Alan Hunter - Gently Does It

He sat Gretchen down at one of the little tile-topped tables by a french window and fetched tea from the counter in large, thick cups. Gretchen stirred her tea at some length. Just outside a foursome was being played, a young and a middle-aged couple: other tennis-players sat in groups round the larger tables, chattering and drinking soft drinks from bottles.

Gently sipped his tea and then leaned forward, chin in hand. Gretchen gave him a frightened glance. He said: ‘It will have to be told some time… why not tell me now?’

‘But… how can I?’

‘Is it so damning, what you know?’

‘To you it may seem so…’

Gently felt down for his tea-cup. ‘At least, you ought to warn Susan what sort of person she’s taking on.’

‘Susan!’ The waxen cheeks flushed.

‘She’s going out with him tonight.’

‘What do I care about that?’

‘Well, having done it once and got away with it…’ He took another sip of tea and appeared to be watching the foursome through the french window. Gretchen laid a trembling teaspoon in her saucer.

‘He told you so much… of his own accord?’

Gently shrugged imperceptibly. ‘Nobody forced him… he buttonholed me in the street.’

‘It was because he thinks I have spoken…?’

Gently said nothing, continued to watch the foursome fumble its way through another service. There was a burst of laughter from the party at the higher table: ‘Harry wouldn’t do a thing like that… no, no, we can’t believe it!’ ‘But he did, I tell you!’ ‘Johnny, you’re only saying that because Vera’s here…’ They clattered their bottles together and trooped out.

‘How about it?’ mused Gently.

‘Must it be… now?’

‘It will help me, and you’ll feel better to have done with it.’

‘Yes… I shall feel better.’ She gave a deep sigh and faced him. ‘Very well… it is as you say. I wiped the prints off the knife because I think he did it.’

‘And why did you think that?’

‘He was not with me then… at the time my father was killed.’

‘Where was he?’

She shook her head. ‘He went down as soon as my brother had gone to the study.’

‘Where — into the passage?’

‘That is so, but I remained on the landing. I heard the quarrel. After it is over, I expect him to come back up, but he did not come… and then there is the scream.’

‘About how long would it be between the time the quarrel ended and the time you heard the scream?’

‘Two, three minutes.’

‘And you went down immediately on hearing the scream?’

‘Oh no! It was frightening to hear that… I did not dare to go down then. It was another minute or two before I had courage to go. Then it was as I told you… I found him near the safe.’

‘And you saw nobody?’

‘Nobody… except my father.’

‘About how long were you in the room?’

‘It seemed a long time, but it was just a little while.’

‘And during that time you heard nothing?’

‘I should not have heard… once, everything went black and I thought I would fall. Then I came to myself again, and I knew I must do something… something to stop people thinking that it was him.’

‘You had no doubt in your mind then that Fisher was the murderer?’

‘… no, I had no doubt.’

‘Have you had any doubt since that time?’

‘… no.’

‘Where did you next see him?’

‘He was waiting in the bedroom when I got back. He asked me where I had been… when I told him that my father was killed he pretended to be surprised.’

‘And it was he who suggested establishing alibis?’

‘Oh yes… he said that I might have gone out through the kitchen, just as he had come in… there was nothing to prove that we had ever been there. He told me to find out about the programme at a cinema and it would be all right.’

‘And you left by the study and the timber-yard?’

‘That is so.’

‘As you were passing through the study, did Fisher stop to examine the body?’

‘No… he went straight through… I do not think he looked at it.’

Gently brooded over his cooling tea. ‘All this…’ he said, ‘you know, it’s your word against Fisher’s.’

‘But it is the truth!’

Gently smiled at a part-submerged tea-leaf. ‘I believe you… what you tell me fits every fact it touches. But I wish there was some proof, just a little bit. Because without it, one could even make a case against you, Miss Gretchen… and it wouldn’t be a bad one at that.’

There was a tea-time air about headquarters — against the run of the play, because nothing at headquarters was ever quite normal; but the human touch had its occasional triumphs, and this was one. Gently sniffed as he passed the canteen. They were serving toast and its cosy, inviting smell warned him that even the best of lunches wears off by five o’clock. The toast smell carried over to the superintendent’s office, where the great man was sitting ingesting a plateful, a far-away look in his eyes. The look became present and immediate when Gently entered.

‘I was just thinking about you,’ he said.

Gently acknowledged the thought with the ghost of a bow, moved over and abstracted half a round of toast from the super’s plate. ‘Of course, if you’re hungry…’ observed the super bitterly. Gently disclaimed the imputation through his first mouthful.

The super said: ‘Well?’

‘I’m almost home,’ returned Gently, butteredly.

‘You’ve got a case made out?’

‘It’s made out, but it won’t stand up yet. All the same, I think I’ve got enough to let young Peter out… so it’s a good thing you held back on him.’

The super ate some toast nastily. ‘Give,’ he said.

Gently crunched a moment. ‘First, I’ve had a statement from Fisher to the effect that he was in the house that afternoon.’

The super’s eyes opened wide. ‘You mean he’s talked?’ he fired.

‘He’s talked, but he hasn’t talked enough — not yet. That’s the main problem ahead, and I think it’s going to be solved without a great deal of difficulty.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean I’ve persuaded Miss Gretchen to fill in some of the gaps. According to her testimony, Fisher must either have seen it done or done it himself, one or the other. Of course, it’s her word against Fisher’s, but Fisher is getting to be rather worried, and if you make a pass at him with a murder charge I fancy he’ll talk both loud and clear.’

The super brandished a piece of toast. ‘Wait a minute!’ he exclaimed. ‘Do I understand that both of them were in the house at the time of the murder? They’ve both admitted that?’

Gently nodded pontifically. ‘Fisher made a voluntary statement. I had to spend some time on Miss Gretchen. At first she insisted that she was there alone, but after I got Fisher’s statement she came across with it. She has been positive that Fisher did it from the first — it was she who wiped the knife and hid it. She’s in trouble, by the way. Fisher became her lover a month or two ago and Saturday afternoon was his regular visiting time.’

‘Give me time!’ pleaded the super. ‘I’m still holding Peter Huysmann — doesn’t he fit into this thing anywhere?’

‘Well, he was there, and his quarrel with his father may have suggested to the murderer that the time was ripe. Otherwise, I don’t think he has much to do with the business.’

‘You’re saying that Fisher got the girl into trouble and then bumped off the old man so that he could marry her… is that it?’

‘Could be,’ admitted Gently cautiously, ‘but there’s another angle to it…’

‘Never mind the other angle! Let’s get this one straightened out first. You say the girl was sure that Fisher did it?’