谋杀启事19

Seven

AMONG THOSE PRESENT

I
Dayas Hall had certainly suffered during the war years. Couch grass grewenthusiastically over what had once been an asparagus bed, as evidencedby a few waving tufts of asparagus foliage. Grounsel, bindweed and othergarden pests showed every sign of vigorous growth.

A portion of the kitchen garden bore evidence of having been reducedto discipline and here Craddock found a sour- looking old man leaningpensively on a spade.

“It’s Mrs. ’Aymes you want? I couldn’t say where you’d find ’er. ’As ’erown ideas, she ’as, about what she’ll do. Not one to take advice. I couldshow her—show ’er willing—but what’s the good, won’t listen these youngladies won’t! Think they know everything because they’ve put on breechesand gone for a ride on a tractor. But it’s gardening that’s needed here. Andthat isn’t learned in a day. Gardening, that’s what this place needs.”

“It looks as though it does,” said Craddock.

The old man chose to take this remark as an aspersion.

“Now look here, mister, what do you suppose I can do with a place thissize? Three men and a boy, that’s what it used to ’ave. And that’s what itwants. There’s not many men could put in the work on it that I do. ’Eresometimes I am till eight o’clock at night. Eight o’clock.”

“What do you work by? An oil lamp?”

“Naterally I don’t mean this time o’ year. Naterally. Summer eveningsI’m talking about.”

“Oh,” said Craddock. “I’d better go and look for Mrs. Haymes.”

The rustic displayed some interest.

“What are you wanting ’er for? Police, aren’t you? She been in trouble,or is it the do there was up to Little Paddocks? Masked men bursting inand holding up a roomful of people with a revolver. An’ that sort of thingwouldn’t ’ave ’appened afore the war. Deserters, that’s what it is. Desper-ate men roaming the countryside. Why don’t the military round ’em up?”

“I’ve no idea,” said Craddock. “I suppose this hold-up caused a lot oftalk?”

“That it did. What’s us coming to? That’s what Ned Barker said. Comesof going to the pictures so much, he said. But Tom Riley he says it comes ofletting these furriners run about loose. And depend on it, he says, that girlas cooks up there for Miss Blacklock and ’as such a nasty temper—she’s init, he said. She’s a communist or worse, he says, and we don’t like that sort’ere. And Marlene, who’s behind the bar, you understand, she will ’ave itthat there must be something very valuable up at Miss Blacklock’s. Notthat you’d think it, she says, for I’m sure Miss Blacklock goes about asplain as plain, except for them great rows of false pearls she wears. Andthen she says—Supposin’ as them pearls is real, and Florrie (what’s oldBellamy’s daughter) she says, ‘Nonsense,’ she says—‘noovo ar—that’s whatthey are—costume jewellery,’ she says. Costume jewellery—that’s a fineway of labelling a string of false pearls. Roman pearls, the gentry used tocall ’em once—and Parisian diamonds—my wife was a lady’s maid and Iknow. But what does it all mean—just glass! I suppose it’s ‘costume jew-ellery’ that young Miss Simmons wears—gold ivy leaves and dogs andsuch like. ’Tisn’t often you see a real bit of gold nowadays—even weddingrings they make of this grey plattinghum stuff. Shabby, I call it—for allthat it costs the earth.”

Old Ashe paused for breath and then continued:

“‘Miss Blacklock don’t keep much money in the ’ouse, that I do know,’

says Jim ’Uggins, speaking up. ’E should know, for it’s ’is wife as goes upand does for ’em at Little Paddocks, and she’s a woman as knows most ofwhat’s going on. Nosey, if you take me.”

“Did he say what Mrs. Huggins’ view was?”

“That Mitzi’s mixed up in it, that’s what she thinks. Awful temper she’as, and the airs she gives ’erself! Called Mrs. ’Uggins a working woman to’er face the other morning.”

Craddock stood a moment, checking over in his orderly mind the sub-stance of the old gardener’s remarks. It gave him a good cross-section ofrural opinion in Chipping Cleghorn, but he didn’t think there was any-thing to help him in his task. He turned away and the old man called afterhim grudgingly:

“Maybe you’d find her in the apple orchard. She’s younger than I am forgetting the apples down.”

And sure enough in the apple orchard Craddock found Phillipa Haymes.

His first view was a pair of nice legs encased in breeches sliding easilydown the trunk of a tree. Then Phillipa, her face flushed, her fair hairruffled by the branches, stood looking at him in a startled fashion.

“Make a good Rosalind,” Craddock thought automatically, for Detective-Inspector Craddock was a Shakespeare enthusiast and had played the partof the melancholy Jaques with great success in a performance of As YouLike It for the Police Orphanage.

A moment later he amended his views. Phillipa Haymes was too woodenfor Rosalind, her fairness and her impassivity were intensely English, butEnglish of the twentieth rather than of the sixteenth century. Well-bred,unemotional English, without a spark of mischief.

“Good morning, Mrs. Haymes. I’m sorry if I startled you. I’m Detective-Inspector Craddock of the Middleshire Police. I wanted to have a wordwith you.”

“About last night?”

“Yes.”

“Will it take long? Shall we—?”

She looked about her rather doubtfully.

Craddock indicated a fallen tree trunk.

“Rather informal,” he said pleasantly, “but I don’t want to interrupt yourwork longer than necessary.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s just for the record. You came in from work at what time last night?”

“At about half past five. I’d stayed about twenty minutes later in orderto finish some watering in the greenhouse.”

“You came in by which door?”

“The side door. One cuts across by the ducks and the hen-house from thedrive. It saves you going round, and besides it avoids dirtying up the frontporch. I’m in rather a mucky state sometimes.”

“You always come in that way?”

“Yes.”

“The door was unlocked?”

“Yes. During the summer it’s usually wide open. This time of the year it’sshut but not locked. We all go out and in a good deal that way. I locked itwhen I came in.”

“Do you always do that?”

“I’ve been doing it for the last week. You see, it gets dark at six. MissBlacklocks goes out to shut up the ducks and the hens sometimes in theevening, but she very often goes out through the kitchen door.”

“And you are quite sure you did lock the side door this time?”

“I really am quite sure about that.”

“Quite so, Mrs. Haymes. And what did you do when you came in?”

“Kicked off my muddy footwear and went upstairs and had a bath andchanged. Then I came down and found that a kind of party was in pro-gress. I hadn’t known anything about this funny advertisement untilthen.”

“Now please describe just what occurred when the hold-up happened.”

“Well, the lights went out suddenly—”

“Where were you?”

“By the mantelpiece. I was searching for my lighter which I thought Ihad put down there. The lights went out—and everybody giggled. Thenthe door was flung open and this man shone a torch on us and flourisheda revolver and told us to put our hands up.”

“Which you proceeded to do?”

“Well, I didn’t actually. I thought it was just fun, and I was tired and Ididn’t think I needed really to put them up.”

“In fact, you were bored by the whole thing?”

“I was, rather. And then the revolver went off. The shots sounded deaf-ening and I was really frightened. The torch went whirling round anddropped and went out, and then Mitzi started screaming. It was just like apig being killed.”

“Did you find the torch very dazzling?”

“No, not particularly. It was quite a strong one, though. It lit up MissBunner for a moment and she looked quite like a turnip ghost—you know,all white and staring with her mouth open and her eyes starting out of herhead.”

“The man moved the torch?”

“Oh, yes, he played it all round the room.”

“As though he were looking for someone?”

“Not particularly, I should say.”

“And after that, Mrs. Haymes?”

Phillipa Haymes frowned.

“Oh, it was all a terrible muddle and confusion. Edmund Swettenhamand Patrick Simmons switched on their lighters and they went out into thehall and we followed, and someone opened the dining room door—thelights hadn’t fused there—and Edmund Swettenham gave Mitzi a terrificslap on the cheek and brought her out of her screaming fit, and after thatit wasn’t so bad.”

“You saw the body of the dead man?”

“Yes.”

“Was he known to you? Had you ever seen him before?”

“Never.”

“Have you any opinion as to whether his death was accidental, or doyou think he shot himself deliberately?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“You didn’t see him when he came to the house previously?”

“No. I believe it was in the middle of the morning and I shouldn’t havebeen there. I’m out all day.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Haymes. One thing more. You haven’t any valuablejewellery? Rings, bracelets, anything of that kind?”

Phillipa shook her head.

“My engagement ring—a couple of brooches.”

“And as far as you know, there was nothing of particular value in thehouse?”

“No. I mean there is some quite nice silver—but nothing out of the or-dinary.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Haymes.”

 

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