Джорджетт Хейер - Duplicate Death

"Yes, but I can't tell you yet if the prints are the same as any we took on Tuesday, sir. I'll have to take 'em back to the Department."

Hemingway nodded. "Do that now. Rush it!" He rehung the picture on the wall, and turned, holding out a gloved hand for the scissors. Inspector Grant gave them to him, and he drew them gently out of their coloured leather sheath. "Of course, you can't say with any certainty how a pair of large scissors comes by its scratches," he remarked. He handed the scissors to Bromley. "Go over them carefully, Tom!"

"I will, of course, sir," said the Sergeant, receiving them tenderly. "But if you can see your way through this case - well!"

The Chief Inspector, his gaze travelling slowly round the room, vouchsafed no response to this. His mind was plainly elsewhere; and it was not until a few moments after the Finger-print unit had departed that Grant ventured to address him.

"If the murder was committed with the wire from that picture, it was not Poulton that did it!" he said.

Hemingway's eyes came to rest on his face. "Oh, wasn't it?" he said. "Why not?"

"Och, would he take down the picture and remove the wire from it under the poor lady's very eyes?" demanded the Inspector.

"Certainly not. What makes you so sure she was in this room with him the whole time he was here?"

The Inspector stared at him. "But - !" He was silent, suddenly, frowning over it.

"Going a bit too fast, Sandy. All we know is what Thrimby and Poulton himself told us. According to Thrimby, he arrived here at about 6.25; according to both of them, he left at a quarter-to-seven. That gave him twenty minutes, during which time only he and Mrs. Haddington knew what happened. We have only his word for it they were together in the boudoir throughout. I admit, it doesn't seem likely she'd have left the room, but she might have: we don't know."

"Well," said the Inspector slowly, "supposing she left him to fetch something - it would not have given him much time, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't, and one would say he'd have wanted a bit of time to find that string - if it was that string and those scissors which were used! I don't say I think it was Poulton, but I do say it's still a possibility, and one we won't lose sight of. Setting him aside for the moment, who are we left with? I don't think it was Miss Birtley: I've considered her case carefully, and I don't see how she could have got to Earl's Court and back in the time. There's young Butterwick, who dashed out of the house leaving his stick behind him; and there's Lord Guisborough, who also went off in a rage, slamming the door behind him. Neither was actually seen to leave the premises; either, I suppose, could have concealed himself somewhere - in the cloakroom, say - until the coast was clear, and then slipped up to this room, and waited for Mrs. Haddington to come in. Look at those windows! They're both in slight embrasures, and you see how the thick curtains would shut off the whole embrasure. Plenty of room for a man to stand behind them, and I'll bet they were drawn by tea-time. Now tell me what possible reason either of those two can have for murdering Mrs. Haddington, and we shall both be happy! And don't say Guisborough did it because she flung his birth in his teeth, and he was touchy, because I don't like tall stories, and never did!"

"It could not have been the doctor?" Inspector Grant said doubtfully.

"You've got him on the brain!"

"It's the way he keeps on turning up!" apologised Grant.

"If you mean he was here in the middle of the day, there's no dispute about that: he admitted he was. Are you asking me to believe he lurked in the house till nearly seven o'clock at night? Talk sense! I saw him myself this afternoon!"

"Ach, I did not think it was he! I have wondered if Butterwick too was in this drug-racket, and yet I do not think it. That he is an addict himself is possible, but I saw none of the signs. Moreover, he was wearing his evening dress when I found him, and he would not have had time to have gone home, let alone have changed his clothes if he was in the Opera House for the first ballet."

"Well, unless he's a better actor than what I take him for, I should say he was there in time for the first ballet. I know that type! So that leaves us with Lord Guisborough, who either murdered Mrs. Haddington because she didn't want her daughter to marry him - funny thing, that! I should have thought a chap with a handle to his name was just what she was after! - or because Miss What's-her-name had told her his parents' wedding was just a trifle late."

The Inspector shook his head. "It will not do. He is a foolish, and maybe a violent young man, but lie would not murder anybody for such silly reasons as those. Besides, it was known that he was coming to see Mrs. Haddington! Do you tell me he came with murder in his head?"

"At the moment, I'm not telling you anything. He wouldn't havec had to have had it in his head, though. We do know they had a row, for she told Thrimby not to let him into the house again. If he did it, it was something that happened at that interview which made him decide to bump her off. In which case, he dashed downstairs, grabbed his coat, slammed the door, and nipped up to the boudoir again, which he knew was empty, and -"

"He had no time!" the Inspector ejaculated. "Mrs. Haddington rang to have him shown out, and she herself came to the head of the first flight of stairs!"

"Yes, because his High and Mightiness took such a time to answer the bell! Plenty of time for anyone who knew the house! And then she went up to the girl's room, and Thrimby went down to the basement, and while they were both nicely out of the way, his lordship got to work on the picture. There's only one thing wrong with that reconstruction: there's no motive! Pity! The more I think about it the more I like it! I mean, it would have been quite neat, wouldn't it? We were bound to think the same man committed both murders, and there he was alibi'd up to the ears for the first one, never even under suspicion! Of course, my trouble is I don't know enough about the fun and games they get up to in this precious Russia of his. If I was to discover that they go around murdering their mothers-in-law before ever they get engaged -"

"Mach ist thu!" interrupted the Inspector severely. "Will you not whisht now? You have only the butler's word for it she did not favour the young lord!"

"No, I haven't! The Blonde Bombshell told me so this very day, let alone the row he had with Mrs. Haddington, and her telling Thrimby never to let him in again!"

"That is true," admitted the Inspector. "I would not have thought it of the cailleach! Was it a Duke she meant to get for her daughter?"

"According to what I've managed to gather it was Terrible Timothy she had her eye on, if "the calyack" means Mrs. Haddington, which I take it it does! It gives me a better idea of her than I had before, but I agree with you it isn't what you'd have expected of her. What I can't make out is why she kept on inviting Lord Guisborough to the house, if she didn't like his politics. You can't suppose he ever made any secret of them! Perhaps she suddenly found out that he hadn't got any money to speak of or -" He stopped, reminding his sulordinate irresistibly of a terrier winding a rat. "Good God, Sandy!" he exclaimed. "Don't tell me I've missed something!"

"I will not, then," said the Inspector soothingly.

"You keep quiet, and whatever you do don't start spouting Gaelic at me! You're putting me off!" said Hemingway. "What did that lawyer-chap say? She rang him up about repairs and they had a little chat after that about the Marriage and Legitimacy Acts. Then she tells Lord Guisborough she'd like to see him, and he comes, and - Here, the man I want is Terrible Timothy!"

"Och, what will you be wanting him for?" demanded the Inspector protestingly.