Georgette Heyer_Inspector Hannasyde 04 Read online

  'I'm now definitely upset,' said Neville. 'I think I'll go to bed.'

  She said distressfully: 'Oh dear, is it what I've told you? But it's bound to come out, so you had to know sooner or later.'

  'Not my uncle; my aunt!' said Neville.

  'You do say such odd things, dear,' she said. 'You're over wrought, and no wonder. Ought I to offer that policeman some refreshment?'

  He left her engaged in conversation with the officer on duty in the hall, and went up to his own room. After a short interval his aunt tapped on his door, desiring to know whether he felt all right. He called out to her that he was quite all right, but sleepy, and so after exchanging good nights with him, and promising not to disturb him again, Miss Fletcher went away to her own bedroom in the front of the house.

  Neville Fletcher, having locked his door, climbed out of his window, and reached the ground by means of a stout drain-pipe, and the roof of the verandah outside the drawing-room.

  The garden lay bathed in moonlight. In case a watch had been set over the side entrance, Neville made his way instead to the wall at the end of the garden, which separated it from the Arden Road. Espaliers trained up it made the scaling of it a simple matter. Neville reached the top, lowered himself on the other side, and let himself drop. He landed with the ease of the trained athlete, paused to light a cigarette, and began to walk westwards along the road. A hundred yards brought him to a cross road running parallel to Maple Grove. He turned up it, and entered the first gateway he came to. A big, square house was sharply outlined by the moonshine, lights shining through the curtains of several of the windows. One of these, on the ground-floor to the left of the front door, stood open. Neville went to it, parted the curtains, and looked into the room.

  A woman sat at an escritoire, writing, the light of a reading-lamp touching her gold hair with fire. She wore evening dress, and a brocade cloak hung over the back of her chair. Neville regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, and then stepped into the room.

  She looked up quickly, and gave a sobbing gasp of shock. The fright of her eyes gave place almost immediately to an expression of relief. Colour rushed into her lovely face; she caught her hand to her breast, saying faintly: 'Neville! Oh, how you startled me!'

  ' That's nothing to what I've been through tonight,' replied Neville. 'Such fun and games at Greystones, my dear: you wouldn't believe!'

  She shut her blotter upon her half-finished letter. 'You haven't got them?' she asked, between eagerness and incredulity.

  'All I've got is the jitters,' said Neville. He strolled over to her, and to her surprise went down on his knee.

  'Neville, what on earth – ?'

  His hand clasped her ankle. 'Let's have a look at your foot, my sweet.' He pulled it up and studied her silver kid shoe. 'O my prophetic soul! Now we are in a mess, aren't we? Just like your pretty little slippers.' He let her go, and stood up.

  Swift alarm dilated her eyes. She glanced down at her shoes, and twitched the folds of her frock over them. 'What do you mean?'

  'Can it, precious. You called on Ernie tonight, and hid behind a bush outside the study window.'

  'How did you know?' she asked quickly.

  'Intuition. You might have left it to me. What was the use of dragging me into it if you were going to muscle in? God knows I was unwilling enough.'

  ' That's just it. I didn't think you'd be any good. You're so unreliable, and I knew you hated doing it.'

  'Oh, I did, and I am, and I wasn't any good, but all the same it was damned silly of you not to give me a run for my money. Did you get them, by the way?'

  'No. He only – laughed, and – oh, you know!'

  'Well isn't that nice!' said Neville. 'Did you happen to knock him on the head?'

  'Oh, don't be silly!' she said impatiently.

  'If that's acting, it's good,' said Neville, looking at her critically. 'Did you see who did?'

  She was frowning. 'Did I see who did what?'

  'Knocked Ernie on the head. My pretty ninny, Ernie's been murdered.'

  A sound between a scream and a whimper broke from her. 'Neville! Oh no! Neville, you don't mean that!'

  He looked at her with a smile lilting on his mouth. 'Didn't you know?'

  Her eyes searched his, while the colour receded slowly from her face. 'I didn't do it!' she gasped.

  'I shouldn't think you'd have the strength,' he agreed.

  They were interrupted by the opening of the door.

  A slim young woman with a cluster of brown curls, a monocle screwed into her left eye, entered the room, saying calmly: 'Did you call, Helen?' Her gaze alighted on Neville; she said with every appearance of disgust: 'Oh, you're here, are you?'

  'Yes, but I wouldn't have been if I'd known you were, hell-cat,' responded Neville sweetly.

  Miss Drew gave a contemptuous snort, and looked critically at her sister. 'You look absolutely gangrenous,' she remarked. 'Anything the matter?'

  Helen North's hands twisted nervously together. 'Ernie Fletcher's been murdered.'

  ***

  'Good!' said Miss Drew, unperturbed. 'Neville come to tell you?'

  Helen shuddered. 'Oh don't! It's awful, awful!'

  'Personally,' said Miss Drew, taking a cigarette from the box on the table, and fitting it into a long holder, 'I regard it as definitely memorable. I hate men with super-polished manners, and charming smiles. Who killed him?'

  'I don't know! You can't think I know!' Helen cried. 'Sally! – Neville! – oh, my God!' She looked wildly from one to the other, and sank down on to a sofa, burying her face in her hands.

  'If it's an act, it's a good one,' said Neville. 'If not, it's mere waste of time. Do stop it, Helen! you're making me feel embarrassed.'

  Sally regarded him with disfavour. 'You don't seem to be much upset,' she said.

  'You didn't see me an hour ago,' replied Neville. 'I even lost my poise.'

  She sniffed, but merely said: 'You'd better tell me all about it. It might be good copy.'

  'What a lovely thought!' said Neville. 'Ernie has not died in vain.'

  'I've always wanted to be in on a real murder,' remarked Sally thoughtfully. 'How was he killed?'

  'He had his head smashed,' replied Neville.

  Helen gave a moan, but her sister nodded with all the air of a connoisseur. 'A blow from a blunt instrument,' she said. 'Any idea who did it?'

  'No, but Helen may have.'

  Helen lifted her head. 'I tell you I wasn't there!'

  'Your shoes belie you, sweet.'

  'Yes, yes, but not when he was killed! I wasn't, I tell you, I wasn't!'

  The monocle dropped out of Miss Drew's eye. She screwed it in again, bending a searching gaze upon her sister. 'What do you mean – "yes, but not when he was killed"? Have you been round to Greystones tonight?'

  Helen seemed uncertain how to answer, but after a moment she said: 'Yes. Yes, I did go round to see Ernie. I – I got sick of the noise of your typewriter, for one thing, and, for another, I – I wanted particularly to see him.'

  'Look here!' said Sally, 'you may as well spill it now as later! – what is there between you and Ernie Fletcher?'

  'As a purist,' said Neville, 'I must take exception to your use of the present tense.'

  She rounded on him. 'I suppose you're in on it, whatever it is? Then you'll dam' well tell me.'

  'It isn't what you think!' Helen said quickly. ' Truly, it isn't, Sally! Oh, I admit I liked him, but not – not enough for that!'

  'If you can tell Neville the truth you can tell it to me,' said Sally. 'And don't pull any stuff about going to see him because of my typewriter, because it won't wash.'

  ' Tell her,' advised Neville. 'She likes sordid stories.'

  Helen flushed. 'Need you call it that?'

  He sighed. 'Dear pet, I told you at the outset that I considered it too utterly trite and sordid to appeal to me. Why bring that up now?'

  ***

  'You don't know what it is to be desperate,' she said
bitterly.

  'No, that's my divine detachment.'

  'Well, I hope you get pinched for the murder,' struck in Sally. ' Then what price divine detachment?'

  He looked pensive. 'It would be awfully interesting,' he agreed. 'Of course, I should preserve an outward calm, but should I quail beneath it? I hope not: if I did I shouldn't know myself any more, and that would be most uncomfortable.'

  Helen struck the arm of the sofa with her clenched hand. ' Talk, talk, talk! What's the use of it?'

  ' There is nothing more sordid than the cult of utility,' replied Neville. 'You have a pedestrian mind, my dear.'

  'Oh, do shut up!' begged Sally. She went to the sofa, and sat down beside Helen. 'Come on, old thing, you'd much better tell me the whole story! If you're in a jam, I'll try and get you out of it.'

  'You can't,' Helen said wretchedly. 'Ernie's got IOUs of mine, and the police are bound to discover them, and there'll be a ghastly scandal.'

  Sally frowned. 'IOUs? Why? I mean, how did he get them? What are they for, anyway?'

  'Gambling debts. Neville thinks he probably bought them.'

  'What on earth for?' demanded Sally, the monocle slip ping out again.

  Neville looked at her admiringly. ' The girl has a mind like a pure white lily!' he remarked. 'I am now taken-aback.'

  Sally retorted hotly: 'I haven't got any such thing! But all this price-of-dishonour business is too utterly vieux jeu! Good Lord, I wouldn't put it in any book of mine!'

  'Are you an escapist?' inquired Neville solicitously. 'Is that why you write improbable novels? Have you felt the banality of real life to be intolerable?'

  'My novels aren't improbable! It may interest you to know that the critics consider me as one of the six most important crime novelists.'

  'If you think that you're a bad judge of character,' said Neville.

  Helen gave a strangled shriek of exasperation. 'Oh, don't, don't! What does any of that matter at a time like this? What am I to do?'

  Sally turned away from Neville. 'All right, let's get this thing straight,' she said. 'I don't feel I've got all the data. When did you start falling for Ernie Fletcher?'

  'I didn't. Only he was so attractive, and – and he had a sort of sympathetic understanding. Almost a touch of the feminine, but not quite that, either. I can't explain. Ernie made you feel as though you were made of very brittle, precious porcelain.'

  ' That must have added excitement to your life,' said Neville reflectively.

  'Shut up! Go on, Helen! When did it all begin?'

  'Oh, I don't know! I suppose from the moment I first got to know him – to know him properly, I mean. You mustn't think that he – that he made love to me, because he didn't. It wasn't till just lately that I realised what he wanted. I thought – oh, I don't know what I thought!'

  'You didn't think anything,' explained Neville kindly. 'You floated away on a sea of golden syrup.'

  ' That's probably true,' said Sally. 'You were obviously right under the ether. What did John think, if anything?'

  Her sister coloured, and averted her face. 'I don't know. John and I – had drifted apart – before Ernie came into my life.'

  Neville, apparently overcome, sank into a chair, and covered his face with his hands. 'Oh God, Oh God!' he moaned. 'I'm being dragged into this repulsive syrup! Dearest, let us drift apart – me out of your life, before I start mouthing clichés too. I know it's insidious.'

  'I must say,' remarked Sally, fair-mindedly, ' That I rather bar "drifted apart" and "came into my life" myself. Helen, do try not to sentimentalise yourself ; it all looks too darned serious to me. I thought you and John weren't hitting it off any too well. Some women don't know when they've struck ore. What went wrong between you? I should have thought John was the answer to any maiden's prayer.'

  'Oh, it's so hard to explain!' Helen said, her eyes brim ming with tears. 'I was so young when I married him, and I thought everything was going to be like my dreams. I'm not excusing myself : I know John's a fine man, but he didn't understand me, and he didn't want what I wanted – life, gaiety and excitement!'

  'Didn't you love him?' asked Sally bluntly.

  'I thought I did. Only everything went wrong. If only John had been different – but you know what he's like! If he'd shaken me, or even beaten me, I'd have pulled myself up. But he didn't. He simply retired into his shell. He was busy, too, and I was bored. I started going about without him. Sally, I tell you I don't know how it began, or how we got to this pitch, but we're utterly, utterly estranged!' The tears were running down her cheeks. She said with a catch in her voice: 'I'd give anything to have it all back again, but I can't, and there's a gulf between us which I can't bridge! Now this has happened, and I suppose that'll end it. I shall have dragged John's name in the mud, and the least I can do is to let him divorce me.'

  'Don't be such an ass!' said Sally bracingly. 'John's much too decent to let you down when you're in trouble. You don't divorce people for getting into debt, and if your IOUs are found in Ernie Fletcher's possession it'll be obvious that you weren't a faithless wife.'

  'If they're found, and it all comes out, I'll kill myself !' Helen said. 'I couldn't face it. I could not face it! John doesn't know a thing about my gambling. It's the one thing that he detests above all others. Neville's a beast, but he's perfectly right when he says it's a sordid story. It wasn't Bridge, or the sort of gambling you have at parties, but a – a real hell!'

  'Lummy!' said Miss Drew elegantly. 'Gilded vice, and haggard harpies, and suicides adjacent? All that sort of thing?'

  'It wasn't gilded, and I don't know about any suicides, but it was a bad place, and yet – in a way – rather thrilling. If John knew of it – the people who belonged to it – Sally, no one would believe I wasn't a bad woman if it was known I went to that place!'

  'Well, why did you go there?'

  'Oh, for the thrill! Like one goes to Limehouse. And at first it sort of got me. I adored the excitement of the play. Then I lost rather a lot of money, and like a fool I thought I could win it back. I expect you know how one gets led on, and on.'

  'Why not have sold your pearls?'

  A wan smile touched Helen's lips. 'Because they aren't worth anything.'

  'What?' Sally gasped.

  'Copies,' said Helen bitterly. 'I sold the real ones ages ago. Other things, too. I've always been an extravagant little beast, and John warned me he wouldn't put up with it. So I sold things.'

  'Helen!'

  Neville, who had been reposing in a luxurious chair with his eyes shut, said sleepily: 'You said you wanted copy, didn't you?'

  'Even if it didn't concern Helen I couldn't use this,' said Sally. 'Not my line of country at all. I shall have to concen trate on the murder. By the way, Helen, who introduced you to this hell? Dear Ernie?'

  'Oh no, no!' Helen cried. 'He absolutely rescued me from it! I can't tell you how divine he was. He said everything would be all right, and I wasn't to worry any more, but just be a good child for the future.'

  'Snake!' said Sally hotly.

  'Yes, only – it didn't seem like that. He had such a way with him! He got hold of those ghastly IOUs, and at first I was so thankful!'

  ' Then he blackmailed you!'

  'N – no, he didn't. Not quite. I can't tell you about that, but it wasn't exactly as you imagine. Of course, he did use the IOUs as a weapon, but perhaps he didn't really mean it! It was all done so – so laughingly, and he was very much in love with me. I expect I lost my head a bit, didn't handle him properly. But I got frightened, and I couldn't sleep for thinking of my IOUs in Ernie's possession. That's why I told Neville. I thought he might be able to do something.'

  'Neville?' said Miss Drew, in accents of withering con tempt. 'You might as well have applied to a village idiot!'

  'I know, but there wasn't anyone else. And he is clever, in spite of being so hopeless.'

  'As judged by village standards?' inquired Neville, mildly interested.

  'He may ha
ve a kind of brain, but I've yet to hear of him putting himself out for anyone, or behaving like an ordi narily nice person. I can't think how you ever suc ceeded in persuading him to take it on.'

  ' The dripping of water on a stone,' murmured Neville.

  'Well having taken it on, I do think you might have put your back into it. Did you even try?'

  'Yes, it was a most painful scene.'

  'Why? Was Ernie furious?'

  'Not so much furious as astonished. So was I. You ought to have seen me giving my impersonation of a Nordic public school man with a reverence for good form and the done-thing. I wouldn't like to swear I didn't beg him to play the game. Ernie ended up by being nauseated, and I'm sure I'm not surprised.'