谋杀启事29

II

Craddock went out to the kitchen. He asked Mitzi questions that he hadasked her before and received the same answers.

Yes, she had locked the front door soon after four o’clock. No, she didnot always do so, but that afternoon she had been nervous because of“that dreadful advertisement.” It was no good locking the side door be-cause Miss Blacklock and Miss Bunner went out that way to shut up theducks and feed the chickens and Mrs. Haymes usually came in that wayfrom work.

“Mrs. Haymes says she locked the door when she came in at 5:30.”

“Ah, and you believe her—oh, yes, you believe her….”

“Do you think we shouldn’t believe her?”

“What does it matter what I think? You will not believe me.”

“Supposing you give us a chance. You think Mrs. Haymes didn’t lockthat door?”

“I am thinking she was very careful not to lock it.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Craddock.

“That young man, he does not work alone. No, he knows where to come,he knows that when he comes a door will be left open for him—oh, veryconveniently open!”

“What are you trying to say?”

“What is the use of what I say? You will not listen. You say I am a poorrefugee girl who tells lies. You say that a fair-haired English lady, oh, no,she does not tell lies—she is so British—so honest. So you believe her andnot me. But I could tell you. Oh, yes, I could tell you!”

She banged down a saucepan on the stove.

Craddock was in two minds whether to take notice of what might beonly a stream of spite.

“We note everything we are told,” he said.

“I shall not tell you anything at all. Why should I? You are all alike. Youpersecute and despise poor refugees. If I say to you that when, a week be-fore, that young man come to ask Miss Blacklock for money and she sendshim away, as you say, with a flea in the ear—if I tell you that after that Ihear him talking with Mrs. Haymes—yes, out there in the summerhouse—all you say is that I make it up!”

And so you probably are making it up, thought Craddock. But he saidaloud:

“You couldn’t hear what was said out in the summerhouse.”

“There you are wrong,” screamed Mitzi triumphantly. “I go out to getnettles—it makes very nice vegetables, nettles. They do not think so, but Icook it and not tell them. And I hear them talking in there. He say to her‘But where can I hide?’ And she say ‘I will show you’—and then she say,‘At a quarter past six,’ and I think, ‘Ach so! That is how you behave, myfine lady! After you come back from work, you go out to meet a man. Youbring him into the house.’ Miss Blacklock, I think, she will not like that.

She will turn you out. I will watch, I think, and listen and then I will tellMiss Blacklock. But I understand now I was wrong. It was not love sheplanned with him, it was to rob and to murder. But you will say I make allthis up. Wicked Mitzi, you will say. I will take her to prison.”

Craddock wondered. She might be making it up. But possibly she mightnot. He asked cautiously:

“You are sure it was this Rudi Scherz she was talking to?”

“Of course I am sure. He just leave and I see him go from the driveacross to the summerhouse. And presently,” said Mitzi defiantly, “I go outto see if there are any nice young green nettles.”

Would there, the Inspector wondered, be any nice young green nettlesin October? But he appreciated that Mitzi had had to produce a hurriedreason for what had undoubtedly been nothing more than plain snooping.

“You didn’t hear any more than what you have told me?”

Mitzi looked aggrieved.

“That Miss Bunner, the one with the long nose, she call and call me.

Mitzi! Mitzi! So I have to go. Oh, she is irritating. Always interfering. Saysshe will teach me to cook. Her cooking! It tastes, yes, everything she does,of water, water, water!”

“Why didn’t you tell me this the other day?” asked Craddock sternly.

“Because I did not remember—I did not think … Only afterwards do Isay to myself, it was planned then—planned with her.”

“You are quite sure it was Mrs. Haymes?”

“Oh, yes, I am sure. Oh, yes, I am very sure. She is a thief, that Mrs. Hay-mes. A thief and the associate of thieves. What she gets for working in thegarden, it is not enough for such a fine lady, no. She has to rob Miss Black-lock who has been kind to her. Oh, she is bad, bad, bad, that one!”

“Supposing,” said the Inspector, watching her closely, “that someonewas to say that you had been seen talking to Rudi Scherz?”

The suggestion had less effect than he had hoped for. Mitzi merelysnorted and tossed her head.

“If anyone say they see me talking to him, that is lies, lies, lies, lies,” shesaid contemptuously. “To tell lies about anyone, that is easy, but in Eng-land you have to prove them true. Miss Blacklock tells me that, and it istrue, is it not? I do not speak with murderers and thieves. And no Englishpoliceman shall say I do. And how can I do cooking for lunch if you arehere, talk, talk, talk? Go out of my kitchens, please. I want now to make avery careful sauce.”

Craddock went obediently. He was a little shaken in his suspicions ofMitzi. Her story about Phillipa Haymes had been told with great convic-tion. Mitzi might be a liar (he thought she was), but he fancied that theremight be some substratum of truth in this particular tale. He resolved tospeak to Phillipa on the subject. She had seemed to him when he ques-tioned her a quiet, well-bred young woman. He had had no suspicion ofher.

Crossing the hall, in his abstraction, he tried to open the wrong door.

Miss Bunner, descending the staircase, hastily put him right.

“Not that door,” she said. “It doesn’t open. The next one to the left. Veryconfusing, isn’t it? So many doors.”

“There are a good many,” said Craddock, looking up and down the nar-row hall.

Miss Bunner amiably enumerated them for him.

“First the door to the cloakroom, and then the cloaks cupboard door andthen the dining room—that’s on that side. And on this side, the dummydoor that you were trying to get through and then there’s the drawingroom door proper, and then the china cupboard and the door of the littleflower room, and at the end the side door. Most confusing. Especiallythese two being so near together. I’ve often tried the wrong one by mis-take. We used to have the hall table against it, as a matter of fact, but thenwe moved it along against the wall there.”

Craddock had noted, almost mechanically, a thin line horizontallyacross the panels of the door he had been trying to open. He realized nowit was the mark where the table had been. Something stirred vaguely inhis mind as he asked, “Moved? How long ago?”

In questioning Dora Bunner there was fortunately no need to give areason for any question. Any query on any subject seemed perfectly nat-ural to the garrulous Miss Bunner who delighted in the giving of informa-tion, however trivial.

“Now let me see, really quite recently—ten days or a fortnight ago.”

“Why was it moved?”

“I really can’t remember. Something to do with the flowers. I think Phil-lipa did a big vase—she arranges flowers quite beautifully—all autumncolouring and twigs and branches, and it was so big it caught your hair asyou went past, and so Phillipa said, ‘Why not move the table along andanyway the flowers would look much better against the bare wall thanagainst the panels of the door.’ Only we had to take down Wellington atWaterloo. Not a print I’m really very fond of. We put it under the stairs.”

“It’s not really a dummy, then?” Craddock asked, looking at the door.”

“Oh, no, it’s a real door, if that’s what you mean. It’s the door of thesmall drawing room, but when the rooms were thrown into one, onedidn’t need two doors, so this one was fastened up.”

“Fastened up?” Craddock tried it again, gently. “You mean it’s nailed up?

Or just locked?”

“Oh, locked, I think, and bolted too.”

He saw the bolt at the top and tried it. The bolt slid back easily—too eas-ily….

“When was it last open?” he asked Miss Bunner.

“Oh, years and years ago, I imagine. It’s never been opened since I’vebeen here, I know that.”

“You don’t know where the key is?”

“There are a lot of keys in the hall drawer. It’s probably among those.”

Craddock followed her and looked at a rusty assortment of old keyspushed far back in the drawer. He scanned them and selected one thatlooked different from the rest and went back to the door. The key fittedand turned easily. He pushed and the door slid open noiselessly.

“Oh, do be careful,” cried Miss Bunner. “There may be something rest-ing against it inside. We never open it.”

“Don’t you?” said the Inspector.

His face now was grim. He said with emphasis:

“This door’s been opened quite recently, Miss Bunner. The lock’s beenoiled and the hinges.”

She stared at him, her foolish face agape.

“But who could have done that?” she asked.

“That’s what I mean to find out,” said Craddock grimly. He thought—“Xfrom outside? No—X was here—in this house—X was in the drawing roomthat night….”

 

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