Chapter X
‘Are you awake, Dylis?’ Through slowly returning consciousness, she heard Inigo’s voice, his light rapping upon the door of her room, and made an effort to rouse herself. Daylight streamed round the curtains, and her glance, moving sleepily in the direction of the door, encountered the chair she had placed against it and the pile of articles on top. It looked incongruous in the light of morning. She laughed, and called out:
‘All right, half a minute.’
She was becoming adept at leaping out of bed and donning dressing-gown and slippers with the minimum of delay, but it took her a few minutes longer to draw back the curtains and to remove the obstacles before opening the door.
‘I put up the barricade after you’d gone last night,’ she said, smiling at his surprised face as he stood there, fully dressed, balancing a small breakfast tray on one hand. ‘Now laugh your head off.’
‘I’m not in the mood,’ he said, entering and closing the door with his free hand. ‘I’ve lost my sense of humour. Tell me you heard people galloping up and down the corridor wailing like banshees and I’ll believe you.’
He did look worried, she thought, standing with his back to the door, still balancing the tray in absent-minded fashion as if he had forgotten its existence. She asked:
‘Is that for me? Or did you bring it up just to prove that even Wintry Wold can provide room service?’
‘I’m sorry. Of course it’s for you. I thought you might like some tea and toast as it’s gone ten o’clock.’
‘Has it really? I’d no idea. Why did you let me sleep so late?’
‘It seemed a pity to wake you earlier, after you’d had such a rotten night.’
He carried the tray round and put it on the table, and she wrapped a blanket about her for extra warmth and comfort, sat down on the bed and poured herself a cup of tea. He lit a cigarette and began to walk restlessly about the room. He said:
‘I’ve been trying to get the car to go.’
‘Really? I thought we were going to make that journey together?’
‘So we are, or rather, we were. But I thought there was no harm in getting the engine warmed up a bit by the time you were ready. But it’s no use. It’s out of action.’
‘I expect it’s cold,’ she said, enjoying her tea, and wishing that the men of her acquaintance would not take such a morbid interest in engines. By Inigo’s harrowed face one might have thought that somebody else had died.
‘Of course it’s cold. But that’s not the point. Someone’s been messing about with it.’
‘Well, you were all having a go at it yesterday. I don’t wonder it’s packed up.’
‘With the interior,’ he said. ‘Someone has deliberately jammed the works. Now I know something about cars …’
‘But I don’t, so it’s no good trying to explain it to me. As far as I’m concerned, a car either goes or it doesn’t and if it doesn’t, then I leave it in the hands of a mechanic until it does. Can’t you borrow one of Theresa’s?’
‘I thought of that, too. In fact, I found it difficult to believe, at first, that someone had really been having a go at mine. I couldn’t imagine anyone being so damned silly. So I came in and asked Theresa, and she said I could borrow one of hers, the smaller one, the other hadn’t been so good the last time she took it out. She gave me her keys and I went over to the garages, and I found that both her cars had also been tampered with. By the time I’d stamped around and shouted a bit, Bob Snell came out and had a look at his van, and that isn’t working, either.’
‘But it was out of order when they brought it in, wasn’t it? I thought that was what all the fuss was about.’
‘Not really. The brakes were faulty, and they didn’t care to risk it on these roads. Snell is in a proper wax about it. I didn’t know he had it in him. You should have heard his language, or perhaps it’s as well that you didn’t. But what he isn’t going to do when he catches up with whoever did it … And what I’m going to do …’
‘What are you going to do?’ Dylis interrupted, hiding her interest behind an air of indifference. Perhaps it was petty of her, she thought, but she was glad that something definite had occurred to arouse Inigo from his usual calm. And he had been so trying over her own misgivings. Now he could see for himself that something was wrong somewhere. As a further stimulus, she added, ‘You’re absolutely certain about all this? I mean, you’re not getting imaginative, like me, for instance?’
He sat down on the nearest chair, and said, with a half smile:
‘I’m sorry about last night, Dyl. I ought to have realised you’ve too much sense to go knocking on doors just for the fun of it. But let’s forget about that for the moment. If you’ll just let me explain the basic principles on which a car runs, or doesn’t run, I’ll soon convince you …’
‘You’ve convinced me already,’ she said hastily. ‘I believe every word you say. All the cars are out of action. And for what it’s worth, my opinion is that it was done round about the time I came back to bed.’ She had finished her breakfast, and walked across to the windows and looked out. She saw, with approval, that the sun was trying to pierce the enveloping clouds above Deathleap Scar. The temperature seemed to have risen, too, unless it was the effect of the tea Inigo had brought her. To the left of the house was grouped a series of outbuildings, still thickly embedded in snow. She asked, nodding in that direction, ‘Is that where the garages are?’
‘Yes, but you can’t see them from here. We’ve cleared a way round to them from the front of the house, and Best and I have stowed my car under cover. I’m going to work on it presently. Why?’
‘Because last night, after you left me, I saw a light bobbing about over there, like someone carrying a torch.’
‘You did? Why didn’t you tell me?’ Then seeing her look of derision, he added, ‘All right, I know. You thought I’d say it was someone calling the cat in. But who would do a thing like that?’
‘Well, to my knowledge there were four people wandering about last night. Me, but I couldn’t have done it because I wouldn’t know how. You, but I take it you’re not in the habit of playing practical jokes on yourself. The man in the dressing-gown, but he was hardly dressed for the part, and Mr Ashley, who was wearing an overcoat.’
‘Have a cigarette,’ Inigo said, as if the problem of Mr Ashley and his overcoat called for a stimulant. He went on presently, ‘It does look like it, doesn’t it? But why?’
‘I can’t answer that. But if you remember, he’s the only one who hasn’t seemed keen on getting away from this place, apart from you and the rest of the people who’ve reason to stay here. He put off helping you clear the snow as long as possible, and only went out about half an hour before tea yesterday. He said he was tired …’
‘Did you say half an hour before tea?’
‘Yes, about that. Theresa and I were in the kitchen and he said he was going out to give you a hand. So she said to tell you that tea would be in half an hour. And later you all came in together.’
‘But he only joined us in time to tell us that tea was ready, and we all flung down our tools and came in straight away. What was he doing all that time, I wonder?’
‘Perhaps he was doing the job then.’
‘Hardly. Someone might have seen him.’
‘And you said these garages were locked, didn’t you?’
‘So they were. I hadn’t thought of that. Theresa herself gave me the keys.’
‘Has anyone else got a key?’
‘That I’ll have to find out.’
‘But if anyone has another key, it would only be one of the servants, wouldn’t it? Or … well, your uncle might have had one, or his valet. It looks as if we’re coming back to my first argument.’
‘What was that?’
‘It seems as if someone doesn’t want you to go and get that doctor.’
‘Oh, Lord!’ he said, and rubbed his chin in perplexity. ‘This is all so damnably unpleasant. And it isn’t very logical, e
ither. Sooner or later the doctor is bound to arrive on a routine visit.’
‘Suppose she just cooked up that story about the doctor, and there never really was one?’
‘Then there’d have to be an inquest, and that would be even more awkward if … you know what I mean. Besides, we know that the old man did have a doctor when he had pneumonia, because later he wrote to my father and said so.’
‘And then he was supposed to have a relapse. Oh, I don’t know what to think. It’s all so confusing. I thought I liked Mr Ashley at first, but now I’m not at all sure.’
‘He does seem a nice enough sort of bloke. That’s why last night, when you were so worked up, I just couldn’t see stepping up to him and saying, “Mr Ashley, will you please keep to your room,” or whatever you thought I should say.’
Dylis sighed. She said, ‘You’d think the devil himself was a nice sort of bloke, providing he kept his horns hidden. Odd things have been happening here all the time that you just wouldn’t see. There was that person creeping about in your room while your back was turned, the first night we arrived.’
‘There was nothing much I could do about that,’ Inigo said. ‘And it can’t have anything to do with Ashley, even if he did mess up my car. He wasn’t here that night.’
‘No, that’s true.’ Thoughtfully she turned again to stare out of the window. The snow looked curiously blue-tinted and sparkling. She was beginning to hate the sight of it. ‘What about Mr Carpenter?’ she asked. ‘He’s a pretty strange person.’
‘He looks like just an ordinary dipso to me.’
‘And Charlie? You don’t think it might be his idea of humour?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. He seems a decent sort of bloke …’ He broke off when she started to laugh, and amended, ‘I don’t imagine he’d run around messing up cars, anyway. He seemed as fed up about it as anyone.’
‘They all seem to be something or other, but are they? Mr Ashley seems to be a commercial traveller, but I’m getting the idea that he’s nothing of the kind.’
‘Why not? He looks like one, doesn’t he?’
‘That’s just it. He looks too much like one.’
‘Now, Dylis, do be reasonable. The night before last you were raving against Vauxhall because he doesn’t look like what he’s supposed to be, and now you’ve turned against Ashley because he does.’
‘I told you before, I’m not feeling reasonable. But we won’t go into that again. The question is, what are we going to do?’
‘My first instinct was to go round threatening everyone with physical violence. But having cooled down a bit, I’m going to get that car fixed if it’s the last thing I do. In the first place, it’s not my car, and secondly, I want to get hold of that doctor.’
‘You’d better make sure, then, that fixing the car is not the last thing you do. I think I’ll come down as soon as I’m dressed to see that no one knocks you on the head while you’re fiddling about.’
‘Would you mind?’ he asked, on his way to the door.
‘Not a bit. I might be tempted to do it myself one of these days. But just now I don’t want any more complications. Is the water hot this morning?’
‘The water here is always hot. We’ve our own methods of keeping the pipes protected in winter.’
‘Good. I’ll have a bath, then. I feel terrible.’
‘You look wonderful,’ he said, as he went out, and she avoided glancing in the mirror, in case, to her critical eye, his statement might have been disproved.
Chapter XI
It was approaching noon when Dylis came downstairs. She had put on her camel hair coat and snowboots in anticipation of a sojourn in the garage, for though the day was definitely warmer, she was taking no chances. Wintry Wold was not the sort of house where one could nurse a cold in comfort.
The house seemed strangely deserted this morning, and though recent events did not suggest any necessity to stand upon ceremony, at the same time social instincts demanded that she should exchange greetings with someone. Hearing voices in the drawing-room, she went in, and discovered Theresa and Charlie Best in conversation. Mr Carpenter was also present, sunk deep in his customary chair, and to judge by the liberal dose of his favourite potion to which he was clinging with both hands, for him the day was already well started. Obviously, too, he had decided to save the precious minutes usually wasted in decanting the whisky, for a bottle, three-quarters full, stood on the table beside him. A casual nod in Dylis’s direction was all the interest he took in her entrance. Not so Theresa, who with Charlie Best was leaning against the mantel, and turned immediately to say:
‘We were wondering what had happened to you, my dear. Inigo said he thought you were over-tired. I hope you slept well?’
Dylis did not answer for a moment, considering many things. Was there just a hint of suspicion in Theresa’s manner? She did not look as if she had slept any too well herself. Her eyes were brilliant, but shadowed, and her face, though carefully made up, had a suggestion of real anxiety about it. She was jumpy, too. The fingers of one small hand beat a light tattoo upon the mantelpiece, and she was smoking a cigarette with quick, nervous movements. She had abandoned, in part, the role of sorrowing widow, and was dressed more as a woman of action, in the kind of costume worn for winter sports even down to a very small pair of black leather boots. Dylis almost expected skis to be lying negligently somewhere in the background. She said with due caution:
‘No, I didn’t sleep very well. Did everybody else?’
‘I did, for one,’ Best said, smiling. ‘But that doesn’t go for everybody. Have you heard we’ve got a saboteur in our midst?’
‘Inigo did say something about it, if you’re referring to his car.’ She was trying to sound as casual as possible. She sat down on the arm of a chair and lighted a cigarette. Theresa said:
‘Not only his car, but both of mine. And the van, although I’m not worrying too much about that. As far as I’m concerned, it’s been nothing but a nuisance all the time. The sooner they take it away, the better I shall be pleased. What I am worrying about is that anyone staying in my house could be so despicable. Really, I can hardly believe it, yet. It’s positively insane. With everyone working so hard yesterday to get the snow cleared away, and then …’
‘Have you found out who did it?’ Dylis asked.
‘I have not. I find it difficult to imagine the mentality capable of such an outrageous thing. And as hostess it places me in a particularly awkward position. I can hardly accuse one of my guests.’
But her eyes, glancing from one to the other, did accuse them, in a veiled way. Real or simulated, her indignation was very effective. And not unbecoming. Best was regarding her in frank admiration. Dylis said:
‘We’re none of us guests in the accepted sense of the term, Theresa, so I shouldn’t bother too much about that side of it. In fact, we’re pretty conspicuous by our absence this morning. Did Mr Ashley oversleep, too?’
‘I really don’t know. With all these extraordinary things happening, I’m completely confused. But he’s not down yet, as far as I know.’
‘A pity. I was going to offer to tidy some of the rooms for you. It must be difficult, with so little help about the house. I’ve done mine. Which is Mr Ashley’s room, by the way?’
‘Next door to the second bathroom,’ Best said. ‘Almost opposite mine.’
‘Oh. And you managed to sleep fairly well, you say?’
‘I always do. Why?’
‘Only that I wish I slept your end of the house. My end was pretty noisy last night.’
‘How do you mean?’ Theresa asked.
‘People were chasing each other about the corridors.’ She had put out her cigarette, and was sitting with her hands in the pockets of her coat. She withdrew one, holding the torch she had found in the passage upstairs, and began idly to switch it on and off. Neither Best nor Theresa appeared unduly interested. The latter said:
‘It was probably someone going to the bathroom. Or did
you actually see anyone, Dylis?’
‘I saw a light bobbing about in the grounds,’ she hedged, replacing the torch in her pocket. ‘Some time after three, I should think it was.’
‘That was our man, I’ll bet you,’ Best said, and Dylis was about to add, ‘Or Woman,’ but refrained, having the impression that Theresa was longing to say the same thing. Since they were the only two women in the house, it would hardly have improved the situation. She said instead:
‘And where is Mr Howe? I thought he was going to walk home this morning?’
Best laughed. ‘You didn’t swallow that yarn? Believe me, he won’t stir out of this house until his car is ready and waiting. Sorry to disappoint you, Mrs Brown, if you thought we’d be on our way sooner. I went along to have a chat with him this morning, and all I saw was Raddle’s feeble face peering round the door. Howe is giving out that he’s in the middle of something so terrific that he can’t be disturbed at any price, and won’t even see me. I asked wasn’t he going to do his exercises on the veranda, and Raddle said no, he did not care for the vulgar curiosity of certain people in this house, and preferred to do them by the open window in his room. It sounds phoney to me. What’s more, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was either him or his secretary who fixed the cars so nicely.’
Another Little Christmas Murder Page 13