Eight

In addition to its number, 20, Wilbraham Crescent had a name. It wascalled Diana Lodge. The gates had obstacles against intruders by beingheavily wired on the inside. Rather melancholy speckled laurels, imper-fectly trimmed, also interfered with the efforts of anyone to enter throughthe gate.

“If ever a house could have been called The Laurels, this one could,” re-marked Colin Lamb. “Why call it Diana Lodge, I wonder?”

He looked round him appraisingly. Diana Lodge did not run to neatnessor to flower beds. Tangled and overgrown shrubbery was its most salientpoint together with a strong catty smell of ammonia. The house seemed ina rather tumbledown condition with gutters that could do with repairing.

The only sign of any recent kind of attention being paid to it was a freshlypainted front door whose colour of bright azure blue made the generalunkempt appearance of the rest of the house and garden even more no-ticeable. There was no electric bell but a kind of handle that was clearlymeant to be pulled. The inspector pulled it and a faint sound of remotejangling was heard inside.

“It sounds,” said Colin, “like the Moated Grange.”

They waited for a moment or two, then sounds were heard from inside.

Rather curious sounds. A kind of high crooning, half singing, half speak-ing.

“What the devil—” began Hardcastle.

The singer or crooner appeared to be approaching the front door andwords began to be discernible.

“No, sweet- sweetie. In there, my love. Mindems tailems Shah- Shah-Mimi. Cleo—Cleopatra. Ah de doodlums. Ah lou-lou.”

Doors were heard to shut. Finally the front door opened. Facing themwas a lady in a pale moss-green, rather rubbed, velvet tea gown. Her hair,in flaxen grey wisps, was twirled elaborately in a kind of coiffure of somethirty years back. Round her neck she was wearing a necklet of orangefur. Inspector Hardcastle said dubiously:

“Mrs. Hemming?”

“I am Mrs. Hemming. Gently, Sunbeam, gently doodleums.”

It was then that the inspector perceived that the orange fur was really acat. It was not the only cat. Three other cats appeared along the hall, twoof them miaowing. They took up their place, gazing at the visitors, twirlinggently round their mistress’s skirts. At the same time a pervading smell ofcat afflicted the nostrils of both men.

“I am Detective Inspector Hardcastle.”

“I hope you’ve come about that dreadful man who came to see me fromthe Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,” said Mrs. Hemming. “Disgraceful! Iwrote and reported him. Saying my cats were kept in a condition prejudi-cial to their health and happiness! Quite disgraceful! I live for my cats, In-spector. They are my only joy and pleasure in life. Everything is done forthem. Shah-Shah-Mimi. Not there, sweetie.”

Shah-Shah-Mimi paid no attention to a restraining hand and jumped onthe hall table. He sat down and washed his face, staring at the strangers.

“Come in,” said Mrs. Hemming. “Oh no, not that room. I’d forgotten.”

She pushed open a door on the left. The atmosphere here was evenmore pungent.

“Come on, my pretties, come on.”

In the room various brushes and combs with cat hairs in them lay abouton chairs and tables. There were faded and soiled cushions, and therewere at least six more cats.

“I live for my darlings,” said Mrs. Hemming. “They understand everyword I say to them.”

Inspector Hardcastle walked in manfully. Unfortunately for him he wasone of those men who have cat allergy. As usually happens on these occa-sions all the cats immediately made for him. One jumped on his knee, an-other rubbed affectionately against his trousers. Detective Inspector Hard-castle, who was a brave man, set his lips and endured.

“I wonder if I could ask you a few questions, Mrs. Hemming, about—”

“Anything you please,” said Mrs. Hemming, interrupting him. “I havenothing to hide. I can show you the cats’ food, their beds where they sleep,five in my room, the other seven down here. They have only the very bestfish cooked by myself.”

“This is nothing to do with cats,” said Hardcastle, raising his voice. “Icame to talk to you about the unfortunate affair which happened nextdoor. You have probably heard about it.”

“Next door? You mean Mr. Joshua’s dog?”

“No,” said Hardcastle, “I do not. I mean at Number 19 where a man wasfound murdered yesterday.”

“Indeed?” said Mrs. Hemming, with polite interest but no more. Hereyes were still straying over her pets.

“Were you at home yesterday afternoon, may I ask? That is to saybetween half past one and half past three?”

“Oh yes, indeed. I usually do my shopping quite early in the day andthen get back so that I can do the darlings’ lunch, and then comb andgroom them.”

“And you didn’t notice any activity next door? Police cars—ambulance—anything like that?”

“Well, I’m afraid I didn’t look out of the front windows. I went out of theback of the house into the garden because dear Arabella was missing. Sheis quite a young cat and she had climbed up one of the trees and I wasafraid she might not be able to get down. I tried to tempt her with a saucerof fish but she was frightened, poor little thing. I had to give up in the endand come back into the house. And would you believe it, just as I wentthrough the door, down she came and followed me in.” She looked fromone man to the other as though testing their powers of belief.

“Matter of fact, I would believe it,” said Colin, unable to keep silence anymore.

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Hemming looked at him slightly startled.

“I am much attached to cats,” said Colin, “and I have therefore made astudy of cat nature. What you have told me illustrates perfectly the pat-tern of cat behaviour and the rules they have made for themselves. In thesame way your cats are all congregating round my friend who franklydoes not care for cats, they will pay no attention to me in spite of all myblandishments.”

If it occurred to Mrs. Hemming that Colin was hardly speaking in theproper role of sergeant of police, no trace of it appeared in her face. Shemerely murmured vaguely:

“They always know, the dear things, don’t they?”

A handsome grey Persian put two paws on Inspector Hardcastle’s knees,looked at him in an ecstasy of pleasure and dug his claws in hard with akneading action as though the inspector was a pincushion. Goaded beyondendurance, Inspector Hardcastle rose to his feet.

“I wonder, madam,” he said, “if I could see this back garden of yours.”

Colin grinned slightly.

“Oh, of course, of course. Anything you please.” Mrs. Hemming rose.

The orange cat unwound itself from her neck. She replaced it in an ab-sentminded way with the grey Persian. She led the way out of the room.

Hardcastle and Colin followed.

“We’ve met before,” said Colin to the orange cat and added, “And you’rea beauty, aren’t you,” addressing another grey Persian who was sitting ona table by a Chinese lamp, swishing his tail slightly. Colin stroked him,tickled him behind the ears and the grey cat condescended to purr.

“Shut the door, please, as you come out, Mr.—er—er,” said Mrs. Hem-ming from the hall. “There’s a sharp wind today and I don’t want mydears to get cold. Besides, there are those terrible boys—it’s really not safeto let the dear things wander about in the garden by themselves.”

She walked towards the back of the hall and opened a side door.

“What terrible boys?” asked Hardcastle.

“Mrs. Ramsay’s two boys. They live in the south part of the crescent. Ourgardens more or less back on each other. Absolute young hooligans, that’swhat they are. They have a catapult, you know, or they had. I insisted onits being confiscated but I have my suspicions. They make ambushes andhide. In the summer they throw apples.”

“Disgraceful,” said Colin.

The back garden was like the front only more so. It had some unkemptgrass, some unpruned and crowded shrubs and a great many more laurelsof the speckled variety, and some rather gloomy macrocarpas. In Colin’sopinion, both he and Hardcastle were wasting their time. There was asolid barrage of laurels, trees and shrubs through which nothing of MissPebmarsh’s garden could possibly be seen. Diana Lodge could be de-scribed as a fully detached house. From the point of view of its inhabit-ants, it might have had no neighbours.

“Number 19, did you say?” said Mrs. Hemming, pausing irresolutely inthe middle of her back garden. “But I thought there was only one personliving in the house, a blind woman.”

“The murdered man was not an occupant of the house,” said the in-spector.

“Oh, I see,” said Mrs. Hemming, still vaguely, “he came here to bemurdered. How odd.”

“Now that,” said Colin thoughtfully to himself, “is a damned good de-scription.”