Rex Stout - Double for Death

“I certainly pick good places to go calling,” said Grant grimly.

“You sure do,” Fox agreed. “Did you shoot Thorpe?”

“No.”

Nancy began, “It’s the most incredible—”

“Please, Miss Grant. I’d like to ask a couple of questions and get brief answers. One of us may be called in there at any moment.” He returned to Andy. “Where were you when you heard the shot?”

“I had just left the front terrace, heading this way, starting to look for Nancy. Mrs. Pemberton had gone into the house a little before, asking me to wait there for her, but I wanted to find Nancy to tell her I had agreed to stay for lunch.”

“Was there anyone in sight at the moment you heard the shot?”

“I don’t think so. I didn’t see anyone.”

“Let’s hope someone saw you.” Fox shifted to Nancy. “Where were you?”

“Right here. On this terrace.”

“Who else was there?”

“No one.”

“What about Jeffrey Thorpe?”

Nancy’s chin went up. “I don’t know where he was. He had followed me down to the swimming pool and I was trying my best to tolerate him on account of what you said last night, but he... he annoyed me and I told him a few things and left him there and came back here.”

“Weren’t there some men here?”

“Not when I heard the shot. They were there when I came, four of them, I think, but pretty soon they went in the house.”

“How long before the shot was fired?”

“Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. What I don’t—”

“One second. Were you here when Andy came by after he heard the shot?”

“I didn’t come this way,” Grant said. “The shot didn’t startle me much because I thought it was a car, but then somebody in the house let out a yell and I ran across the front terrace and in that way.”

Fox grunted. “Better and better.” To Nancy: “That blue thing that was on the floor in the library. You say it’s your scarf?”

“Yes, it is. That’s what I was saying is incredible—”

“Why is it incredible?”

“Because I don’t know how it got there. I know I didn’t take it there.”

“You didn’t have it on when you went through the music room.”

“I know very well I didn’t. I hadn’t had it on at all. When we got here and got out of the car I left it on the seat.”

Fox frowned. “You must be mistaken.”

“I am not mistaken! I left it there on the seat of the car and I haven’t been back there!”

“Don’t talk so loud. This begins to have points. If you were right here on this terrace, why did it take you so long to get into the house, and where were you when you heard Andy calling your name, and why were you panting when you went through the music room?”

Nancy flushed. “If that’s the tone—”

“Nonsense. Never mind my tone, you’ll hear worse ones when they get you in there. I’m in a hurry.”

“Answer him,” Grant said.

“Well, I...” Her color stayed. “I was panting because I had been running. The shot didn’t sound like a backfire to me, it sounded like a shot. I couldn’t tell what direction it came from, but I thought it came from the swimming pool. I suppose the reason I thought that was because that idiot had been talking, trying to be funny, talking about committing suicide if I didn’t—”

“What idiot? Jeffrey Thorpe?”

“Yes. Like a perfect fool, threatening to kill himself unless I — but the shot wouldn’t have made me think of that if it hadn’t been that he had had a revolver in his pocket and naturally—”

“Did he show you the revolver?”

“No, he didn’t show it to me, but I saw it. So did Uncle Andy.”

“Did you?”

“Yes,” said Grant. “When we drove up here he came out to welcome us, and a corner of his jacket caught on something and there was a gun in his hip pocket. A big one. Nancy and I both saw it.”

To Nancy again: “Was it still in his pocket at the swimming pool?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see it, but I had seen it, and then his talking like an idiot about killing himself — when I heard the shot I thought it came from the direction of the pool and I jumped and ran. I ran all the way to the pool and it’s quite a distance. There was no one there. The water is clear and he wasn’t — there was nothing in it. Then I heard Uncle Andy calling, yelling my name, and I ran back to the house.”

Fox looked at Andy. “You were in the library with the rest of them when I got there.”

He nodded. “I entered by the front terrace and the voices guided me to the library. There was already a lot of commotion in there, half a dozen people. Pretty soon everyone else was there, but not Nancy, and I guess I got panicky. I ran through the house out to this terrace and yelled for her. I couldn’t hear any answer and I ran around the house to where the cars were parked, and then on around to the other side, but there wasn’t any sign of her. From there I could hear the voices in the library and I thought I recognized hers, so I went through some shrubbery and entered by the French windows, but she wasn’t there. Then you came in and then you went out. I was just going after you to ask if you had seen Nancy when she came.”

“How did you know you could get into the library — hold it.”

Fox slipped off the table and stood. The door from the house had opened for the exit of District Attorney Derwin. He was in his shirt sleeves and his face was covered with perspiration. He took four paces on the flags, stopped, looked the party over and spoke:

“If you please, everybody! I won’t insult you by apologizing for the inconvenience you are enduring. To talk of such inconvenience in the presence of such a tragedy, such a crime, would be — uh — insulting. We are doing all we can. Two of my assistants are talking with Mrs. Pemberton. Colonel Brissenden is talking with Mr. Jeffrey Thorpe. I am talking with Mr. Kester.”

A man blurted, “Is there any reason—”

“Please! We are doing all we can to expedite matters. We would like first to have from each of you a brief statement as to where you were and what you were doing when the shot was fired. You will be asked to sign it. Sergeant Saunders of the state police is in the breakfast room and you will be taken there one at a time to give him the statement, which he will take down. Also in that room is the equipment for examining a person’s hands to ascertain if that person has recently fired a revolver. You will be asked to permit the examination. You have the right to refuse to permit it, but we hope that none of you will. Mrs. Pemberton, Mr. Thorpe and Mr. Kester have already permitted it. When that is concluded we shall proceed to further steps with all possible expedition.”

He turned. A man darted forward expostulating. Derwin snapped at him:

“We’re doing the best we can!”

He disappeared inside. A man who had come out with him looked around and said, “Miss Grant? Come with me, please.”

Two hours later, Fox, ushered into the library by a trooper and guided to a chair which was turned to face directly the light from the expanse of windows, glanced around before he sat. To his accustomed eye the room, though its contents were in order, displayed numerous signs of having been subjected to a rigorous police examination. The place on the rug where Ridley Thorpe’s body had sprawled was vacant. Four men were looking at him. District Attorney Derwin, sweating more generously than ever, was seated at Ridley Thorpe’s desk, and off at his right was a pimply young man with a stenographer’s notebook and fountain pen. At the far end of the large desk was a slightly older young man with horn-rimmed glasses, whom Fox recognized as an assistant district attorney, and standing near the door was the trooper who had brought Fox in.