False Scent (12 page)

From his ramrod station inside the door, Warrender said, “Foul Play. What it amounts to. They’re suggesting foul play.”

“Oh my God!” cried Pinky and Bertie in unison. They turned sheet-white and began to talk at the tops of their voices. Fox took out his notebook.

Alleyn raised his hand and they petered out. “It doesn’t,” he said crossly, “amount to anything of the sort. The situation is precisely as I have tried to define it. There are unexplained discrepancies. They may add up to accident, suicide or homicide, and I know no better than any one of you what the answer will be. And now, if you please, we will try to arrive at a few possibly unimportant facts.”

To his surprise he found himself supported.

Timon Gantry said, “We’re being emotional and tedious. Pay no attention. Your facts?”

Alleyn said patiently, “Without any overtones or suggestions of criminal intention, I would rather like to trace exactly the movements of the group of people who were in conversation with Miss Bellamy during the last ten minutes or so of her life. You have all heard,
ad nauseam
, I daresay, of police routine. This is an example of it. I know you were all with her in the conservatory. I know each one of you, before the climax of her party, came out into the hall with the intention, Colonel Warrender tells me, of saying goodbye to two comparative strangers, who for some reason that has not yet been divulged, were leaving just before this climax. Among you was Mr. Richard Dakers, Miss Bellamy’s ward. Mr. Dakers left the house on the heels of those two guests. His reason for doing so may well be personal and, from my point of view, completely uninteresting.
But I’ve got to clear him up
. Now, then. Any of you know why they left and why he left?”

“Certainly,” Gantry said promptly. “He’s catched with Anelida Lee. No doubt he wanted to see more of her.”

“At that juncture? All right!” Alleyn added quickly. “We leave that one, do we? We take it that there was nothing remarkable about Octavius Browne and his niece sweeping out of the party, do we, and that it was the most natural thing in the world for Miss Bellamy’s ward to turn his back on her and follow them? Do we? Or do we?”

“Oh Lord, Lord,
Lord
!” Bertie wavered. “The way you put things.”

Pinky said, “I
did
hear the uncle remind her that they had to leave early.”

“Did he say why?”

“No.”

“Had any of you met them before?”

Silence.

“None of you? Why did you all feel it necessary to go into the hall to say goodbye to them?”

Pinky and Bertie looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes and Warrender cleared his throat. Gantry appeared to come to a decision.

“I don’t usually discuss this sort of thing outside the theatre,” he said, “but under the circumstances I suppose I’d better tell you. I’ve decided to hear Miss Lee read the leading role in…” he hesitated fractionally, “in a new play.”

“Really? Wonderful luck for her,” Alleyn said. “What play?”

“
Oops!
” Bertie said involuntarily.

“It’s called
Husbandry in Heaven
.”

“By…?”

Warrender barked, “Does it matter?”

“Not that I know,” Alleyn murmured. “Why should it? Let’s find out.”

Pinky said boldly, “I don’t see a bit why it should matter. We all heard about it.”

“Did you?” Alleyn asked. “When? At the party?”

She blushed scarlet. “Yes. It was mentioned there.”

“In the conservatory?”

Bertie said in a hurry, “Mentioned. Just mentioned.”

“And we haven’t had the author’s name yet, have we?”

Pinky said, “It’s a new play by Dicky Dakers, isn’t it, Timmy?”

“Yes, dear,” Gantry agreed and refrained with some difficulty, Alleyn thought, from casting his eyes up to heaven. “In the hall I had a word with her about reading the part for me,” he said.

“Right. And,” Alleyn pursued, “might that not explain why Dakers also wanted to have a further word with Miss Lee?”

They agreed feverishly.

“Strange,” he continued, “that this explanation didn’t occur to any of you.”

Bertie laughed musically. “Weren’t we sillies?” he asked. “Fancy!”

“Perhaps you
all
hurtled into the hall in order to offer your congratulations to Miss Lee?”

“That’s right!” Bertie cried, opening his eyes very wide. “So we did! And anyway,” he added, “I wanted the loo. That was really why I came out. Anything else was purely incidental. I’d forgotten.”

“Well,” Alleyn remarked, “since you’re all so bad at remembering your motives I suppose I’d better go on cooking them up for you.”

Pinky Cavendish made a quick expostulatory movement with her hands. “Yes?” Alleyn asked her. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Not really. Only — I wish you wouldn’t make one feel shabby,” Pinky said.

“Do I? I’m sorry about that.”

“Look!” she said. “We’re all of us shocked and horrified about Mary. She was our friend — a great friend. No, Timmy, please let me. She was tricky and temperamental and exacting and she said and did things that we’d rather forget about now. The important thing to remember is that one way or another, at one time or another, we’ve all loved her. You couldn’t help it,” Pinky said, “or I couldn’t. Perhaps I should only speak for myself.”

Alleyn asked gently, “Are you trying to tell me that you are protecting her memory?”

“You might put it like that,” Pinky said.

“Nonsense, dear,” Gantry said impatiently. “It doesn’t arise.”

Alleyn decided to dig a little further.

“The farewells being accomplished,” he said, “and the two guests departed, what did you all do? Miss Cavendish?”

“Oh dear! What
did
I do? I know! I tried to nip upstairs, but the camera men were all over the bottom steps so I returned to the party.”

“Mr. Saracen?”

“The gents. Downstairs. Last, as you’ve observed, on the right. Then I beetled back, bright as a button, for the speeches.”

“Mr. Gantry?”

“I returned to the drawing-room, heard the speeches, and helped Templeton clear the way for the…” he jibbed for a moment, “for what would have been the last scene. The opening of the presents.”

“Colonel Warrender?”

Warrender was staring at some part of the wall above Alleyn’s head. “Went back,” he said.

“Where?”

“To the party.”

“Oo!” Bertie said.

“Yes, Mr. Saracen?”

“Nothing,” Bertie said hurriedly. “Pay no attention.”

Alleyn looked round at them all. “Tell me,” he said, “hasn’t Richard Dakers, up till now, written his plays exclusively for Miss Bellamy? Light comedies?
Husbandry in Heaven
doesn’t suggest a light comedy.”

He knew by their silence that he had struck home. Pinky’s face alone would have told him as much. It was already too late when Warrender said defensively, “No need to put all his eggs in one basket, isn’t it?”

“Exactly,” Gantry agreed.

“Did Miss Bellamy hold this view?”

“I still fail to understand…” Warrender began, but Bertie Saracen cried out in a sort of rage:

“I really
don’t
see, I don’t for the
life
of me see why we should fiddle and fuss and fabricate. Honestly! It’s all very well to be nice about poor Mary’s memory and Dicky’s dilemma and everybody madly loving everybody else, but sooner or later Mr. Alleyn’s going to find out and then we’ll all look peculiar and I for one
won’t
and I’m sorry, Timmy, but I’m going to spill beans and unbag cats galore and announce in a ringing head tone that Mary minded like
hell
and that she made a scene in the conservatory and insulted the girl and Dicky left in a rage and why not, because suppose somebody
did
do something frightful to Mary, it couldn’t be Dicky because Dicky flounced out of the house while Mary was still fighting fit and cutting her cake. And one other thing. I don’t know why Colonel Warrender should go all cagey and everything but he didn’t go straight back to the party. He went out. At the front door. I
saw
him on my way back from the loo. Now then!”

He had got to his feet and stood there, blinking, but defiant.

Gantry said, “
Oh
, well!” and flung up his hands.

Pinky said, “I’m on Bertie’s side.”

But Warrender, purple in the face, advanced upon Bertie.

“Don’t touch me!” Bertie shouted angrily.

“You little rat!” Warrender said and seized his arm.

Bertie gave an involuntary giggle. “That’s what she called me,” he said.

“Take,” Warrender continued between his teeth, “that damned impertinent grin off your face and hold your tongue, sir, or by God I’ll give you something to make you.”

He grasped Bertie with his left hand. He had actually drawn back his right and Alleyn had moved in, when a voice from the door said: “
Will somebody be good enough to tell me what goes on in this house
?”

Warrender lowered his hand and let Bertie go, Gantry uttered a short oath and Pinky, a stifled cry. Alleyn turned.

A young man with a white face and distracted air confronted him in the doorway.

“Thank God!” Bertie cried. “Dicky!”

The most noticeable thing about Richard Dakers was his agitation. He was pale, his face was drawn and his hands were unsteady. During the complete silence that followed Bertie’s ejaculation, Richard stood where he was, his gaze fixed with extraordinary concentration upon Colonel Warrender. Warrender, in his turn, looked at him with, as far as his soldierly blueprint of a face could express anything, the same kind of startled attention. In a crazy sort of way, each might have been the reflection of the other.

Warrender said, “Can I have a word with you, old boy? Shall we…?”

“No!” Richard said quickly and then, “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. What’s that dammed bobby doing in the hall? What’s happened? Where’s everybody? Where’s Mary?”

Alleyn said, “One moment,” and went to him. “You’re Mr. Richard Dakers, aren’t you? I’m from Scotland — Yard — Alleyn …At the moment I’m in charge of a police inquiry here. Shall we find somewhere where I can tell you why?”

“I’ll tell him,” Warrender said.

“I think not,” Alleyn rejoined and opened the door. “Come along,” he said and looked at the others. “You will stay here, if you please.”

Richard put his hand to his head. “Yes. All right. But — why?” Perhaps out of force of habit he turned to Timon Gantry. “Timmy?” he said. “What
is
this?”

Gantry said, “We must accept authority, Dicky. Go with him.”

Richard stared at him in amazement and walked out of the room, followed by Alleyn and Fox.

“In here, shall we?” Alleyn suggested and led the way into the deserted drawing-room.

There, he told Richard, as briefly as possible and without emphasis, what had happened. Richard listened distractedly, making no interruption but once or twice wiping his hand over his face as if a cobweb lay across it. When Alleyn had finished he said haltingly, “Mary? It’s happened to Mary? How can I possibly believe it?”

“It is hard, isn’t it?”

“But—
how
? How did it happen? With the plant spray?”

“It seems so.”

“But she’s used it over and over again. For a long time. Why did it happen now?” He had the air, often observable in people who have suffered a shock, of picking over the surface of the matter and distractedly examining the first thing he came upon. “Why now?” he repeated and appeared scarcely to attend to the answer.

“That’s one of the things we’ve got to find out.”

“Of course,” Richard said, more, it seemed, to himself than to Alleyn, “it
is
dangerous. We were always telling her.” He shook his head impatiently. “But — I don’t see — she went to her room just after the speeches and…”

“Did she? How do you know?”

Richard said quickly, “Why because…” and then, if possible, turned whiter than he had been before. He looked desperately at Alleyn, seemed to hover on the edge of an outburst and then said, “She must have. You say she was found there.”

“Yes. She was found there.”

“But why? Why would she use the plant spray at that moment? It sounds so crazy.”

“I know. Very strange.”

Richard beat his hands together. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I can’t get hold of myself. I’m sorry.”

Looking at him, Alleyn knew that he was in that particular state of emotional unbalance when he would be most vulnerable to pressure. He was a nice-looking chap, Alleyn thought. It was a sensitive face and yet, obscurely, it reminded him of one much less sensitive. But whose?

He said, “You yourself have noticed two aspects of this tragic business that are difficult to explain. Because of them and because of normal police procedure I have to check as fully as possible the circumstances surrounding the event.”

“Do you?” Richard asked vaguely and then seemed to pull himself together. “Yes. Very well. What circumstances?”

“I’m told you left the house before the birthday speeches. Is that right?”

Unlike the others, Richard appeared to feel no resentment or suspicion. “I?” he said. “Oh, yes, I think I did. I don’t think they’d started. The cake had just been taken in.”

“Why did you leave, Mr. Dakers?”

“I wanted to talk to Anelida,” he said at once and then: “Sorry. You wouldn’t know. Anelida Lee. She lives next door and…” He stopped.

“I do know that Miss Lee left early with her uncle. But it must have been a very important discussion, mustn’t it? To take you away at that juncture?”

“Yes. It was. To me. It was private,” Richard added. “A private matter.”

“A long discussion?”

“It didn’t happen.”

“Not?”

“She wasn’t — available.” He produced a palpable understatement. “She wasn’t — feeling well.”

“You saw her uncle?”

“Yes.”

“Was it about her part in your play—
Husbandry in Heaven
, isn’t it? — that you wanted to talk to her?”

Richard stared at him and for the first time seemed to take alarm. “Who told you about that?” he demanded.

“Timon Gantry.”

“
He
did!” Richard exclaimed and then, as if nothing could compete with the one overriding shock, added perfunctorily, “How extraordinary.” But he was watching Alleyn now with a new awareness. “It was partly to do with that,” he muttered.

Alleyn decided to fire point-blank. “Was Miss Bellamy displeased with the plans for this new play?” he asked. Richard’s hands made a sharp involuntary movement which was at once checked. His voice shook.

“I told you this was a private matter,” he said. “It is entirely private.”

“I’m afraid there is very little room for privacy in a police inquiry.”

Richard surprised him by suddenly crying out, “
You think she did it herself
! She didn’t! I can’t believe it! Never!”

“Is there any reason why she should?”

“No! My God, no!
No
!”

Alleyn waited for a little, visited, as was not unusual with him, by a distaste for this particular aspect of his job.

He said, “What did you do when Miss Lee couldn’t receive you?”

Richard moved away from him, his hands thrust down in his pockets. “I went for a walk,” he said.

“Now, look here,” Alleyn said, “you must see that this is a very odd story. Your guardian, as I believe Miss Bellamy was, reaches the top moment of her birthday party. You leave her cold, first in pursuit of Miss Lee and then to go for a stroll round Chelsea. Are you telling me that you’ve been strolling ever since?”

Without turning, Richard nodded.

Alleyn walked round him and looked him full in the face.

“Mr. Dakers,” he said. “Is that the truth? It’s now five to nine. Do you give me your word that from about seven o’clock when you left this house you didn’t return to it until you came in, ten minutes ago?”

Richard, looking desperately troubled, waited for so long that to Alleyn the scene became quite unreal. The two of them were fixed in the hiatus-like figures in a suspended film sequence.

“Are you going to give me an answer?” Alleyn said at last.

“I–I—don’t — think — I did actually — just after — she was…” A look of profound astonishment came into Richard’s face. He crumpled into a faint at Alleyn’s feet.

“He’ll do,” Dr. Harkness said, relinquishing Richard’s pulse. He straightened up and winced a little in the process. “You say he’s been walking about on an empty stomach and two or three drinks. The shock coming on top of it did the trick for him, I expect. In half an hour he won’t be feeling any worse than I do and that’s medium to bloody awful. Here he comes.”

Richard had opened his eyes. He stared at Dr. Harkness and then frowned. “Lord, I’m sorry,” he said. “I passed out, didn’t I?”

“You’re all right,” Dr. Harkness said. “Where’s this sal volatile, Gracefield?”

Gracefield presented it on a tray. Richard drank it down and let his head fall back. They had put him on a sofa there in the drawing-room. “I was talking to somebody,” he said. “That man — God, yes! Oh God.”

“It’s all right,” Alleyn said, “I won’t worry you. We’ll leave you to yourself for a bit.”

He saw Richard’s eyes dilate. He was looking past Alleyn towards the door. “Yes,” he said loudly. “I’d rather be alone.”

“What is all this?”

It was Warrender. He shut the door behind him and went quickly to the sofa. “What the devil have you done to him? Dicky, old boy…”

“No!” Richard said with exactly the same inflexion as before. Warrender stood above him. For a moment, apparently, they looked at each other. Then Richard said, “I forgot that letter you gave me to post. I’m sorry.”

Alleyn and Fox moved, but Warrender anticipated them, stooping over Richard and screening him.

“If you don’t mind,” Richard said, “I’d rather be by myself. I’m all right.”

“And I’m afraid,” Alleyn pointed out, “that I must remind you of instructions, Colonel Warrender. I asked you to stay with the others. Will you please go back to them?”

Warrender stood like a rock for a second or two and then, without another word, walked out of the room. On a look from Alleyn, Fox followed him.

“We’ll leave you,” Alleyn said. “Don’t get up.”

“No,” Dr. Harkness said. “Don’t. I’ll ask them to send you in a cup of tea. Where’s that old Nanny of yours? She can make herself useful. Can you find her, Gracefield?”

“Very good, sir,” Gracefield said.

Alleyn, coolly picking up Richard’s dispatch case, followed Gracefield into the hall.

“Gracefield.”

Gracefield, frigid, came to a halt.

“I want one word with you. I expect this business has completely disorganized your household and I’m afraid it can’t be helped. But I think it may make things a little easier in your department if you know what the form will be.”

“Indeed, sir?”

“In a little while a mortuary van will come. It will be better if we keep everybody out of the way at that time. I don’t want to worry Mr. Templeton more than I can help, but I shall have to interview people and it would suit us all if we could find some place that would serve as an office for the purpose. Is that possible?”

“There is Mr. Richard’s old study, sir, on the first floor. It is unoccupied.”

“Splendid. Where exactly?”

“The third on the right along the passage, sir.”

“Good.” Alleyn glanced at the pallid and impassive face. “For your information,” he said, “it’s a matter of clearing up the confusion that unfortunately always follows accidents of this sort. The further we can get, now, the less publicity at the inquest. You understand?”

“Quite so, sir,” said Gracefield with a slight easing of manner.

“Very well. And I’m sorry you’ll be put to so much trouble.”

Gracefield’s hand curved in classic acceptance. There was a faint crackle.

“Thank you, Gracefield.”

“Thank you very much, sir,” said Gracefield. “I will inform Mrs. Plumtree and then ascertain if your room is in order.” He inclined his head and mounted the stairs.

Alleyn raised a finger and the constable by the front door came to him.

“What happened,” he asked, “about Mr. Dakers? As quick and complete as you can.”

“He arrived, sir, about three minutes after you left your instructions, according to which I asked for his name and let on it was because of an accident. He took it up it was something about a car. He didn’t seem to pay much attention. He was very excited and upset. He went upstairs and was there about eight to ten minutes. You and Mr. Fox were with the two gentlemen and the lady in that little room, sir. When he came down he had a case in his hand. He went to the door to go out and I advised him it couldn’t be done. He still seemed very upset, sir, and that made him more so. He said, ‘Good God, what is all this?’ and went straight to the room where you were, sir.”

“Good. Thank you. Keep going.”

“Sir,” said the constable.

“And Philpott.”

“Sir?”

“We’ve sent for another man. In the meantime I don’t want any of the visitors in the house moving about from room to room. Get them all together in the drawing-room and keep them there, including Colonel Warrender and Mr. Templeton, if he’s feeling fit enough. Mr. Dakers can stay where he is. Put the new man on the door and you keep observation in the dining-room. We can’t do anything about the lavatory, I suppose, but everywhere else had better be out of bounds. If Colonel Warrender wants to go to the lavatory, you go with him.”

“Sir.”

“And ask Mr. Fox to join me upstairs.”

The constable moved off.

A heavy thumping announced the descent of Old Ninn. She came down one step at a time. When she got to the bottom of the stairs and saw Alleyn she gave him a look and continued on her way. Her face was flaming and her mouth drawn down. For a small person she emanated an astonishingly heavy aura of the grape.

“Mrs. Plumtree?” Alleyn asked.

“Yes,” said Old Ninn. She halted and looked into his face. Her eyes, surprisingly, were tragic.

“You’re going to look after Mr. Richard, aren’t you?”

“What’s he been doing to himself?” she asked, as if Richard had been playing roughly and had barked his knee.

“He fainted. The doctor thinks it was shock.”

“Always takes things to heart,” Old Ninn said.

“Did you bring him up?”

“From three months.” She continued to look fixedly at Alleyn. “He was a good child,” she said, as if he was abusing Richard, “and he’s grown into a good man. No harm in him and never was.”

“An orphan?” Alleyn ventured.

“Father and mother killed in a motor accident.”

“How very sad.”

“You don’t,” Old Ninn said, “feel the want of what you’ve never had.”

“And of course Miss Bellamy — Mrs. Templeton — took him over.”

“She,” Old Ninn said, “was a different type of child altogether. If you’ll excuse me I’ll see what ails him.” But she didn’t move at once. She said very loudly, “Whatever it is it’ll be no discredit to him,” and then stumped heavily and purposefully on to her charge.

Alleyn waited for a moment, savouring her observations. There has been one rather suggestive remark, he thought.

Dr. Harkness came out of the drawing-room, looking very wan.

“He’s all right,” he said, “and I wish I could say as much for myself. The secondary effects of alcoholic indulgence are the least supportable. By the way, can I go out to the car for my bag? It’s just opposite the house. Charles Templeton’s my patient, you know, and I’d like to run him over. Just in case. He’s had a bad knock over this.”