Death in the Stocks (4 page)

He looked at her frowningly. 'You're not making things very easy for me, Tony. I can't help you if you don't trust me.'

She slipped her hand confidingly into one of his. 'I know, and I'm awfully sorry, but it's just One of Those Things. We needn't say I've burned the letter. We can chuck the ashes out of the window and pretend it's lost.'

'Go on and tell me the rest of the story,' Giles said.

'When did you receive the letter?'

'Yesterday, at tea-time. And I rang up Eaton Place, but Arnold wasn't there, so I naturally supposed he was coming down to Ashleigh Green, with one of his fancy ladies, and I got the car out, and came after him.'

'For the Lord's sake, Tony, leave out the bit about the fancy-lady! No sane policeman will ever believe you would motor down to argue with Arnold when you thought he had a woman with him.'

She opened her eyes at him. 'But I did!'

'Yes, I know you did. You would. But don't say it. You don't know he had a woman with him, do you?'

'No, but it seemed likely.'

'Then leave that out. What happened when you got to the cottage?'

'Nothing. Arnold wasn't there. So I squeezed in through the pantry window, and waited for him. You know how it is when one does that. You keep on saying, 'Well, I'll give him another half-hour,' and time sort of slips by. And anyway I knew he was coming, because the place was prepared. Well, he didn't turn up, and didn't turn up, and I didn't much fancy motoring back again at that hour, so I went to bed.'

'Can you prove you didn't go out of the cottage again that night?' Giles said.

'No, because I did: I took Bill for a run somewhere about half-past eleven, and he had a dust-up with a retriever.'

'That may be useful. Anyone with the retriever?'

'Yes, a woman like a moulting hen. But it isn't useful, in fact, rather the reverse, because I walked towards the village, as far as the cross-roads, and I was coming back when I met the hen-and-retriever outfit. So I might quite easily have stuck a knife into Arnold before that. And perhaps I ought to tell you that I got retriever-blood on this skirt, and had to wash it. Because when the police came I was drying it. So what with that, and my being a trifle snarkish with them at first, on account of thinking they'd come about the dog-fight, I daresay I may have set them against me.'

'I shouldn't be surprised,' said Giles. 'One other question: Does Kenneth know you're here?'

'No, as a matter of fact, he doesn't. He was out when I got Arnold's letter. But you know what he is: I daresay he hasn't even noticed that I'm not at home. If he has, he'll merely suppose I told him I was going away for the night and he forgot.'

'I wasn't worrying about that. Did anyone know you were coming here?'

'Well, I didn't say anything to anyone,' replied Antonia helpfully. She regarded him with a certain amount of anxiety. 'Do you suppose they'll think I did it?'

'I hope not. The fact that you spent the night at the cottage ought to tell in your favour. But you must stop fooling about, Tony. The police want you to account for your movements last night. We must trust that they won't inquire too closely into the letter Arnold wrote you. Otherwise you've nothing to conceal, and you must tell them the truth, and answer any questions they put to you.

'How do you know I've nothing to conceal?' inquired Antonia, eyeing him wickedly. 'I wouldn't have minded murdering Arnold last night.'

'I assume you have nothing to conceal,' Giles said a little sharply.

She smiled. 'Nice Giles. Do you loathe being dragged into our murky affairs?'

'I can think of things I like better. You'd better come along to the Chief Constable's office and apologise for being such a nuisance.'

'And answer a lot of questions?' she asked doubtfully. 'Yes, answer anything you can, but try not to say a lot of unnecessary things.'

She looked rather nervous. 'Well, you'd better frown at me if I do. I wish you could make a statement for me.'

'So do I, but I can't,' said Giles, getting up, and opening the door. 'I'll find out if the Chief Constable is disengaged. You stay where you are.'

He was gone for several minutes, and when he returned it was with the Superintendent and a Constable. Antonia looked at the Constable with deep misgiving. Her cousin smiled reassuringly and said, 'This is Superintendent Hannasyde, Tony, from Scotland Yard.'

'How — how grim!' said Antonia in a small voice. 'It's particularly bitter because I've always thought how much I should hate to be mixed up in a murder case, on account of having everything you say turned round till you find you've said something quite different.'

The Superintendent bent to pat Bill. 'I won't do that,' he promised. 'I only want you to tell me just how you came to visit your brother last night, and what you did.'

Antonia drew in her breath. 'He was not my brother,' she said. 'I'm sick to death of correcting that mistake. He was nothing more than half!'

'I'm sorry,' said the Superintendent. 'You see, I've only just come into this case, so you must forgive me if I quite mastered the details. Will you sit down? I understand from Inspector Jerrold that you came to Ashleigh Green yesterday because you wanted to see your half-brother on a private matter. Is that correct?'

'Yes,' said Antonia.

'And when you arrived at the cottage what did you do?'

Antonia gave him a concise account of her movements. Once or twice he prompted her with a question, while the Constable, who had seated himself by the door, busily wrote in shorthand. The Superintendent's manner, unlike the Inspector's, was so free from suspicion, and his way of putting his questions so quiet and understanding, that Antonia's wary reserve soon left her. When he asked her if she was on good terms with Arnold Vereker she replied promptly. 'No, very bad terms. I know it isn't any use concealing that, because everyone knows it. We both were.'

'Both?'

'My brother Kenneth and I. We live together. He's an artist.'

'I see. Were you on bad terms with your half-brother for any specific reason, or merely on general grounds?'

She wrinkled up her nose. 'Well, not so much one specific reason as two or three. He was our guardian - at least he'd stopped being Kenneth's guardian, because Kenneth is over twenty-five. I lived with him till a year ago, when I decided I couldn't stick it any longer, and then I cleared out and joined Kenneth.'

'Did your bro - half-brother object to that?'

'Oh no, not in the least, because we'd just had a flaming row about a disgusting merchant he was trying to push me off on to, and he was extremely glad to be rid of me.'

'And had this quarrel persisted?'

'More or less. Well, no, not really. We merely kept out of each other's way as much as possible. I don't mean that we didn't quarrel when we happened to meet, but it wasn't about the merchant, or having left Eaton Place, but just any old thing.'

The twinkle grew. 'Tell me, Miss Vereker, did you come down to Ashleigh Green with the intention of continuing an old quarrel, or starting a new one?'

'Starting a new one. Oh, that isn't fair! You made me say that, and it isn't in the least what I meant. I won't have that written down for me to sign.'

'It won't be,' he assured her. 'But you did come down because you were angry with him, didn't you?'

'Did I say that to the Inspector?' Antonia demanded.

He nodded. 'All right, then, yes.'

'Why were you angry, Miss Vereker?'

'Because he'd had the infernal neck to say I wasn't going to marry the man I'm engaged to.'

'Who is that?' inquired the Superintendent.

'I don't see what that's got to do with it.'

Giles Carrington interposed: 'Is your engagement a secret, Tony?'

'No, but -'

Then don't be silly.'

She flushed, and looked down at her hands. 'His name is Mesurier,' she said. 'He works in my half-brother's firm.'

'And your half-brother objected to the engagement?'

'Yes, because he was a ghastly snob.'

'So he wrote a letter to you, forbidding the engagement?'

'Yes - That is - Yes.'

The Superintendent waited for a moment. 'You don't seem very sure about that, Miss Vereker.'

'Yes, I am. He did write.'

'And I think you've destroyed his letter, haven't you?' said Hannasyde quietly.

Her eyes flew to his face: then she burst out laughing. 'That's clever of you. How did you guess?'

'Why did you do that, Miss Vereker?'

'Well, principally because it was the sort of letter that would make anyone want to commit murder, and I thought it would be safer,' Antonia replied, ingenuously.

The Superintendent looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, and then got up. 'I think it was a pity you destroyed it,' he said. 'But we won't go into that now.'

'Are you going to arrest me?' Antonia asked.

He smiled. 'Not immediately. Mr Carrington, if I could have a few moments' conversation with you?'

'Can I go home?' said Antonia hopefully.

'Certainly, but I want you to sign your statement first, please. The Constable will have it ready for you in a moment or two.'

'Where's your car, Tony?' asked Giles. 'At the cottage? Well, wait for me here, and I'll take you out to collect it, and give you some lunch.'

'Well, thank God for that,' said Antonia. 'I've just discovered I've got exactly two and five pence ha'penny on me, and I want some petrol.'

'How like you, Tony!' said Giles, and followed the Superintendent out of the room.

Chapter Four

The Chief Constable had gone to lunch, and his office was empty. Hannasyde closed the door and said: 'I shall want to go through the dead man's papers, Mr Carrington. Can you meet me at his house to-morrow morning?'

Giles nodded. 'Certainly.'

'And the Will…'

'In my keeping.'

'I shall have to ask you to let me see it.'

Giles said, with a flickering smile: 'It would be a waste of your time and my energy to protest, wouldn't it?'

'Thanks,' said Hannasyde, his own lips curving a little. 'It would, of course.' He took out his notebook and opened it. 'I understand that the dead man was chairman and managing director of the Shan Hills Mine? Is that correct?'

'Quite correct.'

'Unmarried?'

Giles sat down on the edge of the table. 'Yes.'

'Can you tell me of what his immediate family consists?'

'His half-brother and half-sister, that's all.' Giles took out a cigarette and tapped it on his case. 'Arnold Vereker was the eldest son of Geoffrey Vereker by his first wife, my father's sister, Maud. He was forty last December. There was one other son by that marriage, Roger, who would be thirty-eight if he were alive now — which, thank heaven, he's not. He was not precisely an ornament to the family, There was a certain amount of relief felt when he cleared out years ago. He went to South America, and I believe got himself mixed up in some revolution or other. Anyway, he's been dead about seven years now. Kenneth Vereker and his sister Antonia are the offspring of a second marriage. Their mother died shortly after Antonia's birth. My uncle died a month or two before Roger, leaving both Kenneth and Antonia under Arnold's guardianship.'

'Thank you, Mr Carrington: I hoped you would be able to help me. Can you tell me what sort of man Arnold Vereker was?'

'A man with a genius for making enemies,' replied Giles promptly. 'He was one of those natural bullies who can yet make themselves very pleasant when they choose. Queer chap, with a streak of appalling vulgarity. Yet at the bottom there was something quite likeable about him. Chief hobbies, women and social climbing.'

'I think I know the type. From what I can make out he had a bit of a bad reputation down here.'

'I shouldn't be surprised. Arnold would never go weekending to an hotel for fear of being seen. He always wanted to stand well in the eyes of the world. Hence Riverside Cottage. Is it known, by the way, whether he had one of his fancies with him last night?'

'Very little is known, Mr Carrington. We have not yet traced his car. That may conceivably tell a tale. Whoever it was murdered your cousin presumably drove away in the car.'

'Neat,' approved Giles.

The Superintendent smiled faintly. 'You share Miss Vereker's dislike of the man?'

'More or less. And I have one of those cast-iron alibis which I understand render one instantly suspect. I was playing bridge in my father's house on Wimbledon Common.'

The Superintendent nodded. 'One more question, Mr Carrington. Can you tell me anything about this man' - he consulted his notebook - 'Mesurier?'

'Beyond the fact that he is the Chief Accountant in my cousin's firm, nothing, I'm afraid. I am barely acquainted with him.'

'I see. I don't think I need keep you any longer now. You'll be wanting to take Miss Vereker away. Shall we say ten o'clock in Eaton Place tomorrow?'

'Yes, certainly. You'd better have my card, by the way. I should be very grateful if you would let me know what happens.'

He held out his hand, the Superintendent grasped it for a moment, and opened the door for him to pass out.

Antonia was engaged in powdering her face when Giles rejoined her.

'Hullo,' she said. 'I thought you'd deserted me. What did he want?'

'One or two particulars. I'm Arnold's executor, you know. Come along and I'll give you some lunch.' Miss Vereker was hungry, and not even the intelligence that she might have to be present at the inquest interfered with her appetite. She ate a hearty meal, and by three o'clock was once more at Riverside Cottage, backing her car out of the garage. 'Are you coming back to Town, too?' she inquired.

'Yes, as soon as I've found out the date of the inquest. I'll look in to-night to have a word with Kenneth. Mind the rose-bush!'

'I've been driving this car for over a year,' said Antonia, affronted.

'It looks like it,' he agreed, his eyes on a battered mudguard.

Antonia slammed the gear-lever into first, and started with a jerk. Her cousin watched her drive off, narrowly escaping a collision with the gate-post, and then got into his own car again, and drove back to Hanborough.

Rather more than an hour later Antonia let herself into the studio that she shared with her brother, and found him in an overall, a cup of tea in one hand and a novel in the other. He was a handsome young man, with untidy dark hair and his sister's brilliant eyes. He raised them from his book as she came in, said, 'Hullo!' in a disinterested voice and went on reading.

Antonia pulled off her hat and threw it vaguely in the direction of a chair. It fell on the floor, but beyond saying damn she did no more about it. 'Stop reading: I've got some news,' she announced.

'Shut up,' replied her brother. 'I'm all thrilled with this murder story. Shan't be long. Have some tea or something.'

Antonia, respecting this mood of absorption, sat down and poured herself out some tea in the slop-basin. Kenneth Vereker finished reading the last chapter of his novel, and threw it aside. 'Lousy,' he remarked. 'By the way, Murgatroyd has been yapping at me all day to know where you've been. Did you happen to tell me? Damned if I could remember. Where have you been?'

'Down at Ashleigh Green. Arnold's been murdered.'

'Arnold's been what?'

'Murdered.'

Kenneth looked at her with lifted brows. Joke?'

'No, actually murdered. Popped off.'

'Great jumping Jehoshaphat!' he exclaimed. 'Who did it?'

'They don't know. I believe they rather think I did. Someone shoved a knife into him, and stuck him in the stocks at Ashleigh Green. I went down to see him, and spent the night there.'

'What the devil for?'

'Oh, he wrote me a stinker about Rudolph, so I thought I might as well go and have it out with him. But that's not the point. The point is, he's dead.'

Kenneth looked at her in silence for a moment. Then he carefully set down his cup, and poured himself out some more tea. 'Too breath-taking. Don't know that I altogether believe it. Oh, Murgatroyd, Tony says Arnold's been done-in.'

A stout woman in a black frock and a voluminous apron had come into the studio with a clean cup and saucer. She said severely: 'That's as maybe, and if it's true you couldn't say but what it's a judgement But there's no call for anyone to drink their tea out of the slop-bowl that I know of. For shame, Miss Tony! And where was you last night, I should like to know? Answer me that!'

'Down at Arnold's cottage. I forgot to tell you. What a mind you've got, Murgatroyd! Where did you think I was?'

'That's neither here nor there. What's all this nonsense about Mr Arnold?'

'Murdered,' said Antonia, selecting a sandwich from the dish. 'What's in this?'

'Stinking fish,' replied her brother. 'Go on about Arnold. Was he murdered in the cottage?'

'There's anchovy in them sandwiches, and I'll thank you, Master Kenneth, not to use such language!'

'Shut up, we want to hear about Arnold. Do get on, Tony!'

'I've told you already he was in the village stocks. I don't know any more.'

'And quite enough, too!' said Murgatroyd austerely. 'I never heard of such a thing, putting corpses into stocks! Whatever next!'

'Not in the best of good taste,' conceded Kenneth. 'Did you discover him, Tony?'

'No, the police did. And they they came to the cottage and took me off to the Police Station to make a statement. So I sent for Giles, because I thought it safest.'

'And I hope,' said Murgatroyd, picking up Antonia's hat, 'that Mr Giles gave you a piece of his mind, which I'll be bound he did. Getting yourself mixed up in nasty murder cases! Fancy anyone up and murdering Mr Arnold! I don't know what the world's coming to, I'm sure. Not but what there's many as could be spared less. If you've finished with that tray I'll take it into the kitchen, Miss Tony.'

Antonia finished what was left in the slop-bowl and put it down.

'All right. There'll be an inquest, Ken. tiles says I shall probably have to show up. He's coming here tonight to see you.'

Her brother stared at her, 'See me? What for?'

'I didn't ask.'

'Well, I don't mind him coming if he wants to, but why on earth -'

He broke off, and suddenly swung his legs down from the arm of the chair in which he was lounging. 'Ha! I have it.'

'Have what?'

'I'm the heir.'

'So you are,' said Antonia slowly. 'I never thought of that.'

'No, nor did I, but under Father's Will I must be. Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds! I must get on to Violet and tell her!'

He jumped up, but was checked by his sister. 'Rot! How do you know?'

'Because I made it my business to find out when Arnold wouldn't advance me a mere five hundred. Murgatroyd, Murgatroyd! I'm rich! Do you hear? I'm rich!'

Murgatroyd, who had come back into the room to fold up the tea-cloth, replied: 'Yes, I hear, and if you take my advice, Master Kenneth, you'll keep a still tongue in your head. The idea of shouting out 'I'm rich!' when your half-brother met his end like he has!'

'Who cares how he met his end as long as he did meet it? What's Violet's number?'

'Don't you talk like that, Master Kenneth! How would you like to have a knife stuck in you? Nasty, underhand way of killing anyone, that's what I call it.'

'I don't see it at all,' objected Kenneth. 'It's no worse than shooting a person, and far more sensible. Shooting's noisy, for one thing, and, for another, you leave a bullet in your man, and it gets traced to you. Whereas a knife doesn't leave anything behind, and is easy to get rid of.'

'I don't know how you can stand there and say such things!' exclaimed Murgatroyd indignantly. 'Downright indecent, that's what it is! Nor no amount of fine talking will make me say other than what I do say, and stand by! It's a dirty, mean trick to knife people!'

Kenneth waved his hands at her in one of his excitable gestures. 'It isn't any dirtier or meaner than any other way! You make me sick with that kind of mawkish twaddle! What is Violet's number?'

'You needn't get so cross about it,' said Antonia. 'Personally I rather agree with Murgatroyd.'

'People who start a sentence with personally (and they're always women) ought to be thrown to the lions. It's a repulsive habit.'

'I probably must have caught it from Violet,' said Antonia musingly.

'Shut up about Violet! Does she really say it?'

'Often.'

'I'll tell her about it. What - for the fiftieth time - is her number?'

'Nothing four nine six, or something. You'd better look it up. Did either of you take the dogs for a walk this morning?'

'Take the dogs for a walk? No, of course I didn't,' said Kenneth, flicking over the leaves of the telephone directory. 'Hell, someone'll have to do this for me! There are pages of Williams! Blast the wench, why must she have a surname like that?'