Death with Blue Ribbon Page 9

  ‘Could be,’ said Carolus. ‘It probably had a sound-proof door as well.’

  Bridger made a sound usually interpreted as ‘Urgh!’

  ‘You didn’t see the interior staircase which is supposed to lead to the flat above?’

  ‘No. I didn’t know about that.’

  ‘Something else. Do you think anyone else here, on the hotel staff or otherwise, is involved in this?’

  Bridger answered quickly. To quickly, Carolus thought.

  ‘I wouldn’t know, would I? I’d be the last person they’d tell. Unless you mean Rolland.’

  ‘You’re quite friendly with Antoine?’

  ‘Tony? Yes. He’s all right.’

  ‘And Stefan?’

  ‘Don’t see much of him.’

  ‘What about Molt?’

  ‘Don’t know much about him.’

  ‘Do you ever play poker with them?’

  ‘I have done. I’m not keen on cards.’

  ‘You’ve no reason to think any of them suspects you of … collaboration?’

  ‘No. I suppose Stefan might. He’s a clever man. Only drink’s his trouble.’

  ‘So I understand.’

  ‘And you don’t think Rolland knows anything about you?’

  Bridger considered.

  ‘I’m pretty sure he doesn’t. He must think someone here is in the lark. Otherwise how could Marvell have been given anything to upset her. He’s more likely to suspect Tony.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Carolus drily.

  ‘I’ve got to get to work,’ said Bridger.

  Carolus’s manner changed abruptly.

  ‘Wait a minute. I haven’t asked you the most important questions of all.’

  Bridger sat up. There was a new atmosphere in the room. Bridger seemed suddenly watchful.

  ‘You were on the first-floor landing on the night Imogen Marvell died.’ He let that sink in, then added: ‘I saw you myself.’

  There was silence then Bridger tried to grin.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘I’m asking you.’

  ‘I don’t see what that’s got to do with you. If you know so much you should know where I was going.’

  ‘I know where you’re going to say you were going. To Gloria Gee’s room.’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘Oh nothing. If you were going to Gloria’s room. Or rather coming away from it when I saw you.’

  ‘Where do you think I had been?’

  ‘I’m very anxious to know, Bridger.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask Gloria?’

  ‘That’s a foolish question. You knew Mandeville was in the hotel that night?’

  ‘Yes. But I didn’t know which room.’

  ‘You could see that from the register.’

  ‘I wasn’t interested. What are you trying to make out? You think I had anything to do with Imogen Marvell’s death?’

  He had become red and indignant.

  ‘All I’ve said so far is that you were indirectly responsible. Did you see Mandeville at Gaitskell Mansions?’

  ‘No.’

  It was almost shouted.

  ‘What was he here for that night?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve told you all I know. It’s no good asking me about Mandeville.’

  ‘I’m asking you about yourself. You’ve told me how you came to be in this thing. But you haven’t told me everything. I’d like to know a great deal more about your movements on the night Imogen Marvell died.’

  Bridger was distressed—and frightened.

  ‘I went to see Gloria. Then I went to bed.’

  ‘At what time?’

  ‘About half past one.’

  ‘Was anyone about?’

  ‘There was a light under Stefan’s door. That’s all.’

  ‘You saw no one on your way back to your quarters?’

  ‘No one at all. And that’s all I’ve got to say.’

  As though waiting to see whether Carolus would say any more he rose slowly.

  ‘Listen to me,’ said Carolus. ‘I don’t know how far you are in this. You certainly helped Montreith to blackmail Rolland. In other words from the gang’s point of view you know too much. I oughtn’t to give you this advice, but why don’t you disappear for a time?’

  Bridger looked sulky.

  ‘I can’t. I haven’t the money. They haven’t paid me yet.’

  ‘I warn you, I think you’re in danger. I shan’t tell anyone what you have told me but Montreith may gather from what I do that I know too much. He may guess my information comes from you. That would mean danger—to say the least of it. So I’m warning you.’

  ‘I can’t go away now,’ said Bridger, and made for the door.

  Eleven

  Carolus went straight from the office to Gloria’s bar. She gave him a sly smile.

  ‘I didn’t know you were a detective,’ she said.

  ‘But I’m not.’

  ‘Well, sort of. I’m glad you’re not like James Bond, though. I’m tired of him. I say, have you heard what’s happened? Imogen Marvell’s solicitor has come. He’s with the three of them now. In the Residents’ Lounge. I’d love to know what’s going on. Wouldn’t you?’

  They had not to wait long. A red-eyed Miss Trudge hurried in and took a straight-up armchair as though she was in desperate need of support. Carolus offered her a drink and this time there was no coy hesitation.

  ‘I will!’ she said. ‘Thank you. Brandy, please. I think perhaps I need a double.’

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Yes … oh, everything really.’ She became somewhat incoherent. ‘It’s cruel … after all those years … I can’t believe … there must be some mistake … She couldn’t have …’

  ‘You’ve had bad news?’

  ‘Imogen’s will… the solicitor came down from London … he was very kind about it… It’s wicked, really … I’ve been cut out… after years of…’

  She dissolved. The double brandy she had finished was not, Carolus perceived, the first she had drunk that morning.

  ‘I could never have believed … so deceitful … and her poor sister … Everything to her husband … Everything. Even that little emerald brooch she promised me … How could she?’

  Grace stormed in.

  ‘Don’t sit there blubbering, Maud,’ she said sharply. ‘We must do something. We’re going to fight this tooth and nail. How dare she do this? We’ll dispute the whole thing.’

  Miss Trudge showed unexpected shrewdness.

  ‘On what grounds?’ she asked. Then, succumbing again to tears, ‘I can’t believe it. That little emerald … it’s so cruel. They hadn’t spoken for years…’

  ‘It’s an act of spite,’ said Grace. ‘Nothing else. I taught her all she knew. A kind act never goes unpunished.’

  Miss Trudge managed to lay a ten-shilling note on the counter.

  ‘Just a teeny … double,’ she said. ‘I feel I need … Not even the furniture …’

  ‘Oh, shut up, Maud. This is just as she intended you to behave. Pull yourself together, woman. We’ve got to fight. I shall sue the estate for…’

  Mr Smithers entered.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said politely to Gloria. ‘A grapefruit juice, please.’

  He opened his newspaper, and taking his drink went calmly to a table. Miss Trudge watched him, then with a strangled cry of indignation swallowed her drink, burst into tears and ran from the room.

  ‘You realise, don’t you,’ said Grace to Smithers, ‘that I shall fight this all along the line. You’re not going to get away with it.’

  Smithers looked up.

  ‘What? Oh, that,’ he said and returned to his paper.

  ‘Yes that,’ said Grace, growing in her turn somewhat hysterical. ‘It’s monstrous, and you know it. But if you think for a single moment that I’m going to stand by and let you grab …’

  ‘I should have thought this was hardly the place to discuss family matters,’ said Smithers primly. He sip
ped his grapefruit juice.

  ‘But what are you going to do?’ cried Grace.

  ‘I shall be returning to town on the 2.47.’

  Grace received this announcement with a snort and left the room.

  Mr Smithers put down his newspaper and addressed Carolus.

  ‘A little brighter this morning,’ he observed.

  ‘Much,’ said Carolus sitting down unbidden beside him.

  ‘I shall be sorry to return to London. It has been most pleasant down here.’

  ‘Rather disturbing for you, surely?’

  Mr Smithers smiled.

  ‘Oh, I take things very much as they come, you know. We all have ups and downs.’

  ‘Very philosophical of you.’ Then determined to break this complacency Carolus asked: ‘Do you think your wife was murdered?’

  Mr Smithers seemed undisturbed by the question.

  ‘It’s a moot point, isn’t it?’ he said chattily.

  ‘Were you satisfied with the coroner’s verdict?’

  ‘Oh, I think so. There appears to be no doubt that she died of suffocation. I believe such cases are not infrequent. I remember reading of one quite recently. In Plymouth, I seem to recall. Or was it Portsmouth? I don’t know the South Coast very well, I’m afraid, though I’m told it’s very attractive. I usually take my holidays in Wales.’

  ‘Your wife seemed somewhat excitable,’ said Carolus, trying to draw Mr Smithers back from topography.

  ‘Somewhat, perhaps. No, it was Penzance. I remember now. A young child. Funny I should not have recalled it at once. I have an excellent memory.’

  ‘I understand you are the sole beneficiary under your wife’s will.’

  ‘Yes. That is so. Quite a considerable estate, I believe. The career she made for herself was most lucrative. I was never much interested in gastronomy myself. Now if it had been gasteropods it would have been another matter. I have studied the snail—a most interesting mollusc.’

  ‘Reputed to move slowly but to get there in the end.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Leaving a trail behind it.’

  ‘Like so many of us!’ agreed Mr Smithers.

  ‘If I were a newspaperman I should ask you some impertinent questions about your unexpected windfall.’

  ‘Oh, it wasn’t unexpected. Not at all. And I never think questions are impertinent. They show one’s interest.’

  ‘Then I will ask you, how did you feel about this very large fortune?’

  ‘Most gratified,’ said Mr Smithers.

  ‘Will it change your manner of life much?’

  ‘Oh, not in the least. Why should it? I dislike change.’

  ‘Are you going to endow a favourite charity?’

  ‘I have none, really. I find that the advertisements of most charitable causes are crude attempts to invade one’s privacy. Such very insistent appeals. No, I see no reason to encourage that sort of thing.’

  ‘And Miss Trudge?’ ventured Carolus.

  ‘I shall feel bound to respect my late wife’s wishes. Had it been her intention that Miss Trudge should benefit she would have made arrangements to that end.’

  ‘Very logical.’

  ‘I have always been considered a logical man. Life would be chaotic without logic, wouldn’t it? And it’s chaotic enough already.’

  ‘Did you see your wife on the evening of her death?’ asked Carolus abruptly. Surely that would crack the shell?

  ‘Oh, I expect so. I must surely have looked in before I went to bed.’

  ‘Do you remember the time?’

  ‘Of course. Ten forty-five. My invariable bedtime.’

  ‘And you looked in on your wife?’

  ‘I would scarcely say “looked”. Miss Trudge had warned me that she was sleeping off an injection. I did not put the light on.’

  ‘Or speak?’

  ‘I expect I just whispered something. But there was no reply.’

  ‘You heard her breathing, no doubt. Under drugs people breathe rather stertorously, usually.’

  ‘My hearing is not quick. I don’t remember hearing any sound at all.’

  ‘So, Mr Smithers, it is possible that your wife was already dead when you went to her room?’

  ‘Quite possible,’ agreed Mr Smithers cheerfully.

  ‘In which case she must have died before ten forty-five?’

  ‘Say ten-fifty.’

  ‘Miss Trudge was with her till ten-twenty.’

  ‘In that case, if Imogen was dead when I looked in she must have died between ten-twenty and ten-fifty, mustn’t she? The coroner would like to have known that.’

  ‘But we aren’t sure that she was dead when you went to her room.’

  ‘Indeed no. We are not sure of anything. We can only hazard a guess. It reminds me of a recent case in the papers …’

  ‘At Penzance?’ suggested Carolus bitterly.

  ‘No. This was at Cardiff. Or was it Carlisle? An elderly man and his wife found gassed in a bedroom. It was impossible to know which was responsible. Carmarthen, that was it. I was most interested because I frequently pass through there when I’m on holiday.’

  ‘You did not look into your wife’s room again that night?’

  ‘I am fortunate in being an extremely good sleeper. I go to bed as I have explained at ten forty-five. By eleven-fifteen I am fast asleep and rarely wake before eight a.m. Something altogether exceptional would have to take place to awaken me.’

  ‘Something altogether exceptional did take place. Your wife died.’

  Mr Smithers brushed this aside.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said airily. ‘But we were unaware of that, were we not, until the secretary caused all that hubbub in the morning. It disturbed me at a very early hour.’

  ‘You were unable to sleep again?’ asked Carolus with what was intended as bitter irony.

  ‘Oh quite,’ said Mr Smithers. ‘Once awakened I remain awake. It is a law of nature for me. I dressed and came downstairs only to find that no breakfast was served before eight o’clock. A most discouraging start to the day. Later as you know I saw the doctor and completed all the necessary formalities.’

  ‘That must have been trying for you.’

  ‘It was. Most distasteful. I am quite unused to dealing with situations of this kind.’

  ‘There aren’t many fortunately. You said a few minutes ago that the contents of Imogen Marvell’s will were not unexpected by you. Had she herself informed you of them?’

  The conversation had taken on more and more the form of an interrogation with no holds barred; but Mr Smithers seemed not in the least put out. In fact he appeared rather to enjoy it.

  ‘Yes, indeed. About three months ago she wrote to me asking me to call. I dislike the telephone and have always refused to instal it. I find it disturbs one’s curriculum.’

  ‘And you called?’

  ‘I did. The secretary, Miss Trudge, was absent that day. I was alone with my wife. We had seen little of one another for some ten years. I found her manner of life repugnant to me. She seemed to seek disturbance and publicity. We had long ago realised our incompatability and surrendered to it.’

  ‘But she wanted to see you?’

  ‘Yes. She told me her difficulties. She was, it seemed, surrounded by disloyal and unappreciative natures. Her sister she stigmatised as commonplace and unable to understand her more subtle temperament. Her secretary failed to perceive Imogen’s extraordinary qualities. Both thought only of themselves and were eager to possess themselves of Imogen’s estate after her death which, she felt, might not long be delayed. I protested at that and she said, “Whom the Gods love die young”, and added that I should never know what mean and malicious jealousy surrounded her.

  ‘Then she told me. It wasn’t that she wished to benefit me, she said, but she was determined that none of her entourage or employees should receive anything on her death and by leaving her money to me she could ensure this. If she left it to some charity or other they might find a means of
disputing it. But since it would be left to her husband no one could do so. I acquiesced.’

  ‘You bet you did,’ thought Carolus vulgarly.

  ‘The matter would be carried out immediately. She gave me the name of the solicitors who were drawing up her will and bound me to secrecy on the whole matter. I respected my promise not to reveal her intentions and neither her sister nor Miss Trudge had any notion that her previous will, leaving them substantially provided for, had been superseded. Until this morning. They seemed to be quite upset,’ ended Mr Smithers gently.

  ‘They were,’ said Carolus.

  ‘That shows the folly of counting one’s chickens in the matter of wills and bequests. We must all have known examples of that. There was a case in Northampton …’

  ‘And you feel no sympathy for these two?’

  ‘Feeling sympathy with misfortune is not a habit I cultivate. I am a simple individual who asks nothing of the world but to be left to my own modest devices. If I were to express any sympathy it would be with Mrs de Mornay who was my wife’s housekeeper in Rutland Gate. A most deserving woman.’

  Mr Smithers glanced at an old-fashioned watch which he drew from his waistcoat pocket.

  ‘It appears to be time for lunch,’ he said and with an equable smile left Carolus to ponder over his astonishing confidences.

  Stefan was cool and sober at lunch and Carolus took the opportunity of speaking to him.

  ‘I should like very much to have a few words with you,’ he said. ‘I am investigating certain matters here. Could that be managed?’

  ‘Certainly. When?’ said Stefan indicating something on the menu as though they were innocently discussing this.

  ‘This afternoon?’

  ‘I shall be free by three o’clock.’

  ‘Come out to the car park at the back. We’ll drive out somewhere.’

  Stefan nodded, and appeared to write down Carolus’s order.

  He was a very different man away from his work.

  ‘There’s a country club beyond Netterly where we can get a drink in the afternoon,’ he said, and Carolus drove away not knowing whether they had been observed or not.

  Stefan proved to be both intelligent and cultured. He readily admitted that he gathered there was some kind of blackmail or protection racket going on but said he had not been approached by anyone. Rolland had warned him to be on his guard in the restaurant against anyone who seemed to want to cause trouble but had not told him anything in advance against Mandeville.