LIFTMAN. Mind the step, please.
SIR JOHN. You, girl, Elsie, come on, don’t stand there.
LADY WEEDON. Oh, my pearls . . . don’t tread on them . . . my pearls.
(Confused Voices)
Mind where you’re stepping. There’s one. Oh, I beg your pardon. Can’t we have a light. Mind the step.
SIR JOHN. Damn your pearls, Kathleen, you did it on purpose . . . Elsie.
(Two pistol shots are heard)
(Confused Voices)
Oh, what’s that? What’s happened? What’s that noise? Shot? Oh, my pearls. God in heaven, he’s dead. Who’s dead. What’s the matter? I tell you he’s dead. Someone shot him.
(Bobby Owen comes running up)
BOBBY. What’s going on here?
LIFTMAN. Someone shot Sir John Briggs in the back as he was getting out of the lift and now he’s dead.
BOBBY. I’m a police officer . . . stand back all of you . . . stand back, I say.
SMITH. How do we know who you are?
LIFTMAN. He is Inspector Bobby Owen, here on police business. It’s all right . . .
BOBBY. The man is dead . . . he must have died immediately, two shots in the back . . . who did this?
(Silence)
BOBBY. One of you is guilty. Which?
(Silence)
BOBBY. Can none of you help me? What’s the matter?
LIFTMAN. The young lady has fainted.
BOBBY. One moment. She won’t hurt for a moment. Listen. One of you must have seen something.
SMITH. I didn’t . . . The light’s bad. It was all confused.
LIFTMAN. Some were pushing to get out and some were turning back because one of the ladies called out that her necklace had broken.
LADY WEEDON. The string broke. I was stooping to pick them up. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. How could I?
Mrs SMITH. I didn’t either. I was helping to pick up the pearls – look. I have two in my hand.
DICK. You can ask your questions afterwards . . . I suppose it was one of us . . . I don’t know . . . Miss White must be seen to . . . you can’t leave her like this.
BOBBY. Very well. Take her along the corridor there . . . one of the other ladies can see to her . . . not you . . . you stand away . . . here, you sir, come back . . . you, I mean, come back at once. What are you trying to do?
CARTER. Carter’s the name. I want a drink . . . that’s all . . . I feel a bit sick . . . I’ve nothing to do with all this . . . I suppose it was one of that bunch, but I don’t know anything about it. I never saw any of them before to-night.
BOBBY. Your drink can wait. Please all of you stand back against the wall there . . . and remember that one of you is a murderer and I’ve got to know which. And don’t talk to each other. Liftman, see none of them speak to each other. If any of them tries to get away, call for help at once.
LIFTMAN. Very good, sir.
BOBBY. I sent to ring up Scotland Yard the moment I heard the shots . . . and for a doctor . . . they’ll be here immediately . . . meantime, you must just wait where you are.
DICK. We can tell you nothing. We know nothing.
BOBBY. One of you knows it all.
ELSIE. I’m better now.
LADY WEEDON. It wasn’t me . . . I know nothing about it . . . if we’ve got to stop here, can’t we have some chairs?
BOBBY. No. No one must come near . . . not till they get here from Scotland Yard . . . please stand apart . . . and please don’t talk to each other . . . it must have been one of you . . . go back, you, sir, I said no one was to be allowed –
DOCTOR. I’m a doctor . . . I’m staying in the hotel . . . I heard someone had been hurt . . . shot . . . is it an accident?
BOBBY. No. Murder. Will you look at the body? Please disturb it as little as possible. Photographs will have to be taken. I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do.
DOCTOR. What’s that lying there?
BOBBY. Don’t touch it . . . there may be finger prints . . . it’s a two two automatic . . . I suppose the murderer used it.
DOCTOR. You’re a police officer?
BOBBY. In charge till help comes from Scotland Yard. They will bring a doctor but if you would make a preliminary report it might be useful. Will you notice if the bullet wounds look like they were fired from a small automatic like that one . . . if not, another weapon may have been used. You see, one of these people must be the murderer and if that is not the weapon, the pistol used may be still in his possession – or in here.
DOCTOR. Pleasant thought.
BOBBY. Ladies and gentlemen, I must ask you to let me make sure none of you is armed. Thank you. That seems all right. I imagine then the little two two automatic is the weapon. Now I should like to ask you all a few questions. I’ll take the liftman first. What’s your name?
LIFTMAN. William Johns.
BOBBY. That’s the door of Sir John’s private sitting room, isn’t it? Go in there. I’ll join you in a minute. Try to remember every detail. Doctor, have you noticed anything?
DOCTOR. Well, not much, only –
BOBBY. Come over here . . . to the end of the corridor . . . where no one can hear you.
DOCTOR. Death must have been practically instantaneous. The wounds are consistent with shots fired from a small pistol like the one near the body. They were fired in close contact, the muzzle pressed against the body. The dinner jacket has no holes in it, so the murderer must have pushed his hand under it and fired two shots in an upward direction. Both shots penetrated the heart and made their exit over it, through tattooing marks – a ‘K’ and a ‘J’ entwined within a heart.
BOBBY. Is it a fresh tattooing, doctor? I remember Briggs was a sailor at one time, mate on a tramp steamer.
DOCTOR. Oh, no, they are old marks . . . done when he was a young man . . . his first sweetheart most likely . . . done thirty years ago. They can’t have anything to do with this.
BOBBY. I suppose not.
DOCTOR. Want me any more?
BOBBY. I think not, thank you. I expect the Yard will ask to see you later . . . shall you be going out again to-night?
DOCTOR. No. I’ll be on hand if wanted.
BOBBY. Good. I’ll see you to the stairs. I’ve got some of the hotel staff there to see no one leaves. There’s a murderer here and I don’t mean to let him get away.
DOCTOR. Shivery idea.
BOBBY. Let the doctor through, will you? Lucky you were staying in the hotel, doctor, and could help us at once. Good night and many thanks. I’m going to talk to these people now and see what I can get out of them while it’s fresh – perhaps before they’ve had time to think up any lies. The liftman first.
(Goes back along corridor)
Ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to ask the liftman a few questions and then I shall ask each of you to tell me what you know. I’m using Sir John’s private sitting room.
(Enters sitting room)
Your name is Johns, isn’t it? William Johns?
LIFTMAN. Yes.
BOBBY. What can you tell me?
LIFTMAN. Not very much, I’m afraid. The lift was rather crowded. Sir John was very annoyed about it. He threatened to report me to the management and get me discharged.
BOBBY. Oh. Oh, of course, you understand I’m taking a short hand note of what you say and that it will be used in evidence?
LIFTMAN. I quite understand.
BOBBY. Were you upset at all by this threat to report you?
LIFTMAN. Not enough to make me want to murder him, even if I had a pistol handy. Of course, it’s a terrible affair and won’t do the hotel any good and you can guess how I felt – seeing a man shot dead like that right in front of me. All the same, I don’t think the staff will feel inclined to shed many tears. Within the last month or two he has had two waiters, one page and the girl at the ’phone exchange dismissed.
BOBBY. Know their names?
LIFTMAN. The management could send them up, if you like. I expect they’re all on duty.
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BOBBY. I thought you said they were sacked?
LIFTMAN. Oh, the management always sacks any one an important guest complains about. Pleases the guest and doesn’t hurt any one, because if you’re sacked like that you’re always taken on again, same job, same wages, same length of service, only somewhere else in the hotel. The guest sees a new face, the employee carries on as before, and everyone is happy. Naturally, sometimes there’s a serious complaint and that’s different. Oh no! If Sir John had complained about me for allowing the lift to be too crowded, they would simply have put me on another lift. That’s all. I can assure you there’s no sacking in the hotel business just now without good reason. Bad staff shortage with all the younger men called up and the older ones itching to get into the army . . . only, of course, you want influence for that.
BOBBY. I see. Sir John’s threat didn’t worry you then. Did Sir John think it was your fault the lift was over crowded?
LIFTMAN. Well, if I’ve got to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth – well, I’m rather afraid it was a bit like that. Only please don’t tell the management so. They mightn’t like it and I might get the sack in earnest. Sir John . . . well, he’s dead now, and so it can’t do him any harm to say so, but he wasn’t very popular with the staff . . . too fond of throwing his weight about and bullying . . . most of us would have done anything we could with safety to annoy him. Well, I knew Sir John liked to have the lift to himself and I did rather delay starting so as to give people a chance to crowd in. I could have gone up more quickly if I had wanted to. Still, after all, my job is to take people up in my lift. I was never told it was to be reserved for Sir John’s personal use.
BOBBY. I see. Just a little trick to annoy?
LIFTMAN. It did annoy, too – rather more than I meant. I was . . . on perfectly safe ground . . . the management couldn’t say I ought to have thrown people out of the lift that was there for their service. But Sir John did fly off the handle rather more than usual. I rather got the idea he was nervous about something.
BOBBY. Something scaring him?
LIFTMAN. That didn’t strike me at the time. I just thought he was in a worse temper than usual. I didn’t know why and I didn’t much care. Dinner disagreed with him perhaps.
BOBBY. I see. Well, the lift was crowded – more so than usual. Sir John was in a bad temper – also more so than usual. Possibly cause and effect. When the lift stopped – ?
LIFTMAN. At Nine, the lift overshot a bit. It did sometimes. A bit too high. I told them to mind the stop. Then one of the ladies called out that the string of her pearls had broken and they were all on the floor. Some of them turned back or stopped to help pick them up. The light’s bad with this blackout business and there was some confusion. Then the shots were fired.
BOBBY. Take it easy.
LIFTMAN. I’m sorry . . . it was . . . upsetting . . . I think it’s worse to remember . . . I think at the moment I was more surprised than anything else . . . one moment he was standing there, pushing out with the girl . . . hurrying her along . . . the next he was lying there . . . I knew he was dead at once.
BOBBY. How did you know that?
LIFTMAN. I hardly know . . . I was sure, though . . . I could see his coat pushed up and the way he was lying . . . and the wounds behind . . . that’s how it was, wasn’t it?
BOBBY. From behind . . . yes . . . from the lift, upwards . . . the points of issue were just over the heart.
LIFTMAN. Near the tattooing he had done when he was a sailor for his first woman? I wonder how many he has had since? Good thing he didn’t want all their initials done like that. I don’t know if you’ll think it funny, but just at first I never thought of wondering who had done it. I think I was just dazed. It was all so sudden. I don’t think I shall sleep too well to-night, remembering him lying there. I never liked him, no one did, but now’s he dead, you can forget all that.
BOBBY. Yes, Death closes all accounts. You have no idea who had fired the shots?
LIFTMAN. No. It might have been any one. It was so sudden, so confused.
BOBBY. Can you say how they were all standing?
LIFTMAN. It’s a little difficult. There was a good deal of confusion, especially with one lady calling out about her pearls. I’ll do my best. I was standing in the left hand corner, where the lift controls are. The bald elderly gentleman I think I heard called Mr. Smith was standing next to me. He was rather pressed against the wall and I noticed he kept his right hand in his pocket all the time. Afterwards I saw it was bandaged.
BOBBY. Yes, I noticed that. How to look into that.
LIFTMAN. It did strike me afterwards it might have been a dodge to keep that little two-two automatic hidden. Sir John was pushing to get out first – a great one he was for pushing to be first. The girl who fainted was with him. He had her arm. Both the other men were close behind. The two ladies were further back. They were stooping down to pick up the pearls.
BOBBY. Do you think one of them could have straightened up, fired the shots, then stooped again?
LIFTMAN. I’m sorry, but it all happened so quickly and was all so confused, it’s very difficult to be sure exactly how things happened or in what order.
BOBBY. That’s the best you can do?
LIFTMAN. I’m afraid so.
BOBBY. All right. Well, quite a clear statement. The Yard men will want you to repeat it when they get here. Oh, by-the-way, has the hotel a swimming pool?
BOBBY. Yes. Prides itself upon being the most up-to-date hotel in London, doesn’t it?
LIFTMAN. I don’t know that there’s any hotel in the West End with a swimming pool. At any rate we haven’t got one.
BOBBY. Well, much obliged for a very full statement. I hope the others . . . oh, here they are from Scotland Yard, I believe.
(Door opens)
Hullo, Sergeant Martin.
SERGEANT MARTIN. We heard you were here, Mr. Owen. Chief Inspector Hunt will be along – Oh, here he is.
HUNT. Ah, it is you. When they rang up they said Bobby Owen was on the spot. You’ve been at the Yard to-day, haven’t you?
BOBBY. Yes, Chief Inspector. We had information some one was after a big diamond Sir John Briggs bought the other day. A tall, dark young man, we were told, probably named Dick Forman. And of these people in the lift, two are tall, dark young men, and one of them is named Dick Fuller.
HUNT. Good lord, is that the motive then?
BOBBY. I don’t know, but if it was, it failed. Sir John put the case containing the diamond in the hotel safe before dinner and it’s there still.
HUNT. Perhaps they didn’t know that.
BOBBY. Perhaps not. This is the liftman. He has given me a very clear preliminary statement. Also a doctor staying in the hotel has examined the body. I’ve got a note of his report.
HUNT. Right. You’re the liftman, are you? Cut along and wait outside. Don’t go home yet. I shall want you again. First we must hear what the others have to say though. We’ll take the ladies first. Martin, you might ask Lady Weedon if we can see her now.
HUNT. Look at the time . . . half past two in the morning . . . we’ve seen them all, and how much further forward are we? They’ve all talked, every blessed one of them has a motive of sorts and all of them could have done it. Only which?
BOBBY. Is that a complete list of those in the lift?
HUNT. Yes. Here it is.
Sir John Briggs himself, poor devil.
Elsie White.
Lady Weedon.
Mrs. Stephen Smith.
Dick Fuller.
Charles Carter.
That’s the lot and it’s certain Sir John was shot by someone in the lift. I did play with the idea that someone else might have been hiding somewhere but that’s impossible. It couldn’t have been anyone firing from the roof, for instance, because the shots were fired upward. Besides, the muzzle of the pistol was close up against the victim’s body. So there we are. That’s all.
BOBBY. Except that the t
wo two automatic found near the body was the weapon used, and that it’s small enough to go in a woman’s handbag or a man’s pocket.
HUNT. Yes, and a fat lot of help, too, unless we can trace it to someone, which isn’t likely. Number filed off and American make. Most likely bought over there and smuggled in.
BOBBY. If only there were finger prints.
HUNT. There never are . . . now-a-days, if a five year old wants to pinch Mummy’s jam he puts on gloves first.
BOBBY. Only smudges . . . smudges . . . look more like gloves, though, than a handkerchief or anything like that.
HUNT. We may take it the murderer wore gloves. Well, take the lot of ’em in turn and see what we get. Read your notes, will you?
BOBBY. Lady Weedon. Married Sir John when he was a young man, immediately after he left the sea to start business on his own. Divorced him at the time of the Billy Jacks scandal, re-married, now a widow, said to be badly in debt and anxious to try for a reconciliation with Sir John. Probably why she was at the hotel to-night. Showed anger and disappointment at finding he was dining with a young, attractive woman. The breaking of her necklace caused the confusion during which the murder occurred. The wire holding the necklace didn’t break, it was cut. A look at the ends makes that clear. A possible theory is that she is jealous, desperate for money, decided that if her former husband wouldn’t have her back, he shouldn’t have any one.
HUNT. A jealous woman is capable of anything. Crazy, they get. I’ve seen it.
BOBBY. She was in full evening dress, wearing gloves. Her handbag fastening was loose and she says she had thirty pounds in notes in it. They aren’t there now.
HUNT. Perhaps she had a two two automatic in it as well that isn’t there now either.
BOBBY. There was nothing else in the bag of any interest, only powder puffs and that sort of women’s truck. But I suppose with the bag coming unfastened all the time she could easily have slipped the pistol out if she had it there. Her story is that she was picking up her pearls at the moment the shots were fired. She admits she understands pistols and she knew all about the tattooing – says the ‘K’ is the initial of her first name, Kathleen, the ‘J’ stands for John, and it was done when they were first engaged, while he was still going to sea.
Six Were Present: A Bobby Owen Mystery Page 26