Die All, Die Merrily

by Bruce, Leo

  “She had just noticed it? ”

  “Yes. She was sure it was there when Tom was taken to hospital, but she couldn’t be sure since. Quarter of a pound. Yes. Lovely, isn’t it? I suppose the farmers will be wanting rain. Yes. Terrible. I’ve been so upset I couldn’t sleep last night. That’s right. One and eight. And it wasn’t an ordinary gun either. It was more like a rifle. Tom had worked where there was deer, Florrie said, and the gentleman had given him this. It wasn’t until she was just coming out on the Saturday that she noticed it was gone. So you can imagine she was upset. Anyone would be. D’you mind helping yourself then, Miss Pitt? They’re just beside you. Yes, two and four, but aren’t they beauties? I’ll put them in a bag for you. That’s why I wasn’t surprised when she went off that night, as we thought.”

  “Tom Lamplow went to hospital a fortnight before that Saturday, didn’t he? ”

  “That’s about it. So it was between then and Saturday that she lost that gun. Tom called it a savage.”

  “You mean it was a Savage 3030. That is a tricky weapon. You can kill a man at some distance with that. No wonder Mrs Lamplow was worried.”

  “It wasn’t that so much. She scarcely knew the difference. It was the Thought of who might have it. Now what does Mum want? There you are then.”

  16

  “I THOUGHT I saw your car outside,” said someone behind Carolus, and he turned to see the craggy features of Mrs Tuck. “I’ve had to come over and see my niecr. They’ve been On at her.”

  When they were in the street Mrs Tuck said, “We better go to the Woodmen’s because I’ve got something to tell you. Only well go in the Private, which is round the back of the Public, because they’ll all be talking about it this morning. It was you found this woman, wasn’t it, after me telling you there was Talk about her and Richard? Well, now They’re trying to make out he killed her.”

  Seated in an armchair of the private bar of the Woodmen’s Arms, Mrs Tuck swallowed the best part of a milk stout and continued:

  “Yes, that’s what They’re doing. I can tell you because they’ve been to see my niece and her husband. He’s the

  postman who delivered up at that cottage, so they’re asking him this, that and the other. Then one of them who knows me says to my niece, ‘It seems funny your aunt should work for him there and your husband should take the letters up to where this woman’s murdered’. If that’s not trying to put two and two together I don’t know what is. Wait till they ask me about it. I shall tell ‘em! ”

  “You don’t think the two deaths are connected in any way, then?”

  “I don’t say that. But I do know Richard didn’t kill her. He’d never have thought of such a thing. It wasn’t in him. So it’s no good Them starting to make out it was. They asked Roger Goode, that’s my niece’s husband, if he’d ever seen him up there, and Roger told ‘em straight he’d never seen anyone up there but these Lamplows themselves. They didn’t like that, he said. One of ‘em gave him a nasty look, and I shouldn’t be surprised if he was to lose his job of postman next. They all work together, you see. I know Them. You fall out with one and it means the lot. It’s the same with the bus service. I told a cocky young conductor coming over this morning he wasn’t going to tell me where to sit, even if he was dressed up in uniform. ‘I’m the conductor on this bus’, he said, so I said ‘Are you?’ I said,’ I thought you was a Royal Marine. You can tell Them,’ I said, ‘that I’ve had about enough of being told where to sit and where not to sit, and I’ll sit where I bloody well like. You tell Them,’ I said. ‘Language!’ says an old party who ought to’ve minded his own business. ‘You’ll get language,’ I told him,’ if you start putting your oar in. And it will be language,’ I said,’ so now then.’ I hate ‘em. The lot of Them. Anyone would think you was a performing animal, the way They treat you. But about this murder. Can’t you find out who done it? I don’t like the way They keep on thinking it’s Richard.”

  “I should like to have a talk with Roger Goode.”

  “I expect he’s in the Public now. He’ll have finished his round, and a morning like this ten to one he’ll have a beer before going for his dinner. I’ll ask the landlord.”

  The postman recognized Carolus.

  “You were out there yesterday afternoon,” he observed. The perspiration was running off his plump cheeks, but from heat and satisfied thirst, not from perturbation.

  “Yes. Tell me, when was the last time you had letters for the Lamplows? Before yesterday, I mean.”

  “Well, I told you. There was one on the Monday morning. That’s how I came to think she’d left. There was no one there and all locked up.”

  “And before that?”

  “It’s funny, because she didn’t get many letters, but there was a letter for her on Saturday which I took. In the morning it was.”

  “Did you see Mrs Lamplow? ”

  “Yes. Stopped and chatted a minute. She was all right.”

  “Did she say anything about a gun of Tom’s which was missing? ”

  There was a heavy silence in the little room. The fat young man mopped his forehead.

  “Now you mention it,” he replied at last, “I believe she did say something. Only she called it a rifle.”

  “Was she perturbed about it? ”

  This simple question seemed to discomfort Roger Goode.

  “She was and she wasn’t,” he said at last. “I don’t think it was the gun so much as who might have taken it. That’s what was on her mind.”

  “You mean, she knew who had taken it? ”

  “She didn’t say so. Not in so many words. But she seemed to be worried about that and having to stay alone in the house.”

  “Thank you,” said Carolus. “What about another pint? Mrs Tuck? ”

  Goode ‘didn’t mind’ and Mrs Tuck said ‘all right’.

  “It’s a wonder he dares come in here in his uniform,” said Mrs Tuck.

  “Not supposed to, really.”

  “There you are! They won’t let you breathe next. What’s his uniform for, if it’s not to wear? ”

  “That’s the rule,” said Goode.

  “Rule! I’d like to give some of Them rules. I wish I’d got hold of that gun of Tom Lamplow’s, I’d have a shot at some of ‘em.”

  “Now, Mrs Tuck, you mustn’t talk like that,” said the landlord, bringing in their drinks.

  “Who says I mustn’t? I only said what was true. I would like a bang at Them and so would you. Opening time and Closing time, and a copper outside to see you’re not two minutes over. I wonder They let you sell beer at all! ”

  Carolus decided to escape from the private bar as inconspicuously as possible and make for Maresfield, where he now had an urgent mission. He paid for the drinks and took his leave rather hurriedly.

  He drove fast now. Something that morning had changed his whole approach, though whether it was a piece of information gained or his own exasperation with the irrepressible loquacity of most witnesses it would be hard to say. Often in previous cases he had been smothered by a haystack of words in his search for the one needle of relevant evidence he sought, but he had never yet had to listen to such a collection as the women here. From the first, Lady Drumbone with her ‘cases’, to Mrs Beale who was ‘too upset’ to saying anything but had finally come out with two startling pieces of news, it had been prosies, prosies all the way. The invertebrate Miss Hipps, the luscious Pippa, the enamoured Wilma Day, the embittered Hilda and the chatty Mrs Nodges, the gushing Anita Bourne, Mrs Tuck with her hatred of Them, sensible Olivia Romary and publicity-hungry Daisy Redlove—they had all talked far too readily. But from each he had learned something, and now the pattern was almost complete.

  He drove fast, perhaps because he was thinking quickly. He had certain pieces of information to obtain from a number of people he already knew, and his case, he hoped, would be complete. There was nothing vague about the things he wanted to know, a direct question or two in each case should produce the answer. At
all costs, he decided, he would avoid long, chatty interviews over cups of tea.

  Since it was approaching lunch-time he went first to Hoysden’s music shop. This would, presumably, close at one o’clock, and neither Mr Toffin nor Miss Hipps would wish to stay gossiping during their lunch hour.

  Mr Toffin, however, could not be approached in the shop but led the way at once to his glass-partitioned office.

  “I have another small question for you,” said Carolus.

  Mr Toffin nodded.

  “Anything I can tell you about the business I shall be only too glad. It has been running on oiled wheels. Oiled wheels! ”

  “This isn’t about the business,” said Carolus curtly. “On the day before Richard Hoysden’s death there was a tennis party at Alan Bourne’s house to which you were invited.”

  Mr Toffin looked puzzled and rather displeased.

  “There was, yes,” he said. “At Mr Hoysden’s particular request both Miss Hipps and I were absent from the business at the same time, not to mention Mr Hoysden himself. ‘I hope,’ I said to him, ‘this is not setting a precedent.’ But I felt that as his future part … his deput … his senior assistant I ought not to refuse.”

  “What I wanted to know was—did you go upstairs to the room where the men left their blazers, or changed, or whatnot? ”

  “Certainly not! “said Mr Toffin sharply. “I arrived wearing the correct attire and had no need to change it.”

  “So you didn’t go to the first floor at all? ”

  “I did not! ”

  “Thank you, Mr Toffin. Now I should like to see Miss Hipps.”

  “Her evidence will only confirm mine. But you are at liberty to speak to her.”

  Miss Hipps insinuated her way into the office, moving as though she should have been forced as a girl to walk about with books on her head.

  “Mr Toffin says you wish to ask me about the tennis party,” she said before Carolus could speak. “It was the first time, as a matter of fact, that any of us from the shop had been invited to a private entertainment in the family, and of course it had to be me. Mr Toffin said something about our not leaving the shop at the same time, but Mr Hoysden insisted.’ No, I wish Louise to come,’ he said …”

  “I wanted to ask you about something else, Miss Hipps. Do you remember telling me that you had seen Mrs Hoysden going into the Norfolk Hotel with a man? ”

  “Did I say that? Oh, I shouldn’t have, really. It was only once and I …”

  “When was it? ”

  “Didn’t I tell you? It was that very night! ”

  “What very night? ”

  “The night Mr Hoysden … the Saturday night …”

  “A week ago today? ”

  “Is that all it is? It seems an age.”

  “You said about nine? ”

  “Or soon after, yes. I had just come out of the pictures a few doors away.”

  “You are sure they both entered? ”

  “Oh, yes. He was carrying their bags.”

  “Their bags? ”

  “Well, bags. But I don’t want to make things worse than they are. He did come out a few minutes later and drive away.

  “I was hoping you would say that. Thank you, Miss Hipps.”

  “I’m only too glad to be of assistance. You see, I knew Mr Hoysden …”

  “Quite. Thanks. Good morning,” said Carolus, and with a nod to Toffin as he passed was out of the shop in a moment. In his new and peremptory mood he wanted no more of the coiling sentiments of Miss Hipps.

  Outside the door of the shop he ran into Priggley.

  “I thought you were swimming?”

  “You under-estimate my enthusiasm, sir. I want information for you, and what better source could there be than the redhead? I’m taking her out to lunch.”

  “Rat,” said Carolus, and drove round to the Norfolk.

  Hilda was as usual alone. He greeted her cheerfully, but asked at once, “Is Rothsay still in the hotel? ”

  “I couldn’t say, I’m sure,” Hilda said inevitably. “I’m not all that interested.”

  “I particularly want to see him.”

  “You can, so far as I’m concerned.” Then with a rare approach to affability she added, “I suppose I shall have to find out for you.”

  She returned with Rothsay, who looked anything but affable.

  “I hope you’re not going to start asking me questions again, old man,” he said. “I’ve told you it’s no business of mine.”

  “I wanted to ask you a small favour,” said Carolus blandly.

  “Very sorry, old man. Can’t manage it. Had a bad couple of days.”

  “Have you a key of your game-keeper’s cottage? ”

  “Not my game-keeper. He worked for a syndicate.”

  “But you were more on the spot than the others. Have you a key? ”

  “I believe the agent has. Why? What do you want it for? ”

  “Just like to borrow it for a few days.”

  Rothsay seemed to be starting up the engine of his mind, but with the handle. At last he looked at Carolus squarely and said “Have a drink? ”

  “Thanks,” said Carolus, “small whisky and lots of soda.”

  Rothsay seemed happier now.

  “I don’t mind asking the agent,” he said.

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  “I suppose the police will have been in the cottage? ”

  “Yes. But they’ll have finished with it now.”

  “I’m going back to town this afternoon. I’d better run round to the agent’s now. It’s only a few yards away.”

  “Thanks.”

  So it was with a heavy key in his pocket that Carolus lunched at the Norfolk.

  He was soon at work again. What a pity, he thought, that he would have to tackle Slugley at this hour of the day when he would be almost comatose. But there was no help for it.

  As he walked across to the block of flats, however, he saw Miss Tripper, Alan’s shorthand typist, and as diffidently as possible approached her. Even so, Miss Tripper ‘started like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons’, and stood blinking at Carolus, nervous and irresolute.

  “You remember me? “smiled Carolus. “We met at Lady Drumbone’s. I am enquiring into the circumstances of Richard Hoysden’s death.”

  “Oh, good aft …”

  “There is one small question I should like to ask you.”

  “Me? Oh, I hard …”

  “I wonder if you’d care for a cup of coffee? ”

  “Coff … oh, dear, I’m on my way to the off …”

  “Just time, surely? ”

  He piloted her safely into a cafe, and she sat on the edge of a straight chair.

  “It’s a question I cannot very well put to Alan Bourne or his wife, though it’s a very simple matter and demands no breach of confidence on your part. Do they share a room? ”

  At first he thought Miss Tripper was going to jump up and walk out, as she obviously longed to do.

  “Mr Dee … I scarce … Very delic …” she cried in distress.

  “I felt sure that as his confidential secretary you had often been to the house. You could scarcely help knowing.”

  “Oh, but it’s so very pers … I cannot bring myself to disc …”

  Carolus secretly glanced at his watch.

  “No need to discuss it,” he said as gently as possible. “Just yes or no.”

  “But should I be commit … Would it be a bre …”

  “I assure you that it would be no breach of confidence.”

  “Then ye …”

  “They did? Invariably? ”

  Miss Tripper nodded.

  “So far as I know invar …”

  “Thank you. You won’t of course mention that I asked you this? ”

  “Oh, I couldn’t poss … On such a sub … My employ … Improp …”

  “That’s right, then.”

  She was delighted to rise and lead the way to the street.

&
nbsp; “Good-bye, Miss Tripper,” said Carolus.

  “Good …” said Miss Tripper and fled.

  Slugley, as Carolus feared, looked at him with slothful eyes. But the memory of Carolus’s trip, though it did not animate him, at least brought a distant “Arf noon “from between his fingers as he absently levered at a lower molar.

  “When I saw you the other day,” Carolus began at once, “I was going to ask you about Richard Hoysden’s car in the park. But your telling me about the Mercedes put it right out of my mind. Did you notice it that evening? ”

  “Yers, but I can’t say what time or anything about it, because it being one of the regular ones out there I shouldn’t, should I? I’d only have noticed a car if it was out of the way, like the Mercedes.”

  Something in Slugley’s flaccid face warned Carolus not to abandon the conversation too quickly. Though Slugley’s dull eye was on the traffic, Carolus felt almost sure that there was more to come.

  “Tell you what, though,” said Slugley at last. “Talking about cars, I was woke up that night. Yers, getting on for two o’clock it must have been. Car started up and drove away from right outside the window of the little room at the back of where I sleep. Just where Mr Hoysden kept his Hillman.”

  “Was it hisHillman? ”

  “Might have been. I couldn’t tell. You don’t think I was going to get up and look, do you? ”

  “Did you hear it return? ”

  “Yers. Woke me up again. But I can’t say what time that was. Not long before it began to get light I should think.”

  There was another flicker and conjuring trick, and Slugley returned to his distended boa-constrictor’s contemplation of the traffic.

  Only one more, thought Carolus, not without satisfaction. It was not long before he was sitting in the drawing-room of Mount Edgcumbe awaiting the entrance of Anita Bourne.

  When she had made it he spoke very politely.

  “I really hoped to find your husband at home, Mrs Bourne. There’s a small detail I want to clear up, but you can tell me as easily as he, and that will save him being troubled at his office.”