The Ginger Cat Mystery (17 page)

“Dear, dear, Mr. Vereker! This is too bad. Just a common eavesdropper and I thought you were a perfect gentleman. This detection business is demoralizing you, there's no doubt about it. Doesn't matter about me, I never was what you call a gent, but you! What were they saying? I'm eager to hear.”

“I only heard a fragment of the conversation and it wasn't at all conclusive, but as far as I could gather Carstairs was asking the lady to marry him.”

“Stout fellow! I thought there was something sticky between them and it bears out Miss Catchpole's story about him being the faithful but disappointed lover. They were together this morning in the garden some time before you saw them in the wood. They were evidently making their way to the bungalow. I had my eye on Romeo and he's badly smitten. He was talking like a politician who'd got warmed up to telling his constituents what he was going to do for his native land and he looked like a hungry cat watching a bowl of goldfish. What did the young lady say to the marriage proposal?”

“Turned it down definitely and finally but his exact words were, ‘I'll stand by you and take all the blame if you'll consent to marry me. Can't you see it's the only effective way out of the situation?' and in her reply she used the words, ‘It wouldn't be fair to drag you into the mess. I'll face the music alone.' What dread secret lies behind this conversation, Heather?”

“Sounds rather suspicious,” remarked Heather. “Looking at it in the worst light, it would seem that the young lady had something to do with the death of her former lover and that Carstairs was in the know.”

“It may be something entirely different and innocent, Heather, but it gives one food for thought. I heard no more of the conversation, but from the subsequent tone of Carstairs' voice, I think he was getting shirty. In fact he reduced Miss Cornell to loud sobbing.”

“Men are unkind beasts,” remarked Heather. “If they can't get what they want by going on their knees and praying for it, they begin the bullying game. Of course he could force her hand considerably if he knew that she was in any way guilty of the crime.”

“I can't think that of the man,” said Vereker reflectively, “but in these affairs one never knows and it's no use having a favourable bias towards anyone.”

“Not even towards Miss Cornell and she doesn't strike me as a particularly likely person to shoot a man. But I also have some news which I can't hold back from you, and you must keep your eyes open all the more after hearing it. It won't be very agreeable news for you because it introduces an unknown party into our hunt.”

“Good Lord, Heather, I hope you're not going to spring Smith of London on me at this stage!”

“That remains to be seen, as the burglar said when he chalked something nasty on the nark's front door. I was asked by Tapp, the valet, if he could have a word with me this morning. He said he had a statement to make which had been worrying him for some days. He thought he'd better see me and get it off his chest. I agreed with him.”

“I was never quite sure of Tapp,” commented Vereker, “though you seem to have acquitted him long ago.”

“Well, it has nothing to do with him personally but he concealed an important bit of information when I first questioned him about the case. It seems that Tapp on the night of the murder had a secret appointment with the daughter of old Braber the gardener. He met her in the garden about eleven o'clock and they were together till long after midnight.”

“He's a married man with two children, isn't he?” asked Vereker.

“Yes and it was this fact which he had to break gently to the gardener's daughter. It seems that for some time he has been on very friendly terms with the girl and she with him. She's such a dear that he hadn't the heart to tell her right away that he was another woman's husband, but like many things it had to come to pass and he screwed up his courage to spill the beans. He told her fair and square that he was married but that his wife had left him for another. Also, which was more important, he had two youngsters to support. The economic snag is the worst in such cases.”

“Poor devil, I suppose there was an awful row!” interrupted Vereker.

“The young lady fainted, he said, and it took him a long while to bring her round. That's why the interview lasted so long, he was careful to explain. When she recovered he expected a display of fireworks, but to his surprise the girl said she was very sorry for him. She hoped he and his wife would make it up and live happily ever after. Tapp said that would never be and as soon as he could afford a poor man's divorce he'd get one. ‘That makes all the difference,' remarked the young lady and said she'd think the matter over before breaking off their innocent friendship. Well, she thought very rapidly and told him she didn't see why they shouldn't continue as before. Tapp reminded her of the two youngsters again, so as to make his position quite clear, and it then transpired that the girl simply adored children. Tapp said he felt in the seventh heaven of delight at this news and promptly proposed. He was accepted and the girl put the icing on the cake by saying, ‘You see, George, the kiddies will be a great comfort to us should Providence not grant us any of our own.'”

“But what has all this rigmarole to do with our case, Heather?” asked Vereker.

“Well, on that night of the tryst, after the gardener's daughter had kissed George good-bye provisionally, George was making his way stealthily back to the house when he heard footsteps hurrying along the garden path and coming in his direction. He got the wind up and diving into the summer-house shut the door. The midnight prowler quickly passed the summer-house and ran towards the formal garden. Tapp opened the door to see if he could see anything, but it was not light enough for clear observation. Though visibility wasn't good he saw it was a man. The fellow was in the deuce of a hurry but Tapp is certain he wasn't wearing a hat. At first Tapp decided to follow up in case the house had been burgled, but then thought of his own predicament if questioned as to his business in the garden at that time of night. He played for safety and let the matter drop. Now that he doesn't mind it coming out that he was trysting with the gardener's daughter, he decided to give me a possible line on the murderer of Frank Cornell.”

“This is too bad, Heather! What are you going to do about it?”

“We'll have to go more thoroughly into Mr. Frank Cornell's history, or that portion of it which belongs to London. He may have some enemy in town and we'll have to get a search going among his friends and acquaintances. I think you said you were going to ask your accomplice in crime detection, young Mr. Ricardo, to make inquiries. You can start him off as soon as possible, if you haven't already done so, and I'll get my men to work. Together we may find out something.”

“These wide fields of inquiry rather put me off my stroke,” remarked Vereker with a show of depression. “But I wired Ricardo this afternoon and let him loose. It's just the kind of thing he loves; a roving commission with a big cheque to cover his expenses.”

“He has been useful before,” remarked Heather. “He put the finishing touch to the Pleasure Cruise Mystery, if you remember. I've got to see Doctor Redgrave this afternoon, so I won't waste any more of your time.”

Heather rose and left the room and a few minutes later Vereker saw him walking briskly along the main road outside the “Dog and Partridge.” He sat and finished his cigarette and then thrusting his felt hat on his head sauntered out from the inn towards the village green. At one of the pumps on the green was a man filling a bucket. Accosting him, Vereker asked him if he knew where Lister, the village carrier, lived. The old man, after taking in with some difficulty what Vereker wanted, turned round and looked steadily across the green. Then slowly stretching out his hand pointed to a thatched cottage standing next to the village post office.

“That be Jack Lister's cottage,” he said solemnly and without further word began to pump water into a second pail which he had hung on the pump's spout.

Vereker thanked him and crossing the green went up to the cottage door and knocked. A middle-aged woman answered his summons and looked at him inquiringly without speaking.

“I believe Mr. Lister lives here,” said Vereker.

“Yes, sir, but he's out on his carrier's round to-day,” replied the woman. “What would you be wanting? I could give he your message when he come home. I be his wife.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Lister, but I don't particularly want to see your husband. I came to ask you when it would be convenient to see your daughter. She's in service with Mr. David Cornell and I'd like to have a chat with her on her half-day off if that could be arranged.”

“She's at home this afternoon, sir, and in the house just now. Will you please come in?”

Vereker entered, was shown into a little sitting-room and asked to take a seat while Mrs. Lister called her daughter. A few minutes later Mary Lister entered the room and closing the door behind her stood nervously hesitant, waiting for Vereker to declare his business.

“Miss Lister,” said Vereker rising, “I've come to have a confidential talk with you if I may.”

“Is it about the murder at the Manor?” asked the young woman directly.

“Well, no, not altogether,” said Vereker tentatively.

“For if it is, I know nothing about it, sir,” continued Mary with an air of finality. “Are you one of the detectives?”

“I'm a newspaper correspondent,” ventured Vereker reassuringly for he could see that Miss Lister was alarmed at the idea of being questioned by a detective.

“Oh,” said Mary with returning composure. “You gave me such a fright. I thought you belonged to Scotland Yard. In any case I don't think I can help you much because I know nothing of what goes on at the Manor.”

“I wasn't going to ask you anything about the Manor,” replied Vereker. “You see, I've got to write up this case for the papers and I must write about something. It's a difficult job to fill up the column of a newspaper and I've got to say something about the friends and relatives of the dead man. Any piece of news about them is welcome. You understand?”

“I see and will my name be in the papers if I can tell you anything?” asked Mary.

“Not unless you want it to be. If you'd rather I didn't mention your name, I won't.”

“I don't want to be in the papers at all…” commenced the young woman.

“Then you certainly shan't, Miss Lister. Please sit down and let me ask you some questions.”

“I won't promise to answer everything you ask,” said Mary and took a seat, sitting rather uncomfortably erect on the corner of a chair.

“Don't be afraid. I'm not going to ask you anything unpleasant or anything you can't answer without the least hesitation. You're in service with Mr. David Cornell, the blind brother of the late Mr. John Cornell?”

“Yes, sir, I've been with him two years in January next.”

“You ought to be very comfortable there, I should say. Mr. Cornell is a charming man and his daughter, Miss Stella, must be very easy to get on with.”

“I'm comfortable enough, sir, and they're easy people to work for. My wages are none too good. Two pounds a month is all I get beyond my keep. Do you come from London, sir?”

“Yes, but why?”

“They say a good general with plain cooking can get as much as a pound a week in London.”

“Yes, I daresay you could get that quite easily. Good servants are scarce and there's always a demand for a good general who can cook. But London's a dear place to live in and it's not like this lovely countryside.”

“The country don't appeal to me. I've lived here all my life and it's a dull old hole. If you want to go to a cinema you've got a one and sixpenny bus fare into Bury and there are only two days a week you can do that.”

“Still you might not get into such a nice family as the one you're with. There are only two in the house and your work must be fairly light.”

“Oh, yes, the work's easy and Miss Stella always does a big share of it though I wish she wouldn't.”

“You like Miss Stella?” asked Vereker.

“She's all right, sir. A bit particular, that's all.”

“You don't come home to sleep, Miss Lister?”

“No, sir. I'm up at six o'clock. Breakfast's at eight in the bungalow and it's more convenient for me to sleep there.”

“Do your employers keep late hours?” asked Vereker.

“Oh, yes, they stay up to all hours burning good oil. Miss Stella usually goes to bed at eleven and Mr. Cornell about midnight.”

“And yourself?”

“They have a meal about seven o'clock at night and after I've cleared away and washed up I can do as I please. Sometimes I sit up till ten if I've got a good book to read, but I'm generally in bed and asleep by nine.”

“What time did you go to bed on the night of Mr. Frank Cornell's murder?” asked Vereker.

“Now what has that to do with it?” asked Mary with sudden truculence.

“I was going to ask you if you'd heard anything unusual that night between midnight and, say, one o'clock. Any car passing by the bungalow on the main road, for instance.”

“No, I heard no car, though I was lying awake with the toothache.

“You have my sympathy. I sometimes get it myself. You should go and get the tooth pulled.”

“Not me. I don't want false teeth just yet,” replied Mary, and laughing, showed a perfect set of natural ones.

“Did you get up and take anything for it?”

“I took an aspirin and it relieved the pain.”

“And you positively heard nothing unusual during that time?”

“I heard either Miss Stella or Mr. Cornell moving about, but that's nothing unusual.”

“What time would that be?”