Ngaio Marsh - False Scent

“But what did she do?”

He thought she was going to jib, but suddenly it all came out. It had happened, she said, after the tragedy. Charles Templeton had been taken to his dressing-room and Ninn had appeared on the landing while Florence was taking him a hot bottle. Florence herself had been too agitated to tell her what had happened in any detail. She had given Mr. Templeton the bottle and left him. He was terribly distressed and wanted to be left alone. She had returned to the landing and seen Dr. Harkness and Timon Gantry come out of the bedroom and speak to Mrs. Plumtree, who had then gone into the dressing-room. Florence herself had been consumed with a single overwhelming desire.

“I wanted to see after her . I wanted to look after my Lady. I knew what she’d have liked me to do for her. The way they’d left her! The way she looked! I wasn’t going to let them see her like that and take her away like that. I knew her better than anybody. She’d have wanted her old Floy to look after her.”

She gave a harsh sob but went on very doggedly. She had gone to the bedroom door and found it locked. This, Alleyn gathered, had roused a kind of fury in her. She had walked up and down the landing in an agony of frustration and had then remembered the communicating door between the bedroom and dressing-room. So she had stolen to the door from the landing into the dressing-room and had opened it very carefully, not wishing to disturb Mr. Templeton. She had found herself face to face with Mrs. Plumtree.

It must, Alleyn thought, have been an extraordinary scene. The two women had quarrelled in whispers. Florence had demanded to be allowed to go through into the bedroom. Mrs. Plumtree had refused. Then Florence had told her what she wanted to do.

“I told her! I told her I was the only one to lay my poor girl out and make her look more like herself. She said I couldn’t. She said she wasn’t to be touched by doctor’s orders. Doctor’s orders ! I’d of pulled her away and gone through. I’d got me hands on ’er to do it, but it was too late.”

She turned to Fox. “He’d come in. He was coming upstairs. She said, ‘That’s the police. D’you want to get yourself locked up?’ I had to give over and I went to my room.”

“I’m afraid she was right, Florence.”

“ Are you! That shows how much you know! I wasn’t to touch the body! Me! Me, that loved her. All right! So what was Clara Plumtree doing in the bedroom? Now!”

“What!” Fox ejaculated. “In the bedroom? Mrs. Plumtree?”

“Ah!” Florence cried out in a kind of triumph. “Her! She’d been in there herself and let her try and deny it!”

Alleyn said, “How do you know she’d been in the bedroom?”

“How? Because I heard the tank filling and the basin tap running in the bathroom beyond. She’d been in there doing what it was my right to do. Laying her hands on my poor girl.”

“But why do you suppose this? Why?”

Her lips trembled and she rubbed her hand across them. “ Why! Why ! I’ll tell you why. Because she smelt of that scent. Smelt of it, I tell you, so strong it would sicken you. So if you’re going to lock anybody up, you can start on Clara Plumtree.”

Her mouth twisted. Suddenly she burst into tears and blundered out of the room.

Fox shut the door after her and removed his spectacles. “A tartar,” he observed.

“Yes,” Alleyn agreed. “A faithful, treacherous, jealous, pig-headed tartar. You never know how they’ll cut up in a crisis. Never. And I fancy, for our pains, we’ve got a brace of them in this party.”

As if to confirm this opinion there was a heavy single bang on the door. It swung violently open and there, on the threshold, was Old Ninn Plumtree with P.C. Philpott, only less red-faced than herself, towering in close attendance.

“Lay a finger on me, young man,” Old Ninn was saying, “and I’ll make a public example of you.”

“I’m sure I’m very sorry, sir,” said Philpott. “The lady insists on seeing you and short of taking her in charge I don’t seem to be able to prevent it.”

“All right, Philpott,” Alleyn said. “Come in, Ninn. Come in.”

She did so. Fox resignedly shut the door. He put a chair behind Ninn, but she disregarded it. She faced Alleyn over her own folded arms. To look in his face she was obliged to tilt her own acutely backwards and in doing so gave out such an astonishingly potent effluvium that she might have been a miniature volcano smouldering with port and due to erupt. Her voice was sepulchral and her manner truculent.

“I fancied,” she said, “I knew a gentleman when I saw one and I hope you’re not going to be a disappointment. Don’t answer me back. I prefer to form my own opinion.”

Alleyn did not answer her back.

“That Floy,” Old Ninn continued, “has been at you. A bad background, if ever there was one. What’s bred in the child comes out in the woman. Don’t believe a word of what she tells you. What’s she been saying about the boy?”

“About Mr. Dakers?”

“Certainly. A man to you, seem he may; to me who knows him inside out, he’s a boy. Twenty-eight and famous, I daresay, but no more harm in him than there ever has been, which is never. Sensitive and fanciful, yes. Not practical, granted. Vicious, fiddle! Now. What’s that Floy been putting about?”

“Nothing very terrible, Ninn.”

“Did she say he was ungrateful? Or bad-mannered?”

“Well…”

“He’s nothing of the sort. What else?”

Alleyn was silent. OLd Ninn unfolded her arms. She laid a tiny gnarled paw on Alleyn’s hand. “Tell me what else,” she said, glaring into his face, “I’ve got to know. Tell me.”

“ You tell me ” he said and put his hand over hers. “What was the matter between Mr. Richard and Mrs. Templeton? It’s better I should know. What was it?”

She stared at him. Her lips moved but no sound came from them.

“You saw him,” Alleyn said, “when he came out of her room. What was the matter? Florence told us…”

“ She told you! She told you that!”

“I’d have found out, you know. Can you clear it up for us? Do, if you can.”

She shook her head in a very desolate manner. Her eyes were glazed with tears and her speech had become uncertain. He supposed she had fortified herself with an extra glass before tackling him and it was now taking full effect.

“I can’t say,” she said indistinctly. “I don’t know. One of her tantrums. A tyrant from the time she could speak. The boy’s never anything but good and patient.” And after a moment she added quite briskly, “Doesn’t take after her in that respect. More like the father.”

Fox looked up from his notes. Alleyn remained perfectly still. Old Ninn rocked very slightly on her feet and sat down.

“Mr. Templeton?” Alleyn said.

She nodded two or three times with her eyes shut. “You may well say so,” she murmured, “you — may — well…” Her voice trailed into silence and she dozed.

Fox opened his mouth and Alleyn signalled him and he shut it again. There was a considerable pause. Presently Old Ninn gave a slight snore, moved her lips and opened her eyes.

Alleyn said, “Does Mr. Richard know about his parentage?”

She looked fixedly at him. “Why shouldn’t he?” she said. “They were both killed in a motor accident and don’t you believe anything you’re told to the contrary. Name of Dakers.” She caught sight of Fox and his notebook. “Dakers,” she repeated and spelt it out for him.

“Thank you very much,” said Fox.

Alleyn said, “Did you think Mr. Richard looked very much upset when he came out of her room?”