Джорджетт Хейер: Death in the Stocks

The Inspector had no longer any compunction in disclosing the truth. “Mr Vereker was murdered,” he said bluntly. He noticed with satisfaction that he did seem at last to have startled her a little. She lost some of her colour, and looked as though she did not know what to say. He added after a short pause: “His body was discovered in thee stocks at Ashleigh Green at one-fifty this morning.”

“His body was discovered in the stocks?” repeated the girl. “Do you mean somebody put him in the stocks and he died of fright, or exposure, or what?”

“Your half-brother, miss, died as a result of a knife thrust through the back,” said the Inspector.

“Oh!” said Antonia. “Rather beastly.”

“Yes,” said the Inspector.

She stretched out her hand mechanically towards an open box of cigarettes, and began to tap one of them on her thumb-nail. “Very nasty,” she observed. “Who did it?”

“The police have no information on that point at present, miss.”

She struck a match, and lit the cigarette. “Well, I didn't, if that's what you want to know. Have you come here to arrest me, or something?”

“Certainly not, miss. All I wish to do is to make a few inquiries. Anything you can tell me that would throw some light on -”

She shook her head. “Sorry, but I can't. We haven't been on speaking terms for months.”

“Excuse me, miss, but if that's so, how do you come to be in Mr Vereker's house now?”

“Oh, that's easy,” she replied. “He wrote me a letter which made me see red, so I came down to have it out with him.”

“May I ask if you have that letter, miss?”

“Yes, but I don't propose to show it to you, if that's what you're after. Purely personal.”

“I take it the matter was very pressing? Mr Vereker would have been in London again on Monday?”

“Well, I didn't feel like waiting till Monday,” retorted Antonia. “He wasn't in Eaton Place when I rang up, so I took a chance on his being here. He wasn't, but the beds were made up, and there was some milk and butter and eggs and things in the larder, which made it look fairly certain that he was expected, so I waited for him. When he didn't turn up at midnight I went to bed, because it seemed to be a bit late to go home again then.”

“I see. And you haven't been out of the house since - I think you said it was about seven o'clock - last night?”

“Yes, of course I've been out of the house since then,” she said impatiently. “I took the dog for a run just before I turned in. That's when he had the fight. A mangy looking retriever set on him about half a mile from here. Blood and fur all over the place. However, there was no real damage done.”

The Constable was surveying the bull-terrier, lying watchfully by the door. “You dog wasn't hurt then, miss?” he ventured.

She looked contemptous. “Hardly at all. He's a bull terrier.”

“I was only thinking, miss,” said the Constable, with a deprecating glance towards the Inspector, “that it was odd your dog wasn't bitten too.”

“You don't seem to know much about bull-terriers,” said Antonia.

“That'll do, Dickenson,” intervened the Inspector. He addressed Antonia again. “I shall have to ask you, miss, if you would come back to the Police Station with me. You'll understand that you being a relative, and in Mr Vereker's house at the time, the Chief Constable would like to have your statement, and any particulars you can give of the deceased's -”

“But I tell you I don't know anything about it,” said Antonia snappishly. “Moreover, if I'm wanted to make statements and sign things, I'll have a lawyer down to see I don't go and incriminate myself.”

The Inspector said in a measured tone. “No one wants you to do that, miss. But you must surely realise that the police are bound to want all the information they can get. You can't object to telling the Chief Constable quite simply anything you know about your brother -”

“Don't keep on calling him my brother! Half-brother!”

“I beg pardon, I'm sure. Anything you know about your half-brother, and what you yourself were doing at the time of the murder.”

“Well, I've already told you that.”

“Yes, Miss, and what I want you to do is tell it again, just in what words you please, at the Station, where it can be taken down in shorthand, and given you to read over and correct, if you like, and sign. There isn't any harm in that, is there?”

The girl stubbed the end of her cigarette into her saucer. “It seems to me there might he a lot of harm in it,” she said with paralysing frankness. “If you're going to investigate my half-brother's murder you're bound to find out quite a lot of happy little details about our family, so I might just as well tell you at the outset that I loathed the sight of Arnold, I didn't happen to murder him, but I haven't got an alibi, and, as far as I can see, things rather point my way. So if it's all the same to you - and equally if it isn't - I shan't say anything at all till I see my solicitor.”

“Very well, miss, it's just as you like. And if you'll accompany me to Hanborough you can ring your solicitor from the station.”

“Do you mean I've got to hang about in a Police Station all day?” demanded Antonia. “I'm damned if I will! I've got a luncheon engagement in town at one o'clock.”

“Well, miss,” said the Inspector placably, “I've no wish to force you into making a statement if you don't want to, but if you'd only see sense and act reasonably, I daresay the Chief Constable wouldn't see any need to detain you.”

“Have you got a warrant for my arrest?” Antonia shot at him.

“No, miss, I have not.”

“Then you can't stop me going back to Town.”

The Inspector showed signs of beginning to lose his temper. “If you go on like this much longer, miss, you'll soon see whether I can take you up to the Police Station or not!”

Antonia lifted an eyebrow, and glanced towards the “Would you like to bet on it?” she inquired.

“Come along, miss, don't be silly!” said the Inspector.

“Oh, well!” said Antonia. “After all, I do want to know who did kill Arnold. I've often said I'd like to, but I never did, somehow. Do you mind if I put on my skirt, or would you like me just as I am?”

The Inspector said he would prefer her to put on her skirt. “All right. But you'll have to clear out while I do. And while you're waiting one of you might look out Mr Giles Carrington's number in the telephone book, and get on to him for me, and tell him he's got to come down here at once, because I'm being charged with murder.”

“Nobody's charging you with anything of the sort, miss, I keep on telling you!”

“Well, you will be soon,” said Antonia, with the utmost cheerfulness.

Mrs Beaton, when interviewed, proved a disappointing witness. Constable Dickenson had warned the Inspector that she was not one to talk, but the Inspector soon formed the opinion that her reticence had its root in a profound ignorance of her employer's affairs. When Arnold Vereker was at the cottage she was never required to do more than cook breakfast, and tidy the house before going home again at twelve o'clock. Mr Vereker nearly always brought a hamper down with him from Fortnum & Mason's, and sometimes, when he did not come alone, she never even set eyes on his guests. She had received a wire from Mr Vereker on Friday, warning her that he was coming down on Saturday, and might bring a visitor, but who the visitor was, whether man or woman, or at what hour they would arrive, she had not the least idea.

The Chief Constable, adopting a fatherly attitude, failed to make any impression on Antonia Vereker, and there was nothing for it, with regard to her evidence, but to await the arrival of Mr Giles Carrington. Unfortunately Mr Giles Carrington had gone to play golf by the time a call had been put through to his residence, and although the servant who answered the telephone promised to ring up the golf club at once no dependence could be placed on the message's reaching him before lunch-time.