The Ginger Cat Mystery (13 page)

“She went and got the keys to the music room herself?” asked Vereker.

“Yes, but she never said anything about duplicate keys. A most exasperating kind of person to question. I asked her why the music room was kept locked and her only reason was that she thought ghosts ought to be kept in their place and not be allowed to wander all over the house.”

“You know that she opened the music room door for Doctor Redgrave on the very night of the murder?” asked Vereker.

“Yes, she volunteered that information and said that after she had let the doctor out by the door into the garden she quickly locked both doors and hurriedly left the keys in Crawley's pantry.”

“Redgrave was anxious to see the Manor ghost,” remarked Vereker, lighting a cigarette.

“Yes,” replied Heather quietly, “love's nearly as good as rum for instilling courage. What does a spook matter when you've got your arm round a young lady's waist?”

“Something rather shaky about that ghost-stalking, Heather,” remarked Vereker. “It sounds so damned unconvincing!”

“Did you expect anything else from a pair who're sweethearting? It's just as incredible as the ‘detained at the office' story and gives the show away as completely. Now you've already said you've an idea that the murderer entered and left by the music room or was in the house and left by it. You've already got your suspicious eye on Doctor Redgrave.”

“Certainly, but before we go any farther let me tell you a very important fact.”

“Out with it.”

“The lock of the outer door of the music room has been oiled quite recently.”

“Add that it was oiled with ‘Three in One' oil, Mr. Vereker,” laughed the inspector.

“True. Who oiled it?”

“God knows, and I couldn't find out.”

“I think it's high time we ranged up and discussed our suspects,” declared Vereker. “I'll take those in the house first. We'll start with the mistress, Mrs. Cornell. Your discovery that she once had an automatic pistol of small calibre is most important. Her frank admission and facetious way of dealing with your question may only be very audacious camouflage. From all accounts she's an exceptionally clever and cool woman. She may have had several motives for getting rid of her stepson. His fortune is tied up in the hands of trustees and by her husband's will reverts to her should the stepson predecease her without issue. With some types of murderer that alone would be sufficient motive. In her case there may be complications which might strengthen her resolution to such a desperate act.”

“What other motive have you got in your mind?” asked Heather promptly.

“I've got a pet theory but it's purely intuitive and I'm not going to divulge it yet.”

“The only other motive I know,” said Heather, “is that the stepson knew that Doctor Redgrave, her lover, had got rid of John Cornell by foul means. I can't stretch my mind, elastic as it is, to the extent of considering that idea seriously. There is everything to show that John Cornell died a natural death.”

“The coroner's jury said so and it is so,” remarked Vereker ironically. “Never mind. We pass now to Doctor Redgrave.”

“I think you can cut him out right away,” declared Heather emphatically.

“No, Heather, my little theory won't let me do that. Besides, he was the last man in the music room prior to the shooting of young Cornell. The ghost business is a bit too thin to swallow. I'm going to keep him on my list of suspects for the present. Have you anything against Mrs. Mayo, Heather?”

“Not a suspicion.”

“Neither have I, so we'll dismiss her without a stain on her character. And Miss Mayo?”

“I'm not so sure about that young lady. She belongs to the passionate, theatrical class that might rise to the shooting of her lover if she found sufficient cause. We've got to hunt for that sufficient cause.”

“I'll supply a hypothetical one,” remarked Vereker.

“Sounds damning. Has it anything to do with an intuition?” asked Heather.

“Be patient with me, Heather. The lady went to kiss her betrothed good night. She found that he had changed his clothes as if he were going out to keep an appointment. This runs contrary to her statement, but if she did the killing it's not likely she's going to incriminate herself by telling the truth. She finds that he has an assignation with some other woman and there's a quarrel and a pistol shot.”

“You ought to be writing serials instead of your young friend Ricardo, Mr. Vereker. That's your true calling.”

“One minute. Let us suppose that Frank Cornell had an appointment with a young lady. He had some kind of appointment with someone. That is fairly evident from the fact that he changed his clothes and put on a stout pair of shoes. He had the duplicate keys to the music room and let himself out that way. Miss Mayo follows very stealthily, discovers that she's not the only pebble on the Cornell beach, and as her lover returns meets him at the door of the music room and shoots.”

“What did he do with the duplicate keys?” asked Heather almost impatiently.

“You ought to have asked, What did she do with the duplicate keys? If she wished to cover up her tracks, she'd get rid of them after seeing that the doors were locked. I have a strong suspicion that the shot was fired in the music room. A small-calibre pistol doesn't make a terrific report, yet if it had been fired on the landing or staircase it would almost certainly have been heard by someone on the first-storey corridor. Fired in the music room it wouldn't be heard at all. The walls of these old houses are thick enough to be thoroughly sound-proof. Against my idea is the absence of any bloodstains in the music room, but that anomaly doesn't disprove my theory.”

“This sounds more plausible the further you go, Mr. Vereker, but it's unlikely young Cornell would have an assignation seeing he had recently become engaged to Miss Mayo. You know the danger of forming a theory too early in the day and then trying to make the facts fit it.”

“That sounds like a judgment on modern science, Heather, but I see you're weakening. I'm going to try and get you on the run now. You have possibly heard that young Cornell and his cousin Stella Cornell were once lovers and I learned from the young lady herself to-day that they were secretly engaged at that time. The parents objected, young Cornell's feelings towards his cousin changed and he fell in love with Miss Mayo. Miss Cornell, on her part, was faithful to him to the last.”

“This is getting quite important, Mr. Vereker. I congratulate you on your knack of getting behind the human scenes in a complicated case. Do you think Cornell had an appointment with Miss Stella?”

“I can't say definitely yet, but it's quite a likely supposition. The lady's statements are against such a supposition, but we don't put too much credence on anybody's statements, do we, Heather? Statements are ticklish stuff to deal with. What I did learn was that, during their courtship, to which their parents strongly objected, they used to meet secretly. The trysting place was the old oak seat by the lily pool in the formal garden.”

“They'd hardly meet there on a wet night like the night of the murder, Mr. Vereker,” suggested Heather with a curiously bright light in his eyes.

“By God!” exclaimed Vereker suddenly, as some idea assailed him, and then recovering himself remarked: “Heather, you're damned smart. You've already jumped to the conclusion that they used to meet in the music room on a wet night.”

“It seemed a likely proposition,” smiled Heather with quiet satisfaction.

“My theory begins to find itself on firmer ground,” said Vereker as if speaking his thoughts to himself. “Miss Mayo is on the list of suspects. I think we'll put an asterisk against her name. But that confounded pistol…”

At these words Heather fumbled in one of his pockets and produced a tiny automatic pistol which he handed to the astonished Vereker.

“You don't mean to tell me…” commenced Vereker.

“No, no, it's not the pistol, but it's one exactly like it, I should say. You see, a small gun like that can be hidden very easily and if thrown away would take some finding.”

Vereker carefully examined the weapon, tried its action and asked, “May I have the loan of this pistol for a day or two, Heather?”

“Certainly,” replied Heather. “You might make some useful experiments with it. I can easily get another, Mr. Vereker.”

“Thanks,” said Vereker and slipped the miniature automatic into his waistcoat pocket.

“In our discussion we've dealt with Mrs. Cornell, the doctor, Mrs. Mayo and Miss Mayo. Let's look at Roland Carstairs. Have you picked up any information about him?”

“One rather important scrap,” said Heather. “In conversation with the parlourmaid I think I made a great impression. She looked me up and down with that sort of eye that tells you you're being silently valued. If you watch a young woman looking at new hats in a milliner's window, you can tell immediately when she has spotted the one she wouldn't mind wearing. It was that kind of look and I naturally played up to it like a thoroughly wicked lady-killer. We had a cup of tea together later.” Heather at this point of his statement curled his moustaches complacently and blinked his eyelids with complete satisfaction.

“What a Valentino you'd make, Heather! What was the scrap of information?”

“We got quite confidential on the subject of true love and were comparing it with that wicked thing which Miss Catchpole called ‘a passing fancy.' Can't say I'm struck with the name Bella Catchpole; it's too near to ‘catch police.' Well, as an example of true love she held up Mr. Carstairs' love for Miss Stella Cornell.”

“I thought there was something like that in Carstairs' admiration of the young lady,” remarked Vereker. “‘One of the best women that ever breathed,' he described her. I suppose she doesn't return his affection.”

“That's it. He has always loved her in spite of the fact that she loved his pal. This is a significant detail when you remember that his pal did the dirty on Carstairs' goddess, but I wouldn't call it a motive for murder in itself.”

“You never know what love will drive men to, Heather. His pal's action might seem to the infatuated Carstairs a most heinous offence. I had a long conversation with him to-day. He was very frank, even eager, to discuss every phase of our case and be helpful. From my first impressions of the man I wouldn't put him down as a likely.”

“I'm always suspicious of the witness eager to make a statement or give information. Frequently it's a case of exaggerated enthusiasm to assist and then the statement is generally hopelessly misleading. At other times it's the criminal's confidence in his own astuteness that drives him to the folly of trying to bamboozle the 'tec. He's a young man with a good notion of himself as far as I could sum him up.”

“I think you're right there, but he's the type who has principles. He's not old enough to have become disillusioned about the validity of hard and fast rules. He's a steady fellow with a fairly reasonable outlook and I can't just feel cynical enough to think he was trying it on with me. We'll put him on the doubtful list with a slight bias in his favour. Now we've come to the servants. I've had a chat with Crawley, the butler, and George Tapp, the valet. I dismiss Crawley right away. He's a bit of a connoisseur of wines, and from my experience no one who's a judge, say, of claret would think of committing a murder unless someone offered him a bottle of champagne in preference to a bottle of 1878 claret. On the other hand, I'm not quite certain about Tapp. He's apparently a bit shifty and doesn't look a man straight in the eye.”

“I've put Tapp off the map,” said Heather. “I can see from his face that he's one of those blokes who have the inferiority complex very bad. Not much faith in himself and probably had such a rough time of it in his life that he hasn't much faith in other people. His wife ran away from him a couple of years ago and left him with two youngsters. His mother looks after the kids and Tapp sends her nearly all his money for their keep. I think he keeps five bob a week for himself out of which he saves half-a-crown during the steeplechasing season. During the flat he's a flat to the tune of that other half-dollar.”

“Poor devil!” exclaimed Vereker and was lost in thoughtful pity over the unhappiness of some men's lives. He was remembering the fact that Tapp was a germ-carrier with a secret to hide from humanity, a pariah through no fault of his own and bound by the very fact to practise deceit in spite of any disposition not to do so. Still, there might be something questionable about his connection with Doctor Redgrave. Penury and his duty to his children might make him an associate in crime, especially if his nature had become embittered by his misfortune. Fate had played him a sorry trick and secretly his hand might be against the society which for its own self-preservation would have its hand against him if cognizant of his potential danger to the health of its members.

“I don't think we need trouble about the female servants,” said Heather, breaking the silence that had fallen on them. “The young man was fond of a woman's charms and not too solidly proof against them, but he took care not to dirty his own doorstep. Even Miss Catchpole, who's the star turn for good looks, said he was a very nice young man and behaved ‘most respectable' even though he used to rag the girls at times.”

“We've come to those outside the house, Heather. The most important of these is, of course, Miss Stella Cornell. On the face of it she's the last person to commit murder, but a jilted woman's a dangerous explosive. If her love affair with young Cornell had exceeded the bounds which, for clarity, we'll say distinguish your relations with the fair sex, there's the very strong motive of revenge. A woman who has given her all to a man can be distraught to the point of mania if that man suddenly flings her aside like a ‘sucked orange.' I think that's one of your expressive phrases, Heather.”