The Affair of the Mutilated Mink (20 page)

In spite of this resolve, however, the Countess found herself gradually revealing more and more. She was almost reduced to gossiping. The fact dismayed and astonished her. But such was Allgood's technique that she seemed unable to help herself, even relating conversations she had had with Cecily - not to mention those with Maude Fry and Jemima Dove. At last Allgood thanked her and she departed, looking more than a little shaken.

The Chief Superintendent sat with his brows furrowed, staring down at the table and drumming on it with his fingers. Then he looked up.

Wilkins said, 'Carter now, sir?' He sounded apprehensive.

Allgood smiled. 'Not just yet. I want to see the scene of the crime. Take me up.'

Wilkins led him up to the second floor, and Allgood made a quick but thorough examination of Laura's bedroom. He glanced in the bathroom opposite, and with the help of Wilkin's plan familiarised himself with who occupied each of the bedrooms. They then went back down to the music room and Allgood said, 'Right. Now for Carter.'

Paul came warily into the room. He was very pale. Allgood eyed him keenly from under his bushy eyebrows, his eyes seeming to burn into Paul. Paul gazed back unflinchingly.

'Sit down,' Allgood ordered curtly.

Paul did so. Allgood said, 'Now, Carter, I have to tell you that I have absolutely cast-iron proof that you shot Signorina Lorenzo.'

From his position behind Paul, Wilkins stared at Allgood in amazement. Paul drew in a quick, sharp breath - but didn't move.

'So,' Allgood went on, 'further denial is useless and will only make things worse for you. Far better to plead manslaughter, or even call it an accident. So tell the truth now and I promise the police won't press for a murder charge. You won't hang.'

Paul looked at him long and silently. 'You're bluffing,' he said.

'What do you mean?'

'About having cast-iron proof. There isn't any. There couldn't be. Because I didn't do it.'

Allgood was quite unabashed. 'All right. I was bluffing. But if you did do it, there
is
evidence — somewhere. And I'll get it. And you will hang. You've got one more chance now to change your mind. The promise stands. Understood?'

'Yes.'

'Well.'

'I'm changing nothing.'

'As you wish. Then give me your version of what happened.'

'I've already given it to Wilkins.'

'Now give it to me.'

'Well, in the first place, Gerry and I didn't get back from the party until nearly two a.m. last night. That was because I ran out of petrol.'

Allgood cut him short. 'No, no, start much earlier.'

'At what point?'

'At Signorina Lorenzo's arrival on Thursday afternoon.'

'Are you serious?'

'Perfectly. Recount to me everything you can remember about what people said and did. Then tell me about the talk you mentioned to Wilkins, which you had with her on Friday morning, and go on to an account of the events of Friday evening - up until the time you left this party at Sir James Needham's.'

'Well, I'll do my best.'

Paul's account, though hesitant and somewhat abbreviated, was accurate in all essential respects. When he'd finished, Allgood gave a nod.

'Very good. Now you can revert to the point at which you were going to start earlier.'

This time Paul's narrative was virtually identical with that given to Wilkins at the police station. Then began one of the toughest and most searching interrogations Wilkins had ever heard. Drawing solely on memory, Allgood went over the whole of Paul's story, throwing question after question about every conceivable aspect of it, trying to make him slip up or contradict himself. Wilkins found his admiration for Allgood's technique growing every second.

At the end of twenty minutes Paul was sweating. But he hadn't budged from his story. It was a display as impressive as Allgood's own.

Eventually Allgood said, 'Now tell me about your relationship with the other people in this house.'

'What, all of them?'

'Start with your fellow guests.'

'Well, there isn't one - a relationship, I mean. I didn't know any of them except Hugh Quartus before Thursday, and my conversation with most of them has been limited to small talk. I've had a couple of yarns with Rex Ransom.'

'And what about Quartus?'

'I'd met him a few times.'

'And you don't get on?'

'Not really.'

'Was last night the first time you've come to blows?'

'We didn't come to blows.'

'That wasn't for want of trying, though, was it?'

'Well, nothing like it has ever happened before. We were just cold and tired and irritable. And I suppose he was a bit jealous.'

'Of you and Lady Geraldine?' Paul nodded. 'You're in love with her?'

'Yes.'

'And she with you?'

'I - I think so. I hope so.'

'And Quartus resents this?'

'Naturally. Wouldn't you?'

'Are you suggesting he resents it enough to try and frame you for murder?'

'Of course not! He wouldn't do a thing like that.'

'Yet you're saying somebody did.'

'The frame-up needn't have been set specifically for me - just for anyone who came along the corridor at the right time.'

'I see. Very well, Carter, that'll be all.'

'Aren't you going to charge me?'

'When I decide to charge you, you'll be the first to know.'

Paul got up a little uncertainly, threw a glance at Wilkins, crossed to the door, and went out. Wilkins looked at Allgood, who'd started writing busily, and cleared his throat.

'Well, sir?'

Allgood looked up. 'Well, what?'

'What do you think about Mr Carter? Was I right not to—?'

'My thoughts remain my own, Wilkins, until I've seen everybody. Next, I want to see—' He broke off as a knock came at the door and barked, 'Come.'

The door opened and Sergeant Leather came in. He addressed Wilkins. 'Sorry to interrupt, sir. I've been waiting outside for you to finish with Mr Carter.'

'What is it?' Allgood asked.

'I thought you'd want to see this straight away, sir.' He brought his hand from behind his back and for a split second Wilkins thought he was carrying the body of a drowned cat. Then he realised the truth. 'The mink!'

'Yes, sir. Sorry to roll it up like this, but I thought you mightn't want Mr Carter or anyone else to spot it before you saw it.'

'Where was it?' Allgood snapped.

'Outside, sir. Right underneath Miss Lorenzo's window. It's soaking wet. Must have been there since about the time of the murder. Thrown out of the window, if you ask me.'

'I don't,' Allgood said. 'Why wasn't it spotted before?'

'Covered in snow, sir. There's been quite a little drift there. The coat was spread out as though it had sort of floated down. It lay on the snow drift and then another layer formed on top of it. It's been thawing during the course of the day and gradually the coat was exposed.'

Wilkins nodded to himself in a satisfied way. 'I had a kind of feeling it would turn up of its own accord sooner or later.'

Allgood glanced at him sharply before saying to Leather, 'You should have left it where it was.'

'I would have, sir. But one of the maids spotted it when she went to draw the curtains in one of the ground floor rooms. Slipped straight out, picked it up and brought it to me. I was having a spot of tea in the kitchen at the time.'

'Looked in the pockets?' Wilkins asked.

'Yes, sir, but there's nothing. There is something curious about it, though. Take a look.'

Leather gave a shake to the wet bundle of fur and the folds fell open. He held the coat by the shoulders and raised it high. 'See what I mean, sir?'

Allgood and Wilkins both stared.

In four different parts of the coat jagged holes had been cut.

Allgood's eyes narrowed. 'Extraordinary! Why the deuce . . . ?' He stopped and was silent for a few seconds before saying, 'Lay it down on the floor.'

Leather did so. Allgood knelt down by it and examined the holes in turn. Each one was of a different shape, but all were about four or five inches across. Allgood remained kneeling, staring down at the coat without speaking for a full minute before suddenly getting to his feet, picking up the coat as he did so.

He said, 'I want to see where these holes come when the coat's being worn. Wilkins, it'll fit you better than the sergeant or me. Put it on.'

Wilkins took the coat gingerly. 'Bit wet, sir.'

'Only for a minute or so, man. You're not made of sugar!'

Leather helped Wilkins into the coat and he stood, looking rather absurd, as Allgood walked slowly round him.

Two of the holes were in the back: one up high in the left shoulder, the other about six inches from the bottom, in the centre. The third was also low down, in the front, while the fourth was in the left breast.

Leather said, 'Just sheer vandalism, do you think, sir? Someone venting their hatred?'

Allgood made an impatient gesture for him to be silent. His brow was furrowed in thought. Eventually he gave a shake of his head. 'It's no good. I'll need time to work it out. Get it off, Wilkins. All right, sergeant, take it away. But mind you keep it safe.'

'Right, sir.' Leather went to the door and opened it. Then he stopped. Gerry was standing outside.

She said, 'I want to see Mr Allgood.' She came into the room.

Allgood said, 'Ah, Lady Geraldine? What can I do for you?'

'I want to say I don't think it's fair, the way you're treating Paul. Mr Wilkins has cleared him once. Why can't you accept that - or at least tell him exactly where he stands? The suspense is killing him.'

'It wasn't suspense that killed Laura Lorenzo.'

'But Paul didn't do that.'

'You have evidence for that assertion?'

'No, but the idea's absurd. I know him.'

'Then who do you think did do it?'

'Arlington Gilbert.'

'Why him?'

She took a deep breath. 'I'll have to tell you rather a long story. It's a little embarrassing, I'm afraid. It all started with a silly and impulsive practical joke.'

* * *

'It's obvious what he was after in the study,' Gerry concluded, a few minutes later. 'The key to the gun room. I don't think he got it
then
. When I disturbed him the safe was definitely locked. Perhaps, though, he'd just been checking that the key actually was there, ready for the following night, and had already re-closed it. There'd have been lots of opportunities to go back on Friday and get it. Though don't ask me how he knew the combination.'

'And you say that on Friday morning Signorina Lorenzo seemed very anxious to speak to him?'

She nodded. 'And she stayed with him quite a long time.'

'Do you have any corroboration for any of this story?' Allgood asked.

She stiffened, 'No.'

'Pity.'

'I'm surprised you think it's necessary.' Her voice was cold.

'Corroboration is always useful if I'm going to question someone about alleged suspicious behaviour.'

'Oh, you are going to do that, then?' she said sarcastically.

'Naturally. But with nobody else involved, he has only to deny the whole thing.'

'Nobody else was involved in my encounter with him, but he was mixed up in some other funny business.'

'What precisely?'

'You'll have to ask—' She broke off.

'Ask whom?'

She hesitated. 'I was going to say Rex Ransom. But it won't do any good. He'll probably deny it.'

'Why should he?'

'I don't know. But, well - I hate to say this, because I like him - but in the circumstances I suppose I've got to tell you. He really behaved very oddly.'

'Can you be a bit more specific?'

She recounted first Rex's request for her to let Gilbert stay on, then their conversation while out riding, and finally told about her visit to his suite the previous night.

'What time was this last conversation?' Allgood asked.

'About ten past two. I looked at my wrist watch just before I left my room.'

'And you left Ransom how long before you heard the shot?'

'About five minutes.'

'And then you ran the full length of the two corridors and found Carter holding the gun?'

'That's right.'

'Very well, Lady Geraldine, rest assured I shall look into all these matters. Now, is there any further information you wish to give me? Any other unusual incidents you can remember? Anything you learnt about the other guests that might be significant? Any interesting conversations?'

'No.'

'Anything you can tell me about Laura Lorenzo?'

'I don't think—' She stopped.

'You've thought of something?'

'It's very trivial.'

'I'll be the judge of that.'

'It's just that when I went to her room to tell her we were ready to leave, she was writing a letter. She put it out of sight in her writing case - rather furtively, I thought. And she was over-eager to tell me quite unnecessarily that it was a reply to a fan.'

'Which you don't believe?'

'No. Paul said it was probably just a love letter to a boyfriend back home, but I think it was to her agent in London. Then, when she discovered she'd missed the post, she decided to telephone him that night. But our phone was out of order. It must have been important.'

'What did she do with the letter?'

'Put it in the dressing-table drawer, still inside the writing case.'

When Gerry had left, Allgood said to Wilkins 'Your men went through the deceased's effects?'

'Yes, sir. There was no letter among them.'

'Then where is it?'

'Presumably the murderer took it, sir.'

'Possibly. Which would mean it was incriminating to him in some way. But let's not jump to conclusions. The lady might have burnt it herself. After all, if Lady Geraldine's right about it - and it seems a plausible theory - the signorina was expecting to see her agent before any letter could reach him. Why she should
bother
to burn it, I don't know. However, let's assume she did throw it on the fire when she got back—'

Allgood broke off in mid-sentence. Slowly he stood up. The expression on his face had suddenly changed. It was as if a great light had dawned.