Lonely Road Murder

by Fearn, John Russell

  For a second I stared unbelievingly, then aiming a furious blow I leaped back and yelled. “Bob McDonnell! How dare you! How dare you!”

  Yes it was Bob! He gave a snort, a sort of smothered grunt, then threw back his head and laughed! Yes laughed, until the tears stood in his eyes and he was clutching weakly at the door handle for support! I went nearly off my head with rage! I had never been so angry in my life. I hit and punched at Bob’s brawny figure, making as much impression as a fly, and yelled insults at the top of my voice.

  He sobered up fast, and grabbing my wrists marched me inside and sat me down plump on the nearest chair. “Now listen, poppet. Don’t go up in the air like that! I didn’t want to disappoint you. You looked so expectant! What was I to do?” He started to laugh again, and with a terrific effort I got my temper under control, and said with a jerky smile. “Alright, forget it,” adding a little unnecessarily, “I thought it was Stephen.”

  “So it is!” a voice called from the open door, and to add to my confusion in walked Stephen. “Hello, Bob. Haven’t seen you for ages. No don’t go, I want your support.”

  I directed a vindictive glare at Bob who promptly ignored it, and settled himself in the best armchair. Stephen came over and kissed my hot cheek. “Hello, darling. You look very nice. Glad to see you’ve got some colour back. How about a cup of tea for two tired business men?”

  “Of course,” I replied, trying not to sound as flustered as I felt, “it’s all ready for you, darling. I don’t suppose Bob wants any though. He has a date tonight. Haven’t you Bob?”

  Bob stretched his long legs, reached for his cigarette case, and said succinctly: “No.” Shaking with fury I swept into the kitchen and left them to it.

  When I came back, carrying the tray, Stephen was emphasizing something with forceful gestures, while Bob lay back behind a perfect smoke screen, nodding his head in sage agreement, from time to time. I put the tray down and began to pour out the tea. “Would you like a piece of sponge, Stephen?” I asked.

  He said he’d love a piece, and I watched with eager anticipation as he took his first bite. Bob, of course, had to interfere. “If that’s Elly’s, I’ll have a slice.”

  “It isn’t,” I said coldly. “I made it myself.”

  He grinned. “Well, I’m not hungry anyway!” If looks could kill, Bob would have been prostrate, as I glared hatred at him; as they can’t, of course, he remained comfortably seated by the fire.

  Stephen saved the situation by saying it was delicious.

  After a pause, he reached for my hand. “Now Rosemary. I’ve been talking to Bob, and he agrees with me, that it would be best for you to get away for a few days. Staying, here won’t serve any useful purpose. What do you say? Will you come?”

  I sighed unhappily, wishing that Bob was anywhere but there, sitting opposite, and watching us with a fatherly expression. If only I could have Stephen to myself, to tell him a little of my shyness at the thought of meeting his mother. By some miracle Bob seemed to understand. He got up and smiling wisely, said he’d better be going. Elly had told him about the message from Freda — I sniffed superciliously, Freda was the blonde — and he wanted to phone her. I quelled my curiosity to know if he was going to accept, said goodnight, and mercifully he went.

  Left alone with Stephen, I began my explanations. He heard me out patiently and as I came to a faltering stop, chuckled and pulled me on his lap.

  “Well, if that’s all that’s worrying you, my dear, you can stop right now, and start packing. No one would be shy with mother. She puts you at your ease in a moment. She’s the sweetest person, Rosemary, and I know you’ll love each other. Then Shelia will be popping in and out — ”

  “Shelia?”

  “Yes. We grew up together. You’ll adore her. She’s a grand sport.” I felt convinced that I should do nothing of the kind. “Grand sports” were definitely not my type. I was getting quite desperate, as the well-meant trap closed in tighter, and just as I was searching for a really final sort of excuse, there was a bang on the door.

  It was Bob again. This was too much. My politeness strained to the limit, I said in my iciest tones: “Well? What is it this time?”

  He glanced apologetically at Stephen. “I’m very sorry to interrupt you both, but this is serious. Inspector Nevil just phoned up, he says there’s been a new development in the case, and will we please hold ourselves ready for questioning. He’s on his way now. I said I’d warn you and Elly, Rosemary. I’m afraid you won’t be able to go with Stephen just yet. I don’t like the sound of things at all.”

  This was a bombshell! “Whatever can he want with us now?” I asked, mystified.

  Bob shrugged. “Search me, but he was very serious about it.”

  “It’s most inconsiderate of the man,” Stephen grunted. “Does he expect you to hang around here for ever, at his command? I thought the whole affair was over and done with.” He rose and began putting on his coat. “Well, I’d better go. He won’t want me. I’m sorry Rosemary. Perhaps we’d better leave it till the weekend after all.”

  I went downstairs with him and watched until the car had turned the corner. When I got back, Elly had come in from next door, and we all sat around, finishing up the tea and sponge, amidst the wildest conjecture, Elly convinced that the police had found the real murderer, and that justice was finally to be done. The sound of a car drawing up outside put an effective end to the conversation, and I ran to the door to admit the Inspector and his attendant constable. We gazed at him expectantly and he began speaking in a severe, abrupt voice.

  “A post mortem was performed today on the body of the late John Francis. We considered it a mere formality, but the resulting evidence has completely disproved this theory.” He drew a sheet of notepaper from his wallet. “John Francis died as we know from gas poisoning — what we didn’t know was that a large quantity of laudanum was found present in the body.” There was a pause, and his sharp eyes flashed. “This quantity had been recently administered, from which we infer, that he was heavily drugged before he breathed in any of the gas.”

  I gazed at him blankly not understanding. Elly muttered something unintelligible, but Bob jumped to his feet and cried incredulously: “You can’t mean — ”

  “Thank heaven someone takes my meaning,” the Inspector said dryly. “An unconscious man cannot get off his chair, and turn on his own gas fire. No. John Francis was deliberately and cleverly murdered!”

  CHAPTER V

  AT THE BLUE CELLAR

  A complete babel broke out at his statement. John murdered? We were all talking together, almost shouting, when Inspector Nevil silenced us with an authoritative wave of his hand.

  “You all understand the situation now, and I must ask you to give me the full details again. We start from another angle this time. Miss Lennox, you were the last one to see him I believe. Tell me in your own words what happened.”

  I told him all I could remember about our meeting in the park, and he checked it again carefully against my previous statement. “Yes, yes. You did not return to your flat until the evening. Then you were accompanied by Miss Moreland?”

  “That’s quite right.”

  “Thank you. Now Miss Moreland — ”

  “You saw nothing of him during the afternoon,” I put in eagerly.

  “At what time did you come back?” he asked, ignoring my interruption.

  “Let me see now, Inspector. I had a cup of tea in the cafe, and met Mrs. Edwards from across the road about five I suppose.”

  “Was Mr. Francis in his flat then?”

  “I don’t think so. There was no light on and I couldn’t hear anybody in there. No, I don’t see how he could have been.”

  “Thank you.” He turned to Bob “You were here all evening, Mr. McDonnell?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was there a light showing when you came in?”

  “Yes there was. That would be around seven o’clock. I didn’t like to interfere, or push myself, so
I just went upstairs to my flat.”

  “You heard nothing, during the course of the evening.”

  “No, I wouldn’t unless it was pretty loud. Mine is the top flat, and you don’t get much noise. I was writing the whole time; I remember thinking how uncannily silent it was.”

  Inspector Nevil and the constable spoke together for a few minutes, comparing notes. Apparently everything was satisfactory so far. Armed with a fresh file, he began again. “Miss Moreland first noticed the smell of gas, and hammered on the door. That would be at eleven, when Miss Lennox and Miss Moreland returned together.” He smiled slightly. “You are both fortunate in that I can supply you with a partial alibi.”

  “Good Heavens! You don’t think any of us did it?” Elly cried in astonishment.

  “I don’t think anything at all,” he returned with some asperity. “I am merely trying to establish facts. You must look at it this way, Madam. Mary Francis is murdered. Everyone can give a reasonable account of themselves, except her husband. He admits that they had quarrelled, and that he was the last one to see his wife alive. Then a few days later, he himself is discovered dying in a gas-filled room. The implication is obvious. I in fact considered the case closed. But now in the light of this new evidence, we must start all over again. Two murders have been committed, and we seek a clever, devilish killer. One without scruples or mercy, who may, for all we know, strike again.”

  Elly shivered and said in a faint voice: “You make it sound so frightening.”

  He relaxed a little. “I’m sorry, that is not my intention. I just want you to realize and understand, why we must ask all these questions. We must check and recheck everything that has been done and said. One of you three may hold the key — unwittingly, but you may hold it. Each of you was present at the finding of both bodies, and are the only people who can help us.”

  Bob had been sitting quietly listening; now he looked up and said: “How about the Club “The Blue Cellar” where they worked? Have you made any inquiries there?”

  The Inspector looked pained. “Naturally, we have not overlooked that side of their lives. I was, as a matter of fact, somewhat struck by the attitude of the bandleader, a Mr. Les Roberts. He was very upset over Mary Francis’ death, more so than one would expect from a business acquaintance.”

  I racked my brains trying to recall something Mary had said on that last day. Then it came to me. “That was the man they quarrelled over!” I cried eagerly. “Indeed! Mr. Francis was jealous?”

  “Yes, but Mary said he was silly and that there was nothing in it.”

  Inspector Nevil noted this down and the questions required and putting away his pen handed the file to the constable. “Now, my friends. If you will be good enough to come downstairs, we can go over your evidence on the spot.” We got up a little stiffly and followed him.

  There was another policeman now waiting outside the Francis’ flat. He opened the door, and stood aside for us to enter, then closed it, and we heard him slip the padlock back into position. The police had been busy while the Inspector was questioning us. Doors and cupboards were open, and seated, busily sorting through a pile of correspondence by the bureau was a policeman.

  “Anything new, Thompson?”

  “No, sir,” the policeman answered smartly. “Seems to be the usual stuff, letters and bills. Nothing much to go on, I’m afraid.”

  “Hmm. Oh well, keep trying.”

  He led us into the bedroom. Everything looked so different. The gas fire had been ticketed, and placed in the corner. A glass with lipstick stains on the rim stood beside it, and all the furniture had been moved round. Elly peered at the glass in a fascinated way. “Is that what he took the laudanum in?” she asked breathlessly.

  “I don’t know. We are taking it with us for examination. It was left on the draining board in the kitchen.”

  Elly retired, looking deeply impressed. We all went through our stories again. Very macabre it seemed to stand in that ordinary room, describing the terrible things it had seen. I was thankful when the ordeal was over and Inspector Nevil intimated that we could go back. He accompanied us, and paused for a few final words. “I want you to take care. If you recall or notice anything, connected with the case, however trivial, get in touch with me. Don’t take any chances. Above all, don’t discuss the case with outsiders.” Bob said levelly, “You don’t think there’s any danger, Sir?”

  “No, I don’t say that. I merely ask for a little caution. We are dealing with a killer, and cannot be too careful.”

  Listening to him, I resolved to speak. Screwing up my courage I blurted out. “Inspector Nevil — ”

  “Yes, Miss Lennox?”

  “You did say trivial?”

  “My dear young lady, speak up. This is no time for hesitation, if you know anything.”

  I made up my mind. “Well, I don’t exactly know anything, but Sunday night just as I was getting ready for bed, somebody tried my door. I’ve been trying to think it was imagination, but in the face of all this — ” I stopped and watched his face anxiously. He was very serious. “Did you open the door?”

  “Yes. I called out first, and then as there was no reply, I unlocked it. There wasn’t a sign of anybody. The corridor was deserted.”

  “At what time?”

  “About half past eleven. I had been with Bob all day, and I remember the time particularly, as I left him at eleven, and it always takes me half an hour to get to bed.”

  The grave face relaxed, and he smiled slightly. “Don’t let it worry you, but if it occurs again, don’t open the door, and phone me as soon as you can.”

  “I wish you’d wakened me, Rosemary,” Elly said worriedly, “being frightened like that all by yourself. You could have knocked on the wall. I’d have heard you.”

  “I will next time,” I said fervently.

  “Well, let us hope that there is no next time,” Inspector Nevil said quite kindly. “Now I must bid you all goodnight. You will be seeing me again.” With which cryptic remark he made his departure.

  The door had barely closed behind him, when Elly fled to my kitchen to make some life-saving tea, and Bob swore at me. “Why the devil didn’t you tell me about this at the time?” he said angrily, fumbling for a cigarette. “Anything might have happened.”

  “That’s just why I didn’t tell you. Nothing happened, and I know how you and Elly would make a fuss.”

  “Fuss!” Bob exploded, and charging into the kitchen after Elly, demanded what she thought. Elly had a great deal to say on the subject, including the fact that we might all have been murdered in our beds, through my lack of sense.

  “You open that door to anyone, Rosie,” Bob said, and grinned suddenly. I felt my colour rise. “Like tonight now — ”

  “Kettle’s boiling!” I interrupted hastily, my cheeks scarlet, and clattered round with the teapot and caddy. He gave me a wicked look, but no more.

  We carried the tea into the living room, and settled down to discussing everything Inspector Nevil had said or done.

  “It must have been someone they both knew and trusted, because there was no sign of breaking anywhere,” Elly murmured. We agreed on this and racked our brains for clues. None came. I fell to wondering about the policemen downstairs.

  “Have they all gone?” I asked Bob.

  He opened the door and peered over the banisters. “There’s one left. I can see him through the glass doors; he’s standing just outside the entrance.” This was a very comforting thought. No one could get in or out, without being seen and questioned, I felt reassured.

  After a while Elly finished her tea. “I think I’ll be getting off to bed. I’m too tired and bewildered to stay up any longer. But don’t forget dear, knock on the door if you want me. I’ll hear.”

  I kissed her goodnight, promised to wake her if necessary, and satisfied, she left, patting Bob on the shoulder. He stayed a few minutes longer and then went too.

  I puttered about in the flat clearing up, my mind busy.
Oddly enough I didn’t think about the police or the murder. I suppose the human mind can take just so many shocks; after that it refuses to function properly and reverts to normal things as a sort of safety valve. No, I thought of Stephen, and how he had said I looked nice, of his concern for me. I wondered what the girls at the office would say when they read the papers tomorrow morning, then going back to Stephen again, whether he had believed that I had made the sponge and if he really thought it was delicious.

  By the time I climbed into bed, I was very tired. I put the light out and lay smiling to myself in the dark. A blissful sense of peace hovered round me — I think the policeman on the door had a lot to do with it — and turning over with a sleepy sigh, was asleep almost at once.

  I dreamed of Stephen. In my dream he was waving to me from the corner. I ran towards him laughing, but when I reached him and put out my arms, I found it was Bob McDonnell I was embracing.

  *

  It was raining heavily the next day. Streaming down the windows and lashing spitefully against the wall in a dismal rhythm. I switched the radio on to drown the noise and prepared my breakfast feeling rather solitary. Elly would be out all day. Every Wednesday she went to visit a cousin in Pinner — her relations were scattered everywhere it seemed, some of them in the most unlikely places — and she would not be home until late evening. I was going to miss her. In some ways I wished I was back at the office. In fact, I had almost decided to phone Stephen and tell him I would be in later, when Bob knocked.

  “Are you up yet, Rosie?” he called.

  I hastened him in. “It’s half past nine. You’ll be terribly late for work,” I informed him.

  “I’m not going.”

  “Not going?”

  “No, I just phoned and asked if they would let me have the morning off. I worked over the bank holiday, so they were quite gracious about it.”

  “Oh well, sit down and have some — ”