2 The Affair of the Mutilated Mink

by James Anderson

  * * *

  Jemima sat on the edge of the chair, very pale in the harsh sunlight, her eyes flicking from Allgood to Leather as if she was fearful of a murderous attack being launched on her by one of them if she didn't keep a close watch on them. Allgood didn't speak, just gazed at her until eventually she let her eyes settle on him. Then at last she blurted out, 'I don't know anything.'

  'Oh, I'm sure you do, Miss Dove.'

  'But I don't honestly. I only arrived a little while before it all happened. I never even saw Miss Lorenzo alive.'

  'We only have your word on that.'

  'But it's the truth! I went upstairs before she and the others came in.'

  'Which gave you a perfect opportunity to go to her room, wait for her, and shoot her. You could have then put the pistol outside, waited for Carter to come along, groaned to lure him in, pushed him in the back - it would have required no great strength - fired the alarm shot with a second gun, hidden in the bathroom for a minute or so, and then joined the others in the doorway.'

  Jemima gave a squeak of dismay. 'But the gun, the murder weapon. When could I have got that? I mean, everybody's been saying that the murderer had to get the key to the collection room from the safe in Lord Burford's study first.'

  'Are you saying you couldn't have done that?'

  'Of course I am! Listen, no one could have got into the study while there were people about in the hall, could they?'

  'No.'

  'Well, from what's been said, after Miss Fry and I went up, somebody was there all the time until at least ten minutes after Miss Lorenzo went upstairs. I'd have then had to come down, open the safe, take the key, go to the gun room, open it, find and load the gun, and go to Miss Lorenzo's room. By then she would have been in her room at least a quarter of an hour. But according to Lady Geraldine, you deduced from her still having her coat on that she'd been shot two or three minutes at the most after she went in.'

  'That's correct. But what about when you first arrived? You were left in the hall while the butler told Lady Burford of your arrival. You might have had time to slip into the study then.'

  'Wrong!' she said triumphantly. 'I was only kept waiting for about two minutes. And there was a footman there the whole time. He was winding the clock.'

  Allgood bowed his head and spread his hands. 'Miss Dove, you have just cleared yourself of suspicion of murder.'

  She fell back in the chair with a little gasp. 'Oh, my, what a relief!' She looked at him, and was aware of a slight smile playing round his mouth. She sat up again, suddenly indignant. 'You'd worked all that out yourself, hadn't you? You never suspected me at all.'

  He drew back his lips, revealing his big teeth in a wolf-like smile. 'Perhaps not.'

  'Oh, Mr Allgood, I do think that's very unfair! Why put me through all that?'

  'Shall we say to stimulate you mentally, get you thinking about that night and talking about it? I think I've succeeded. Now tell me, what was the first you knew of the murder?'

  'I heard the shot. I was in bed, but not asleep. Then I heard other noises - voices, footsteps - and I thought I ought to go and see what was happening. I put on a dressing-gown and went outside. I walked along to the main corridor and saw a man making his way towards the east wing. So I followed him. It was Mr Gilbert, I think. When I reached the east wing I saw the crowd and joined them.'

  'Everybody else was already there?'

  'I think so, but they were mostly strangers and I wasn't really looking at them. And of course it was rather dark.'

  'I see. Well, then, I think you can go. Unless there's anything else you want to tell me, anything you've seen or heard that strikes you in any way as odd or significant.'

  She puckered her brow. 'No, I don't think so. Except the motor-bike in the gallery, of course. They told you about that?'

  'Yes, the Earl mentioned it. Most intriguing. All right, Miss

  Dove, thank you. Ask Mrs Everard to join me, if you will?'

  * * *

  Cecily Everard was cool and calm and answered Allgood's questions crisply. She knew nothing of Laura Lorenzo, had never even heard of her before Thursday afternoon. She had spoken to her hardly at all, except for a few minutes when she'd been giving Laura a lift back up to the house. She related that conversation. Her knowledge of the other guests was no greater, only having engaged them in small talk. She had spent most of her time on Thursday and Friday talking over old times with her cousin. She had neither seen nor heard anything strange or unusual. As to the murder itself, she had not even heard the shot. Her husband had awakened her to tell her of it. They had gone outside, seen the Earl and Countess hurrying round the corner to the east wing, and followed. She thought that Mr Gilbert and Mr Haggermeir had arrived in the doorway just behind them, but hadn't really noticed.

  Allgood let her go. He asked her to send her husband in.

  * * *

  Sebastian Everard was by far the most relaxed member of the house party whom Allgood had yet spoken to. He wandered vaguely into the room, smiled amiably and said, 'Colder again today, what?'

  'Sit down, please, Everard.'

  'Oh. All right. If you like.' He eyed the chair doubtfully. 'Mind if I move this a bit? Sun in the old peepers, you know.' He pulled the chair to one side, plumped himself down onto it, and look a bag of brightly coloured sweets from his pocket. He held them out to Allgood. 'Like one?'

  'No, thank you.'

  Sebastian turned to Leather. 'How about you?'

  'No, thank you, sir.'

  'Sure? They're very good.' He took one, unwrapped it, and popped it in his mouth. 'I can make one last over twenty minutes,' he said indistinctly.

  Allgood decided on shock tactics. 'Everard,' he snapped, 'did you kill Laura Lorenzo?'

  Sebastian slowly transferred the sweet to his cheek. 'You've got to ask that, have you? In the jolly old book of rules, sort of thing?'

  'No, I—'

  'Ah, your own idea, is it? Don't everybody say no, always?'

  'Mostly, but—'

  'Seems rather pointless, then, what?'

  'Answer the question, sir!'

  'Oh, sorry. Er, what was it again?'

  'Did you kill—?'

  'Oh, yes, of course. Well, as a matter of fact, the answer's no, actually. Sorry. Is that all?'

  'No, it is not. How well did you know the deceased?'

  'Who?'

  'Miss Lorenzo.'

  'Oh, her. Hardly at all, mores the pity. Quite a corker, what?'

  'So you were attracted to her?'

  'Who wouldn't be?'

  'Was your wife aware of this?'

  'Cec?' He frowned. Then his face cleared. 'Oh — see what you mean. I say, don't get me wrong; happily married man and all that. Fellow can look, though, can't he?'

  'You contented yourself with looking?'

  'Eh?'

  'You didn't perhaps make advances to her, advances that were repelled?'

  'Golly, no. Never have the nerve for anything like that. Nor the inclination, really. Such a drain, all that sort of thing. These married chaps who have a little bit of fluff on the side live on their nerves, if you ask me. Not worth the effort. All for the quiet life myself.'

  'Do you know anything about the murder?'

  Sebastian scratched his head. 'Been trying to make sense of it, actually. Everyone seemed to think young Carter'd done it, then Gerry said he hadn't and Lavinia said it was a tramp, and Gerry said you'd said somebody'd cut up a fur coat because the room was too hot, and she was really shot through the bathroom window with two different guns, and the chap was going to get away on the motor-bike, but couldn't because the ignition key was locked in George's safe, so he hid it in the art gallery. I only heard one shot, though. I expect it was the Mafia.'

  Allgood blinked. 'Mafia?'

  'Yes, you know: Italians and Sicilians and all that.'

  Allgood was silent. Clearly it would be an utter waste of time to try and get from Sebastian any coherent account of the event
s leading up to the murder, or ask if he'd seen or heard anything untoward. He sighed. 'All right, Everard,' he said. 'You can go.'

  'Jolly good,' said Sebastian.

  Allgood sat quietly thinking for ten minutes before sending Leather to fetch Hugh.

  * * *

  Hugh said, 'Look, I thought I was in the clear. My alibi—'

  'It holds. But there are things I want to talk to you about. First, your motor-bike. The Earl gave me your message. Odd affair, I agree. However, I shan't bother to have it dusted for prints: there'll obviously be dozens of strange ones on it, impossible to check; in addition anybody here could have touched it quite innocently while it was parked outside, so their fingerprints on it would prove nothing.'

  'As you wish. But there is a bit more you ought to know. Somebody's put fuel in the tank. When I went out to check it after the garage chap brought it back Friday midday, I found it was practically dry - not more than a cupful in it. I was irritated that I hadn't told them at the garage to fill it up, or that they'd not had the sense to do so without being told. Now there's - well, not a lot, but a pint or two at least.'

  'Which cars were parked nearest it on Friday?'

  Hugh thought. 'Everard's on one side and Carter's on the other.'

  Allgood nodded. 'And Carter ran out of petrol Friday night. He was surprised. He knew he didn't have much in, but had been sure he had enough to get back here.'

  Understanding came into Hugh's eyes. 'You mean someone siphoned fuel from his tank and put it in mine? I see. But why? If t hey were going to steal the bike, yes. But why put petrol in, just to take it to the picture gallery? It doesn't make sense.'

  'There's a lot that doesn't make sense so far, Quartus. But everything will soon. And you may be able to help. You had the room next to Laura Lorenzo's. I want you to think very carefully if you mightn't have seen or heard something that night which could help this investigation, something you may not have considered important at the time.'

  'Do you think I haven't racked my brains about that? The answer's no. On Friday night I went straight up to my room after bringing Gerry home and threw myself down on the bed fully dressed. I was in a bit of a temper and wanted to think. I just lay in the dark, smoking. I heard nothing until the shot.'

  'As you went along the corridor towards your room, did you happen to notice if Signorina Lorenzo's door was open?'

  'No, I didn't. If it was, then the light was off in her room. I'd certainly have noticed if it hadn't been, as the corridor was rather dimly lit.'

  'So you were unable to see if there was a gun on the floor?'

  'Perhaps if I'd been looking for something there I might have seen it. But I wasn't.'

  'What did you do after you heard the shot?'

  'Went to the door and got it open just in time to see Gerry's back as she sprinted past. I joined her in the doorway of Laura's room.'

  'Didn't it take you rather a long time to get your door open? Lady Geraldine ran the full length of two corridors while you merely crossed your room.'

  'Well, I was scared.'

  'Scared?'

  'Yes, I admit it. Gunshots are no doubt an everyday part of your life, Allgood. They're not of mine. I did what I think most people would do if they heard a shot outside their door: sat tight .and wondered if it was safe to investigate or if someone might take a potshot at me.'

  'You definitely thought the shot had been fired with criminal intent and wasn't just an accident or horseplay?'

  Hugh looked a little surprised. 'Yes, now you mention it, I did. My immediate assumption was that someone had been shot - deliberately.'

  'Signorina Lorenzo?'

  He nodded. 'I believe so.'

  'Do you know why you assumed that?'

  'Just because she was in the next room, I suppose. I know now the shot was actually fired in the corridor, but I didn't realise that at the time. It was just a shot, close at hand.'

  'But Miss Fry's room was equally close at hand, and Carter's was only a short distance away.'

  'What are you getting at?'

  'Trying to find a reason for your instinctive assumption that it was Signorina Lorenzo who had been shot at. You see, I believe you had more to do with her than anybody else here.'

  'Well, I speak Italian, you see.'

  'Precisely. And I'm wondering if she said anything which might have subconsciously led you to believe she was in danger.'

  'No, no, I'm sure she didn't.'

  'What did you talk about?'

  'Films, art. She asked me to paint her portrait. So you see, it wouldn't have really mattered if I hadn't had an alibi. I could have made quite a considerable sum, by my standards, for that painting - money I urgently need. I had every reason for wanting her alive. Apart from the fact that she was a beautiful woman, a great actress and a very charming lady.'

  Hugh's voice was suddenly soft. He was silent for a few seconds. Then he looked hard at Allgood. 'You'll get him, won't you? I want that swine to hang.'

  * * *

  'Gerry,' Paul said, 'I've been thinking of that second pistol. I fancy, in spite of Allgood clearing me officially, that there are still people here who don't believe in that other gun. I'd love to find it and prove I wasn't making the whole thing up.'

  'It would be rather fun.'

  'Then let's have a go. Where would you hide a pistol here?'

  'Oh, that's easy. Among the guns in Daddy's collection.'

  'I thought of that. But I think it would have been too risky for the murderer to have gone back there. It would be obvious your father would go in to investigate the taking of the murder weapon. Where else?'

  'Dozens of places.'

  'Name one. Look, you're a murderer. You've got a gun in your possession which would point to you as the killer. What do you do with it? And remember, you don't know the house too well.'

  She frowned. 'I suppose one place that springs to mind would be where the gun was hidden when we had our last murder here - how awful that sounds! - in the secret passage. Everybody here must know that story.'

  'I say, that's an idea. All right, let's try there first.'

  They went up to the linen room and Paul opened the panel. 'Do you want to look?' he asked.

  'You bet.' She stepped into the passage, reached for the flashlight, switched it on and shone it round on the floor. Then she gave a gasp. 'It's here!'

  'No!'

  She bent down. 'Don't touch it,' he said. 'Prints.'

  'I know! Got a pen, or something?'

  He handed her his fountain pen and a moment later she emerged with the pen inserted into the muzzle of an automatic pistol.

  He gave a whistle. 'First time lucky! Congrats, darling.'

  She looked modest. 'You started me on the chase.'

  'But you thought where to look. Come on, let's take it to Allgood.'

  * * *

  'Thank you very much, Lady Geraldine,' Allgood said.

  'That was extremely smart of you. And you, Carter.'

  'It is the gun, I suppose,' Paul said.

  'Oh, indubitably, I should say. One shot's been fired from it.'

  'Does it tell you anything?' Gerry asked.

  'Not just by looking at it, not even me. I'll have it checked for prints, of course, but it's a forlorn hope.'

  'It's not a lot of use to you, then?'

  'It confirms the hypothesis I'm working on.'

  'And ought to convince everybody I am innocent, don't you think?' Paul said hopefully.

  'All except the most bigoted, certainly. There's no conceivable way you could have planted this in the passage after the shot was heard. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get on with my interrogations. Be so good as to tell Ransom I'm ready for him, will you?'

  They found Rex in the library and passed on Allgood's message. He stood up. 'Oh, right. I suppose this is the time I ought to draw my sword, shout "Back, you villainous dogs!", and leap out of the window. Unfortunately, I didn't bring my sword with me.' He sauntered from the room
.

  Gerry wondered if he was aware of the beads of the sweat on his brow.

  Chapter Nineteen

  'Sit down, Mr Ransom,' Allgood said.

  'Thanks.' Rex sat.

  Allgood pulled a sheet of paper towards him and picked up a pen. 'Your full name is Rex Ransom?'

  'Yes.'

  'And your age?'

  'I refuse to answer on the grounds that it may incriminate me.'

  'We have no fifth amendment over here, Mr Ransom. But I'll put "over twenty-one".'

  'I'll settle for that.'

  'Are you married?'

  'Not at the moment.'

  'And your occupation?'

  Rex stared. 'You're kidding!'

  'Oh, of course, I believe somebody did mention it. You're an actor, is that right?'

  'As you know perfectly well, Mr Allgood. Do you have any more questions?'

  'A few. How well did you know Laura Lorenzo?'

  'Not at all. I only met her last Thursday.'

  'Did you converse with her much?'

  'Very little.'

  'Isn't that rather surprising? Two film actors meet in a strange country, staying under the same roof with the likelihood of soon appearing together in a film, and they talk very little?'

  'We didn't have a lot in common, I'm afraid. Her movies were - or had pretensions to being - intellectual. She tended to look down on my kind of picture.'

  'You resented that?'

  'Not at all. It's an attitude I'm used to. It means nothing. Most genuine intellectuals thoroughly enjoy my stuff.'

  'In spite of her attitude toward your type of film, she was planning to take a part in one. Why, do you suppose?'

  'I don't know, of course, but I guess she needed the money. I've no idea how well her recent pictures have done in Europe, but they've grossed zilch in the States.'