Реймонд Маршалл - The Paw in the Bottle

‘Oh, Inspector, is Miss Holland all right?’ Wesley asked guardedly.

‘Yes... a bit shocked, but she’s all right. I’m going to see her now.’

‘Did she see anything?’

‘That’s what I’m going to find out.’

‘I see. Thank you.’

Dawson went quietly from the room, closed the door. He stood for a moment or so thinking, then went into the lounge where Garson was waiting.

‘Go down to the garage and find out if anyone saw Mrs. Wesley come in that way,’ he said. ‘The garage is in the basement and was the one place we didn’t guard. Wesley says he thinks that was how she got in.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Garson said, made to move off but Dawson stopped him.

‘Where’s the Holland girl?’

‘In her room; end of the passage, sir.’

Dawson nodded and went with a heavy tread down the passage. He rapped on the door, pushed it open and went in.

Julie was lying on the bed. Her tear-stained face blanched when she saw who it was.

‘Where were you when the shooting took place?’ Dawson demanded. He had no intention of wasting any time with Julie.

‘In Mrs. Wesley’s room.’

‘What happened?’

‘I... I don’t know. I... I didn’t see any of it.’

Dawson surveyed her; his mouth tightening.

‘Now look here, young woman, you’ve been on the fringe of trouble for some time. Now you’re mixed up in a murder case. You and Gleb were the only two in the flat. You’d better be a bit more helpful or you’ll be getting into trouble.’

‘But I don’t know,’ Julie cried, struggling up on the bed. ‘I didn’t see anything.’

‘You heard something, didn’t you?’

‘I heard Mrs. Wesley scream. Then there was a shot. I ran out. Harry was bending over Mrs. Wesley. He’d just come from the kitchen.’

‘That’s all you saw? You didn’t see him shoot her?’

‘But he didn’t shoot her. He was in the kitchen!’ Julie cried, wringing her hands. ‘He didn’t do it. He hadn’t a gun. Harry wouldn’t do a thing like that.’

‘It’s no use trying to get him out of his trouble. I know you’ve been in love with him, but it won’t do,’ Dawson said harshly. ‘If he didn’t do it, who did? Did you do it? Only you and Gleb were in the flat.’

‘Oh, no!’ Julie exclaimed, terrified at once. ‘I... I didn’t do it.’

Dawson smiled grimly.

‘I didn’t think you did,’ he said. ‘But I wanted to show you lying might make things difficult for you.’

‘But... but I’m sure Harry didn’t do it,’ Julie said, clenching her fists. ‘The front door was open. Someone could have shot her through the front door.’

‘The invisible man? I had a man at either end of the passage. No one could have come up or down the stairs without being seen. As soon as the shot was fired both my men came into the passage. There was no one in sight.’

Julie stared at him, going cold.

‘Did Gleb have the gun in his hand?’ Dawson asked.

‘No. It was lying on the floor by Mrs. Wesley; just by the door.’

‘All right. Well, this let’s you out. Theo’s dead. Gleb’s nabbed and we’re roping the Frenches in now. You’d better watch your step from now on.’ He turned to the door, looked over his shoulder. ‘You’ll be a witness, remember,’ he reminded her. ‘This trial is going to cause a lot of noise. Be careful what you do between now and the trial, won’t you?’

He ran into Garson as he left Julie’s room.

‘No one in the garage, sir,’ Garson reported. ‘The staff leave at seven.’

‘You’d better try and trace the taxi that brought her here,’ Dawson said, frowning. ‘There’s something very odd about the way she sneaked back here. I’ve got a feeling it’ll pay us to put some work in on this angle.’

Garson looked a little startled.

‘But Gleb shot her, didn’t he? There’s no doubt about that, is there?’

‘There’s always a doubt until the trial’s over,’ Dawson said acidly. ‘I’m not going to have my case shot from under me for the lack of a little hard work. I’ve wanted to lay my hands on Gleb for a long time. Now I’ve got him, I don’t intend to let him slip through my fingers. Find out what Mrs. Wesley did from the time she left Wesley to the time she was shot.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Neither of them noticed that the door of Wesley’s study had opened an inch or so. When Garson hurried away, the door silently closed.

When the police finally left there came over the flat a strange quiet. Julie had hoped that Dawson would have come in and seen her again. She longed for an assurance that Harry would be all right; that they didn’t really believe he had killed Blanche, but Dawson didn’t come. She heard his deep voice as he stood in the passage outside her door giving instructions to his men, and she had waited, her nails digging into the palms of her hands, hoping he would remember her. But it seemed either she had gone completely from his mind or else he didn’t consider her to be of any further use to him, for she heard him say good night to Wesley and go off, his heavy tread resounding through the flat.

Then later she heard Gerridge leave. Even he had apparently forgotten her, and when the final policeman had gone she went quickly to the door and peered into the passage. She looked fearfully for bloodstains but someone had scrubbed the carpet clean. There was still a big damp patch on it, and on the white part of the pattern she could make out a faint brown stain.

Silence hung in the passage like the silence in an empty church. The two passage lights, shaded by green parchment shades, threw an eerie light on the pattern of the carpet.

She was frightened of the passage, feeling that Blanche was still in the flat, that she might suddenly materialize before her, and with a little shudder she closed the door and leaned against it.

She couldn’t bear the thought of spending another hour in the flat. Her one thought now was to get away from it as quickly as she could. She had the key to the flat in Vigo Street and she decided to go there. There was no point in staying in this ghastly atmosphere a moment longer, and she immediately set about packing a bag.

Later, she was staring at the contents of the bag, wondering if she had forgotten anything, when a slight sound in the passage made her stiffen and she felt a cold tingle run up her spine.

Blanche?

She told herself not to be ridiculous. Blanche was dead. Then Wesley? Was he coming to her?

She waited and listened, and the sound, no louder than the scratching of mice at the wainscoting, was repeated. She crept to the door and opened it by degrees until it was just wide enough for her to peer into the passage.

Wesley was standing by the front door, looking down at the damp patch of carpet. He stood there for several minutes, his pale face expressionless, and then suddenly he passed his foot gently over the patch of damp. He did this several times, and said softly: ‘She wasn’t fit to go on living.’

Julie felt suddenly tired and ill, and walked unsteadily to her bed and sat down. She put her head between her hands and closed her eyes. She remained like that for some time, waiting for the feeling of faintness to pass.

She did not hear Wesley come into the room, and when he spoke she started, her body recoiling in a convulsive little leap that seemed to startle him almost as much as he had startled her.

‘I didn’t mean to frighten you,’ he said gently. ‘I should have knocked. I wasn’t thinking.’

She didn’t say anything.

‘It’s very quiet now, isn’t it?’ he went on, moving softly about the room, not looking at her. ‘I didn’t come to see you before, because of the police. They told me you were all right. It must have been a horrible shock for you.’