Devious Murder (15 page)

‘My wife has delicate feelings. She's a good woman and dislikes such things. It was no business of ours what Mrs. Havenith and Mr. Leo did, but that didn't prevent our disapproving of it. In the same bed with Mr. Leo, and her a
married woman, was indecent to our way of thinking. But if we had left and taken a similar post elsewhere, the same might have happened. It seems to be a commonplace in these wicked days.'

Mrs. Morgan, now recovered from her husband's intrusion, nodded approvingly. Littlejohn remembered that they were members of the strict Welsh chapel, and was amused at Morgan's way of getting round their scruples. Morgan lapsed into Welsh for a brief moment. The only words that Littlejohn understood were Sodom and Gomorrah, from which he gathered that Morgan was prophesying the destruction of
The Limes
by brimestone and fire.

‘Shall we continue in English, Mr. Morgan … now please tell me exactly what happened on the night before Mrs. Havenith left for the country.'

Morgan looked to his wife for support. She seemed glad to take over as dominant partner.

‘They went off to the theatre, but did not stay. Mrs. Havenith had one of her headaches and they turned back and came home.'

‘Arriving back about nine o'clock?'

‘That is right. It was just after nine by the wireless to which we were listening when the door-bell rang and there they were.'

‘And then …?'

‘They had supper and retired.'

‘What did they eat for supper?'

‘It was a light one. Chicken sandwiches and champagne.'

‘In spite of Mrs. Havenith's headache?'

‘Yes.'

‘Perhaps the headache was an excuse for getting rid of their friends and having the rest of the night to themselves.'

‘Perhaps it was.'

‘Did Mrs. Havenith wear her diamonds for the evening?'

‘No. She only wore them for special occasions. They were in the safe. Much of her valuable jewellery had gone to the bank as she had left for the country, but she was going to Deauville shortly and wanted the diamonds there. So they were put in the safe.'

‘And were the pair of them in Mrs. Havenith's bedroom that night?'

The Morgans looked questioningly at each other as though wondering which was going to give the fatal answer.

‘Yes,' said Mrs. Morgan.

‘At what time?'

‘About nine-thirty. I served the supper in her room. We retired after that.…'

Littlejohn could imagine them in their quarters on the floor above, watching and listening along the corridors, and whispering.

‘Where was Cairncross while all this was going on?'

‘He made his rounds at nine o'clock, checked the alarms and then returned to his own flat.'

‘Was that his last routine of the day?'

‘No. He made another at midnight and then retired for the night.'

‘On the night in question, did he adhere strictly to his routine?'

‘Yes. We saw him at nine o'clock and bade him good night.'

‘If there is any traffic, say someone coming to or going from
The Limes
, you would, of course, overhear it?'

‘In a way, yes. The cars have to pass across the yard to the garages. Sometimes, however, it's difficult making out if traffic is entering or leaving our garages or those of
Orchard Court
next door. The
Orchard Court
garages are built close to the dividing wall between the two properties and with there being a number of flats serviced by them
there is sometimes coming and going in the small hours.'

‘I suppose there was the usual traffic on the night in which we are interested?'

‘I really can't tell you. We were both asleep shortly after midnight and have grown used to the traffic, which rarely disturbs us.'

‘You saw Mrs. Havenith to bed that night, Mrs. Morgan?'

‘Yes. I always help her to undress when she's in residence here. I helped her that night and left her in her negligée and then Mr. Leo came and I served the supper.'

‘Wasn't it rather a risky business for her indulging in such blatant behaviour in front of you? She rather placed herself at your mercy. If her husband got to know.…'

Mrs. Morgan stiffened.

‘She trusted me absolutely. I am not one to talk about such matters. As I said, such behaviour seems commonplace now and I have grown used to it. I am only telling you because, from what I have learned of the police from my husband's experience, this information will not be made public. You understand that? You will not divulge to Mrs. Havenith or anyone else what I have told you?'

‘You may depend on us. Did Mrs. Havenith seem herself that night?'

‘She was a bit excited, as she was leaving for the Cotswolds early the following morning. She always looked forward to that.'

‘And while she was away, you kept her informed of what was going on here?'

‘I particularly did so on this occasion. After all, it is not usual for the police to be about the house on a murder case. I thought it my duty to let her know.'

‘I believe Mrs. Havenith always retired with the alarm turned off.…'

‘She says she can't sleep when it is turned on; she keeps wondering when it will start ringing.'

‘And with the window open?'

‘Yes. She can't sleep when it's closed.'

Morgan, who had been listening patiently, suddenly boiled over. He sounded really annoyed.

‘It's a wonder she ever sleeps at all, the fuss she makes. You could write a book about what goes on in that bedroom!'

Littlejohn almost laughed outright at the look of amazed bewilderment his wife gave him.

‘We're getting near the truth, I think. We've got a jumbled lot of information. It's simply a matter of sorting it out.…'

Littlejohn thought Cromwell was being a bit optimistic, but Cromwell was that way. He often turned out to be right.

They were sitting in Littlejohn's room at Scotland Yard, drinking coffee. So many things had happened since Charles Blunt's death that the two detectives hadn't much time for anything else. This morning they had both stayed indoors to clear up routine work.

Littlejohn was going with Blunt's father to the crematorium at noon. He wore a dark suit and a black tie. It seemed a bit strange for a policeman to wear mourning for a crook, but he thought it would please the old man. Charles Blunt was going to be more comfortably disposed of than his associate Kaltbad, of whom no relatives had been traced and whose body was in the official refrigerators waiting for something to turn up.

‘Let's just go through the case,' said Cromwell, ‘and see if we can get things in order.…'

There was a pause. Cromwell evidently expected Littlejohn to start the ball rolling. After all, hadn't Littlejohn found the body?

‘It must have all begun several months ago, when Charles Blunt decided to steal the Havenith diamonds. He must have learned of their existence from the newspapers, which made a fuss when the necklace was bought for a fabulous sum at the auction. He made a preliminary survey in his usual careful routine manner, discovered where they were kept, which wasn't difficult, because Mrs. Havenith delighted in flashing them about and kept them in a safe at
The Limes
. Blunt established himself in a flat next door, which overlooked the house where the diamonds were kept.

‘Knowing Blunt, we can be sure he made a thorough job of reconnoitring and gathering information before he even thought of how he was going to get at the diamonds. He kept a quiet watch on the house and its occupants. He must have discovered details about the alarm system and the flaw in it. That he probably acquired by going over Cairncross's flat, where he found the plan of the wiring, of which the local police also held a copy.

‘On the night of his death all was set and ready for the final stroke. Blunt knew the habits of Mrs. Havenith; how she took her friends out to theatre parties with supper afterwards. If it was to be a small intimate affair she didn't wear her diamonds and went out in the Bentley. If it was to be a big event she wore the necklace and travelled in the Rolls. Blunt saw the small party leave in the Bentley. This was his chance. It was just bad luck that Mrs. Havenith suddenly changed her mind and returned without even joining her friends at the theatre.'

Cromwell nodded his head in agreement.

‘Do you think he was in the place when they got home?'

‘I don't know. The diamonds have been stolen and
presumably it was Blunt who did it. He had a means of access to
The Limes
, and probably a copy of the key to the safe. You remember how carelessly she kept the key in her handbag wherever she went and how the handbag was left lying about. Blunt wouldn't overlook such an opportunity. As regards the combination, unless it was a very unusual up-to-date lock, that wouldn't give Blunt much trouble. But he must have had very little time in which to operate, between when Mrs. Havenith and Leo left in the car and when they suddenly returned unexpectedly. If his body was carried away and dumped at the gate of
Mountjoy
, then we can assume that he was on the premises, discovered, and probably killed in a scuffle.'

‘That would narrow the crime down to Mrs. Havenith, Leo, the Morgans or Cairncross, who might have come across Blunt as he made his usual rounds of the place.'

‘But why take the body and leave it at the gate of the very place where another murder was committed?' said Cromwell.

‘Which leaves us with the answer that probably the crime was not committed at
The Limes
at all, but at
Mountjoy
. In which case Blunt must have travelled there by taxi. He apparently hadn't a car of his own and wouldn't have walked there in all that rain. Is there a cab rank at Tolham Station? We'd better find out and have all the taxi-men questioned.…'

No sooner said than done; Cromwell gave the necessary instructions.

‘Why was he going to
Mountjoy
? Presumably he'd got the diamonds and was taking them to the fence, Kaltbad. It was a final meeting arranged in the empty house and someone must have followed him there.'

‘You mean Cairncross, or even Leo?'

‘We'd better not make up our minds until we've got some
further information. Let's wait for the result of the taxi inquiries.'

‘Yes, and while you're at the funeral, Tom, I'd better go back to
The Limes
and have another talk with Cairncross. I can't get the idea out of my mind that something amiss is going on there. Surely, if Blunt had committed the theft before his death, the diamonds would have been missed. I think the three of them played a charade with me when they pretended to discover the necklace was missing in my very presence. They must have been afraid that old man Havenith would play hell if he heard of the robbery and they arranged together to pretend it hadn't happened at all. Then, when I arrived and insisted on seeing the diamonds, they pretended they were there and tried to bluff me that they didn't know otherwise. I have a bone to pick with Cairncross. Meanwhile, I'll put a man on his tail.'

‘You'd better do the same for Mrs. Havenith and Leo. Those three seem to be behaving very queerly.'

Littlejohn picked up old Mr. Blunt at the old folk's home. He thought that he and Alfred Blunt would be the only ones there, but a party of Alfred's fellow inmates, half a dozen of them, thinking their friend would be alone, had decided to accompany him and share his grief. The undertaker picked them all up in taxis at the home and they joined the hearse and coffin at a small building labelled
Chapel of Rest
. There the undertaker, a liverish, portly, bald-headed man with flat feet introduced himself to Littlejohn and gave him his card in case he might need him in the future.
C. H. Weekes, M.F.U. Funerals Reverently Conducted
. He mistook Littlejohn for the superintendent of the home and even hinted that future favours on his part would be treated with special attention at the minimum of cost.

The crematorium was very busy and worked to strict schedule. The chaplain of the home met them there and was
obliged to finish his duties at a gallop for the time was running out. It was a sad little gathering and the group of old men surrounding Alfred Blunt protectively gave it a quaint dignity. None of them, not even Alfred, had any idea of the life led by the man for whom they were now asking forgiveness and a safe journey to heaven. Littlejohn himself had forgotten for the time being and joined in the good wishes. He was at the end of the little procession as they left the place. At the door a woman touched his arm.

‘Are you Chief Superintendent Littlejohn, sir?'

‘Yes.'

‘I knew you from your picture in the newspapers. Could I have a word with you?'

It was an awkward encounter. The men of the little group were waiting for him. They'd invited him back to tea with them and the officers of the crematorium were urging their taxis to get away, as another funeral party was approaching and further delay would lead to confusion.

‘Is it about the late Charles Blunt?'

‘Yes. I was his wife.…'