Ngaio Marsh - Overture to Death

“And the lady from outside,” added Alleyn, looking at his notes. “You have forgotten Mrs. Ross.”

“So I have. Well, she’s simply a rather charming new-comer. That’s all. I’m blessed if I can see who, by the wildest flight of imagination, could have wanted to kill this very dull middle-aged frumpish spinster. I shouldn’t have thought she had an enemy in the world.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” said Sergeant Roper, unexpectedly. Alleyn looked up at him.

“No?”

“No, sir, I wouldn’t say that. To speak frankly, she was a very sharp-tongued lady. Mischievous like. Well, over-bearing. Very curious, too. Proper nosey-parker. My missus always says you couldn’t change your mind without it being overheard at the Red House. My missus is friendly with the cook up to Red House, but she never says anything she doesn’t want everybody in the village to hear about. Miss Campanula used to order the meals and then wait for the news, as you might say. They call her the Receiving Set in Chipping.”

“Do they indeed,” murmured Alleyn.

“You don’t murder people for being curious,” said Templett.

“I can’t imagine it with Miss Campanula.”

“I don’t reckon anybody did want to murder Miss Campanula,” said Roper, stolidly.

“Hullo!” Alleyn ejaculated. “What’s all this?”

“I reckon they wanted to murder Miss Prentice.”

“Good God!” said Templett. “I never thought of that!”

“Never thought of what?” said Alleyn.

“I forgot to tell you. Good Lord, what a fool! Why didn’t you remind me, Roper? Good Lord!”

“May we hear now?” asked Alleyn patiently.

“Yes, of course.”

In considerable confusion, Templett explained about Miss Prentice’s finger and the change of pianists.

“This is altogether another kettle of fish,” said Alleyn. “Let’s get a clear picture. You say that up to twenty minutes to eight Miss Prentice insisted that she was going to do the overture and entr’acte?”

“Yes. I told her three days ago she’d better give it up. There was this whitlow on her middle finger and she mucked about with it and got some sort of infection. It was very painful. D’you think she’d give in? Not a bit of it. Said she’d alter the fingering of her piece. Wouldn’t hear of giving up. I asked her to-night if she’d let me look at it. Oh, no! It was ‘much easier’! She’d got a surgical stall over it. At about twenty to eight I passed the ladies dressing-room. The door was half-open and I heard a sound like somebody crying. I could see her in there alone, rocking backwards and forwards holding this damned finger. I went in and insisted on looking at it. All puffed up and as fiery as hell! She was in floods of tears but she still said she’d manage. I put my foot down. Dinah Copeland came in, saw what was up, and fetched her father who’s got more authority over these women than anybody else. He made her give in. Old Idris, poor old girl, had turned up by then and was all agog to play the famous Prelude. She’s played it in and out of season for the last twenty years, if it’s been written as long as that. Somebody was sent off to the Red House for the music and a dress; she was dressed up for her part, you see. The rector said he’d make an announcement about it. By that time Miss Prentice had settled down to being a martyr and — but, look here, I’m being most amazingly indiscreet. Now, don’t go and write all this down in that notebook and quote me as having said it.”

Dr. Templett looked anxiously at Fox whose notebook was flattened out on his enormous knee.

“That’s all right, sir,” said Fox blandly. “We only want the essentials.”

“And I’m giving you all the inessentials. Sorry.”

“I didn’t say that, now, doctor.”

“We can take it,” Alleyn said, “that, in your opinion, up to twenty to eight everybody, including Miss Campanula and Miss Prentice, believed the music would be provided by Miss Prentice.”

“Certainly.”

“And this Venetian Suite was Miss Prentice’s music?”

“Yes.”

“Nobody could have rigged this apparatus inside the piano after seven-forty?”

“Lord, no! The audience began to arrive at about half-past seven, didn’t it, Roper? You were on the door.”

“The Cains turned up at seven-twenty,” said Roper, “and Mr. and Mrs. Biggins and that young limit Georgie, were soon after them. I was on duty at seven. Must have been done before then, sir.”

“Yes. What about the afternoon and morning? Anybody here?”

“We were all in and out during the morning,” said Dr. Templett. “The Y.P.F.C. girls did the decorating and fixed up the supper arrangements and so on, and we got our stuff ready behind the scenes. Masses of people.”

“You’d been rehearsing here, I suppose?”

“Latterly. We did most of the rehearsing up in the study in Pen Cuckoo. It was too cold here until they got extra heaters in. We had our dress rehearsal here on Thursday night. Yesterday afternoon at five, Friday I mean, we went up to Pen Cuckoo and had what Dinah calls a run-through for words.”

“What about this afternoon before the performance?”

“It was shut up during the afternoon. I called in at about three o’clock to drop some of my gear. The place was closed then and the key hung up between the wall of the outside place and the main building. We’d arranged that with Dinah.”

“Did you notice the piano?”

“Now, did I? Yes. Yes, I did. It was where it is now, with bunting all over the top and a row of pot plants. They’d fixed it up like that in the morning.”

“Did anybody else look in at three o’clock while you were here?”

“Let me think. Yes, Mrs. Ross was there with some foodstuff. She left it in the supper-room at the back of the stage.”

“How long were you both in the place?”

“Oh, not long. We — talked for a minute or two and then came away.”

“Together?”

“No. I left Mrs. Ross arranging sandwiches on plates. By the way, if you want anything to eat, do help yourselves. And there’s some beer under the table. I provided it, so don’t hesitate.”

“Very kind of you,” said Alleyn.

“Not a bit. Be delighted. Where were we? Oh, yes. I had a case over near Moorton and I wanted to look in at the cottage hospital. I wasn’t here long.”

“Nobody else came in?”

“Not then.”

“Who was the first to arrive in the evening?”

“I don’t know. I was the last. Had an emergency case at six. When I got home I found my wife not so well again. We didn’t get here till half-past seven. Dinah Copeland thought I wasn’t going to turn up and had worked herself into a frightful stew. She’d be able to tell you all about times of arrival. I bet she got here long before the rest of the cast. Dinah Copeland. That’s the parson’s daughter. She produced the play.”

“Yes. Thank you”

“Well, I suppose you don’t want me any longer. Good Lord, it’s nearly two o’clock!”

“Awful, isn’t it? We shall be here all night, I expect. No, we won’t bother you any more, Dr. Templett.”

“What about moving the body? Shall I fix up for the mortuary van to come along as early as possible?”

“I wish you would.”

“I’ll have to do the P.M., I suppose?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

“Pretty plain sailing, it’ll be, poor old girl. Well, good-night or good-morning, er — I don’t know your name, do I?”

“Alleyn.”

“What, Roderick Alleyn?”

“Yes.”

“By George, I’ve read your book of criminal investigation. Damned good. Fascinating subject, isn’t it?”

“Enthralling.”

“For the layman, what? Not such fun for the expert.”