Inspector Hood gave a deliberately over-acted start, and then grinned at him and said equably:
‘Thought you were using up a little nap, Doctor.’
‘I,’ was the acid retort, ‘have been thinking.’
Although to Miss Frayle it seemed like years ago it was, in fact, just over an hour since the late Leo Rolf’s dramatic appearance at 221B, Harley Street. It was pure chance that Inspector Hood had been working late when Dr. Morelle had ’phoned Scotland Yard. He was about to shut up shop for the night, as he put it, but on hearing the Doctor’s tidings he had promptly volunteered to come along straight away. Accompanying him was a police surgeon who had made his routine examination of the body. The dead man had been stabbed in the back by what was apparently a large clasp-knife. Following soon after the Inspector, a police-car had arrived with the finger-print men and photographers. Their work completed the body had been borne away to the local mortuary.
‘Will you have some more tea?’ Miss Frayle asked, indicating Hood’s empty cup.
‘No thanks, Miss Frayle. Must get on with the business.’ Hood glanced expectantly at Dr. Morelle who had stood up and, leaning against his desk, was thoughtfully lighting a cigarette. ‘First time you’ve had a murder right on your doorstep, eh?’ he said. And as there was no response, went on: ‘Oh, well, there’s always got to be a first time.’
‘I hope it’ll be the last,’ Miss Frayle murmured fervently.
The Inspector turned to her, his face serious.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘must have been pretty nasty for you.’
Miss Frayle only half heard him and nodded absently. She, too, was gazing expectantly at Dr. Morelle.
While Inspector Hood had been occupied with investigating the murder, the Doctor had telephoned the house in Park Lane and told Harvey Drummer of what had happened. Drummer had at once grasped the significance of the dramatic news, and the Doctor had found it unnecessary to explain to him that it was inevitable that Scotland Yard would have to be informed of the kidnapping of his daughter.
‘Whether there is any connection between the two crimes,’ Dr. Morelle had said, ‘remains to be seen.’
‘Anyhow,’ Drummer had replied, ‘you can’t, of course, keep Doone’s disappearance from the police.’
‘I fear not.’
Dr. Morelle had pictured the other’s anxiety at this new development. The safe return of his daughter hinged on the very fact that the police should not be informed of her abduction.
‘Rest assured,’ Dr. Morelle had said. ‘The kidnapper will not learn that the police had been taken into our confidence.’
‘If you say so,’ the other said, his voice lightening. ‘In any case, there’s no other way we can meet this new situation.’
Inspector Hood was chewing on his pipe-stem as he gazed speculatively at the dark, silent figure. He wondered just how much longer he’d have to wait before Dr. Morelle started talking.
He threw a sidelong glance at Miss Frayle. She, too, was eyeing the Doctor with a worried frown. The Inspector wondered what strange business Dr. Morelle had become involved in this time. An adventure that had resulted in a murder on his own doorstep. Hardly, it would seem, something simple that was merely part of the Doctor’s daily routine.
Inspector Hood was faintly surprised that Dr. Morelle had got so deeply enmeshed in the case without confiding in him, or if not in himself, someone else at Scotland Yard with whom he was on friendly terms. Dr. Morelle was not one of these clever-clever amateur detectives always several steps ahead of the stupid plodding police. Though, as Hood remembered ruefully, there had been one or two investigations during which the Doctor had somehow contrived to be more than a step ahead of him.
It seemed to Inspector Hood the murder of this Leo Rolf chap was likely to have unusual angles to it, and he was waiting to hear what they were.
‘I am grateful to you for your patience, Inspector.’
The sudden quiet words brought the Scotland Yard man’s head up with a jerk. He found those penetrating, almost mesmeric, eyes bent upon him intently. Not for the first time he experienced the uncomfortable feeling that Dr. Morelle was capable of reading his very thoughts.
‘Part of my job,’ he replied easily, and gave Miss Frayle a grin. ‘What’s on your mind,’ he turned back to the Doctor, ‘that you want to get off your chest?’
‘You have doubtless been considering,’ was the response, ‘what sort of circumstances in which I have been involved could culminate in the discovery of a corpse in my own house.’
Again Hood felt that those dark, heavy-lidded eyes had been probing the innermost recesses of his mind.
‘I must say,’ he answered jocularly, ‘it isn’t quite like you. You’ve usually kept the bodies at arm’s length, so to speak. Not let ’em clutter up your home-life.’
‘It’s ghastly,’ Miss Frayle murmured, and the Inspector threw her a sympathetic look.
‘The circumstances have indeed been somewhat untoward,’ the Doctor was saying. ‘I am sure you will appreciate I never should have interested myself in the case without informing Scotland Yard, unless there was a weighty reason for my reticence.’
Inspector Hood nodded, and Dr. Morelle continued:
‘You will further appreciate, moreover, that in a case of kidnapping, the first demand of the kidnapper is, almost inevitably, that the police should not be informed.’
‘Kidnapping?’
Inspector Hood grabbed his pipe from between his teeth, stared at Dr. Morelle, then stuck his pipe back between clamped jaws and drew at it furiously.
‘This unfortunate man’s murder may be linked with the other crime,’ Dr. Morelle went on. ‘Nevertheless, I am going to request your secrecy still. It is a vital factor if the victim is to be rescued.’
Inspector Hood gave a non-committal grunt. But Dr. Morelle went on talking incisively. In crisp, telling phrases he drew a picture of the events following the disappearance of Doone Drummer. The other listened raptly, only the bubblings and gurglings from his pipe interrupting his silence.
Graphically Dr. Morelle described the dramatic ’phone call and the first time he had heard the sinister disguised voice of the kidnapper. He gave a description of Harvey Drummer himself, his strong exterior apparently shaken by the news of his daughter’s danger. He recounted Neil Fulton’s arrival at the flat in Dark Lantern Street.
Vividly he sketched in the personalities of Pearson, whose servile manner, pincenez and nervous smile concealed a shrewd business brain, and the housekeeper — unexpectedly curvacious Rosie Huggins — lying about her visit to the cinema. He went on to tell of his visit to Leo Rolf at the house in Heath Lane, and of his subsequent significant discoveries regarding the film-writer’s circumstances.
One after another Dr. Morelle conjured up the figures so that they seemed to crowd the study before Inspector Hood’s and Miss Frayle’s eyes.
Miss Frayle noted with a feeling of intense gratification that Dr. Morelle appeared content to confine his picture of the lovely Doone Drummer to a few brief lines. She watched him closely when he related the discovery of his own photograph in the book at her flat; Miss Frayle had to admit to herself she couldn’t detect the slightest tremor in his voice, not the faintest hint in his tone to suggest that his feelings for Doone Drummer were anything but coldly detached.
Perhaps, she began to persuade herself, he isn’t attracted to her in the slightest. Perhaps, she thought, her fabulous allure made no more appeal to that unemotional, rigidly analytical mind than anyone else who’d figured in the many cases he’d investigated. In fact, from the romantic angle, perhaps Doone Drummer was giving him cause for as few sleepless nights as, Miss Frayle pondered gloomily, she was herself.
‘What you’re going to ask me to do,’ Inspector Hood said heavily as Dr. Morelle concluded his story, ‘is to keep this kidnapping dark?’
Dr. Morelle eyed him for a moment before replying.
‘I propose,’ he said, ‘exacting an e
ven more unusual compliance from you.’
Watching the Inspector’s thick eyebrows shoot up interrogatively, Miss Frayle gave the Doctor a look that was charged with anxiety. She was fully aware of what was in the Doctor’s mind. Would he succeed in persuading the other to fall in with his ideas?
‘Blimey,’ Hood exclaimed. ‘You’re not going to ask me to hush up the murder, are you?’
‘I had no intention of trespassing upon our acquaintanceship to that extent.’ And Inspector Hood was obliged to give a little chuckle at the implied rebuke in Dr. Morelle’s retort. ‘I merely wish to impress upon you my responsibility so far as the young woman is concerned. I have undertaken to restore her to her father unharmed. As evidence of his faith in me Drummer has, so far as I may judge, shown every co-operation.’ The Doctor paused for a moment, then continued: ‘If I am to implement my promise, it is imperative no risk is run that the kidnapper will believe that, despite his threat, the police had been called in.’
‘I fully understand,’ Inspector Hood returned gravely.
‘What you have learned,’ Dr. Morelle emphasised, ‘is in the strictest confidence. But for the fortunate circumstances that you were able to be present here tonight and not some other police-officer, I should have remained silent about the young woman’s disappearance.’
Pursing his lips Inspector Hood shook his head.
‘Much as I appreciate your confidence in me, I don’t think you would have been right to hold back what might be evidence vital towards clearing up the murder. You’ve got to admit it’s the more serious offence of the two.’
‘I am fully aware of the relative seriousness of the crime,’ Dr. Morelle snapped. ‘I am equally aware, however, once the kidnapper learns that the police know about Miss Drummer’s abduction you may have not one murder on your hands, but two.’
Hood looked at him, his heavy brows drawn together. He spoke slowly.
‘You think there’s a danger of that?’
‘Oh yes,’ Miss Frayle burst in. ‘The Doctor’s absolutely right. The kidnapper’s ruthless. If he knows the police are after him he’ll carry out his threat.’
Inspector Hood shifted his gaze from Miss Frayle to Dr. Morelle and back again to Miss Frayle. He chewed at his pipe ruminatively for a few moments before he turned to the Doctor.
‘What d’you want me to do?’
‘Permit me to pursue my investigation of the kidnapping,’ was the prompt response. ‘You, of course,’ Dr. Morelle added blandly, ‘take complete charge of the more serious case of murder.’
‘But the two are obviously connected,’ the other protested.
‘While that would appear to be the case,’ the Doctor agreed, ‘it is by no means certain.’
‘After all,’ Miss Frayle pointed out in prompt support of Dr. Morelle’s view, ‘the fact that Leo Rolf was the last person we know who saw Doone Drummer alive, and that he’s been murdered, could be a coincidence.’
The Inspector smiled at her benignly.
‘You’re forgetting one little thing,’ he commented. ‘Dr. Morelle dropped in on Rolf in connection with the kidnapping. Later Rolf intended returning the compliment when he was done in. Seems obvious to me he had some vital information — something he may have remembered, for instance — to give the Doctor, which the murderer was afraid of so he silenced him.’
‘I fear,’ the Doctor observed, ‘Miss Frayle’s understandable enthusiasm on my behalf has somewhat clouded her judgment. I readily concede that circumstances indicate a direct connection between both crimes. I merely wish to underline that circumstantial evidence is not always justified.’
‘This may be a case in point, I know,’ Inspector Hood agreed.
‘But,’ Dr. Morelle proceeded, ‘let us examine my request objectively. If I continue my investigations independently of your valuable co-operation, you will be able to concentrate all your powers on elucidating the homicide. At the same time you are secure in the knowledge that any evidence I uncover which proves to be directly or indirectly relevant to the murder will be placed promptly in your possession. All I demand is that the young woman’s life shall not be further endangered. I can assure this only if allowed to continue alone with my plan to her kidnapper.’
Inspector Hood massaged his chin with a broad hand. Miss Frayle glanced at him, her expression full of anxiety. She could not believe the Inspector, who owed so much to Dr. Morelle’s brilliant detective work in the past would thwart his wishes over this issue. On the other hand, she realised, Inspector Hood couldn’t allow his personal feelings to sway him in an official matter.
It seemed to her the scales hung in the balance, and the Inspector was weighing them with typical impartiality. She turned towards Dr. Morelle expectantly for that final word from him which would clinch the argument in his favour.
‘However skilfully I attempt to persuade you, my dear Inspector,’ Miss Frayle heard him say, ‘you will I know act only according to your sense of duty.’
‘You see, I —’ began Inspector Hood dubiously, and Miss Frayle’s heart sank. Apparently unmindful of the other’s interruption, however, the Doctor concluded:
‘Even if it means having to accept responsibility for a second murder which might have been avoided.’
Miss Frayle saw the Inspector’s expression change, and she smiled inwardly. Dr. Morelle had produced the final argument all right. It couldn’t fail to persuade Inspector Hood to give way to him.
‘Put that way,’ Hood grunted, ‘I suppose I can’t do anything else but agree with you.’
Permitting only the faintest smile of triumph to light his features for a moment, Dr. Morelle inclined his head slightly.
‘I can see this is going to be an open and shut case from the word ‘Go’,’ Hood grumbled, heavily sarcastic. ‘Just because of you, for instance, how do I interview one witness who could be pretty useful?’
‘You mean Neil Fulton?’ Miss Frayle put in.
The other nodded lugubriously. He looked at Dr. Morelle. ‘I’ve got to question him about Rolf, and that’ll mean he’ll be bound to spill the beans about the kidnapping. Then what?’
‘He has been suitably impressed,’ Dr. Morelle replied, ‘with the need for Miss Drummer’s disappearance remaining an absolute secret. So far as I know, his acquaintanceship with Rolf has been relatively slight. With your usual admirable discretion you should contrive to restrain him from divulging that secret.’
‘It’ll be the first time in my experience,’ Inspector Hood growled, ‘I’ll have ever questioned a witness and deliberately tried to stop him talking.’ He caught Dr. Morelle’s glance and grinned involuntarily. ‘I know what you’re thinking. That it won’t be the first time I’ve questioned people when I haven’t had to go easy and still not made ’em talk.’
‘No such thought ever crossed my mind,’ was the suave reply.
Inspector Hood’s burly frame shook with subdued merriment as he arched one heavy eye-brow distrustfully at the Doctor. Taking out his pipe he prodded the air to emphasise his next observation.
‘You realise,’ he said, ‘apart from Fulton, there’ll be the woman who does for Rolf.’
‘I shall be singularly surprised if you elicit any worthwhile information from that quarter. Doubtless the woman witnessed both Fulton’s and Miss Drummer’s arrival for lunch, served them during the meal, and may have noted their separate departure. But no more. Not, I submit, particularly compelling qualifications for an important witness.’
‘Maybe,’ agreed the other. ‘Anyhow, if she does tell me anything useful about the girl I’ll tip you off.’
Inspector Hood was about to knock out the contents of his pipe into the ashtray at his elbow when he caught Dr. Morelle’s sensitively chiselled nostrils quiver forbiddingly. He was well aware of the Doctor’s repugnance for the charred, gurgling briar that was his inseparable companion. With a wry grin he stuck it back between his teeth and heaved himself laboriously to his feet. Gripping his trilby in his thick, s
tubby fingers, he said:
‘Thanks for a nice cup of tea, anyway.’ Miss Frayle gave him a smile. ‘You can rely on me, Doctor,’ he went on as he ambled slowly to the door. ‘The Drummer girl business is strictly confidential. You realise, of course, you’re going to have a lot of publicity when the newspapers get hold of the murder?’
‘Oh dear,’ murmured Miss Frayle.
‘Nothing I can do about that, naturally,’ Hood added.
‘I have no doubt,’ Dr. Morelle remarked, ‘that those sections of the British press dealing in the more sensational form of journalism will seize upon tonight’s tragic event with their usual avidity.’
Inspector Hood gave a little shrug as Miss Frayle opened the door for him.
‘I’ll see you out,’ she said.
The Scotland Yard man turned at the door and, with heavy humour, said to Dr. Morelle:
‘If you will get yourself mixed up with a glamour girl like Doone Drummer, not to mention a body on your door-mat, you must expect to find yourself in the papers.’
Chapter Sixteen – Melody in F
Miss Frayle glanced at the clock on the study mantelpiece. It was a few minutes to ten. The morning sun shone brightly through the window, and the sky above Harley Street was a clear blue, unmarred by any cloud.
Miss Frayle always found it difficult to overcome her feeling of surprise that nature seemed seldom in tune with human events. It was utterly incongruous to her that the morning could appear so bright and cloudless when only a few hours before Leo Rolf had been horribly murdered.
There was Harvey Drummer, too. However blue the sky was in reality, his own particular horizon at any rate must be darkly overcast.
Immediately after breakfast Dr. Morelle had retired to his laboratory, leaving Miss Frayle to check through his mail, make two or three ’phone calls and attend to various routine matters. He would be expecting her to join him now; there were notes he would be wanting to give her.
She collected her note-book and pencils. She caught sight of the headline splashed across one-half of the folded newspaper which was one of several on the writing-desk. She had read them all earlier. They were full of Leo Rolf’s murder. To her disappointment Dr. Morelle had completely ignored the newspapers. He gave the impression he was too preoccupied with work awaiting him in the laboratory. Miss Frayle shrewdly suspected, however, that, his apparent unconcern was a pose for her benefit. Just like him to demonstrate a lofty disinterestedness in what absorbed most people.
Dr. Morelle and the Drummer Girl Page 11