Georgette Heyer_Inspector Hemingway 02

by Envious Casca

  ‘The chances are you won’t,’ the Inspector said unemotionally. ‘What did Mr Joseph and Mr Stephen do?’

  ‘They thought at first he’d fainted, like I did myself. Mr Stephen sent me off to fetch some brandy. By the time I’d come back, they’d discovered Mr Herriard was dead. “That won’t be wanted,” Mr Stephen said, meaning the brandy. “He’s dead.” I give you my word I nearly dropped the tray, it was such a shock to me!’

  ‘Must have been a shock for Mr Stephen and Mr Joseph too,’ said the Inspector.

  ‘Oh yes, it must indeed! Mr Joseph was quite distracted, rubbing poor Mr Herriard’s hands, and seeming as though he couldn’t believe he was dead. Very devoted to Mr Herriard, he was.’

  ‘Was Mr Stephen much upset?’

  ‘Well, Inspector, Mr Stephen’s not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, as the saying is, but it stands to reason it must have upset him, particularly when he hadn’t been on good terms with Mr Herriard, by all accounts. He looked very white, and spoke to me very curt. He told me he could do with the brandy himself, and he took the tray out of my hands, and told me to go and ring up the doctor. Mr Joseph was nearly crying, and he said not to speak of Mr Herriard’s death to anyone else. He was a bit upset by Mr Stephen’s manner, Mr Stephen having a rough tongue, as anyone will tell you. But there’s many as will cover up what they feel by a rough manner, and I didn’t set any store by anything Mr Stephen said, for I saw his hand shaking, and I could see he’d had a jolt. What’s more, Mr Stephen doesn’t get on with Mr Joseph, being crossgrained, and never having liked Mr Joseph’s coming to live at Lexham, by all accounts. Mr Joseph sort of brings out the worst in him, if you take my meaning.’

  ‘Jealous of him, was he?’

  ‘I wouldn’t like to say that, Inspector, though I have heard it said that Mr Stephen was afraid Mr Joseph would put his nose out of joint. But I never believed that, because Mr Stephen’s no fool, and anyone could see Mr Joseph’s as innocent as a newborn babe, with no more notion of that kind of thing than nothing at all. In my opinion, it was just Mr Joseph’s way that got Mr Stephen’s goat.’

  ‘H’m!’ said the Inspector. ‘You like Mr Stephen, don’t you?’

  ‘I’ve never had any cause to dislike him. He’s always been pleasant enough to me, whenever I’ve waited on him, which I often have.’

  ‘Got a temper, by what I hear.’

  ‘Yes, like Mr Herriard he is, in some ways, except that he’s not one to tell the world what he’s thinking, by any means. You knew where you were with Mr Herriard, but Mr Stephen’s no talker, and you wouldn’t get to the bottom of him in a hurry. And I don’t think the worse of him for that.’

  ‘No reason why you should,’ said the Inspector, closing the interview.

  Maggie, when summoned to the morning-room, twisted her apron between her fingers, and said in a frightened gasp that she didn’t wish to get anyone into trouble. When her alarms had been allayed, and she had been permitted to unburden herself of a highly coloured account of her own reactions to the crime, which included such interesting details as Coming Over Ever So Queer, and suffering equally from palpitations and a total inability to believe that anyone could have murdered the master, she admitted that she had seen Miss Paula and Mr Roydon go into Miss Paula’s room, and had heard the murmur of their voices, the door having been left ajar. Later, when she had come up the backstairs with Miss Paula’s dress, which she had gone downstairs to fetch, having had it in the kitchen to dry, because of the stain on it which Miss Paula had asked her to wash out, she had caught a glimpse of Miss Paula outside the master’s door, just coming away, as though she had been in to speak to him.

  There was nothing more to be got out of her, nor did an interrogation of the rest of the staff produce any other information than that Mrs Fratton, the cook-housekeeper, had no expectation of ever recovering from the shock; that the kitchen-maid had been having strong hysterics all the evening, her being a seven-months child, and delicate from birth; and that Preston, the head-housemaid, had seen Disaster in her teacup only the day before, and had told the rest of the staff to Mark her Words, there was Trouble coming for Someone.

  By the time the Inspector, confronted by a gustily sobbing kitchen-maid, had somewhat hastily informed Mrs Fratton, who supported and encouraged this damsel by adjurations to give over, and stop acting so silly because the policeman wasn’t going to eat her, that he had no more questions to ask, the experts upstairs had finished their various tasks, and Nathaniel’s body had been conveyed to the waiting ambulance.

  Several finger-prints had been discovered upon the panels and handle of Nathaniel’s door, and upon various articles of furniture in the room. Some of these were Nathaniel’s own prints, as might have been expected; and although the others would have to be identified there did not seem to be much hope that this line of investigation would prove to be very helpful. The expert was engaged, Sergeant Capel told the Inspector, in taking the finger-prints of all the inmates of the house, a task calling for a great deal of tact and patience, since Valerie Dean was tearfully sure that her mother would object, and the female half of the domestic staff apparently considered the operation to be the first step to the gallows.

  Both doctors were agreed that the blow had been dealt with a thin knife, and that death had followed within a few minutes, but no trace of the weapon had so far been found. A careful inspection of the windows had not revealed any sign of the fastenings having been tampered with, and although finger-prints were clearly visible upon the glass it was expected that these would prove to be the valet’s, since he freely admitted that he had shut the windows some time before Nathaniel had come upstairs. The door-keys belonging both to the bedroom and the bathroom would be subjected to a more minute inspection, and the ventilator above the bathroom window had already been exhaustively studied, without, however, yielding any clue. The only article of interest which had been discovered in Nathaniel’s room was a flat gold cigarette-case, which had been found on the floor, lying half under the armchair beside the fire, out of sight of a cursory survey of the room.

  The Inspector looked narrowly at this. It bore a monogram composed of the letters S and H. ‘Any finger-prints?’ he asked.

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘What, none?’

  ‘No, sir. I reckon they got rubbed off.’

  ‘I suppose they must have. All right, I’ll take charge of it.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said the young detective.

  ‘And I’ll see Miss Paula Herriard again. Send her in!’

  This second summons to the morning-room apparently discomposed Paula, for she came in presently with a heightened colour, and more than her usual impetuosity. Without giving the Inspector time to speak, she demanded angrily what more he could possibly want with her. ‘I call it utter incompetence!’ she said, scorn vibrating in her voice.

  The Inspector was unmoved by this stricture. Plenty of people, he reflected, when they were frightened tried to conceal it under a blustering manner. He thought, watching her restless hands and over-brilliant eyes, that Paula was decidedly frightened. ‘I should like to go over your evidence again, miss,’ he said, turning back the pages of his notebook.

  ‘Bright!’ she commented, with a sharp, unmirthful laugh.

  He paid no heed; she didn’t even annoy him; in fact, the more she lost her temper the better pleased he would be. ‘You stated, miss, that when you went up to your room to change for dinner, you didn’t come out of it again until you joined the rest of the party in the drawing-room.’

  Her eyes were fixed on him, never wavered from his face, but he thought she breathed more rapidly. ‘Well?’

  ‘Do you wish to add anything to that?’ asked the Inspector, giving her back look for look.

  He had rattled her, just as he’d known he would. He could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the half-concealed alarm. He could have sworn she’d play for time, and she did, saying defensively: ‘Why should I?’

  ‘My in
formation is that you were seen coming away from the deceased’s bedroom in your dressing-gown,’ he answered, at his most stolid.

  He was startled by the sudden leap of flame into her eyes, the rush of colour to her cheeks. She was a dangerous piece of goods, and no mistake! he thought.

  ‘My God, what does this house do to people? Who’s been spying on me? Did I have a bloodstained dagger in my hand?’

  He was shocked by her brutality, but although he was not an imaginative man, he thought he could readily picture her as a villainess in the kind of good old-fashioned melodrama you never seemed to see nowadays. He replied dampingly: ‘No, miss.’

  ‘You astonish me! Now tell me this: Was I seen coming out of my uncle’s room? Was I?’

  ‘Never mind asking me questions, miss, if you please! Did you go to your uncle’s room after you had gone upstairs to change for dinner?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. I went to the door of his room, and no further.’

  ‘How was that, miss?’

  She jerked up one shoulder. ‘He wouldn’t let me in. I suppose he was dead.’

  ‘When you say he wouldn’t let you in, what do you mean?’

  ‘Oh my God, must you have every I dotted, and every

  T crossed? The door was locked; he didn’t answer when I knocked.’

  ‘Did you speak to him?’

  ‘I don’t know. Yes, I think so. I said, “It’s I, Paula,” or something of that sort. What does it matter ?’

  He ignored this. ‘And he didn’t answer?’

  ‘I’ve already said so.’

  ‘Didn’t that strike you as a bit queer?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘When you knocked on his door, and called to him, and he didn’t answer, you didn’t think it in any way queer?’ he persisted.

  ‘No, I tell you!’ She saw that he was incredulous, and added in a goaded voice: ‘I knew he didn’t want to see me.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘That’s got nothing to do with you!’

  ‘Oh yes, it has, miss! The fact is that you were wanting money from your uncle, which he wouldn’t give you, and you’d quarrelled with him on account of it. Isn’t that so?’

  ‘You know it all, don’t you?’ she sneered.

  ‘I advise you to consider your position,’ he said.

  ‘There’s nothing to consider! You can’t prove I ever went into my uncle’s room! All you can prove is that we quarrelled, and if you take the trouble to enquire a little farther into our affairs, you’ll find that we’ve quarrelled hundreds of times before!’

  ‘Let me remind you, miss, that when I first asked you what you did when you got upstairs this evening, you never said a word about going to your uncle’s room.’

  ‘No! Because I could see from the look of you what sort of a fool you’d make of yourself if I told you that!’

  She had succeeded at last in nettling him. He told her that she had better be careful what she said, but when she ironically thanked him for his warning, and asked if he had anything more to say, prudence made him swallow his irritation, and reply in an even tone that she might go.

  The young detective, who had been a silent spectator of this scene, remarked that she was a hard-boiled dame. The Inspector grunted, refusing to commit himself.

  ‘I thought you’d have pushed her a bit more, sir,’ ventured the detective.

  ‘I daresay you did. The difference between us is that I wasn’t born yesterday,’ replied the Inspector. ‘There’s no knowing with her sort. Send Roydon in to me!’

  Willoughby strolled in presently, with the butt of a cigar between his fingers, and addressed the Inspector with a rather overacted air of tolerance. ‘Well, Inspector, what is it now?’ he said.

  Confronted with the valet’s evidence, he changed colour, but said with more annoyance than guilt: ‘Look here, what are you getting at? If you think I went to Mr Herriard’s room, you’re damned well wrong!’

  ‘When I put the question to you, sir, you stated that you did not leave your room until you came down to dinner. I have reason to believe that you did.’

  ‘Naturally when you asked me that I thought you meant did I go to Mr Herriard’s room!’

  ‘But that wasn’t what I asked you sir. Did you or did you not leave your room before you went down to the drawing-room?’

  ‘Oh well, if you insist on such accuracy, yes, I did! Not that it has the least bearing on the case, which is why I didn’t mention it.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that, thank you, sir. Why did you leave your room? Where did you go to?’

  ‘Good God, where do you suppose I went to?’ asked Roydon. ‘You policemen must be pretty hard-up for clues if you’re reduced to suspecting a man just because he is a man and not an angel!’

  ‘Oh!’ said the Inspector, rather blankly. ‘Seems to me you might have told me that before, sir.’

  ‘I probably should have if I’d remembered it,’ said Roydon. ‘And if that’s all you want to know –’

  ‘A minute ago, sir, you said you would have told me if you’d thought it had any bearing on the case.’

  ‘Well, so I should have, only it hadn’t, which is probably why I forgot it,’ replied Roydon. ‘Is there anything else?’

  ‘That’ll be all for the present,’ said the Inspector.

  Roydon walked out of the room. The young detective remarked that it looked fishy to him. ‘Telling lies like that, for no reason!’

  ‘People do,’ said the Inspector. ‘Afraid of getting mixed up in things. I don’t see my way yet, and that’s a fact.’ His eye alighted on the gold cigarette-case. He picked it up. ‘Where’s Esher taking the finger-prints?’

  ‘In the library. The old gentleman showed him in there. Miss Dean kicked up a fuss about it. The old man had his work cut out, jollying her along. Esher ought to be about through by this time.’

  ‘We’ll go and have a look,’ said the Inspector, moving towards the door.

  He arrived in the library in time to see Mathilda submitting her well-manicured hand to the expert.

  ‘Of course, I quite see that this will seriously cramp my style if ever I decide to take to a life of crime,’ she said.

  ‘If you think that that’s why I absolutely loathe the idea of having mine done –’ began Valerie hotly, and broke off at sight of the Inspector.

  Mathilda glanced over her shoulder. ‘Ah, Torquemada in person!’

  Joseph went up to the Inspector, saying: ‘Come in, Inspector! We’re just finishing, as you can see.’

  ‘Very sorry to have to ask you to submit to this, sir, but –’

  ‘Nonsense! Of course we understand that it must be!’

  ‘Well, I think it’s absolutely degrading!’ interrupted Valerie. ‘As though one was a common criminal, or something! I never thought I should be so insulted!’

  Even Joseph’s patience showed signs of cracking. He said with a touch of asperity: ‘My dear child, don’t be a silly little goose! Do you want any of us, Inspector? Can you tell me anything, or mustn’t I ask?’

  ‘Nothing to tell you so far, sir. I would like to know which of you gentlemen owns this, if you please.’

  They all looked at the cigarette-case. The monogram was plainly to be read. The Inspector’s gaze was fixed on Stephen. Stephen was looking at the case; his harsh face gave nothing away. Joseph, after one glance, cast a swift, startled look at Mathilda, half-questioning, half-appalled.

  ‘Well, it’s not mine!’ said Roydon.

  ‘It’s mine,’ said Stephen coolly, raising his eyes to the Inspector’s. ‘Where did you find it?’

  ‘Had you mislaid it, sir?’

  Stephen did not answer for a moment. Joseph said with uneasy jocularity: ‘I don’t suppose he knows whether he had or not! I’m afraid my nephew’s always leaving things about, aren’t you, Stephen? Where did you pick it up, Inspector? We don’t want any mysteries, if you don’t mind!’

  ‘It was discovered, sir, in the late Mr Herriard’s bed
room,’ replied the Inspector.

  Joseph’s airy manner momentarily deserted him. He gave a gasp, and said in a hurry: ‘Oh, there might be dozens of explanations to account for that! Why – why, my nephew probably put it down there when we were in the room together, or very likely – or at least quite possibly my brother found it lying somewhere, and took it up, meaning to give it back to him. Oh, I can think of any number of explanations!’