Death in the Stocks (16 page)

Giles disregarded this. 'Don't play the fool. You're not dealing with a fool.'

'Is that your advice?' demanded Roger incredulously. 'It is.'

'Well, I don't think much of it. You can't expect me to change my habits at my time of life. I've always had a gift for taking things cheerfully.'

'This particular brand of cheerfulness is likely to land you in trouble,' said Giles rather sternly.

There was a distinct gleam of intelligence in the hazy, bloodshot eyes. 'Oh no, it isn't!' said Roger. 'Nobody's going to land me in trouble. Of course, I don't say that there may not be a Beat deal of unpleasantness. I daresay there will be. But Tony's been telling me all about this murder, and it looks pretty water-tight to me. You haven't got any clues at all, not even a finger print; you don't know who was with Arnold that night - in fact, you don't know anything at all except that he was murdered.'

'We have one clue,' said Hannasyde. 'The weapon which was used.'

'Well, you prove that it belonged to me and you'll be cleverer than I take you for,' retorted Roger. 'You won't do it, because it didn't belong to me. Then where are you? Back at the beginning again. You'd much better give it up now.'

'Thank you,' said Hannasyde. 'If you don't mind, I'll stick to it a little longer. I should take your cousin's advice, if I were you. What did you do when you reached London?'

'This and that,' said Roger airily.

'For one who is so convinced that nothing will land him in trouble you are singularly reluctant to admit that you went to call on your brother, Mr Vereker.'

'Ah, you did know that, did you?' nodded Roger. 'Oh, well, that makes it easier, I must say. I was getting very tired of hedging. Yes, I went to call on Arnold.'

'A very natural thing to do,' agreed Hannasyde.

'Of course it was a natural thing to do. I hadn't any money left.'

'I see. Am I to understand that you shared your halfbrother's and sister's dislike of him?'

'No, I didn't dislike him,' said Roger, reflecting. 'Not that I've really considered the matter.'

'You were, in fact, indifferent?'

'That's it,' said Roger. 'Just the word I wanted. Though I must say that now I know what he was worth, I'm not at all surprised he was disliked. Mean, very mean. You'd hardly believe this, but fifty pounds was all I could get out of him, and he only gave me that because he didn't want it to get about that a brother of his was spending the night on the Embankment. He'd picked up a lot of very respectable ideas, I thought. Didn't like me coming to his house at all. If I were one of these sensitive people, which thank God I'm not, I should have been quite offended at the way he took it. You'd hardly believe it, but he only gave me that miserable fifty pounds on condition I didn't come near him again.'

'I'm surprised you were satisfied with fifty pounds, Mr Vereker.'

'I wasn't at all satisfied with it, but I'm a reasonable man, and you can't expect people to carry much more than fifty pounds on them. Besides, I didn't know he'd made such a packet out of the old mine.'

Antonia suddenly elected to take part in the conversation, and said forcefully: 'Look here, I don't want to crab your story, but if it's got to be Kenneth or you or me (the murderer, I mean), I'd rather it was you. So don't tell me you were going to fade out of Arnold's life for fifty pounds!'

'Certainly not,' replied her imperturbable half-brother. 'As a matter of fact, the story is rather funny. Because I hadn't actually thought how much Arnold was probably good for. The poor fellow was very upset at seeing me; oh, very upset! Well, you can't really blame him, because I've always been the disreputable member of the family, and. I daresay he was afraid I might drag the name in the mud, or something. Naturally, as soon as I saw how green he was looking I realised that this was where I tried my hand at a little polite blackmail. I said I'd come to stay with him. He didn't like that at all. In fact, he got a bit violent at one time. However, he cooled off after a bit and offered me fifty pounds to clear out. So I pocketed that, and said I'd think it over. Then he came out with what he thought was a very good idea, though I wasn't so struck with it myself. He was to give me a ticket to Australia, or any other place I liked at the other side of the world, and pay me two hundred pounds a year for as long as I stopped there.'

'I call that a good offer,' said Antonia.

'Yes, only I don't want to go to Australia,' explained Roger.

'What has become of the money your father left you?' asked Giles.

Roger looked faintly surprised. 'I don't know. That was a long time ago. You don't expect money to last for ever. Anyway, it didn't.'

'Good lord!' said Giles. 'Well, go on!'

'Forgotten where I was. All this talk is making me very thirsty,' said Roger, getting up and going across the room to the sideboard. 'Anyone else join me in a spot?' Receiving no answer to this invitation, he said: 'Oh, well!' and poured himself out a double whisky. Armed with that he returned to his chair.

'That's better,' he said. 'Where was I?'

'Two hundred pounds a year to stay in Australia,' prompted Hannasyde.

'Yes, that's right. Well, I said I'd think it over, and Arnold said I could take it or leave it. I may have been a trifle rash — though I don't think so, because from all I've heard Australia wouldn't suit me at all - but I said I'd leave it. That was more or less the end of the meeting. Arnold had a date, and wanted to be off.'

'With whom?' asked Hannasyde quickly.

'How on earth should I know? I didn't ask him.'

'Do you know where he meant to dine?'

'Look here,' said Roger, 'you don't seem to have got the hang of things very well at all. We weren't having a friendly chat.'

'Very well,' said Hannasyde. 'What happened next?'

'Oh, nothing much! I told Arnold he could give me a lift as far as Piccadilly, and we got into his car and drove off. He didn't much want to give me a lift, but he seemed to be afraid I might tell his butler who I was, or something, if he refused. On the way he said his offer would stand open till Monday, and I could think it over. However, the more I thought about it the less I liked the scheme. Besides, I'd got fifty pounds.'

The Superintendent was watching him closely. 'So what did you do, Mr Vereker?'

'I went to Monte Carlo,' replied Roger.

'You went to Monte Carlo?' repeated the Superintendent.

'Seemed an obvious thing to do,' said Roger. 'I've been wanting to try out a System for some time.'

'You threw away a certain two hundred a year for a flimsy chance of making some money gambling?'

'Why not?' asked Roger, eyeing him blandly.

The Superintendent glanced rather helplessly at Giles. Giles's lips quivered.

'Yes, that's in the part,' he said.

Hannasyde turned back to Roger. 'When did you leave for Monte Carlo?'

'Next morning,' said Roger.

'On Sunday?'

'I daresay it may have been a Sunday. I didn't notice.'

'So that on the night of 17th June you were in England?'

'That's right,' agreed Roger. 'If I'd known that Arnold was going to be murdered, I wouldn't have been, but it can't be helped now.'

'Where did you spend that night, Mr Vereker?' Roger finished what was left in his glass, and set it down. His sleepy gaze travelled from one intent face to the other.

'Well, that's a very awkward question,' he confessed.

'Why is it an awkward question?'

'Because I don't know what to say,' answered Roger. The Superintendent's brows began to draw together.

'You can say where you were on the night of 17th June, Mr Vereker!'

'Well, that's where you're wrong,' said Roger. 'I can't.'

'Why not?'

'Because,' said Roger simply, 'I don't know.'

Chapter Sixteen

His words produced an astonished silence. He smiled in his apologetic way and took advantage of his audience's surprise to get up and replenish his glass. 'We shall be needing some more whisky, Tony,' he remarked. 'Thought I'd better mention it.'

The Superintendent found his voice. 'You don't know where you spent the night of 17th June?' he repeated.

'No,' said Roger. 'I don't.'

'Come, Mr Vereker, that is not quite good enough!' There was a note of anger in Hannasyde's voice, but it left Roger unmoved. 'Well, I was in London. That I can tell you.'

'For God's sake, Roger, pull yourself together!' his cousin besought him. 'You dined at the Trocadero, didn't you?'

Roger thought this over. 'Wasn't it the Monico?' he inquired.

'Did you pay for your dinner with a ten-pound note?' demanded Hannasyde.

'Now you come to mention it, I believe I did,' Roger admitted. 'Wanted change, you see.'

'Very well, then, we can assume that you dined at the Trocadero,' said Hannasyde. 'What time was it when you left the restaurant?'

'I don't know,' said Roger.

There was no trace of his usual kindliness in the Superintendent's face by this time. His grey eyes were stern, his mouth set rather rigidly. 'Very well, Mr Vereker. Do you happen to know what you did when you left the Trocadero?'

Roger performed a vague gesture with one hand. 'Just drifted about here and there,' he said.

'Did you spend the night in a hotel or a boardinghouse?'

'No,' said Roger.

'You booked no room anywhere?'

'No,' repeated Roger, still amiably smiling. 'Left my bag at the station.'

'Mr Vereker, you cannot have walked about London all night. Will you be good enough to put an end to this farce, and tell me without any more trifling - where you were?'

'The trouble is I don't know where I was,' replied Roger, with the air of one making a fresh disclosure. 'You see, I didn't give the address to the taxi-driver, which accounts for it.'

'You were with someone, then?'

'That's it,' said Roger. 'I was with a friend.'

'And your friend's name?'

'Flossie,' said Roger. 'At least it may have been Florence, but that's what I called her.'

At this point Giles turned away rather hastily, and walked over to the window. The Superintendent was in no mood to share his obvious amusement, and merely rapped out: 'Flossie who?'

'Well, there you rather have me,' said Roger. 'I didn't ask her. I mean, why should I?'

'I see,' said the Superintendent. 'You spent the night at an address you don't know, with a woman whose name you don't know. Is that what you expect me to believe?'

'It doesn't matter to me what you believe,' said Roger. 'You can do as you like about it. The point is you can't prove I didn't. And don't go rounding up all the Flossies in London for me to identify, because, though I'm not a shy man, I'll be damned if I'll do that.'

Antonia, joining her cousin by the window, said wistfully: 'I do wish Kenneth were here.'

'I'm thankful he isn't,' said Giles.

She said more softly: 'Do you think Roger did it, Giles?'

'God knows!'

At the other end of the studio Superintendent Hannasyde was speaking. 'Was it the news of your brother's death which brought you back from Monte Carlo, Mr Vereker?'

'Oh no!' said Roger. 'I didn't know anything about that. As a matter of fact, that particular System didn't work out right. Of course, I may have muddled it, but I'm inclined to think it wasn't a good one. However, it's made me think of something that I rather fancy may be pretty useful, so it doesn't much matter. Only it was a pity they would insist on sending me home, because I might have raised some money somehow or other. I told them I wasn't going to commit suicide - well, do I look the sort of man who'd shoot himself? Of course I don't! - but it was no use.'

'Do you never read the papers, Mr Vereker? Your brother's death was widely reported.'

'I wouldn't say never,' replied Roger conscientiously. 'Occasionally one hasn't anything better to do, but there's always something better to do at Monte Carlo. And if you think it over you'll see that if I read the papers, and knew about Arnold being murdered, I shouldn't have come home.'

'As far as I can make out you had no choice in the matter,' said Hannasyde tartly.

'Now, don't start losing your temper,' advised Roger. 'No one forced me to come and look my relations up, so I could quite easily have lain low till it all blew over.'

'You had to look your relations up, as you call it, because you were badly in need of money,' said Hannasyde.

That's perfectly true,' conceded Roger, 'but if you'd been broke as many times as I have you'd know that there are always ways of rubbing along somehow. You don't suppose I should go shoving my head into a noose just because I wanted some money, do you?'

'I think,' said Hannasyde, getting up, 'that in common with your half-brother, you suffer from a delusion that you are clever enough to get away with anything. Therefore I judge that you are very likely to have done just that.'

'Have it your own way,' said Roger equably. 'And, talking of money, I want to talk business with my cousin when you're quite finished asking me questions.'

'I have finished,' said Hannasyde. He turned. 'Goodbye, Miss Vereker. I'm sorry to have interrupted your tea-party.' He nodded to Giles Carrington and walked over to the door.

'You don't understand me at all,' complained Roger. 'I don't pretend to be clever. In fact, most people seem to think I'm a bit of a fool. Not that I agree with that, because I'm not a fool by any means. And while we're on the subject, it's my belief Kenneth isn't half what he's cracked up to be either. You may think he's very bright, but all I can say is -'

The door closed behind the Superintendent. Roger looked slightly pained, but quite resigned. 'Gone off in a huff,' he remarked. 'One of those touchy people.'

However, there were no signs of ill-humour about Hannasyde when, some hours later, he faced Giles Carrington across a dinner-table. He had accepted Giles's invitation to dinner without any hesitation, and the twinkle in his eye was clearly discernible as he remarked: 'I can't make up my mind which of your cousins I would most like to convict of this murder. Are you letting that - that lunatic get his hands on the Vereker fortune?'

'What can we do?' shrugged Giles. 'He's the heir all right. How does he strike you?'

'I should hate to be rude about any relative of yours,' replied Hannasyde grimly.

'Do you believe his story?'

'No. But I can't say I disbelieve it either. I'm doing what I can to check up on it, of course - without much hope of success. I'm also making inquiries at all the likely restaurants - so far without any success at all. I can't discover where Arnold Vereker dined on the night of his death. That's what I really want to know. All these suspects, promising as they seem to be, with their motives and their lack of alibis, are nothing but a lot of blind alleys. If Kenneth Vereker didn't exist, everything would point to Roger. But Kenneth does exist, and there's not a penny to choose between him and Roger. Both had the same motive, neither has a credible alibi. But which am I to arrest?' He took a salted almond from the dish in front of him and ate it. 'I'm pinning my hopes to the finding of the restaurant where Arnold Vereker dined that night, if he did dine at one. Hemingway has a photograph of him, which he's trotting round, and of course we've made inquiries at all his usual haunts. But we have to face the fact that he may have dined at a private house - with one of his lady-loves probably. I think I've seen most of them, but you never know. At Cavelli's where he seems to have been a pretty frequent visitor, they tell me he had been in the habit, lately, of bringing a new lady to dine there - dark, good-looking girl, unknown to Cavelli. On the other hand, the head waiter at the Cafe Morny says that the last time Vereker was there he had an ash-blonde in tow. It isn't very helpful, is it?'

'The trouble is, it was too simple a murder,' said Giles. 'Now had you found my cousins's body in a locked room, the key on the inside, all the windows bolted -'

Hannasyde smiled. 'Oh, yes, that would have been easy compared with this,' he said. 'We should at least have had something to go on. It's always the straight forward killings that present the worst difficulties. Once people start being too clever, and try to present us with insoluble mysteries, they are apt to give themselves away. These apparently impossible murders are like a good chess problem - mate in three moves, and only one possible solution. But when you get a perfectly simple murder like this, you can see at least half a dozen ways of bringing off a mate, and the Lord only knows which is the right one!'

Giles picked up the decanter, and refilled both the glasses. 'I see I shall have to take a hand in this myself!' he said meditatively.

The Superintendent laughed. 'Talented amateur, eh? I wish you luck!'

'You never know,' murmured Giles.

Hannasyde looked up quickly. 'Have you got hold of something?'

'No,' said Giles. 'Can't say I have.'

'I don't trust you,' said Hannasyde bluntly. 'For two pins you'd conceal some vital clue from me - if you could.'

'Oh no!' said Giles. 'Not unless I thought divulging it would lead to a family scandal. But don't be alarmed: I haven't discovered a vital clue.'

Hannasyde looked suspicious, but beyond requesting his host not to attempt to pull any Quick-Watson! stunts during the course of his amateur investigations, he said no more about it.

Almost immediately after dinner he took his leave, and nearly collided on the stairs, on his way out, with Antonia Vereker, who was being towed up at a great rate by one of her dogs.

She betrayed no embarrassment at meeting Hannasyde, but said 'Hullo,' in her casual way, adding darkly that she always knew her cousin was playing a double game.

'I shouldn't be surprised,' agreed Hannasyde, stooping to pat Bill. 'I've just told him I don't trust him myself.'

She smiled. 'He's nice, isn't he?' she said ingenuously.

'Very nice.'

There was a quizzical look in Hannasyde's eye, though his voice remained perfectly grave. Antonia was quite impervious to it. 'Rather a bore for him, all this,' she said. 'Specially as he's always disapproved of us, more or less. However, it can't be helped.' She nodded in a friendly way, and went on up the stairs.

The Superintendent resumed his progress down the stairs, wondering by what sign (hidden from his own trained eye) Miss Vereker deduced that her cousin disapproved of her.

Disapproval was certainly not the predominant emotion visible in Giles Carrington's face when Antonia was ushered into his sitting-room. He got up quickly from a deep chair, and stretched out his hand. 'Tony! My dear child, what on earth brings you here? Has anything happened?'

'Oh no!' replied Antonia. 'Only I got fed-up with everybody at the flat, and thought I'd come and see if you were in. Can I have some coffee?'

Giles said: 'Yes, of course. But you ought not to be here at all, you know. In fact, as soon as you've had your coffee I'm going to take you home again.'