Have His Carcase (37 page)

the most crucial moment of al, we get an account of his having been seen by an

unknown person who asks the time. Why on earth should a man who had just

passed through a vilage ful of people and clocks, walk down Hinks’s Lane to

ask a casual camper for the time? The man who asks the time is part of the

regular stock-in-trade of the alibimaker. The whole thing is so elaborate and

fishy – don’t you think so?’

Glaisher nodded.

‘I agree with you. It is fishy. But what does it mean?’

‘There you’ve got me. I can only suggest that, whatever Weldon was doing

that morning in Wilvercombe, it wasn’t what he said he was doing, and that he

may somehow be in league with the actual murderer. How about this car OI

0101?’

‘It’s a —shire number, but that means nothing. Everybody buys second-

hand cars these days. Stil, naturaly, we’l send out an inquiry. A wire to the —

shire authorities wil put us on the track. Not that that helps us very much about

what Weldon was doing later in the day.’

‘Not a bit, but there’s no harm in getting hold of the lady. And have you

asked at the Winter Gardens what the performance was last Thursday

morning?’

‘Yes: Constable Ormond is down there now – oh! here he is.’

Constable Ormond had inquired minutely. It was a classical concert, starting

at 10.30.
Eine Kleine Nachtmusik
, by Mozart; two
Lieder ohne Worter
by

Mendelssohn; Bach’s
Air for G String
; Suite by Handel; Interval; Beethoven’s

Eroica
. Al present and correct, Bach and Beethoven as per statement and

approximately at the correct times. No printed programme that anyone could

have taken away or memorised. Further, the
Eroica
had been substituted at the

last minute for the
Pastoral
, owing to some difficulty about mislaid band-parts.

Each piece had been announced from the platform by the conductor. If anyone

stil nursed a suspicion that Mr Henry Weldon had not been present at that

particular concert, it could only be out of surprise that he should have troubled

to remember the items he had heard so exactly. Positive confirmation of his

story there was none, though P.C. Ormond had carefuly questioned the

attendants. Persons in tinted spectacles were, alas! as common in the Winter

Gardens as blackbeetles in a basement.

Some additional confirmation of Weldon’s story was brought in a few

minutes later by another constable. He had interviewed Mrs Lefranc and

discovered that a gentleman in dark glasses realy had caled on Paul Alexis on

the Wednesday and tried to get information about Leila Garland. Mrs Lefranc,

scenting ‘trouble’, had packed him off with a flea in his ear to the restaurant

where Alexis frequently lunched. Here the proprietor remembered him; yes,

there had, he believed, been some talk about the Winter Gardens with a

gentleman out of the orchestra who had happened to drop in – no, not Mr da

Soto, but a much humbler gentleman, who played at the fourth desk of second

violins. Finaly, as sequel to a series of inquiries put round the principal

Wilvercombe garages, a mechanic was found who remembered a gent caling

on Wednesday evening with a Morgan and complaining of trouble in starting

and feeble ignition. The mechanic had been able to find no fault beyond a

certain amout of wear in the platinum points, which might have caused bad

starting when the engine was cold.

Al these things were of little importance as regarded the actual crime, if there

was one; they served, however, to support the general accuracy of Weldon’s

statement.

One of the minor irritations of detective work is the delay which usualy occurs

in the putting-through of inquiries. Trunk-cals are held up; people urgently

required for interviews are absent from home; letters take time to travel. It was,

therefore, gratifying and surprising to find the identification of the owner of OI

0101 going along like oiled clockwork. Within an hour, a telegram arrived from

the – shire County Council, stating that OI 0101 had been last transferred to a

Mrs Morecambe, living at 17 Popcorn Street, Kensington. Within ten minutes,

the Wilvercombe Telephone Exchange had put through a trunk-cal. Within

fifteen minutes the bel rang and Superintendent Glaisher was learning from Mrs

Morecambe’s maid that her mistress was staying at Heathbury Vicarage. A cal

to the vicarage received immediate attention. Yes, Mrs Morecambe was

staying there; yes, she was at home; yes, they would fetch her; yes, this was

Mrs Morecambe speaking; yes, she distinctly remembered driving a gentleman

in dark glasses from Darley to Wilvercombe and back last Thursday; yes, she

thought she could remember the times; she must have picked him up about ten

o’clock, judging by the time she had started out from Heathbury, and she knew

she had dropped him in Darley again at one o’clock, because she had

consulted her watch to see if she would be in time for her lunchcon and tennis-

party at Colonel Cranton’s, the other side of Heathbury. No, she had never

seen the gentleman before and did not know his name, but she thought she

could identify him if required. No trouble at al, thanks – she was only glad to

know that the police had nothing against
her
(silvery laughter); when the maid

said the Superintendent was on the phone she had been afraid she might have

been trespassing on the white lines, or parking in the wrong place or something.

She would be staying at the vicarage til next Monday and would he happy to

assist the police in any way. She did hope she hadn’t been helping a gangster to

escape or anything of that sort.

The Superintendent scratched his head. ‘It’s uncanny,’ he said. ‘Here we are

and we know al about it – not so much as a wrong number! But anyhow, if the

lady’s a friend of the Rev. Trevor’s, she’s O.K. He’s lived here for fifteen years

and is the nicest gentleman you could wish to meet – quite one of the old

school. We’l just find out how wel he knows this Mrs Morecambe, but I

expect it’s al right. As to this identification, I don’t know that it’s worth while.’

‘You probably couldn’t expect her to identify him without his dark hair and

glasses,’ said Wimsey. ‘It’s astonishing what a difference it makes having the

eyes concealed. You could make him put the spectacles on, of course, or you

could bring her over and get
him
to identify
her
. I’l tel you what. Ring up again

and ask if she can come over here now. I’l get hold of Weldon and park him

out on the verandah of the Resplendent, and you can fetch her along casualy. If

he spots her, al’s wel; if she spots him, we may feel differently about it.’

‘I see,’ said Glaisher. ‘That’s not a bad idea. We’l do that.’ He rang up

Heathbury Vicarage and spoke again.

‘It’s al right; she’s coming.’

‘Good. I’l toddle round and try to detach Weldon from his mamma. If she’s

present at the interview the good Henry wil be in the soup. If I can’t get him,

I’l ring you.’

Henry Weldon was readily found in the lounge. He was having tea with his

mother, but excused himself when Wimsey came up and asked for a word in

private. They selected a table about half-way along the verandah, and Weldon

ordered drinks, while Wimsey embarked on a rather verbose account of his

interview with the police that morning. He harped a good deal on the trouble he

had taken to persuade Glaisher not to let the story come to Mrs Weldon’s ears,

and Henry expressed a proper sense of gratitude.

Presently a burly figure made his appearance, looking exactly like a police-

constable out of uniform, and escorting a rather young-old lady, dressed in the

extreme of fashion. They passed slowly along the verandah, which was wel

filed with people, making for an empty table at the far end. Wimsey watched

the lady’s glance roam over the assembly; it rested on him, passed on to

Weldon and then, without a pause or sign of recognition, to a young man in blue

glasses who was toying with a chocolate sundae at the next table. Here it

paused for a moment – then it moved on again. At the same time Weldon gave

quite a convulsive start.

‘I beg your pardon,’ said Wimsey, breaking off short in his monologue. ‘Did

you speak?’

‘I – er – no,’ said Weldon. ‘I thought I recognised somebody, that’s al.

Probably a chance resemblance.’ He folowed Mrs Morecambe with his eyes

as she approached them, and raised a tentative hand to his hat.

Mrs Morecambe saw the movement and looked at Weldon, with a faint

expression of puzzlement. She opened her mouth as though to speak, but shut it

again. Weldon completed the hat-raising gesture and stood up.

‘Good afternoon,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid you don’t–’

Mrs Morecambe stared with polite surprise.

‘Surely I’m not mistaken,’ said Weldon. ‘You were good enough to give me

a lift the other day.’

‘Did I?’ said Mrs Morecambe. She looked more closely and said:

‘Yes, I believe I did – but weren’t you wearing dark glasses that day?’

‘I was – it makes rather a difference, doesn’t it?’

‘I realy shouldn’t have known you. But I recognise your voice now. Only I

had an idea – But there! I’m not very observant. I carried away an impression

that you were quite dark. Probably the glasses put it into my head. So stupid of

me. I hope the Morgan has recovered itself.’

‘Oh, yes, thanks. Fancy meeting you here. The world’s a smal place, isn’t

it?’

‘Very. I hope you are having an enjoyable holiday.’

‘Oh, very much so, thanks – now that my car is behaving itself again. I’m

tremendously grateful to you for having taken compassion on me that day.’

‘Not at al; it was a pleasure.’

Mrs Morecambe bowed politely and moved away with her companion.

Wimsey grinned.

‘So that was your attractive lady. Wel, wel. You’re a gay dog, Weldon.

Young or old, they al go down before you, spectacles or no spectacles.’

‘Chuck it!’ said Henry, not displeased. ‘Lucky thing her turning up like that,

wasn’t it?’

‘Remarkably so,’ said Wimsey.

‘Don’t like the hick she’s got with her, though,’ pursued Henry. ‘One of the

local turnip-heads, I suppose.’

Wimsey grinned again. Could anybody be as slow-witted as Henry made

himself out?

‘I ought to have tried to find out who she was,’ said Henry, ‘but I thought it

would look a bit pointed. Stil, I daresay they’l be able to trace her, won’t

they? It’s rather important to me, you know.’

‘Yes, it is, isn’t it? Very good-looking and wel-off, too, from the looks of

her. I congratulate you, Weldon. Shal I try and trace her for you? I’m a most

skilful go-between and an accomplished gooseberry.’

‘Don’t be an ass, Wimsey. She’s my alibi, you idiot.’

‘So she is! Wel, here goes!’

Wimsey slipped away, chuckling to himself.

‘Wel, that’s al right,’ said Glaisher, when al this was reported to him. ‘We’ve

got the lady taped now al right. She’s the daughter of an old school-friend of

Mrs Trevor’s and stays with them every summer. Been at Heathbury for the

last three weeks. Husband’s something in the City; sometimes joins her for

weekends, but hasn’t been here this summer. Lunch and tennis at Colonel

Cranton’s al correct. No funny business there. Weldon’s al right.’

‘That wil be a relief to his mind. He’s been a bit nervy about this alibi of his.

He skipped like a ram when he caught sight of Mrs Morecambe.’

‘Did he? Skipping for joy, I expect. After al, you can’t be surprised. How’s

he to know what time the alibi’s wanted for? We’ve managed to keep that part

of it out of the papers, and he probably stil thinks, as we did at first, that Alexis

was dead some time before Miss Vane found the body. He can’t help knowing

that he had a joly good motive for kiling Alexis, and that he was here under

dashed suspicious circumstances. In any case, we’ve got to let him out,

because, if he did the murder or helped to do it, he wouldn’t make any mistake

about the time. He’s scared stiff, and I don’t blame him. But his not knowing

lets him out as surely and certainly as if he had a realy cast-iron alibi for two

o’clock.’

‘Much more surely, my dear man. It’s when I find people with cast-iron

alibis that I begin to suspect them. Though Weldon’s two o’clock alibi seems to

be as nearly cast-iron as anything can be. But it’s only when somebody comes

along and swears himself black in the face that he saw Weldon behaving with

perfect innocence at two o’clock precisely that I’l begin seriously to weave a

hempen neck-tie for him. Unless, of course—’

‘Wel?’

‘Unless, I was going to say, there was a conspiracy between Weldon and

some other person to kil Alexis, and the actual kiling was done by the other