The Affair of the Mutilated Mink

by James Anderson

  'I'd like to repeat now the account I gave to Inspector Wilkins of just what happened last night, the account he believed. If anybody afterwards still disbelieves me, I can only say I don't really blame you. I probably wouldn't believe it in your shoes. However, it happens to be true and I hope before long you'll all know that for a fact.' He paused. 'As one of you does already.'

  * * *

  Wilkins arrived back at Alderley at two-thirty. He asked for Lord Burford, but was told by Merryweather that the Earl was lying down, as was the Countess.

  'Perhaps you'd care to see Lady Geraldine, sir?' he said.

  Wilkins looked pleased. 'Yes, I would, very much.'

  'Then if you will kindly wait in the library I will find her.'

  When Gerry entered the library a minute later, Paul was with her. She greeted Wilkins warmly. 'Mr Wilkins, I knew I could rely on you.'

  'Very kind of your ladyship.'

  'Any developments, Inspector?' Paul asked.

  'Yes, sir. Very shortly the case will be out of my hands.'

  Their faces fell. Gerry said, 'But why?'

  'The Chief's called in the Yard, my lady.'

  Gerry gave a gasp. 'Oh, no!'

  'Now don't fret, my lady. They're sending one of their very best men, Chief Superintendent Allgood. You want the real killer nabbed, don't you?'

  Yes, of course.'

  'With Mr Allgood here, he will be. He specialises in this sort of case.'

  'I've heard of him,' Paul said. 'Quite a character, isn't he?'

  'I'll say so, sir. He's a real lone wolf. Doesn't even have a sergeant to assist him - only his own valet, man called Chalky White. Ex-cat burglar. Mr Allgood saved his life years ago, climbed up a high building and brought him down after a drainpipe broke. Then persuaded the judge to give him a reduced sentence.'

  'When will he be here?' Gerry asked.

  'In an hour or two, my lady. As luck would have it, he's been investigating a case not far away - the murder of the Dean of Cheltenham. He finally cleared it up this morning - arrested the Bishop, as a matter of fact. After the Assistant Commissioner of Scotland Yard received Colonel Melrose's request, he sent instructions for Mr Allgood to come straight on here. It'll be an education to work under him. I'm really looking forward to it.'

  'What do you want to do in the meantime?'

  Wilkins scratched his nose. Well, nothing, really, my lady.'

  'Wouldn't you like to question the guests?'

  'No, I don't think so, thank you. Better leave that to Mr Allgood. Unless there's been any development since you got back, Mr Carter - any noticeable reaction from anybody which ought to be followed up immediately.'

  Paul shook his head. 'Nothing.'

  Wilkins shrugged. 'Didn't really expect a lot in the first instance, sir. Murderers don't often give away anything by their expressions. But continue to keep your eyes and ears open. I'm sure there's one person in this house very much on edge.'

  Gerry said, 'You've convinced the murderer is here, then?'

  'I'm afraid so, my lady. True, an outsider could have got in, the burglar alarm being out of action. But he'd have needed an inside accomplice: somebody who knew which room Miss Lorenzo was occupying, the location of a suitable gun in the collection room, where the ammo for it was kept, the fact that there was a spare key in his lordship's safe, and the combination of that safe. And that's the man I want, even if - which I doubt - it should turn out he brought someone in from outside actually to pull the trigger. Incidentally, that business of the safe is a bit of a poser in itself. His lordship thought that nobody but himself, her ladyship, and you, my lady, knew it. Now, could you by any chance have mentioned it to someone else?'

  Gerry looked at him. She licked her lips. Then she shook her head.

  'Sure, my lady?'

  'Yes. Yes, of course.'

  Quietly Paul said, 'Thanks, darling, but it's no good.'

  'Paul!'

  'Sweetheart, I'm convinced that Chief Inspector Wilkins is my best hope. We've got to tell him the complete truth. What faith is he going to have in my innocence if he finds out later I've been lying to him?'

  'There's no way he could have found out,' she said sulkily.

  'Maybe not. But it'll be more comfortable if everything is open and above board. Fact is, Inspector, I know the combination of that safe.'

  'But I virtually forced it on him,' Gerry put in.

  'How come, your ladyship?'

  'It was months ago. We were playing roulette at a place in London. Lord, I suppose that was illegal, too. Anyway, I was betting on the numbers of our birthdays. Paul was pulling my leg about being superstitious, and I said it must run in the family, because Daddy's birthday is on the, eleventh, Mummy's on the eighth, and mine on the twenty-third, so he'd had the combination of the safe made eleven right, eight left, twenty-three right.'

  Wilkins nodded slowly. 'Was anybody else present at the time?'

  'Of course. We were in a night club.'

  Paul said: 'But there was nobody we knew standing close enough to have heard.'

  'Oh, really, you are the most utter chump!' Gerry spoke exasperatedly. 'You seem to be going out of your way to paint as black a picture against yourself as possible.'

  Wilkins raised a hand. 'With respect, your ladyship, Mr Carter is doing absolutely the right thing. I suppose you didn't mention the combination to anyone else, sir?'

  Paul gave a sigh. 'It would be so easy, wouldn't it, to say yes? But, frankly, if a good friend happens to mention the combination of their safe, it's not the sort of thing one goes around blabbing to all and sundry. No, Mr Wilkins, to the best of my recollection I didn't mention it to a soul.'

  'I still say somebody could have overheard me,' Gerry muttered.

  'Apart from that, you've mentioned it to no one else, your ladyship?'

  Reluctantly, she shook her head.

  'Well, his lordship is certain neither he nor the Countess has told anybody else.'

  'And it's so easy to remember, he's never written it down anywhere,' she said. 'Oh, dear, everything seems to make it worse for Paul than before. I suppose you have got to tell this Yard man, have you, Mr Wilkins?'

  'Afraid so, my lady, but I'll also tell him Mr Carter freely volunteered the information. It'll count very much in his favour.'

  'Thank heavens something will. In spite of your releasing him, I'm sure everyone's going to think he's guilty once the murder becomes public. Unless you and Scotland Yard can find the real killer first.'

  'You just leave it to Mr Allgood, your ladyship.'

  'Don't you want to do anything until he arrives?'

  Wilkins looked doubtful. 'Suppose I ought to do something. Don't quite know what, though.' Then he brightened a little. 'Oh, I know. I'll interview the servants.'

  'Is there any real point in that?' she asked. 'I'm sure they won't be able to tell you anything. They were all in bed at the time.'

  'I agree, your ladyship. It's probably a waste of time, but it's something that's got to be done.'

  'In all the hundreds of detective stories I've read,' Paul said, 'the Inspector always leaves that job to his sergeant.'

  'No doubt, sir, but I've got to find something to do. And it's a nice, uncomplicated job, as a rule. Just right for me.'

  * * *

  The stable clock was striking four forty-five when a white Bentley swept up the now slush-covered drive of Alderley and skidded to a halt outside the great front door, with a fanfare on its horn. The driver - a dark, sharp-faced man, with a toothbrush moustache - jumped out and opened the rear door. The man who emerged was tall and broad-shouldered. The driver ran up the steps in front of him and rang the doorbell just a few seconds before it was opened by the imperturbable-as-ever figure of Merryweather. The tall man strode in without being invited.

  He was wearing a stylish full-length vicuna motoring coat, a grey Homburg hat, grey suede gloves and grey spats. He had a large Roman nose, piercing dark eyes, and an upturned waxed mous
tache. He removed his hat to reveal curly black hair, saying as he did so, 'Allgood of the Yard. Kindly inform your master that I have arrived.'

  Merryweather turned. 'Oh, here is his lordship, sir.'

  The Earl bustled forward, Wilkins at his heels. 'Chief Superintendent Allgood?'

  'St. John Allgood, yes. Of Scotland Yard.' He pulled off his gloves and held out his hand. 'How do you do, Burford? We haven't met, but I believe we have several mutual friends — Tubby Charrington, Pongo Smith-Smythe, Bertie Bassington.'

  'Oh, yes, yes, of course. Delighted to meet you, my dear chap. How de do?'

  Allgood snapped his fingers, and his driver hurried forward and helped to divest him of his coat. Under it Allgood was wearing a superbly cut grey pinstripe suit, with an Old Etonian tie. 'Understand you've been having a spot of bother here, Burford.'

  'You could put it like that.'

  'Ah, well, we'll soon clear that up.'

  'I sincerely hope so. I don't know what you'd care to do first . . . ?'

  'First I must meet the local man and get the facts. I take it he's around somewhere.'

  Wilkins, on whose face had appeared an expression closely resembling that on Lord Burford's when he had met Rex Ransom, cleared his throat nervously. 'That's me, sir.'

  Allgood stared. 'You? Oh, I didn't realise. Don't exactly look the part, do you?' He chuckled, revealing a great many large and very white teeth. 'Wilkins, is that right?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Right. Where can we talk?'

  'Well, his lordship has kindly given us the use of the small music room.'

  'Excellent.' He turned back to the Earl. 'I'll talk to you in due course, Burford. And the rest of your household.'

  'Oh, yes, of course. If there's anything you want . . . ?'

  'Yes, tea; China, please. And muffins.' He addressed his driver: 'Chalky, bring my cases in and take them up to my room.'

  'Yes, guv.' Chalky hurried out.

  Lord Burford looked a bit taken aback. 'Oh, er, you stayin'?'

  Allgood turned slowly to face him again. 'I thought that was understood. It's the usual thing in cases like this. Much more convenient. Means the trouble gets cleared up far quicker. Only be for a couple of nights. Of course, if it's not possible, I suppose there's a hostelry of some sort in the village.'

  'No, no, that'll be quite all right - pleasure and all that.'

  'Good. What time do you dine?'

  'Eight, as a rule.'

  'Better make it a bit later tonight - nine, say. I'll dine in my room. Right, Williams, lead the way.'

  * * *

  In the music room Allgood threw himself down into the only comfortable arm chair and put his feet on a pouf. 'Very well, fire away, Chief Inspector,' he said.

  'I'd like to say first, sir, what a privilege it's going to be to assist you on this case.'

  'Yes, you should learn quite a lot. I must congratulate you, though.'

  'What for, sir?'

  'Knowing your limitations. I was told you were all in favour of your C.C. calling me in. It's refreshing to find a man who knows when he's out of his depth and it's time to call in the expert. It's disgraceful the way some of these provincials cling to cases they haven't got a dog's chance of solving. And you won't lose by your attitude. I have no intention of grabbing all the glory. I'll see you get full credit with everybody, just as though we were equal partners. Now, tell me everything you know about this case. And I mean what you know. I want facts, and facts only!

  'Very good, sir.' Wilkins perched himself on the edge of an upright chair and took a deep breath. He had been mentally rehearsing this moment, and he was able to give a clear yet concise account of the events leading up to the murder. Then he picked up a briefcase from the floor and extracted from it a cardboard folder.

  'As to the crime itself, sir, I have here a list of all the occupants of the house; a sketch map showing where everyone was sleeping; the reports of the officers who were first on the scene, including statements from Lord and Lady Burford and all their guests; ballistics and medical reports, etc. And a transcript of the statement made at the station this morning by Carter. Perhaps you'd better read them.'

  Allgood snatched the folder from him and began casting his eyes over its contents at an enormous speed. While he was doing so a footman entered, wheeling a tea trolley. Without looking up, Allgood said, 'Thank you, my man, we can serve ourselves.'

  The footman departed. 'Pour me a cup of tea, Wilton,' Allgood said. 'And butter me two muffins.'

  'Oh, yes, sir.'

  By the time Wilkins had completed this task and was wiping his fingers on his handkerchief, Allgood had come to the last page of the folder. He threw it down on the table, picked up a white linen napkin, shook it open, spread it on his knees, took the plate which Wilkins proffered him, and began devouring muffins hungrily.

  'That's all right, as far as it goes,' he said. 'Now let's have your personal report.'

  'Well, sir, first I had an interview with his lordship.'

  'Tell me exactly what he said.'

  Wilkins complied to the best of his ability. When he'd finished, Allgood said, 'Is that all you got out of him?'

  'Just about, sir.'

  'Hm. I'm sure that's not all he can tell us. Who else have you spoken to?'

  'Well, Carter, of course. Lady Geraldine - though that wasn't a formal interview. And the servants.'

  'The servants? Couldn't you have let your sergeant deal with them?'

  'Well, sir—'

  'Never mind. Tell me what you learnt from the servants.'

  'Nothing of any great significance. I'm sure they're OK.'

  'Of course they are! Once it was always the butler who did it, but not these days. That's very old hat.'

  'For what it's worth, one of them - the third footman, William - confirms that the deceased did go straight up to her room last night. He was on a sort of patrol they've organised, since the burglar alarm is out of order at the moment. He came up the stairs at the far end of the eastern corridor at five past one, and she was just coming round the corner at the near end. They passed each other about halfway along. He looked back just before he turned into the main corridor, and saw her go into her room and close the door after her. That's all I got from the resident servants. I did have hopes of learning something about Signorina Lorenzo from her French maid, Eloise. But no luck. She'd only been with her mistress four weeks, and knew hardly anything of her private life. All she was really able to tell me is that nothing is missing, apart from that mink coat. She's struck up a friendship with Lady Geraldine's maid, a very reliable French girl called Marie, who's been with Lady Geraldine six years. They sat up very late chatting in Marie's room last night. Were together from about midnight till two-thirty, when they were told about the murder. Except, that is, for a few minutes at about twelve-thirty, when Eloise went along to her mistress's room to make the fire up. So she wasn't really much help at all.'

  Wilkins paused for breath. Allgood swallowed his last portion of muffin. 'Well, go on, man.'

  'Oh, right, sir. What else is there? Let me see. Ah, yes. I telephoned the signorina's London agent and told him what had happened. She'd been going to visit him at his home today.'

  'What did he have to say?'

  'He was naturally terribly shocked, but he couldn't tell me anything important. He hadn't seen her since she'd arrived in London on Wednesday. She booked into the Savoy and phoned him on Thursday morning, saying she was coming to Alderley to see Mr Cyrus Haggermeir, the film producer. She'd be back in London on Saturday and would call at his home and tell him all about it. The only odd thing is that late last night it seems she tried to phone him, only the line here was down. She told Lady Burford that she wanted to inform him what time she'd be arriving today, and she also mentioned that he kept late hours. Well, firstly, he says he told her that he'd be in all day today, and she could visit any time. Secondly, he does not keep late hours — he's invariably in bed by eleven. So it seems�
�'

  '—that the ostensible reason for the phone call last night was false, that she had something important she wanted to tell him. Interesting.' Allgood sipped his tea ruminatively. Then he said, 'This mink coat: if nobody's left the house, and you reject the idea that Carter threw it out of the window to a confederate, it must be still here.

  Have you had a search made for it?'

  'No, sir.'

  'What about that telegram, the one which brought Signorina Lorenzo here? Made any inquiries about that at the Post Office?'

  'Not yet, sir.' Wilkins took a sip of tea, grimaced, and quickly put the cup down.

  'Hm. What about the other guests? What can you tell me about them?'

  'Very little, really, sir.'

  'Just the ones you've interviewed.'

  'I haven't actually interviewed any of them.'

  'None of them?'

  'No, sir.'

  'I see.' Allgood was silent for a moment before saying, 'Wilkins, I'm baffled.'

  'Are you, sir? I'm sorry. Still, I'm sure you won't be for long. You must have cracked tougher cases than this one.'

  'No, man. Not by the case. By you.'

  'Me, sir?'

  'Yes. A murder is committed. A man is found standing by the body, a gun in his hand. He runs away, then later gives himself up. You interview him, and then release him. From those reports I just can't see why. I have to regard him as the chief suspect. But - all right. That was your privilege. What I can't understand is, having concluded Carter is innocent, you then do virtually nothing. You believe a murderer is at large, yet apart from a fifteen-minute interview with the Earl and five minutes with his daughter, you waste a couple of hours questioning the servants - something that a sergeant or constable could do quite well. You don't institute a search for the missing coat, make no inquiries about the telegram, and don't question the other people who were staying here. Surely you must realise that if as you believe, Carter is innocent, he was cleverly framed — and plainly by one of the other guests. Yet you haven't spoken to any of them. Haven't exactly covered yourself with glory, have you?'