Vernon Loder - The Shop Window Murders

Devenish nodded. ‘Quite right. The times are important—one of them, anyway. I am going over myself this afternoon, so don’t trouble again. I want you to go carefully over the ground here, and make me a plan of the route which the murderer might have taken if he carried one, or both, of the bodies into the front window space from the lift.’

‘The goods-lift where the dagger was found, sir?’

‘That’s it. After you have done that, I want you to make inquiries about the night watchman. Go to Mr Crayte for the address. I don’t want the man to know. By the way, have you seen Mr Kephim anywhere in the building?’

‘No, sir. I think he did not come back.’

BETWEEN the Victorian shop and the twentieth century modern store there is a great gulf. It is widest perhaps in the matter of salaries paid to the higher staff. So Inspector Devenish was not much surprised to find that the late Miss Tumour occupied a rather luxurious little flat in a very nice quarter. It is true that she had only moved in there since she got the post at Mander’s.

It was to the porter that the detective first applied for information, and before he could come to grips with the problem he had to endure a small instalment of the man’s curiosity with regard to the crime. He cut that as short as he could, and asked if there was anyone in the flats who had an acquaintance with the dead woman.

‘No one, yet, sir, and aren’t likely to have now,’ said the porter, with rather mordant humour. ‘You see, sir, this was the first time they had anyone like her here. I don’t know who it was blew the gaff, but the others—’

‘I see,’ said Devenish, who knew very well that the man was referring to a certain snobbishness on the part of the other tenants. ‘So it’s no use my asking any of them about her. But you may have seen some of her visitors come in from time to time.’

‘She hadn’t many, and that’s a fact,’ said the man, ‘but one came regular lately, and another used to come with a car.’

He described the regular visitor, and Devenish recognised him as Mr Kephim.

‘Now what about the man in the car?’ he said.

The porter approached a wink. ‘I never saw him, sir. He used to come late sometimes in a closed car, and always sat back.’

‘But I should have thought you would go out to open the car door for him.’

‘It wasn’t ever necessary, sir. His chauffeur used to get out and stand in front of the door, till she came out and got in. I had always to speak up the tube to tell Miss Tumour a car had called for her.’

‘So you have no idea of the visitor’s appearance?’

‘Not a bit. He never went in neither. I’d have got into trouble if I’d gone and looked in at him.’

Devenish looked thoughtful. ‘It won’t have any bearing on the case, I am afraid,’ he said, ‘but could you tell me how long the second man has been coming?’

‘Came first a week after she had been in here, sir.’

‘Thank you. Did all her furniture come in from her former house?’

The porter blinked reflectively. ‘No, not all of it. Two lots came from Warungs ten days after she come, and then some went out to a sale room.’

‘I suppose the two visitors never came on the same day?’

‘No, they didn’t. When Miss Tumour went out with the other one she was always togged up gaudy—regular swell.’

Devenish procured the master-key and visited the flat itself after that.

In a search through Miss Tumour’s papers and correspondence, of which there was no great abundance, he found nothing in the nature of a clue. He finished up with her telephone, and took a note of the numbers in pencil on the pad. There were just five.

Getting on to the exchange, and explaining who he was, he made inquiries about the five numbers. One was Mr Kephim’s, one belonged to a Mrs Hoe in Bester Street (whom he determined to interview later), two were the numbers of her hairdresser and chiropodist respectively. The fifth number was Mr Mander’s, the number belonging to his flat telephone, and not that which would go before the switchboard operator at the store.

That in itself was not conclusive proof of any intimacy between the dead man and woman. It might be useful for her to have her employer’s number, as she held a responsible position at the Store.

Devenish looked at his watch. It was dark early at this time of year, but that did not matter. He would go down to Gelover Manor and satisfy himself with regard to the ‘Mander Hopper’ that was kept down there.

He caught a train from Paddington, and was walking up towards the biggish house on the outskirts of Gelover an hour later. It was now dusk, but, as he went up the drive, he could see the outlines of the Queen Anne house against the sky, and to the left of it, in what looked like a paddock, an aeroplane hangar, which would easily have housed four of the new machines. This hangar was built alongside a small but pretty thatched cottage, and a light sprung up in a window as Devenish glanced that way.

The conjunction of the two buildings hinted to him that the mechanic of whom Mr Cane had spoken might be the occupier of the cottage. He changed his mind about going direct to the manor, and turned towards the place where the light showed.

He knocked at the cottage door, and it was opened to him after a short delay. The man who opened it was respectably dressed, and had somewhat the appearance of a valet. His face was long and clean-shaven, his forehead high, but he did not look very intelligent, in spite of that clever brow.

‘I am a detective-inspector from Scotland Yard,’ Devenish opened. ‘I suppose you have heard about Mr Mander’s death?’

The man had. In a blundering fashion he expressed his sorrow, and when he invited Devenish into the lighted parlour it did seem from his looks that he was really cut up by the news.

Devenish offered him a cigarette, lit one himself, and sat down.

‘Are you the mechanic who had to do with the new gyrocopter?’ he asked.

‘That’s me,’ he said; ‘Webley’s my name. What about it?’

‘I want to know if Mr Mander kept one of the machines here, and if so, did he or anyone else use it yesterday—I mean after half-past seven in the evening?’

Webley grunted. ‘No. No one did, nor yesterday morning either.’

‘But Mr Mander was down here.’

‘No, he wasn’t.’

‘You are sure?’

‘’Course I am sure. I’d have seen him if he’d been here. As for the machine it is here, and you can see it if you like, and you can ask anyone in the house if it went out.’

‘They might not know.’