

  'Do you know whose writing it is, sir?'

  'It'll have to be checked by an expert, of course. But there's no real doubt in my mind that it's Laura Lorenzo's. It means that that letter she was writing wasn't intended for her agent, after all. And it provides us with a real motive at last.'

  'So do you intend to make an arrest now?'

  'Good heavens, no. It's far from certain yet. There are lots of loose ends. I'm going to keep this in reserve, produce it at an opportune moment.' He put the piece of paper away again.

  'Should be a most interesting moment, sir.' He coughed. 'Is that everything for tonight?'

  'Want to knock off?'

  'Well, it has been a long day.'

  'That's all right. You toddle off home to your beans-on-toast and cocoa. See you in the morning.'

  'Actually, sir, I was going to ask if you'll need me tomorrow.'

  'Need you? No, of course I won't need you. If you've got another case in hand you have to deal with, by all means do so.'

  'It's not that, sir. Matter of fact, it's my day off.'

  Allgood looked as if he couldn't believe his cars. 'Day off? You're not serious.'

  'Yes, sir. And as you said you don't actually need me, I thought I'd get my feet up for a bit - take it easy, you know.'

  'Ye gods!' Allgood looked up at the ceiling in despair. 'You'd actually stay home, taking it easy when you could be here, assisting me in a murder inquiry?'

  'Well, I don't get all that many days off, sir.'

  'But what about what you called the privilege of assisting me - all you were going to learn?'

  'I've seen you at work now, sir. I've assisted a bit. It'll give me something to talk about for the rest of my life. As to what I'd learn, well, you can't teach an old dog new tricks. I'd never be able to conduct a case like you do. I'll probably blunder on in my own way, whatever happens. Of course, Sergeant Leather will be here all day, to assist in any way you want. He wouldn't miss it for the world. But, then, he's ambitious.'

  Allgood shook his head in disbelief. 'All right, you take it easy tomorrow. I'll solve your little murder for you, without your help.'

  'Oh, thank you, sir. That's very kind of you. In that case I'll say good night - and good luck, sir.'

  He went out. Allgood stared at the door as it closed after him. He gave a sigh. 'Pathetic,' he said to himself.

  * * *

  'I say, my boy, what's all this about a missing motorbike?' Lord Burford asked the question over coffee in the drawing-room later that evening.

  Hugh shrugged. 'That's all there is about it, Lord Burford. My motorcycle's missing. From your stable yard.' Somewhat reluctantly he recounted the story to the room at large.

  When he'd finished the Earl shook his head. 'Very odd. 'Course, we're insured against theft here, if you're not, so no need to worry from that point of view. Deuced annoying for you, all the same.'

  Jemima Dove, who was sitting nearby, said, 'Er.'

  The Earl glanced at her. 'Yes, my dear?'

  She went a little pink. 'Well, this may sound silly, but I suppose it wouldn't be your motorcycle that's up in the picture gallery, would it, Mr Quartus?'

  Everybody in the room turned to stare at Jemima, as though she were crazy. She gazed back out of big grey eyes, and her pinkness suddenly intensified.

  It was Lord Burford who broke the silence. 'The picture gallery, Miss Dove? Do you - I mean, you quite, er . . . ?'

  She showed the first real sign of animation since her arrival. 'Yes, of course!'

  'You're saying there's a motor-bike in the picture gallery?'

  'Yes, down at the end. Nearly hidden behind a sofa.'

  'But how did you come to know?'

  'I - I was looking round there. I wanted to stay out of everybody's way as much as possible today. People kept using the library, and it was a bit boring in my room. I'm fond of pictures, so 1 decided to have a look in the gallery. I didn't see the motorbike at first. It's not noticeable until you get quite close.'

  'But you didn't say anything about it,' Hugh exclaimed.

  'No. Why should I have? It was nothing to do with me.'

  'But weren't you surprised to find a motor-bike in a picture gallery?'

  'I thought it a little odd. But I decided there had to be some good reason for it.'

  Hugh got to his feet. 'I'll go and take a look.'

  Jemima jumped up, too. 'I'll come and show you.'

  'Oh, there's no need.'

  'I'd like to.' Her face was still very red, and it was obvious she only wanted an excuse to get out of the room. So he didn't argue and they
went out together.

  'Well, that's certainly my bike,' Hugh said. 'But what maniac brought it up here? And why the dickens didn't anyone else spot it?'

  Almost apologetically Jemima said, 'Well, one doesn't really notice it unless one looks directly at the sofa. I didn't see it until I'd been in the room a few minutes. And I don't suppose many other people have been in here last night or today.'

  'Well, better get it downstairs and back outside, I suppose.' He stepped towards the bike.

  'Oh, do you think you should?' she said diffidently. 'I was wondering if this could possibly have anything to do with the murder.'

  'It might have, I suppose, though I honestly can't see how. Why?'

  'I was thinking perhaps - though I know nothing about these things, really — whether, if there is the possibility of a connection, the police would want to test it for fingerprints.'

  He looked thoughtful. 'Hm, maybe you're right. Though I imagine most criminals know enough to use gloves these days. Still, I suppose it may be advisable not to touch it until we've spoken to the police. And it's probably better off here than anywhere.'

  They turned to leave. Hugh's eye fell on a long, stout wooden plank, about fifteen feet by twelve inches, which was lying on the floor against the side wall. 'Wonder what that's doing here.'

  'I wondered about that, too. I thought perhaps decorators. They put them between step ladders.'

  'Possibly.' He glanced round. 'Not that it looks as if they've had decorators in here lately.'

  'Perhaps they're coming soon and brought the plank in advance.'

  'Perhaps.'

  They walked to the door. 'Will you tell that policeman tonight?' she asked.

  'No, our great detective apparently needs several hours of undisturbed meditation. Tomorrow will do.'

  They were about to leave the gallery when Hugh stopped. Jemima glanced at him curiously. He said, 'I knew there was some little thing wrong with that bike. The penny's just dropped. The petrol cap's not on properly.'

  He walked back to the motor-bike. Jemima waited by the door until he rejoined her a minute later. 'Someone's put petrol in the tank,' he said.

  'Really? How odd. I mean why, if they didn't intend to ride it away?'

  'Your guess is as good as mine. Anyway, many thanks for finding it. Come on.'

  They went out. Hugh closed the door and made to lock it. Then he paused. 'Oh, no key.'

  'Is that important? It's been unlocked all day.'

  'Agreed. But I would like to be able to assure old Allbad that the bike hasn't been tampered with since I found it. Look, sorry to bother you, but I wonder if you'd mind going and asking the Earl if he's got a key to this door. I'll wait here, just to be on the safe side.'

  'Oh, yes, certainly.' She walked off.

  It was ten minutes before Lord Burford came along the corridor, carrying a large key. 'Sorry to keep you waiting, Hugh. Had to find this.'

  'That's all right. Before you lock up - it's none of our business, really, but Miss Dove and I were wondering about this.'

  He went back into the gallery and pointed at the plank. The Earl stared. 'Great Scott! Where did that come from?'

  'We thought about decorators - recently departed or imminent?'

  'No, no plans that way at all. It's another mystery. Oh, lor', I'm getting so fed up with them.'

  They left the gallery again and Lord Burford locked the door and pocketed the key. Saying he wanted an early night, Hugh then went to his room, while the Earl rejoined his guests downstairs.

  It turned out, however, that none of them was in the mood for sitting up very late. Nobody had got a lot of sleep the previous night, and mentally it had been an exhausting day for everyone. It was, therefore, almost as a group that the entire party shortly afterwards went upstairs. Paul remained very close to Gerry and walked with her to the door of her bedroom. She was just going in when he took her hand.

  'Sweetheart, do me a favour: after Marie leaves, lock your doors.'

  She gave him a startled look 'Why?'

  'There's a murderer in the house, Gerry.'

  'But he wouldn't want to kill me.'

  'I expect that's what Laura thought. Will you, darling? Promise?'

  'Oh, all right, you old fusspot, if it's going to keep you happy.'

  'Thanks.' He gave her a kiss. 'And before Marie leaves make sure there's nobody hiding in there.'

  'You know something,' she said, 'you couldn't be more protective if we were man and wife.'

  'Gerry, darling, you know—'

  She put a hand on his lips. 'Not tonight, Paul. Plenty of time for that when this is all over. Sweet dreams, darling.'

  She went into her room and shut the door. Paul made his way to his own room with a song in his heart.

  Chapter Eighteen

  At ten o'clock the following morning St. John Allgood seated himself behind the table in the small music room. He had moved it since the previous day. His back was now to the window, through which the light from a pale, wintry sun streamed in, waiting to strike straight in the face anyone sitting in the chair opposite him. On the table in front of him were the preliminary statements that had been taken from each of the guests the night of the murder.

  Allgood addressed Leather, who was standing submissively by the door. 'Ladies first, I think. Go and tell Miss Fry I'd like to see her.'

  * * *

  Walking a little hesitantly, Maude Fry crossed the room, stumbling slightly as her foot caught the edge of the rug. She sat down, folded her hands placidly in her lap, and gazed at Allgood with a calm, uninquiring expression. Her eyes behind the blue-tinted glasses, were almost invisible, but she gave the impression of being prepared to sit there until kingdom come if it was required of her.

  Leather sat down in the corner and unobtrusively picked up a notebook.

  Allgood said, 'Miss Fry, how long have you worked for Mr Gilbert?'

  'Only a matter of weeks. Before that I was personal secretary to Sir Charles Crenshaw, the company promoter. But he retired.'

  'I see. That's a pity.'

  'That Sir Charles retired?'

  'I meant that you haven't been with Mr Gilbert very long. You can't know him all that well.'

  'Quite well enough.' For the first time there was a note of emotion in her voice.

  'Really? May I take it that he's not a very satisfactory employer?'

  'You may. But I would prefer not to elaborate upon the subject.'

  'Come, Miss Fry, that's hardly fair. It may mean that he works you too hard, that he fails to pay your salary on time, or that he makes improper advances.'

  Maude Fry flushed slightly. 'Nothing like that. The work actually has been quite light. But he's insufferably rude to everybody, all the time - behaviour which, of course, tends always to rebound on the secretary - is invariably late for appointments and thoroughly disorganised. But the last straw was when he brought me here uninvited. It was a most invidious position, and one with which I was not prepared to put up.'

  'Ah, yes, Lady Burford told me you'd been intending to leave on Saturday morning.'

  'That is so, but naturally in the event I was unable to do so.'

  'How did Gilbert react when you told him you were intending to leave his employ?'

  'He wasn't pleased.'

  'Why do you suppose he wanted you along in the first place?'

  'To type the script of The King's Man!

  'But isn't it very early days for that? As I understand it, the film is only in a provisional planning stage: no contracts have been signed, no firm decision has been made about shooting here at Alderley. Would one normally start typing a screenplay without a lot more discussion and preparation?'

  'Well, I have never worked in films before, but I can see his reason for that: he wants to establish himself at the earliest possible moment as the writer of the film - make himself one of the team from the start, so that there can be no question of the job being given to someone else.'

  'I thought
he had the copyright.'

  'Apparently the position is legally a little uncertain. However, if he actually started the script and was able to supply Mr Haggermeir with some good material, as they call it, before he left here, then they'd be far less likely to drop him.'

  'Quite astute.'

  'Mr Gilbert is no fool. Of course, the murder has changed the situation for everybody.'

  'Speaking of the murder, what can you tell me about it?'

  'I can tell you virtually nothing. I think the only words I spoke to Signorina Lorenzo were "How do you do?" when we were introduced.'

  'Did she speak much to Mr Gilbert?'

  'They did have a private talk on Friday morning. I don't know what about. But then, she seems to have spent most of the day seeking out the various men and engaging them in conversation.'

  'Is that so? Now, what about the night of the murder? Tell me just what you saw and heard, and what you did.'

  'We'd been playing bridge - Lady Burford, Mrs Everard, Miss Dove, and I — until we heard the others arriving home. I was anxious not to see Mr Gilbert, and Miss Dove seemed eager to be out of the way before they came in, so we went up together. It was about one a.m. By ten past, I was in bed. I was very drowsy and fell asleep almost immediately. The shot woke me about an hour later. I got outside in time to see Lady Geraldine rush past, stop in the signorina's doorway, then go into the room. Mr Quartus emerged from his room and followed her. I joined them, and you know what I saw.'

  'Can you tell me the order in which the other people arrived?'

  She frowned. 'I'm afraid not. They just suddenly seemed to be all around me. And it's rather dim at that end of the corridor. Besides, I must admit I only really had eyes for what I saw in the bedroom.'

  Allgood then questioned her about her activities since her arrival at Alderley. She gave painstakingly thorough replies. However, when he asked her about things said or done by the other guests, or any impressions or feelings she may have had about them, he might have been questioning somebody deaf, dumb and blind. He let her go, requesting her to ask Jemima Dove to come in.