Джорджетт Хейер - Death in the Stocks

“Were you together the entire evening, Miss Rivers?”

“Yes, of course,” she answered.

Kenneth's eyes went swiftly to her face with a look in them hard to read.

“Did you go to the ball alone, or in a party?” asked Hannasyde.

It seemed to Giles that she hesitated for a moment.

“We joined a party,” she said.

“A large party, Miss Rivers?”

“No, not very.”

“How many were in it?”

“About a dozen, all told,” said Kenneth. “We shared a box.”

“And you naturally danced with other members of the party besides Miss Rivers?”

“Naturally,” concurred Kenneth.

“But we always met in the box again after every dance,” Leslie struck in. “I don't think we lost sight of each other for more than five minutes at a time the whole night, did we, Kenneth?”

“No,” said Kenneth slowly. “Probably not.”

Giles thought, with a sinking heart: That's a lie. And Kenneth isn't doing it well.

“You didn't leave the Albert Hall during the course of the dance, Mr Vereker?”

“No.”

There was a pause. Hannasyde put his hand in his pocket, and drew out the meerschaum pipe. “Have you ever seen that before?” he asked.

Kenneth looked at it, then held out his hand. Hannasyde put the pipe into it. Kenneth inspected it more closely and gave it back. “Many times. It belongs to me.”

“I found it on the mantelpiece in your half-brother's flat, Mr Vereker.”

“Did you?” said Kenneth. “I must have left it there.”

“When?”

“Two or three nights ago. I was dining there.”

“You haven't missed it?”

“No,” said Kenneth indifferently. “I don't always smoke the same pipe.”

“A meerschaum is usually a somewhat cherished possession,” Hannasyde said. “I too am a pipe-smoker, you know.”

“You may be, but you're not a Vereker,” returned Kenneth, the ghost of his impish look in his eyes. He pushed his plate aside, and set his elbows on the table. “And now may I ask a few questions?”

“In a moment, Mr Vereker. I want you first to tell me the names of the other members in your party last night.”

“You are going to have a busy day,” remarked Kenneth. “Leslie, who was in our party?”

“Well, the Hernshaws, for one,” began Leslie thoughtfully.

“Two, darling. Mr and Mrs Gerald Hernshaw, Haltings, Cranleigh, Superintendent. That'll be a nice little jaunt for you.”

“And Tommy Drew,” continued Leslie.

“Honourable Thomas Drew, Albany. That's an easy one for you, but he wasn't noticeably sober after eleven, so he may not be so useful.”

“And some people called Westley. I don't know where they live.”

“Were those the blights that came with Arthur and Paula?” inquired Kenneth, interested. “I danced with the female one. They live somewhere on Putney Hill, and breed Pomeranians.”

“You made that bit up,” said Antonia accusingly.

“I did not. The She-Wesley said she got three firsts at Richmond with her bitch Pansy of Poltmore.”

“Then Poltmore is probably the name of her house,” said Antonia. “I call Pansy a perfectly rotten name for a dog.”

At this point Giles intervened. “This would be done more expeditiously if Miss Rivers told the Superintendent what he wants to know and you two kept quiet,” he said.

“Well, don't forget the copper-headed wench,” said Kenneth, getting up and strolling over to the fireplace. “She came with Tommy, and appeared to regret it.” He selected a pipe from the rack on the mantelpiece and began to fill it from an earthenware jar of tobacco. By the time it was alight Leslie had come to the end of her list, and the Superintendent was jotting down the last name in his notebook. Kenneth puffed for a moment, and then said: “And now, if you've no objection, when did my half-brother shoot himself?”

“Your half-brother, Mr Vereker, was shot sometime last night - probably before midnight, but on that point I have as yet no certain information.”

“And the weapon?”

“The weapon was a Colt .32 automatic pistol.” Kenneth's brows lifted. “It was, was it? Where's your gun, Tony?”

She looked startled, saw the hint of a frown in Giles Carrington's eyes, and said jerkily: “What are you driving at? I didn't shoot Roger!”

“Nobody said you did, my child. Where is it?”

“In the top left-hand drawer of my bureau.”

He moved towards the bureau. “I'm willing to bet it isn't.”

“Well, this time you'd lose,” retorted Antonia. “I happen to know it's there, because I had it out and oiled it that day we spring-cleaned this room.”

Kenneth opened the drawer, and turned over the papers in it. “I win,” he said. “Think again.”

“But I know I put it there!” said Antonia, growing rather pale. “Under the used cheques. Leslie, you were here: don't you remember?”

“I remember you oiling it, but I don't think I saw you put it away,” said Leslie. “Try the right-hand drawer, Kenneth.”

“Not there either,” said Kenneth.

“I am utterly positive I put it in the left-hand drawer!” stated Antonia. She got up, and went to the bureau, and turned the contents of the drawer upside down. Then she said in rather a frightened voice: “No, it isn't there. Someone's taken it.”

“You're quite sure you didn't move it later, and forget about it?” Giles asked.

“Yes. It always lives in my bureau. I'll look, but I know I never moved it.”

“I shouldn't bother,” said Kenneth.

Hannasyde said quietly: “Did anyone other than your brother and Miss Rivers know where you kept your pistol, Miss Vereker?”

“Oh yes, lots of people!”

“Can you be a little more precise?” he asked.

“Anyone who knew the flat well. You did, for instance, didn't you, Giles?”

“Yes, I knew you kept it in your bureau, Tony. I think it was nay suggestion. But didn't I also suggest a lock and key?”

“I daresay you did, but I lost the key ages ago, and anyway I never remembered to keep it locked up.”

“Do you think your half-brother knew, Miss Vereker?”

She reflected. “Roger? I should think he must have found out, because he told me himself he'd been through my bureau to see if I kept any money there. Kenneth, is that what you're driving at? Do you think Roger took it?”

“Yes, of course I do,” replied Kenneth. “My friend-the Superintendent, on the other hand, thinks I took it.”

Hannasyde paid no heed to this, but merely asked Antonia if she knew the number of the pistol.

“On your licence, Tony,” prompted Giles. “Can you lay your hand on that?”

“It's sure to be somewhere in my desk,” she said hopefully.

Exhaustive search, in which she was aided by Kenneth, Giles and Leslie Rivers, at last brought the Arms Licence to light. She gave it triumphantly to Hannasyde, apologising at the same time for its somewhat dilapidated appearance. She said that dogs got hold of it once when Juno was a puppy.

Hannasyde noted down the number of the pistol, gave her back the licence, and prepared to depart. Kenneth stopped him. “How serious are you in thinking that this may not have been suicide, friend Osric?” he demanded.

“You have reminded me yourself that I am not a Vereker,” replied Hannasyde. “I don't joke on such matters.”

“Some reason up your sleeve for thinking it murder?”

“Yes,” said Hannasyde. “Several reasons. Is there anything else you would like to know?”

“Certainly there is,” answered Kenneth, a trifle unexpectedly. “I want very much to know who, after me, is the next heir.”

His words produced a surprised silence. Hannasyde broke it. “That is hardly my province,” he said.