No Wind of Blame Page 24

  Upon reflection the Sergeant apologised, and said that he had spoken without thinking. He added: ‘We’ve got to remember that funny business at the shoot on Saturday, haven’t we?’

  ‘You’re right; we have. By all accounts, the Prince or Steel was responsible for that affair. Everyone seems to be agreed it couldn’t have been the doctor, nor yet young Dering.’

  ‘Well, that puts it on to one of the other two,’ said the Sergeant. ‘The murder, I mean.’

  ‘Funny,’ mused Hemingway. ‘I was thinking just the opposite.’

  ‘Why, sir?’

  ‘Psychology,’ replied Hemingway. ‘You’re jumping to conclusions, and that’s a very dangerous thing to do. I grant you it wouldn’t be a bad way of getting rid of anyone, to stage an accident at a shoot. But to my way of thinking the man that misses his victim one day and has a second shot at him the next must be plain crazy. And no question of accident about the second shot, either! The more I look at this case, the more I feel I want someone who wasn’t mixed up in Saturday’s little affair.’

  ‘Yes, I see,’ said Wake slowly. ‘That’s assuming the first affair was an accident. Gave the murderer the idea, so to speak, or at least made him feel it would be a good moment to bump off Carter, because we’d be bound to connect the two shootings.’

  ‘Yes, you speak for yourself !’ said the Inspector tartly.

  The Sergeant pondered a while, a frown creasing his brow. ‘You know, sir, I don’t like it,’ he pronounced at last. ‘When I get to thinking about the people who are mixed up in the case, I can’t but come to the conclusion there isn’t one of them has what you could call a real motive. That Prince said he could have got Mrs Carter to divorce Carter. I don’t say he could, and I’m not forgetting what Miss Cliffe told us, that Mrs Carter didn’t hold with divorce; but the way he talked you could see he thought himself such a one with the ladies he could get them to do anything he wanted. Well, then there’s Mr Steel. Of course I’m not saying he mightn’t have got all worked up to murder Carter, but what I ask myself is, why didn’t he do it any time these last two years?’

  ‘There’s an answer to that one,’ interposed the Inspector. ‘If Steel did it, it was the Baker-business set him off. We know the widow pitched in a tale to him that made him see red.’

  ‘That’s so,’ Wake admitted. ‘But would you say, from all we’ve been able to pick up, that it was the first time she’d complained to him about Carter?’

  ‘I wouldn’t, of course, but have you ever heard of the straw that broke the camel’s back?’

  ‘All right, sir: have it that it’s Steel we’re after. He’s more likely than either of those two girls, to my mind.’

  ‘Yes, you’ve got a lot of old-fashioned ideas,’ said the Inspector. ‘They’re a handicap to you.’

  ‘Well, what’s in your mind, sir?’ demanded Wake. ‘What are we going to do next?’

  ‘You’re going to do a bit of nosing around,’ replied Hemingway. ‘You can put young Jupp on to it, too. I’ve noticed he’s got quite a gift for getting people to open their hearts to him. Reminds me of what I was at his age, except that he isn’t as bright. Find out all you can about Carter. It strikes me he was the sort of chap that might have made a whole lot more enemies than we’ve yet seen. Meanwhile, I’m going to go into the question of this rifle, and who could have pinched it. I’ll see you later.’

  When he reached Palings, the Inspector found that Dr Chester was with Ermyntrude, and that Vicky had not returned from Fritton. Mary received him, and upon his disclosing his errand to her, said frankly: ‘I’ve been thinking over that question, and going over in my mind who could have taken the rifle out of the case, and walked off with it. And I do think that I ought, in fairness, to tell you that when the Prince left for Dr Chester’s house on Sunday, I saw him go, and he had nothing at all in his hands. Of course, I quite see that he might have taken the rifle earlier in the day, and hidden it somewhere on the way to the garage, but I don’t honestly see when he got the chance. I mean, it would surely have been taking the most frightful risk to have removed it from the gun-room during the morning, with all the servants about, not to speak of ourselves.’

  ‘Can you remember, miss, when you last saw the rifle in the gun-case?’

  ‘No, that’s the trouble: I can’t! I doubt if any of us could, because naturally we none of us have ever used Mr Fanshawe’s rifles. One just doesn’t notice things one isn’t interested in.’

  The Inspector nodded. ‘Well, casting your mind over young Baker’s visits to the house, could he have had the opportunity to take the rifle?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. Certainly not, when he called the second time. I wasn’t here when he called earlier in the day, but could he have carried off a rifle on his motor-cycle?’

  ‘Not without its being noticed, he couldn’t. I’m not setting much store by that first visit of his, I don’t mind telling you, miss. Stands to reason he wouldn’t have come up to the house again to see Mr Carter if he’d already made up his mind to shoot him, and pinched the weapon he meant to use. The question is, could he have known that there were rifles in the house?’

  Mary wrinkled her brow. ‘I shouldn’t think so. According to Miss Fanshawe, he didn’t even know that my cousin was married, so it doesn’t look as though he could have had any knowledge of the house, does it?’ She looked the Inspector in the eyes, ‘I could have taken the gun at any time; so could Miss Fanshawe. I shan’t say we didn’t, because you wouldn’t believe me. But I can tell you one thing: Mr Steel didn’t take the gun when he was here on Sunday, because I saw him when he came out of the drawing-room, where he’d been talking to Mrs Carter, and I was with him until he left the house, and drove off.’

  ‘For the sake of argument, miss, he could have come back while you were all at lunch, couldn’t he?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Mrs Carter had her lunch in the drawing-room, so that the butler was continually passing through the hall, to wait on her.’

  ‘No other way he could have got into the house than by the front-door?’

  ‘Well, yes, he could have entered through the garden-hall, or the morning-room, or the library. They both have French windows. But he’d still have run the risk of walking into one of the servants.’

  ‘Then it boils down to this, miss: you can’t think of anyone other than yourself or Miss Fanshawe who could have taken the rifle.’

  ‘Not on Sunday,’ Mary said. ‘And there’s no point in going back farther than that, is there?’

  ‘Have you got something in your mind, miss?’ said Hemingway, watching her.

  ‘No, not really. Only that I do know of one person who was in the gun-room on Saturday morning. But it isn’t helpful, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You never know. Who was it, miss?’

  ‘Mr White. My cousin had lent him a shot-gun, and he brought it back on his way to work on Saturday. I didn’t see him myself, but Mrs Carter told me about it.’

  ‘Did Mr White go into the gun-room, then?’

  ‘Yes, he did.’

  ‘Alone, miss?’

  ‘Yes. Mrs Carter said she didn’t see why she should bother to put the gun back in its place for him.’

  ‘And you don’t know of anyone else who went to the gun-room?’

  ‘No, but I quite see that almost anyone could have. The front-door is always open during the summer, and any number of people must know that Mrs Carter kept all her first husband’s rifles.’ She turned, for the morning-room door had opened, and Dr Chester had come out into the hall.

  Chester glanced from her to Hemingway. ‘Good morning, Inspector,’ he said. ‘I hope you haven’t come to upset my patient again?’

  ‘Oh no, I don’t think so, sir!’ replied Hemingway. ‘Very sorry Mrs Carter was upset yesterday, but if you don’t mind my saying so, you’d bett
er speak to Miss Fanshawe about that. That was her little show, not mine. Any objection to my seeing Mrs Carter?’

  ‘No,’ Chester said, re-opening the morning-room door. ‘None at all.’

  The Inspector passed into the room. Chester shut the door behind him, and looked across at Mary with the enigmatical expression in his eyes which always made her feel that he saw a great deal more than one wanted him to. ‘Tired, Mary?’

  She smiled, but with an effort. ‘A little. Rather bothered. How do you find Aunt Ermy?’

  ‘She’ll be all right. Nothing for you to worry about.’

  ‘I thought last night she was going to have a thorough breakdown. It’s absurd, Maurice, but she’s worrying herself sick over Vicky.’

  ‘Yes. I’ve assured her that there’s no need. I’d like to have a word with that young lady.’

  ‘You can’t; she’s gone to the Inquest, with Hugh.’

  Again he looked at her in that considering way of his. ‘Has she, indeed? Why?’

  ‘Oh, heaven knows! In search of a thrill, I dare say. She will have it that she’s closely concerned. She’ll probably treat us all to another act – Innocent girl suspected of Murder, or Mystery Woman, or something of that nature. I’m sorry to say Hugh rather encourages her. I suppose I must be lacking in a sense of humour, for I don’t find it amusing.’

  ‘No, nor I. Especially when she saddles me with Ermyntrude’s exalted foreign guests,’ said Chester dryly.

  ‘I feel terribly remorseful about that,’ confessed Mary. ‘Only you were so like the god in the car, that I jumped at your offer.’

  He smiled. ‘It’s all right, my dear.’

  ‘Is he a frightful scourge to you?’

  ‘Oh no! I don’t see much of him. He had some idea of coming round to explain himself to Ermyntrude, but I headed him off. I trust that the police will soon arrive at some conclusion about him.’

  She could not help laughing. ‘Maurice, you’ve no idea how cold-blooded that sounds! Between ourselves, do you think he did it?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ he replied shortly.

  ‘I can’t make up my mind about it. Somehow, it doesn’t seem possible that any one of the people suspected can have done such a thing.’

  ‘Nevertheless, it’s obvious that one of them must have.’

  ‘Couldn’t it have been someone quite different? Perhaps someone we don’t even know about?’

  ‘My dear, I’m not a detective. It doesn’t seem very likely to me.’

  ‘It sounds ridiculous, but I do rather wish you hadn’t been out on a case at the time. I feel you might have been more use than Dr Hinchcliffe.’

  ‘Rubbish! Your cousin was dead before Hinchcliffe got there.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that. Something might have struck you. You’re much cleverer than Dr Hinchcliffe. Everyone says so.’

  ‘Very gratifying, but if you’re imagining that I could have done anything more than he did, you’re quite wrong, Mary.’

  They were interrupted at this moment by Ermyntrude, who bounced out of the morning-room, with Inspector Hemingway on her heels. ‘Oh, there you are, love!’ she exclaimed. ‘Look, Mary, isn’t it a fact that Harold White was in the gun-room on Saturday, all by himself ?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve already told the Inspector so.’

  ‘And what’s more hadn’t Wally lent him a hundred pounds, which he hadn’t paid back?’

  ‘I don’t know how much it was, but certainly Wally did—’

  ‘Well, I do know, because I’ve been through the counterfoils of Wally’s old cheque-books,’ said Ermyntrude. ‘It’s as plain as a pikestaff he walked off with that rifle. I always said he was at the bottom of it!’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Mary patiently, ‘but you’re forgetting that Mr White can’t possibly have had anything to do with it, Aunt Ermy.’

  ‘Oh, don’t talk to me!’ said Ermyntrude, brushing this trifling objection aside. ‘If he didn’t actually do it himself, I dare say he got Alan to. Yes, and now I come to think of it, what was Alan doing when Wally was shot? All we’ve been told is that he was out. Out where, that’s what I should like to know?’

  ‘But, Aunt, why on earth should Alan shoot Wally? It isn’t even as though he’s on good terms with his father!’

  ‘I’m sure I don’t know, but I’ve always hated those Whites, and don’t anyone tell me that my instinct’s wrong, because a woman’s instinct never lies!’

  She threw a challenging glance at the Inspector, who replied promptly that he wouldn’t dream of telling her anything of the sort. ‘At the same time,’ he added, ‘if the story your daughter’s got hold of is true, madam, I’m bound to say Mr White should be the last person in the world to want Mr Carter dead.’

  ‘What’s this about my daughter?’ demanded Ermyntrude. ‘Have you been persecuting her again with your wicked, false suspicions?’

  ‘Aunt Ermy!’ began Mary in an imploring tone.

  ‘Don’t Aunt Ermy me!’ snapped Ermyntrude. ‘No one’s going to badger my girl, so understand that, once and for all. Over my dead body you may, but not while I’m alive to protect her!’

  The Inspector was not in the least ruffled by this unjust attack. He said cordially: ‘And I’m sure I don’t blame you! But as for my badgering her, she’s more likely to get me running round in circles, from all I’ve seen of her. Of course, it’s easy to see where she gets her spirit from. Same place as where she got her looks if you’ll pardon my saying so, madam.’

  Ermyntrude was naturally a little mollified by this speech, but she said sternly: ‘Well, what business had you with her today?’

  ‘I hadn’t,’ replied the Inspector. ‘It was she who had business with me, and since you’re bound to hear about it from her, I don’t mind telling you that she thinks she’s discovered the reason why your husband went to see Mr White on Sunday.’

  ‘She has?’ Mary exclaimed. ‘Are you sure she wasn’t – well, pulling your leg?’

  ‘I wouldn’t be sure, only that Mr Dering was there, fairly egging her on to tell me all,’ replied Hemingway candidly.

  ‘Oh! Was I right, then? Had my cousin got some deal on with White and Jones?’

  ‘According to Miss Fanshawe, he had. Which, if true, doesn’t make it look as though he’d have shot your husband, now does it, madam?’

  Mary pushed back a lock of hair from her brow. ‘But surely there isn’t any question of that?’ she said. ‘I understood that he wasn’t even in sight of the bridge when my cousin was shot! He couldn’t have had anything to do with it!’

  ‘As a matter of fact, he couldn’t,’ admitted the Inspector. ‘However, I’m not one to set myself up against a woman’s instinct. Broad-minded, that’s what I am.’

  Ermyntrude looked suspiciously at him, but he met her gaze so unblushingly that she decided that he was not being sarcastic at her expense. ‘I don’t know anything about where he was standing when Wally was shot,’ she said. ‘Ten to one, it’s a pack of lies, for though I’ve nothing against the girl I wouldn’t trust Janet White further than I could see her, while as for Sam Jones, if ever there was a wrong ’un, he’s one! All I do know is that White brought my poor first husband’s shot-gun back on Saturday morning, and what’s more no one went with him into the gun-room! I’m sure I don’t know who else had as good an opportunity to make off with that rifle, unless it was that young man that came blackmailing Wally. I suppose you aren’t going to accuse the Bawtrys or the Derings of having stolen it!’

  ‘But, Aunt Ermy, they aren’t the only people who could have taken it! There’s all Sunday to be reckoned with, remember.’

  ‘The only people we had here on Sunday were Bob Steel and you, Maurice. And if you’re going to tell me Bob took the gun you can spare your breath, for it’s a lie.’ She broke off, frowning, and the
n said triumphantly: ‘Now I come to think of it, didn’t Alan White come over on Sunday morning to play tennis? There you are, then! Not but what I still say it was White himself took the rifle, and nothing will ever make me alter my opinion.’

  The Inspector regarded her with visible awe. At that moment Peake came into the hall from the servants’ wing. Hemingway lifted an imperative finger. ‘Just you come here a minute, will you?’ he said. ‘Did you happen to see Mr White on Saturday morning, when he brought back the shot-gun he’d borrowed off Mr Carter?’

  ‘I did not see Mr White arrive, Inspector.’

  ‘Did you see him at all, that’s what I want to know?’

  ‘I encountered Mr White coming out of the gun-room. I was momentarily taken aback, but Mr White explained that he had madam’s leave to replace the gun.’

  ‘Did you notice whether he was carrying anything?’

  ‘Yes, Inspector, Mr White had his case in his hand.’

  ‘What case?’ demanded the Inspector.

  ‘That’s right,’ corroborated Ermyntrude. ‘He brought the gun back in a case of his own, and I said at the time it was just like my husband to lend the gun out of its case.’

  ‘An ordinary shot-gun case?’ said the Inspector.

  ‘No, a nasty, cheap-looking thing,’ replied Ermyntrude.

  Peake coughed behind his hand. ‘If I might be allowed to explain to the Inspector, madam? Mr White was carrying what is known as a hambone-case.’

  ‘He was, was he? Was he carrying anything else?’

  ‘No, Inspector, nothing else.’

  ‘Did you see him out of the house?’

  ‘Certainly I did,’ answered Peake, slighty affronted.

  ‘All right, that’s all.’ He waited until the butler had departed, and then said with all the air of one whose most cherished illusion has been shattered: ‘There, now, we shall have to give up thinking about White after all. Seems a pity, but there it is.’

  ‘I don’t see why,’ said Ermyntrude. ‘Something tells me he did it!’