Death in the Stocks: Merely Murder Read online

  ‘To-day, Mr Vereker, is the nineteenth of June.’

  ‘Then I shouldn’t think it would. It all depends. Not if you’re going to ask me what I had for breakfast that day, or whether I went out for a walk, or –’

  ‘I am going to ask you whether you remember writing a letter to your half-brother, requesting him to give or lend you five hundred pounds.’

  ‘Did I write that on the third?’

  ‘You remember writing the letter, even though you may not remember the date?’

  ‘You bet I do,’ said Kenneth. ‘I’ve been kicking myself for having done it ever since I heard about the murder. Didn’t I tell you the swine would keep my letter, Giles?’

  ‘Do you also remember a second letter which you wrote your half-brother – presumably on receipt of his refusal to send you any money?’

  Kenneth frowned. ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t. Did I write a second time?’

  The Superintendent opened his pocket-book and took out a single sheet of notepaper. ‘Isn’t that it, Mr Vereker?’

  Kenneth leaned forward to read it, and burst out laughing. ‘Oh lord, yes! Sorry! I’d forgotten that for the moment.’

  ‘You were angry enough to write a letter telling your half-brother that it would give you great pleasure to wring his neck –’

  ‘Bloody neck,’ corrected Kenneth.

  ‘Yes, his bloody neck is the term you used. You felt that strongly enough to write it, and then forgot all about it?’

  ‘No, I forgot I’d written it,’ said Kenneth. ‘I didn’t forget that I wanted to wring his neck. My memory’s not as bad as that.’

  ‘I see. Am I to understand that this violent desire persisted?’

  Giles made a slight movement of protest, but Kenneth spoke before he could be stopped. ‘More or less, whenever I happened to think about him. But it was only a beautiful dream. I couldn’t have pulled it off. Arnold was too beefy for me to tackle single-handed.’

  There was an infinitesimal pause. Then the Superintendent said: ‘I see. I think you said you are engaged to be married?’ Kenneth nodded. ‘Have you been engaged long, Mr Vereker?’

  ‘Three months, more or less.’

  ‘When do you mean to be married, if I may ask?’

  ‘I think you mayn’t, Superintendent,’ said Giles, shifting his shoulders against the mantelpiece.

  ‘You must advise your client as you see fit, Mr Carrington, but it is a question that will be asked,’ Hannasyde said.

  ‘Let him ask me anything he likes,’ said Kenneth. ‘I don’t mind. I haven’t got any feeling against the police. I don’t know when I’m going to be married. My betrothed has religious scruples.’

  ‘Has what?’ asked Hannasyde, startled.

  Kenneth waved his pipe vaguely in the air. ‘Religious scruples. Respect due to the dead. All against the funeral baked-meats coldly furnishing forth the marriage tables. Romeo and Juliet,’ he added.

  ‘Hamlet,’ said the Superintendent coldly.

  ‘Shakespeare, anyway.’

  ‘Do you mean that your fiancée wishes to postpone the wedding until you’re out of mourning?’

  ‘She can’t. She knows perfectly well I’m not going into mourning.’

  ‘Mr Vereker, had you arranged a date for your wedding before Saturday, or not?’

  ‘Not.’

  ‘I’m going to ask you a very straightforward question, which your solicitor won’t like,’ said Hannasyde with a faint smile. ‘Was the wedding-day unsettled because of money troubles?’

  ‘You needn’t bother about my solicitor,’ said Kenneth amiably. ‘When a thing stands out a mile, you don’t catch me queering my pitch by denying it. Money it was. The lady’s not in favour of a two-pair back. By the way, that was something I wanted to ask you, Giles. What is a two-pair back?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Giles.

  ‘Well, it doesn’t really matter,’ said Kenneth, banishing the question. ‘Now Arnold’s dead the point doesn’t arise.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Giles, with intent. ‘Whatever a two-pair back may be it isn’t anything like the Eaton Place house.’

  Kenneth took his pipe out of his mouth. ‘Let’s get this straight!’ he requested. ‘Nothing would make me live in that high-class mansion, or any other remotely resembling it! That’s final, and you may tell Violet so with my loving compliments.’

  ‘All right. Where do you propose to live?’

  ‘Where I’m living now. If Violet wants ropes of pearls, and a brocade bed, and a Rolls-Royce, she can have ’em, but there it ends. I utterly refuse to alter my habits.’ He stood up, and pushed the lock of hair back from his forehead. ‘You can also tell her,’ he said, his eyes very bright all at once, ‘that these hands’ – he flung them out, the fingers spread wide – ‘are worth more than all Arnold’s filthy money, and when he’s been forgotten for centuries people will still be talking about me!’

  Charles Carrington blinked, and looked to see how Hannasyde received this sudden outburst. Hannasyde was watching Kenneth. He said nothing. Kenneth’s brilliant, challenging eyes came to rest on his impassive face. ‘That’s what you don’t yet grasp!’ he said. ‘I might have killed Arnold because I loathed him, and his money-grubbing mind, and his vulgar tastes, but not for his two hundred and fifty thousand pounds!’

  ‘Don’t you want his two hundred and fifty thousand pounds?’ asked Hannasyde conversationally.

  ‘Don’t ask me dam’ silly questions,’ snapped Kenneth, ‘Of course I do! Who wouldn’t?’

  Hannasyde got up. ‘No one of my acquaintance,’ he answered. ‘I’ve no more questions to ask you at the moment, dam’ silly or otherwise.’

  ‘Good,’ said Kenneth. ‘Then I’ll depart. Don’t forget to come round tonight Giles. And mind the wolf! According to Murgatroyd it’s at the door. Good-bye, Uncle. Give my love to Aunt Janet.’

  ‘I must be going too,’ said Hannasyde, as the door shut behind Kenneth. ‘I may act as I think fit with regard to this letter, Mr Carrington?’

  Charles Carrington nodded. ‘Use your discretion, Superintendent. I expect you’ve got a lot, hey?’

  Hannasyde smiled. ‘I hope so,’ he said. He turned to Giles. ‘I shall see you to-morrow at the Inquest, shan’t I?’

  Giles held out his hand. ‘Yes, I shall be there.’

  Hannasyde gripped the hand for a moment, a certain friendly warmth in his eyes. ‘I’ll let you know if anything interesting transpires.’

  He went out, and Charles Carrington pushed back his chair from the desk. ‘Well, well, well!’ he said. ‘Sheer waste of my time, of course, but not unamusing.’

  ‘I’ve half a mind to ask Kenneth to look for another solicitor,’ said Giles ruefully.

  His father sat up, and resumed his search amongst the papers on his desk. ‘Nonsense!’ he said briskly. ‘That boy is either an incorrigibly truthful young ass, or a brilliantly clever actor. He’s got your Superintendent Hannasyde guessing, Giles. What’s more, he’s got you guessing as well. You don’t know whether he did it or not.’

  ‘No, I don’t. I don’t even know whether he’d be capable of doing it. He’s a queer fish. Curiously coldblooded.’

  ‘He’s capable of it, all right. But whether he did it or not I can’t make out. Where the devil are my spectacles?’

  Eight

  The Deputy-manager of the Shan Hills Mining Company, Mr Harold Fairfax, received Superintendent Hannasyde with anxious deference, and raised no objection at all to the Superintendent’s request that he might be allowed to question certain members of the staff. Mr Fairfax was a spare little man of middle age, and seemed to be in a perpetual state of being worried. He could throw no light on the mystery of Arnold Vereker’s death. ‘You see,’ he said unhappily, ‘so many people disliked Mr Vereker. He was a hard man, oh, a very hard man! I – I believe he trusted me. I like to think he did. We never quarrelled. Sometimes he would be very short with me, but I have known him for a great many years, and I think I unde