The Curious Death of Henry J. Vicenzi (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 5)

by R. A. Bentley

  'What does this tell you then?'

  'Doesn't live very high,' said Felix, ringing the bell.

  'I could see that from the outside.'

  The door was belatedly answered by a short and stout woman of fifty or so with a cigarette glued to her lower lip. Dressed for cleaning she was holding a floor mop. It didn't escape their notice that it was dry.

  'Yes?' she said, sounding authentically harassed.

  'Is Mr Charles Drake at home?' asked Felix.

  The woman looked him up and down. 'Who's askin'?'

  'Police,' said Felix, showing his card. 'Scotland Yard.'

  'Sorry, 'e ain't 'ere,' she said, and began to close the door. Rattigan put his foot in it.

  'May we come in?' asked Felix politely. 'We need some information. It won't take long.'

  'Looks like you are in,' grumbled the woman.

  The flat presented no surprises, being the rather characterless accommodation of a middle-aged bachelor. The furniture was from an earlier generation – Felix guessed Drake's parents – as were the few books and ornaments to be seen. A dusty pile of magazines and yellowed newspapers lay in one corner, and what appeared to be a cat's bed in another, sans cat. On the dining table lay a racy romance in paperback, a half-finished cup of tea and a veritable doorstep of a cheese, ham and pickle sandwich, ditto.

  'Just 'avin' me elevenses,' she explained.

  'While cleaning the floor?'

  The woman looked at the mop as if surprised to see she was holding it. 'Force of 'abit,' she said, propping it against the sideboard. 'What do you want?'

  'May we have your name, madam?'

  'Mrs 'iggs.'

  'Were you here yesterday, Mrs Higgs? What are your hours of work?'

  'I comes nine ter one reg'lar.'

  'So you were here yesterday between those times?'

  Mrs Higgs eyed him suspiciously. 'I mighta bin a bit late yesterday,' she said. 'Me 'ubby 'ad one of 'is turns.'

  'So when did you arrive?'

  'Mighta bin ten.'

  'And did you see Mr Drake yesterday at all?'

  'No, 'e'd gone by then.'

  'I understand he works at Pumfreys.'

  Mrs Higgs looked contemptuous. ''e don't work there, mister, 'e owns it!'

  'Is that so? Important man, then?'

  'I should say. Got ninety under 'im.'

  'I see. I don't suppose it would do to upset someone like that, would it?'

  'Shouldn't think it would.'

  'So are you quite sure you never saw him yesterday?'

  'Why d'you want to know?'

  'Classified, I'm afraid,' said Felix. 'Not allowed to tell you.'

  Mrs Higgs could be seen to struggle in this informational lacuna. 'I wouldn't get into trouble would I?' she said finally.

  'Not unless you were very naughty and lied to us. I'm sure you wouldn't do that.'

  'All right,' admitted Mrs Higgs. 'I did see 'im yesterday. What it was, I does number four on Monday arternoons. Only she wanted a quick tidy up cos she was bringin' friends round, see? So I said I'd give 'er a few minutes early like, before I come on 'ere. I'd just finished and was comin' back when I saw 'im goin' off.'

  'Do you know where to?'

  'No, I don't. 'e 'ad 'is briefcase wiv 'im though.'

  'And what time would that be again?'

  'About ten fifteen.'

  'You just said ten.'

  'Well I'd say it was nearer a quarter past,' admitted Mrs Higgs. 'Time I got back an' all.'

  'Did he see you?'

  'No, I waited till 'e'd gone.'

  'That's one to wash out anyway,' said Felix as they turned again for Baverstock Avenue.

  'Sorry, boss.'

  'No, don't be. Look at the times you've been right.'

  'Little bit previous wasn't he?' said Rattigan. '"Owns the place, ninety under 'im."'

  Felix chuckled. I expect everyone from here to the postbox thinks he's the big man himself. I forgot to tell you, shop gossip has it that Lewis is carrying on with Andrew's missus; though I wouldn't set much store by it. Not since the advent of Dottie anyway.'

  'You don't know what she's like yet. She could be hot stuff.'

  'Hardly likely to be competition I doubt.'

  'You wouldn't be getting keen on that young lady, would you?' said Rattigan suspiciously.

  Felix chuckled. 'I might've done, if I hadn't been married to the most beautiful woman in London; not to mention the mother of my son.'

  'A son is it now? Been interrogating the stork?'

  'Milady knows her duty. Hello, it's stopping.'

  For some time now they had found themselves following a taxi, which having turned off ahead of them now halted outside number thirty-three. A tall and shapely woman got out and marched inside, leaving the driver to bring her luggage.

  'That's interesting,' said Rattigan.

  They drew up at the front door just as Mabel opened it to the visitor. 'Why it's Mrs Andrew!'

  'You don't have to sound so surprised,' said Stella. 'I do live here, you know. Put them down there will you cabbie? What do I owe you?'

  'One and ninepence, ma'am.'

  Stella raked in her purse. 'Er . . .'

  'Allow me,' said Felix. 'Keep the change old chap.'

  'Thanks very much, sir!'

  Stella looked quizzically up at him. 'And you, I suppose, are our resident policeman?'

  'Inspector Miles Felix, at your service, Mrs Vicenzi,' said Felix, 'And this is Sergeant Rattigan. When you're at liberty I should like to speak to you, in Mr Henry's study.'

  *

  'Hello,' said Stella, 'May I come in?'

  'I was just getting ready to leave, actually,' said Dottie, forcing closed her suitcase. 'Where have you been? They think you ran away.'

  'We did. Andrew anyway. I only got as far as the Station Hotel. Don't speak too loudly, the study's underneath us. Will you come to my room?' She led the way along the landing, locking the door of their bed-sitting room behind her. 'God, what a mess! Why hasn't she cleared up? The police, I suppose. Dottie, I have to tell you something. You'll probably hate me, and rightly so, but I decided to stay behind. I just had to. Well I didn't have to, nor should I have done. And now poor Andrew is on his own.'

  'You couldn't leave Lewis,' said Dottie flatly.

  Stella coloured. 'Oh dear, is it so obvious?'

  'Not really. Not at all, in fact. I have a confession too. I'm afraid I found myself where I shouldn't be, on Sunday night. I saw you go into Lewis's room and, er, heard you.'

  Stella's eyes grew wide. 'Oh Dottie, that's awful! How disgustingly cheap of me. Look, this is going to sound ridiculous, but it's not what it seems. Really it's not. I don't want Lewis. I don't want to steal him from you. I love my husband . . . Oh Lord, I don't know what to say. You're never going to believe me. Why should you?'

  'It's all right,' said Dottie solemnly, 'I've worked it out. You want his seed.'

  For a few moments there was silence in the room and then she began to splutter, finally collapsing into helpless laughter. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' she whimpered, trying to control herself. 'Please forgive me but I'll never get another chance to say that!' Looking up she was relieved to see that the older woman was equally stricken, if not more so.

  'Oh Dottie!' cried Stella, wiping the tears from her eyes. 'Please don't leave. You'd be so good for him. For all of us! I'll . . . go elsewhere.'

  Dottie emphatically shook her head. 'No, don't do that. Definitely don't do that. Was it an arrangement? I mean, between the three of you?'

  'Yes. He said he didn't mind as long as he didn't have to know about it. Of course he does mind, he minds terribly, but he's been so very brave. And now I've made him go on alone. I'm a horrid, wicked, selfish cow.'

  'But where were you going? Why?'

  'If I tell you, will you promise faithfully not to split until I say you can?'

  'Only if he didn't kill Henry.'

  Stella stared at her in amazement. 'Is th
at what they think? His own father! Of course he didn't. He couldn't have done anyway; he'd have been on the train.'

  *

  'I take it, Mrs Vicenzi,' said Felix, 'that you're aware of your father-in-law's murder. Is that why you came home?'

  Stella accepted a light for her cigarette before replying. 'Partly, yes. Though I could hardly stay where I was in any case.'

  'The Station hotel?'

  'Yes.'

  'Does Lewis know you were staying there?'

  'Yes, he arranged it.'

  'That was yesterday morning?'

  'Yes.'

  'Did he go there with you?'

  'Yes, he was with me all morning. Inspector, did you really think they'd murder their own father, either of them?'

  'I wish only to establish that they didn't, Mrs Vicenzi. Can you confirm Lewis was with you between ten and ten-fifteen yesterday morning?'

  Stella sighed. 'As I said, we were together all morning. We had lunch and then he left. He said he needed to think.'

  'One supposes he'll be able to prove that?'

  'Just ask at the hotel. The staff, the manager, other guests, they all saw us there.'

  'Why didn't you continue onwards with your husband?'

  'Personal reasons. They can be of no interest to you.'

  'You're not prepared to tell me?'

  'No.'

  'All right. Do you know where your husband has gone?'

  'I know where he was going.'

  'Care to tell me?'

  'I will gladly tell you; I want him home. But first I must have his permission.'

  'Will you be writing to him or telephoning?'

  'He will not have arrived yet.'

  'It's abroad then?'

  'Yes.'

  'Do you think he'll be prepared to come home?'

  Felix saw the tears spring to her eyes.

  'I don't know,' she said.

  'I'm sorry, Mrs Vicenzi; it's not my intention to distress you. I had best tell you, however, that your husband's name has been brought to our attention regarding some financial irregularity at Pumfreys. No formal complaint has been made, as far as I'm aware, and our only interest at the moment is in the murder. Once we know that Mr Andrew Vicenzi has indubitably arrived at his destination it should be easy to establish where he was at the time. I hope that sets your mind at rest regarding our interest in this. In his absence, however, I do have to establish some background. What was your husband's attitude to his father? Did he get on with him?'

  'Yes, well enough. As well as anyone could.'

  'Difficult man, Henry?'

  'Yes, he was. But Andrew always treated him with respect; they both did. We didn't, in fact, spend much time in his company. Poor Esme bore the brunt of him.'

  'Yet Mr Andrew was prepared to steal from the business.'

  'You don't know that.'

  'Are you saying he didn't?'

  'I'm not prepared to discuss it. If you want to know about that, you must ask him.'

  'What did you think of Henry, Mrs Vicenzi?'

  Stella's expression hardened. 'Since you ask, I'll tell you. I thought he was a selfish man, a thoughtless man and as far as my husband was concerned a cruel man. He could have made my Andy's life so much better if he'd cared to, and mine. He could easily have afforded it. You know Andrew was wounded in the war?'

  'So I understand, yes.'

  'He's in constant pain. He can't walk very well, or even sit easily. Most pleasures are closed to him, but apparently Henry Vicenzi's pain trumped his. I hated the man, if you must know, and I'm glad he's dead. I'd dance on his grave.'

  They gazed at each other for a while, Stella with slightly awkward defiance.

  'Mrs Vicenzi. Did your husband possess a gun?'

  Stella looked surprised. 'Yes, he did. An army revolver. But he never used it; it just sat in a drawer.'

  'Did he take it with him on his journey?'

  'I don't know. I should hardly have thought so.'

  'Was the drawer locked?'

  'No, nothing is locked.'

  'Will you check if it's still there for us?'

  'If you wish. Do you think it's what killed him?'

  'A gun like that killed him. We'd like to find it. The other thing is: I believe you left here quite early on Monday morning, before most people were up. Is there any possibility that you or one of the others left a door or window open through which the murderer or an accomplis could have entered the house?'

  Stella considered. 'No, I'm sure we didn't. We all walked out together and I watched Lewis lock the door.'

  'Could anyone have gone off on their own account and opened a window or door, before you left?'

  'The three of us met on the landing and came downstairs together. That's all I know.'

  'Can you confirm what the time was, when you left?'

  'It was about six-fifteen.'

  'Very well, Mrs Vicenzi, that will be all. Perhaps you will inform us as to the result of your search, one way or the other?'

  'I'm surprised you haven't looked already,' said Stella, standing up.

  'Oh, we have.'

  'Torn between husband and lover, I suppose?' said Rattigan dryly.

  'Always the romantic, eh, Teddy?'

  'Heh heh, as Mrs Entwistle would say. Puts us on the spot though, doesn't it? Assuming we wash out Andrew as well as Lewis, which I expect we shall have to do, we're left with Esme, Cedric and a daffy old woman.'

  Felix began to pace restlessly about the room. 'We're missing something here; we must be doing. Even if someone could have slipped in, how did they get out again without being spotted? It seems impossible. The first witness arrived within a minute or two of the shot, and no one was seen before or after.' He paused, struck by a thought. 'What was Henry doing before he died?'

  'Bawling out Esme and her demon lover.'

  'No, I mean after that. I'll tell you. He'd ring for Jessup and tell him the Reverend Curry was never to darken his doorstep again. He wasn't ringing for help, Teddy, he was ringing for the butler, just as he did a dozen times a day, probably.' Shoving aside the chair he fell to his knees beneath the desk. 'Now let me see. This wire must lead to the original connection on the wall; probably behind that bookcase. Could be. Could be!'

  Nash and Yardley came in. 'Where's the boss?'

  'Under the desk,' said Rattigan. 'I'm wondering if it's getting too much for him.'

  'Never mind the funny cuts,' said Felix. 'I'm looking for where it might have been connected.'

  'What might, sir?'

  'The booby trap. A gun on that shelf behind his chair and some means of firing it when you press the bell button. John you're the technical man. How would it work? Could it be done?'

  Nash considered this. 'Yes, perhaps. You'd need some sort of solenoid, I expect. Like you have to strike the bell, as a matter of fact. I don't know if it would be strong enough to operate a gun trigger though.'

  'And you'd connect this gadget across the bell circuit?'

  'Yes. Pressing the bell button would make the circuit. A lot would depend on the battery, very likely. I suppose you could even wire in another if you could hide it somehow; and solenoids must vary too, thinking about it, the winding and so on. Not something I know much about, I'm afraid.'

  'It would have to be connected down here or the victim might see it,' said Felix, getting his torch out. I can't see any bare bits. Unless they took the files off the shelf and did it at the back of them.'

  'Is it braided wire?' asked Nash.

  'Yes.'

  'Then you might have to pull it back a bit to see.'

  'Good point. Come and have a look, will you? I'm getting cramp.'

  Nash replaced Felix under the desk, eventually lying on his back with his legs sticking out. 'I'm looking at where it passes through the desk,' he said. 'You could connect it there all right, but it would be tricky one-handed.' He turned on his side. 'I'll follow the flex down.'

  'It'd be a bit hit and miss though, wouldn't
it?' said Rattigan doubtfully. 'He'd need to be sitting just right to get shot in the back of the head. Suppose he'd moved his chair a bit?'

  'If it existed at all, it must have worked,' Yardley pointed out. 'He's dead.'

  'Aha!' said Nash excitedly. Someone has separated the wires and cut through to the copper.'

  'That's hopeful; it must have been done for a reason.'

  'Well there's no sign of a gun or anything now,' said Rattigan, searching the shelves. 'Where is it?'

  'Someone would need to have removed it before Benyson got here or he'd probably have spotted it. Or we would.'

  'Jessup, then. No-one else had a chance.'

  'Don't hang him yet,' said Felix. 'It's only an idea.'

  'It would have needed some sort of cradle, wouldn't it? To hold it steady,' said Yardley. 'Wouldn't Henry have spotted it?'

  'Not necessarily,' said Nash. 'It wouldn't matter if it got dislodged once it had fired; it would have done its job by then. It would even work on its side with some of those folders to hold it down and hide it. You might have to tilt it a bit.'

  'All right, let's have Jessup in,' said Felix, pressing the now innocent bell button. 'There's probably some mundane explanation.'

  But it was Mabel who answered.

  'It was actually Mr Jessup I wanted,' said Felix. 'Sorry, Mabel.'

  'I'll fetch him, sir.'

  'Suppose you're right about this contraption,' said Rattigan. 'He'd be doing well to dismantle the thing in five minutes, especially having to deal with the old dear as well.'

  Felix began looking speculatively about the room. 'I'm doubtful myself,' he admitted. 'However, if it existed and he did dismantle it, chances are it's still in here somewhere. He could hardly walk about toting a service pistol, if that's what it was.'

  'But why would he dismantle it? If it was someone else's handiwork he'd want to leave the thing in place to let us see it, and if was his own he'd want to make it look like it was someone else's. The last thing he'd do is hide it. It makes no sense.'

  'That's not entirely true. If he was able successfully to hide the thing we might go on assuming that the murderer somehow got into the house, and never find them. And what's the alternative? We either have to assume that half the servants are lying to us or be left with a snivelling little curate and a confused old lady. Or Esme, I suppose. And it's queer about the bare wires, you must admit. Look for anywhere he might have tucked it, lads. What's in here anyway?' He began to explore the desk drawers. 'Pens and pencils; receipts of some kind; wholesaler's lists. More folders in this one. October twenty-one. Shouldn't think that's been out for a while.' Suddenly he paused as if frozen, staring into the bottom drawer. 'Well knock me over with a charge sheet!'