Джорджетт Хейер - Death in the Stocks

“Yes,” said Antonia.

“And when you arrived at the cottage what did you do?”

Antonia gave him a concise account of her movements. Once or twice he prompted her with a question, while the Constable, who had seated himself by the door, busily wrote in shorthand. The Superintendent's manner, unlike the Inspector's, was so free from suspicion, and his way of putting his questions so quiet and understanding, that Antonia's wary reserve soon left her. When he asked her if she was on good terms with Arnold Vereker she replied promptly. “No, very bad terms. I know it isn't any use concealing that, because everyone knows it. We both were.”

“Both?”

“My brother Kenneth and I. We live together. He's an artist.”

“I see. Were you on bad terms with your half-brother for any specific reason, or merely on general grounds?”

She wrinkled up her nose. “Well, not so much one specific reason as two or three. He was our guardian - at least he'd stopped being Kenneth's guardian, because Kenneth is over twenty-five. I lived with him till a year ago, when I decided I couldn't stick it any longer, and then I cleared out and joined Kenneth.”

“Did your bro - half-brother object to that?”

“Oh no, not in the least, because we'd just had a flaming row about a disgusting merchant he was trying to push me off on to, and he was extremely glad to be rid of me.”

“And had this quarrel persisted?”

“More or less. Well, no, not really. We merely kept out of each other's way as much as possible. I don't mean that we didn't quarrel when we happened to meet, but it wasn't about the merchant, or having left Eaton Place, but just any old thing.”

The twinkle grew. “Tell me, Miss Vereker, did you come down to Ashleigh Green with the intention of continuing an old quarrel, or starting a new one?”

“Starting a new one. Oh, that isn't fair! You made me say that, and it isn't in the least what I meant. I won't have that written down for me to sign.”

“It won't be,” he assured her. “But you did come down because you were angry with him, didn't you?”

“Did I say that to the Inspector?” Antonia demanded.

He nodded. “All right, then, yes.”

“Why were you angry, Miss Vereker?”

“Because he'd had the infernal neck to say I wasn't going to marry the man I'm engaged to.”

“Who is that?” inquired the Superintendent.

“I don't see what that's got to do with it.”

Giles Carrington interposed: “Is your engagement a secret, Tony?”

“No, but -”

“Then don't be silly.”

She flushed, and looked down at her hands. “His name is Mesurier,” she said. “He works in my half-brother's firm.”

“And your half-brother objected to the engagement?”

“Yes, because he was a ghastly snob.”

“So he wrote a letter to you, forbidding the engagement?”

“Yes - That is - Yes.”

The Superintendent waited for a moment. “You don't seem very sure about that, Miss Vereker.”

“Yes, I am. He did write.”

“And I think you've destroyed his letter, haven't you?” said Hannasyde quietly.

Her eyes flew to his face: then she burst out laughing. “That's clever of you. How did you guess?”

“Why did you do that, Miss Vereker?”

“Well, principally because it was the sort of letter that would make anyone want to commit murder, and I thought it would be safer,” Antonia replied, ingenuously.

The Superintendent looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, and then got up. “I think it was a pity you destroyed it,” he said. “But we won't go into that now.”

“Are you going to arrest me?” Antonia asked.

He smiled. “Not immediately. Mr Carrington, if I could have a few moments' conversation with you?”

“Can I go home?” said Antonia hopefully.

“Certainly, but I want you to sign your statement first, please. The Constable will have it ready for you in a moment or two.”

“Where's your car, Tony?” asked Giles. “At the cottage? Well, wait for me here, and I'll take you out to collect it, and give you some lunch.”

“Well, thank God for that,” said Antonia. “I've just discovered I've got exactly two and five pence ha'penny on me, and I want some petrol.”

“How like you, Tony!” said Giles, and followed the Superintendent out of the room.

The Chief Constable had gone to lunch, and his office was empty. Hannasyde closed the door and said: “I shall want to go through the dead man's papers, Mr Carrington. Can you meet me at his house to-morrow morning?”

Giles nodded. “Certainly.”

“And the Will…”

“In my keeping.”

“I shall have to ask you to let me see it.”

Giles said, with a flickering smile: “It would be a waste of your time and my energy to protest, wouldn't it?”

“Thanks,” said Hannasyde, his own lips curving a little. “It would, of course.” He took out his notebook and opened it. “I understand that the dead man was chairman and managing director of the Shan Hills Mine? Is that correct?”

“Quite correct.”

“Unmarried?”

Giles sat down on the edge of the table. “Yes.”

“Can you tell me of what his immediate family consists?”

“His half-brother and half-sister, that's all.” Giles took out a cigarette and tapped it on his case. “Arnold Vereker was the eldest son of Geoffrey Vereker by his first wife, my father's sister, Maud. He was forty last December. There was one other son by that marriage, Roger, who would be thirty-eight if he were alive now — which, thank heaven, he's not. He was not precisely an ornament to the family, There was a certain amount of relief felt when he cleared out years ago. He went to South America, and I believe got himself mixed up in some revolution or other. Anyway, he's been dead about seven years now. Kenneth Vereker and his sister Antonia are the offspring of a second marriage. Their mother died shortly after Antonia's birth. My uncle died a month or two before Roger, leaving both Kenneth and Antonia under Arnold's guardianship.”

“Thank you, Mr Carrington: I hoped you would be able to help me. Can you tell me what sort of man Arnold Vereker was?”

“A man with a genius for making enemies,” replied Giles promptly. “He was one of those natural bullies who can yet make themselves very pleasant when they choose. Queer chap, with a streak of appalling vulgarity. Yet at the bottom there was something quite likeable about him. Chief hobbies, women and social climbing.”

“I think I know the type. From what I can make out he had a bit of a bad reputation down here.”

“I shouldn't be surprised. Arnold would never go weekending to an hotel for fear of being seen. He always wanted to stand well in the eyes of the world. Hence Riverside Cottage. Is it known, by the way, whether he had one of his fancies with him last night?”

“Very little is known, Mr Carrington. We have not yet traced his car. That may conceivably tell a tale. Whoever it was murdered your cousin presumably drove away in the car.”

“Neat,” approved Giles.

The Superintendent smiled faintly. “You share Miss Vereker's dislike of the man?”

“More or less. And I have one of those cast-iron alibis which I understand render one instantly suspect. I was playing bridge in my father's house on Wimbledon Common.”

The Superintendent nodded. “One more question, Mr Carrington. Can you tell me anything about this man” - he consulted his notebook - “Mesurier?”

“Beyond the fact that he is the Chief Accountant in my cousin's firm, nothing, I'm afraid. I am barely acquainted with him.”

“I see. I don't think I need keep you any longer now. You'll be wanting to take Miss Vereker away. Shall we say ten o'clock in Eaton Place tomorrow?”