Georgette Heyer_Inspector Hannasyde 04 Read online

  'You know, you're not hard-hearted, you're just soul less,' Sally informed him. She glanced at her sister. 'Was I invited to stay to be a chaperon?'

  'Yes, in a way. Besides, I wanted you.'

  ' Thanks a lot. What happened tonight?'

  'Oh, nothing, Sally, nothing! It was silly of me, but I thought if only I could talk quietly to Ernie, and – and throw myself on his generosity, everything would be all right. You were busy with your book, so I got my cloak, and just slipped round by the back way to Greystones, on the off-chance of finding Ernie in his study.'

  'It looks to me as though it wasn't the first time you've called on Ernie like that,' interpolated Sally shrewdly.

  Helen coloured. 'Well, no, I – I have been once or twice before, but not after I realised he had fallen in love with me. Honestly, I used to look on him as an exciting sort of uncle.'

  'More fool you. Carry on! When did you set out on this silly expedition?'

  'At half-past nine, when I knew you'd had time to get absorbed in your silly book,' retorted Helen, with a flash of spirit. 'And I knew that Ernie was in his study, because when I turned up into Maple Grove from the Arden Road, I saw a man come out of the Greystones side gate, and walk off towards Vale Avenue.'

  'Abraham,' said Neville. 'Well, that settles him, at all events. Pity: the name had possibilities.'

  'I don't know what you're talking about. I let myself into the garden, and walked up the path to Ernie's study. Ernie was there, but I soon saw I'd made a mistake to come. He was – almost horrid – as horrid as a person with charm like his could be.'

  ' That's what comes of getting me to become a pukka sahib,' said Neville. 'You can't blame Ernie.'

  'How long did you stay with him?' demanded Sally. ' Think! it's probably important.'

  'I don't have to think: I know,' said Helen. 'Ernie said something about my being found with him at a com promising hour, and I looked at the clock, and said if he thought a quarter to ten a compromising hour he must be actually a Victorian, though I'd thought him merely Edwardian.'

  'Good!' approved Sally.

  'Yes, I was in a rage,' admitted Helen. 'And I walked straight out, the way I'd come.'

  'Straight home?'

  Helen hesitated, her eyes on Neville, who was regard ing her with an expression of sleepy enjoyment. 'No,' she said, after a pause. 'Not quite. I heard the gate open, and naturally I didn't want to be seen, so I dived behind a bush beside the house.'

  'Who was it?' asked Sally quickly.

  'I don't know. I couldn't see. A man, that's all I can tell you.'

  Sally looked at her rather searchingly, and then said: 'All right, go on!'

  'He went into the study. I think he closed the window behind him; I didn't hear anything except a sort of murmur of voices.'

  'Oh! Did you beat it while you had the chance?'

  Helen nodded. 'Yes, of course.'

  'And no one but Ernie saw you?'

  'No.'

  'And you didn't go dropping handkerchiefs about, or anything like that?'

  ***

  'Of course I didn't.'

  ' Then there's nothing except the IOUs to connect you with the murder!' Sally declared. 'We've got to get hold of them before the police do.'

  Helen said: 'Oh, Sally, if only I could! But how? They aren't in his desk –'

  'How do you know?' asked Sally swiftly.

  'Why, I – something Ernie said,' faltered Helen.

  'I shouldn't set much store by anything he said. Of course, they may be in a safe, but we'll hope he didn't go in for safes. Neville, this is your job.'

  Neville opened his eyes. Having surveyed both sisters in his peculiarly dreamy way, he dragged himself out of his chair, and wandered over to the table where the cigarette-box stood. He selected and lit one, produced his own empty case, and proceeded to fill it. 'All this excitement,' he said softly, 'has gone to your head.'

  'Oh no, it hasn't! You're staying in the house; you said you'd help Helen. You can jolly well find those IOUs before Scotland Yard gets on to the case.'

  'Scotland Yard!' gasped Helen.

  'Yes, I should think almost certainly,' replied Sally. ' This is the Metropolitan area, you know. They'll prob ably send a man down to investigate. Neville, are you willing to take a chance?'

  'No, darling,' he replied, fitting the last cigarette into his case.

  'You would fast enough if they were your IOUs!'

  He looked up. 'I daresay I should. But they aren't mine. I won't have anything to do with them.'

  'If you had a grain of decency, or – or chivalry –'

  'Do stop trying to cast me for this beastly Gunga Din rôle!' he implored. 'Find someone else for the job! You must know lots of whiter men than I am.'

  'Very well!' said Sally. 'If you haven't the guts to do it, I have, and I will!'

  'I don't want to blight your youthful ardour, sweet one, but I think I ought to tell you that there's a large, resolute policeman parked in the front hall.'

  Her face fell. 'I never thought of that,' she said slowly. An idea occurred to her. 'Do you mean he's keeping a watch over the household?'

  'Well, he's certainly not a paying-guest.'

  She started up. 'You utter, abysmal idiot, what did you come here for if the house was being watched?'

  ' To get some cigarettes. We've run out.'

  'Oh, don't be a fool! Don't you realise you'll have led them straight to Helen?'

  'Oh no! No, really I haven't,' Neville replied, with his apologetic smile. 'I climbed out of my window, and over the wall.'

  'You – Did you really?' exclaimed Sally, her thunder ous frown vanishing. 'I must say I should never have thought it of you.'

  'Atavism,' he explained.

  'Oh, Neville, how on earth did you manage it?' Helen asked, a note of admiration in her voice.

  He looked alarmed. 'Please don't get misled! It wasn't a bit heroic, or daring, or even difficult.'

  ***

  'It must have been. I can't think how you did it! I should never have had the nerve.'

  'No nerve. Merely one of the advantages of a University education.'

  'Well, I think it was fairly sporting of you,' said Sally. 'Only it doesn't help us to solve the problem of how to get those IOUs.'

  'Don't strain yourself,' Neville recommended. 'You can't get them. They're probably in Ernie's safe, just like you suggested.'

  ' There are ways of opening safes,' said Sally darkly, cupping her chin in her hands. 'I suppose you don't happen to know the combination?'

  'You're right for the first time tonight. God, how I hate women!'

  'Sally, you don't really know how to open safes, do you?' asked Helen, forgetting her troubles in surprise.

  'No, not offhand. I should have to look it up. Of course, I know about soup.'

  'What sort of soup?' inquired Neville. 'If we're going to talk gastronomy I can be quite intelligent, though seldom inspired.'

  'Ass. Not that kind of soup. The stuff you blow open safes with. I forget exactly what it's made of, but it's an explosive of sorts.'

  'Is it really?' said Neville. 'What lovely fun! Won't it go big with the policeman in the hall?'

  'I wasn't thinking of using it, even if I knew how to make it, which I don't.'

  ' That must be your weak woman's nature breaking through the crust, darling. Get the better of it, and don't stop at the safe. Blow the whole house up, thus eliminating the policeman.'

  'Have a good laugh,' said Sally. 'After all, you aren't in this jam, are you?' She got up, and began to stride about the room. 'Well, let's face it! We can't open the safe, and we don't know how to get by the policeman. In fact, we're futile. But if I created this situation in a book I could think of something for the book-me to do. Why the devil can't I think of something now?'

  Neville betrayed a faint interest. 'If we were in one of your books, we should all of us have much more nerve than we really have, to start with.'

  'Not necessaril
y.'

  'Oh yes! You always draw your characters rather more than life-size. We should have more brains, too. You, for instance, would know how to make your soup –'

  'Any where to buy the – the ingredients, which actually one just doesn't know,' she interpolated.

  'Exactly. Helen would go and scream blue murder outside the house, to draw the policeman off while you blew up the safe, and I should put up a great act to regale him with on his return, telling him I thought I heard someone in the study, and leading him there when you'd beaten it with the incriminating documents. And can you see any one of us doing any of it?'

  'No, I can't. It's lousy, anyway. It would be brought home to us because of Helen's being an obvious decoy.'

  'Helen would never be seen. She'd have merged into the night by the time the policeman got there.'

  'Let's discuss possibilities!' begged Helen.

  'I'll go further, and discuss inevitabilities. We shall all of us sit tight, and let the police do the worrying. Ernie's dead, and there isn't a thing we can do, except preserve our poise. In fact, we are quite definitely in the hands of Fate. Fascinating situation!'

  'A dangerous situation!' Sally said.

  'Of course. Have you never felt the fascination of fear? Helen has, in that gambling-hell of hers.'

  'Not now!' Helen said. ' This is too awful. I only feel sick, and – and desperate!'

  ' Take some bicarbonate,' he advised. 'Meanwhile, I'm going home to bed. Oh, did I say thank you for the ciga rettes? By the way, where is John supposed to be?'

  'In Berlin,' replied Helen listlessly.

  'Well, he isn't,' said Neville. 'I saw him in London today.'

  She came to her feet in one swift movement, paper-white, staring at him. 'You couldn't have! I know he's in Berlin!'

  'Yes, I saw him,' murmured Neville.

  He was by the window, a hand on the curtain. Helen moved quickly to detain him. 'You thought you saw him! Do you imagine I don't know where my own husband is?'

  'Oh, no!' Neville said gently. 'I didn't say that, precious.'

  Three

  ***

  W ELL, IT DOESN'T LOOK SUCH A WHALE OF A CASE TO

  me,' said Sergeant Hemingway, handing the sheaf of typescript back to his superior. 'No one in it but the one man, on the face of it.'

  ' True,' agreed Hannasyde. 'Still, there are points.'

  ' That's right, Superintendent,' nodded Inspector True. ' That's what I said myself. What about them foot prints? They weren't made by the old lady: she doesn't wear that kind of shoe.'

  'Housemaid, saying good-night to her young man,' said the experienced Hemingway.

  'Hardly,' said Hannasyde. 'She wouldn't choose a bush just outside her master's study.'

  'No, nor there wasn't anything like that going on,' said the Inspector. ' The cook is a very respectable woman, married to Simmons, the butler, and the housemaid is her own niece, and this Mrs Simmons swears to it both she and the kitchen maid never stirred outside the house the whole evening.'

  'It's my belief those footprints'll be found to be highly irrelevant,' said Hemingway obstinately. 'All we want is this chap your man – what's-his-name? – Glass saw making off. Nothing to it.'

  Hannasyde cocked an eyebrow at him. 'Liverish, Skipper?'

  'I don't like the set-up. Ordinary, that's what it is. And I don't like the smashed skull. Just doesn't appeal to me. Give me something a bit recherché, and I'm right on to it.'

  Hannasyde smiled a little. 'I repeat, there are points. The murdered man seems to have been universally liked. No motive for killing him even hinted at.'

  'You wait till we've done half-an-hour's work on the case,' said Hemingway. 'I wouldn't mind betting we'll find scores of people all stiff with motives.'

  'I thought you said all we had to do was to find the man PC Glass saw?'

  'I daresay I did, Chief, and what's more I was probably right, but you mark my words, we shall find a whole lot of stuff just confusing the main issue. I've been on this kind of case before.'

  ' The way I look at it,' said the Inspector slowly, 'we want to find the instrument it was done with.'

  'Yes, that's another of the points,' replied Hannasyde. 'Your man Glass seems quite certain that the fellow he saw wasn't carrying anything. What sort of a chap is he? Reliable?'

  'Yes, sir, he is, very reliable. That's his conscience. He's a very religious man, Glass. I never can remember what sect he belongs to, but it's one of those where they all wrestle with the devil, and get moved by the Lord to stand up and testify. Well, I'm Church of England myself, but what I say is, it takes all sorts to make a world. As a matter of fact, I was thinking of detailing Glass to you, to give you any assistance you may need, Superintendent. I reckon he's one of my best men – not quick, you know, but not one to lose his head, or go flying off at a tangent. Seems only right to put him on to this case, seeing as it was him discovered the body.'

  'All right,' said Hannasyde absently, his eyes running down the typescript in his hand.

  The Inspector coughed. 'Only perhaps I'd better just warn you, sir, that he's got a tiresome habit of coming out with bits of the Bible. One of these blood-and-thunder merchants, if you know what I mean. You can't break him of it. He gets moved by the spirit.'

  'I daresay Hemingway will be able to deal with him,' said Hannasyde, rather amused.

  'I knew I wasn't going to like this case,' said Hemingway gloomily.

  Half-an-hour later, having made a tour of the grounds of Greystones, inspected the footprints behind the flowering currant bush, and cast a jaundiced eye over the stalwart, rigid form of PC Glass, he reiterated this statement.

  'If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small,' said Glass reprovingly.

  The Sergeant surveyed him with acute dislike. 'If you get fresh with me, my lad, we're going to fall out,' he said.

  ' The words are none of mine, but set down in Holy Writ, Sergeant,' explained Glass.

  ' There's a time and a place for everything,' replied the Sergeant, 'and this isn't the place nor the time for the Holy Writ. You attend to me, now! When you saw that chap sneaking out of this gate last night, it was just after ten o'clock, wasn't it?'

  'It was, Sergeant.'

  'And getting dark?'

  'As you say, Sergeant.'

  ' Too dark for you to see him very clearly?'

  ' Too dark for me to distinguish his features, but not too dark for me to take note of his build and raiment.'

  'It's my belief it was too dark for you to see whether he was carrying anything or not,' said the Sergeant.

  'His hands were empty,' replied Glass positively. 'I will not bear false witness against my neighbour.'

  'All right, skip it!' said the Sergeant. 'Now, you've been in this district some time, haven't you?'

  'For three years, Sergeant.'

  'Well, what do you know about these Fletchers?'

  ' Their eyes stand out with fatness; they have more than heart could wish.'

  'Yes, that's a lot of use, isn't it? What about the nephew?'

  'I know nothing of him, either good or ill.'

  'And the late Ernest?'

  A sombre look came into Glass's face. 'He that pursueth evil pursueth it to his own death.'

  The Sergeant pricked up his ears. 'What evil?'

  Glass looked sternly down at him. 'I believe him to have been wholly given up to vain show, double of heart, a forni cator, a –'

  ***

  'Here, that'll do!' said the Sergeant, startled. 'We're none of us saints. I understand the late Ernest was pretty well liked?'

  'It is true. It is said that he was a man of pleasing manners, filled with loving kindness. But the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?'

  'Yes, that's all very well, but where do you get that forni cation idea? From those footprints, eh?'

  'No. Joseph Simmons, who is in the way of light, though a foolish man, knew some of the secrets of hi
s master's life.'

  'He did, did he? We'll see!' said the Sergeant briskly, and turned towards the house.

  He entered it through the study window, and found his superior there, with Ernest Fletcher's solicitor, and Neville Fletcher, who was lounging bonelessly in an armchair, the inevitable cigarette drooping from the corner of his mouth.