Death in the Stocks: Merely Murder Read online

  ‘It seems to me,’ said Antonia, who had listened to this rambling speech with a good deal of impatience, ‘that you might just as well have called yourself Vereker again without coming home.’

  ‘That’s just it. It wouldn’t have been safe. Bloodsuckers, and things,’ explained Roger. ‘Besides, why shouldn’t I come home?’

  ‘Because you’re not wanted!’ Kenneth said tersely. ‘God, it makes me sick!’ He began to pace up and down, shaking his clenched fists. ‘For seven years we’ve been living in a fool’s paradise, believing you dead and buried, and you turn up now – now of all accursed moments! and ruin everything!’

  ‘Good Lord, I hadn’t thought of that!’ exclaimed Antonia. ‘I must say, it is a bit thick!’

  ‘Thick! It’s damnable!’ Kenneth shot out. ‘What’s the use of Arnold’s being murdered if we’re saddled with Roger?’

  Violet, who had been sitting in a kind of frozen silence, now said, in a sharpened voice: ‘Please! Must you talk like that?’

  No one paid any attention to her; Antonia sat glowering at Roger, Kenneth continued to walk up and down, and Roger, glancing from one to the other, said cautiously: ‘What was that you said? Sometimes I think I’m getting a bit deaf. I wish you wouldn’t tramp about so; it’s a fidgeting sort of habit. Makes me giddy.’

  ‘Arnold’s dead,’ said Antonia briefly.

  He blinked at her, apparently incredulous. ‘My brother Arnold?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Do you think we know hundreds of Arnolds?’

  ‘But he can’t be dead!’

  ‘I tell you he is.’

  ‘Well, that’s a very extraordinary thing. Of course, if you say he is, I daresay you may be right, but I don’t understand it at all. What did he die of ?’

  ‘He died of a knife in the back!’ Kenneth flung over his shoulder.

  Roger looked startled and tut-tutted several times. ‘I can’t understand it at all. I call it very shocking, very shocking indeed. Who did that to the poor fellow?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ replied his sister. ‘Kenneth or I, probably.’

  ‘You shouldn’t joke about it,’ said Roger. ‘How would you like to have a knife stuck in your back? When did it all happen?’

  ‘Last Saturday,’ said Antonia.

  Roger stared at her and then looked round for a chair. He sat down. ‘Well, I’m surprised,’ he said. ‘Extremely surprised.’

  Kenneth paused in his pacing. ‘Just how long have you been in England?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’ll tell you,’ answered Roger obligingly. ‘I landed yesterday. Extraordinary coincidence. I mean, I come home expecting to see poor old Arnold, and I find he’s just been killed.’

  ‘If that was what you expected to do why didn’t you go to Eaton Place instead of coming here?’

  ‘Figure of speech,’ explained Roger. ‘When I said that I expected to see Arnold, what I meant was that I didn’t think he’d be dead.’ He drew Antonia’s attention to Leslie Rivers, who had risen from the table, and was putting on her hat before the mirror. ‘Someone’s going. Nobody need go on my account, you know.’

  ‘I think I will, though,’ Leslie said. ‘I expect you’ve got a lot to say to each other.’

  ‘Nice girl,’ observed Roger, when she had departed. ‘Who’s the other one?’

  ‘Violet Williams. She’s engaged to Kenneth,’ answered Antonia.

  ‘Oh!’ said Roger dubiously. He found that Violet was bowing slightly, and half rose to return this civil greeting. Sinking back again into his chair he became lost in thought, from which he presently emerged to say: ‘If Arnold’s dead who gets all the money?’

  ‘Oh, give me air!’ besought Kenneth, beginning to tramp up and down again.

  Antonia replied somewhat scornfully: ‘You know jolly well you get it. That’s why we’re so disgusted you’ve turned up.’

  ‘Well, I thought I did,’ said Roger. ‘I must say I could do with it. I was a bit shocked at the news at first, but I see it’s not so bad. Mind you, I quite appreciate your point of view.’

  ‘If you don’t clear out of this damned quick there’ll be another murder in the family!’ Kenneth said through his teeth.

  ‘Now, don’t get worked up,’ Roger advised him kindly. ‘You’ll soon get used to me being back. When you’ve lived as long as I have you’ll find it’s extraordinary what you can get used to. And talking of clearing out, my idea was that I’d stay with you for a day or two, till I get my bearings.’

  ‘No!’ cried his half-brother and sister in unison.

  ‘That’s all very well,’ said Roger, ‘but if I don’t stay here, where am I going?’

  ‘Anywhere. We don’t mind,’ replied Antonia.

  ‘Yes, but to tell you the truth,’ confided Roger, ‘I’m a bit hard-up at the moment.’

  ‘You’ve got two hundred and fifty thousand pounds,’ said Kenneth bitterly.

  ‘Is that what Arnold left? You don’t mean it! If I’d known that –’ He paused, and shook his head.

  ‘What on earth do you mean – if you’d known it?’ asked Antonia.

  He looked at her in his hazy way. ‘Forgotten what I was going to say. Trouble is, I haven’t got any clothes.’

  ‘You must have got some clothes,’ replied Antonia.

  ‘That’s just it: you might think so, and as a matter of fact I did have some, only I had to pawn my suit-case.’

  ‘Well?’ said Antonia unsympathetically.

  ‘Well, that’s the whole thing in a nutshell. It’s no use hanging on to a lot of shirts and things if you haven’t anything to carry them about in. You see my point?’

  ‘Oh, God!’ groaned Kenneth. ‘I can’t bear it!’

  ‘I call that very unreasonable,’ said Roger. ‘After all, they weren’t your clothes. If I started putting your shirts up the spout you’d have a perfect right to complain. It’s coming to something if I can’t pop my own belongings. Moreover, if I inherit all Arnold’s money I shall be able to buy a lot of new clothes, and no harm done. But don’t run away with the idea that I particularly want to stay with you, because I don’t at all mind putting up at a hotel as long as I’ve got some money. Supposing you were to lend me a few pounds – say fifty – to tide me over?’

  ‘Let’s pretend!’ said Kenneth sarcastically. ‘You’ve never paid a debt in your life!’

  ‘That’s perfectly true,’ agreed Roger, with unimpaired affability, ‘but I wouldn’t mind paying you back if I had two hundred and fifty thousand pounds.’

  ‘Well, I won’t take the risk,’ replied Kenneth. ‘Go and touch Giles. You won’t get anything out of me.’

  At this moment the door opened to admit Murgatroyd, who came in to clear away the tea. Antonia said gloomily: ‘Look what’s happened, Murgatroyd. Isn’t it damnable?’

  Murgatroyd started to say: ‘How many times have I told you I won’t have you use such –’ Then she caught sight of Roger, and gave a scream.

  ‘Hullo, Murgatroyd!’ said Roger, with his sleepy, apologetic smile. ‘You still alive?’

  Murgatroyd seemed to find difficulty in speaking. She swallowed once or twice, and in the end said in a hollow voice: ‘I knew it. You ask Miss Leslie if I didn’t see bad news in my teacup yesterday, plain as plain. Mark my words, I said, something awful is on its way to this house.’

  ‘A lot of people scoff at reading fortunes in teacups,’ said Roger, interested. ‘I’ve always thought there was something in it myself. It just shows. You haven’t changed much. Fatter, of course, but I should have known you anywhere.’

  ‘I’ll thank you not to make personal remarks about me, Mr Roger! What have you come home for, that’s what I’d like to know? Not that I need to ask. Trust you to come nosing round after pickings! Talk about hyenas!’ Wrath swelled her voice. She said strongly. ‘Just like you it is to try and take what’s Master Kenneth’s away from him! Don’t tell me! If I had my way, back you’d go to where you came from, double-quick!’

  ‘Yes,�