Death at One Blow, page 14
‘And there’s one other thing, Sally. Ever since Mark was murdered, I’ve been just a little worried about his accident. I haven’t said anything, because I’ve no evidence at all, and also because it seemed likely that his murder was unpremeditated. If it was, you see, that ruled out a first attempt. But supposing someone pulled the rug from under his feet. That would have been unpremeditated, of course, and done on a rather risky impulse. But Richard was angry with Mark that day, and in a very uncertain nervous condition.’
After a while Sally said: ‘But the motive — the motive for premeditated murder of Mark? It doesn’t really work out. Mark was opposing his marriage to Lisa, but he couldn’t have prevented it. He could have cut him out of his will, but at the time the murder was planned there was no will in Richard’s favour, and I can’t see why he should have thought there was. And Mark wasn’t even being difficult about Westwater.’
‘I know. Mason must see that too. He may be assuming there was a sound motive somewhere, or he may feel that in Richard’s case it isn’t very necessary to prove one.’
‘You mean that Richard — that he thinks Richard is insane?’
‘I doubt if he’d go quite as far as that. But he may think him capable of getting things out of proportion. Lisa was trying to break off the engagement, you know, because of Mark’s opposition. I don’t know if Mason knows that, but Richard was evidently very frank with him about some things. Richard might possibly have felt that Mark’s death was the only thing that could save his marriage.’
They reached Fanchester a little before three, and Mason received them at once. He was obviously unhappy, and he was very nice to them. But Lisa had told him about their investigations, and he argued, reluctantly, as Johnny had argued last night. Richard might have asked them to investigate with a view to clearing his own name, in the certainty that the case against George was unshakable. Johnny tried a little further argument, in the course of which it became fairly clear that the official mind had worked along much the same lines as his own, and at last Mason said: ‘Listen, Mr Heldar. The Rover was seen near Westwater, as you know, between two-fifteen and two-thirty. At that time all the known suspects except Mr Willesdon were at Westwater. It’s therefore a fair assumption — given the evidence of Mr Fenwick of Wolfram Mews — that Mr Willesdon was then driving it. It was seen again, going in the direction of London, at three-twenty-five. But Mr Willesdon was having tea in a Lyons’ in West Kensington at four-forty-five or just after. He talked to one of the girls there. The Rover couldn’t have got to West Kensington in an hour and twenty minutes from the west gate. Therefore Mr Willesdon was not driving it at three-twenty-five. It’s again a fair assumption that Squadron Leader Thaxton was — the other suspects are all more or less accounted for at that time. And how did Mr Willesdon get back to London by four-forty-five, and how did the Armstrong get back, if he didn’t drive it? To my mind we’ve proved collusion. Again, if Sir Mark was alive at three-five, Willesdon could barely have killed him and got to West Kensington by four-forty-five — even if he had the Armstrong waiting for him at the door.’
Johnny nodded slowly.
‘I don’t want you to build up false hopes for Miss Harz,’ said Mason gravely. ‘It’s a bad business for her, but I’m afraid she’s got to face it.’
Sally tried to face it herself all the way to Westwater, but it wasn’t easy. They found Lisa in the drawing room, and Christopher with her. He didn’t look too pleased to see the Heldars, but Lisa came quickly to meet them. There were marks of tears on her face.
‘Oh, Johnny!’ she said. ‘God be thanked you have come! Is there anything you can do? You have seen Mason?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done there. I gather Christopher’s been seeing him too.’
‘Yes. He says the same thing. But surely there is something you can do?’ She seemed to have more faith in Johnny than in Christopher.
‘Look, Lisa,’ said Johnny quietly. ‘The police have got a practically water-tight case. Certain points are arguable, but Mason has a final answer for all the arguments. Richard and George together could have done it, and it’s almost impossible that anyone else could. So, unless some new evidence turns up, I don’t think there’s anything we can do.’
‘But you can try to find some new evidence. Please, Johnny!’
‘Lisa,’ said Johnny very gently, ‘I doubt if there’s any new evidence to find.’
Lisa turned her head away. ‘You believe that Richard is guilty,’ she said.
‘Not necessarily. It’s only that I honestly don’t see how I can help.’
‘Heldar’s right, Lisa,’ said Christopher. ‘I know it’s hard, my dear, but let it go at that, please. I’ll brief the best man I can get. There’s no certainty, you know, that Mason’s case will convince a jury.’
Lisa let it go — but only, Sally was sure, for the moment. Christopher tried to persuade her to let him take her back to town, but she refused. Richard was in Fanchester, so she would stay here, and she hoped the Heldars would stay with her, at least for tonight.
When Christopher had gone, reluctantly, she looked at Johnny.
‘You said a little while ago that it was almost impossible that anyone but Richard and George together should have murdered Mark. But you hesitated slightly in saying it. That, I think, was because Christopher was here?’
‘To be honest, yes,’ said Johnny.
‘Because it is almost impossible that Deane or Colonel Danby did it. You would know if Deane were lying, and the evidence of Jakes must almost certainly clear the Colonel. He could not have reached the study before almost half-past three, and if Richard had left Mark alive, Mark must have fetched Christopher by that time. That is how you worked it out, yes? Very well. We are left with Richard and Christopher. And you wish to eliminate Christopher because he is a respectable English lawyer.’
‘I admit it does rather boil down to that.’
‘And because of that you will not accept the motives I suggested to Sally.’
‘I find them a little hard to accept, Lisa. If I may say so, you haven’t lived in England very long, and perhaps you don’t know a great deal about English lawyers.’
‘I know Christopher,’ said Lisa slowly. ‘What do you think lies behind that lawyer’s mask of his? Do you know at all? I do not think so. But I know — not all, perhaps, but a good deal. He has a cool, quick brain, but he is capable of passion — and of anger. And if he had committed this murder, he would have been perfectly capable of returning to the drawing room, resuming his mask, taking up a magazine, and sitting quite still until the body was discovered. Perhaps he even hoped that Richard would be suspected. He opposed our explanation on the morning after the murder, which was to help Richard. He opposed your investigations, which were to disprove George’s guilt. He has opposed everything we have tried to do. I beg you, Johnny, forget that he is an English lawyer, and think about Christopher.’
‘I’ll think about him as much as you like,’ said Johnny. ‘He could have done the murder — he could have done both murders. But I don’t think anyone could prove that he did.’
‘Nevertheless,’ said Lisa obstinately, ‘I ask you to think about him.’
Chapter Nine
Johnny lay awake till two o’clock obediently thinking about Christopher, and it didn’t get him any further.
‘I tried all sorts of lines,’ he said, when they were lunching in the flat next day. ‘I tried, among other things, to remember anything he’d said or done which seemed out of character — out of the character he’s shown us, that is. I could think of only two things, and both of them can be explained by his concern for Lisa. The first was his donation of ten pounds, and the second was that he was so quick about offering to take George into Fanchester. He disliked George intensely, and yet he didn’t give me a chance to sacrifice myself in his place. Well, that led me to think about the conversation which led up to his offer. I wondered if in the course of it, George could have said something which showed that he knew Christopher to be guilty. Said it deliberately — there was something just a little too ingenuous about him then, just as there was when he blackmailed us into bringing him back to tea. In that case Christopher might well have jumped at the opportunity of a tête-à-tête. I went over the conversation as well as I could remember it — I want you to check me in a minute — and although there was one possibly significant reference to Christopher, it seemed much more likely, on balance, that the whole thing was directed at Richard, as George’s accomplice.
‘By way of an opening, George asked if he could have the Rover. That puzzled Richard, but he replied, truthfully, that the Rover wasn’t there. George then took the opportunity he had made of telling Richard that he had been seen entering the Rover’s lock-up and had lied to the police about taking her out. Richard felt it would look a bit odd to carry George off for a private talk, and anyhow he’d had as much as he could take, so he tried to arrange to get him away, and probably leave him to get in touch again if he felt he must. The arrangement broke down, and Christopher, out of genuine concern for Lisa and Richard, stepped into the breach. Unfortunately he did it rather ungraciously, and provoked George’s annoyance. That suggests a natural antipathy to George, but not at all necessarily that George had begun blackmailing operations. Then Lisa got short with George, and George got rude, partly because of the general attitude to him, but chiefly because he felt that his accomplice was letting him down. Then he made that very nasty crack about POW camps—’
‘Concentration camps,’ said Sally.
‘Concentration camps? Are you sure? Yes, I believe you’re right. But why concentration camps? Richard was presumably in a POW camp of some sort.’
‘Perhaps George thought of it as a concentration camp. It must have been bad enough.’
‘Perhaps. But George was a POW himself. I should have thought his mind would run on POW camps. Never mind. It’s a small point. George then said goodbye, adding something or other about a restaurant called Emil’s, where he wanted Lisa and Richard to dine with him, and which he suggested was a haunt of Christopher’s. I think that had some significance; it seemed rather dragged in, and there was rather a lot of it. But the significance may have been purely offensive. At the time I understood it to be a suggestion that both George and Christopher had been dining out with Richard’s girl while Richard was languishing in his prison camp. Can you remember exactly what George did say?’
Sally recalled the appalling little scene: George standing at the door and smiling; Richard’s white face. ‘George said: “Let’s dine at Emil’s one night; I’m sure Dick would enjoy it. Even Sheringham approves of it, doesn’t he?” Then I think he said the food was good, and then something about old Emil being full of reminiscences.’
‘Full of reminiscences. That’s odd, but I really don’t see how there could be anything in it. I can’t imagine how Emil could know anything about Mark’s murder, whoever did it. The plan might possibly have been discussed in his restaurant, but whoever discussed it would take damn good care they weren’t overheard. Unless, conceivably, George got tight.’
‘George said something — just as he went out — about having a new after-dinner story. That might have meant something.’
‘It might. But it probably meant something for Richard, rather than for anyone else.’
They finished the meal in silence and started on the washing-up. Sally said suddenly: ‘You remember you had a theory that George didn’t know who the murderer was, but only suspected, and came down to see if he could confirm his suspicions. It struck me vaguely after that that when he asked if he could have the Rover he might have been fishing for information. But that would imply that he was telling the truth when he said he found the Rover gone. Otherwise he wouldn’t have needed any information about it. And he must have been lying — who else could have brought the Rover down?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid that’s no good. He must have—’
Johnny, who was extremely neat-handed, dropped the plate he was drying, ignored it when it broke on the edge of the sink, and stared at Sally.
A little after seven o’clock that evening, Sally and Johnny walked up to a restaurant in Soho. It was a small place, and rather discreet; the windows were curtained, and above the door was painted the single word: ‘Emil’s’. It was the only restaurant of that name in the Telephone Directory.
Inside it was still discreet, and very quiet. The decorations were pleasant and unemphatic; the lights were subdued. It wasn’t very expensive, but it was in quite good taste. At this comparatively early hour only a few tables were occupied.
A big, stout, middle-aged man came forward to meet them, his face wreathed in a professional smile.
‘Good evening, Madame; good evening, Monsieur. Delighted to see you. And where would you like to sit?’ He spoke with a heavy German accent.
‘Somewhere rather quiet, I think,’ said Johnny. ‘In that corner, perhaps, if we may?’
‘Certainly, Monsieur.’ He shepherded them over to the table for two and drew out a chair for Sally. ‘You will be cool here, near the electric fan.’ Then he summoned a waiter, who also appeared to be German, and Johnny consulted Sally and ordered.
The food was very good indeed. So was the wine. Emil’s was clearly a find from one point of view.
The restaurant filled up, and the big proprietor was busy with other guests. But when the Heldars had reached the coffee stage he returned to them.
‘Madame has enjoyed her dinner, I hope?’
‘Very much indeed, thank you,’ said Sally warmly.
‘That is good. I think I have not had the pleasure of seeing Madame and Monsieur before, though I hope I shall see them again. Might I ask if someone has recommended my restaurant? I like to know my friends.’
‘Yes,’ said Johnny. ‘A man we met a little while ago said that your restaurant was very good, and he was perfectly right. But I’m afraid he’s now dead. You may have seen it in the papers. His name was George Willesdon.’
The professional smile faded, and the face took on the lines of a professional melancholy. This man was like Christopher, thought Sally, except that Christopher had only one mask, and Emil probably had a dozen. Was it only the masks themselves which suggested a certain wariness, as Christopher’s did, or was there really a hint of caution in the dark eyes? Johnny had warned her that they would have to go very carefully; a restaurateur was always reluctant to involve himself, even remotely, in a police matter.
After the faintest pause Emil said: ‘Yes, indeed. I have seen the news of poor Mr Willesdon’s death. A most tragic affair. I am very sad.’
‘I expect you knew him better than we did,’ said Johnny. ‘We only met him once. We were very much shocked by his death, and rather surprised.’
‘I knew him — as one knows a client,’ said Emil. ‘He came here often enough, though I had not seen him for some weeks before this tragic event. I had the impression that he was not, perhaps, a very happy man. It is sometimes so with these young men who have been trained for war and find themselves at a loss in time of peace. Especially, I think, with those who have flown. But I speak in ignorance, for I did not really know him.’
‘We didn’t know him either,’ said Sally. ‘But we — we’re sorry for him.’
‘I also, Madame.’ He paused a moment. ‘Madame and Monsieur met him shortly before his death?’
‘The day before,’ said Johnny.
‘Indeed? It must then have come as a great shock. And as a surprise, I think Monsieur said? There were then no signs of his intention?’
‘We thought not,’ said Johnny, with the faintest emphasis on the first word.
‘I see,’ said Emil quietly. His eyes met Johnny’s for a moment. Then he seemed to come to some decision. ‘If Madame and Monsieur would wait a few minutes?’ he murmured. ‘I have one or two matters to attend to.’ He drifted away to another table, wearing his smile again.
They waited for five minutes, and saw Emil speak to their waiter and go quietly out by the curtained doorway at the back. Presently the waiter came over and murmured in his turn. ‘Monsieur Emil would be happy if Madame and Monsieur would join him for a liqueur in his office.’
‘We shall be delighted,’ said Johnny.
The waiter escorted them to the curtained doorway, into a narrow passage which, to judge by the noises off, led to the kitchen, and up an uncarpeted staircase. He opened a door at the top and showed them into a small, bare room.
Emil rose from behind a desk. ‘I am very happy to see Madame and Monsieur. I hope they will give me the pleasure of drinking with me?’
He placed a chair for Sally, filled three liqueur glasses from a bottle of kirsch, and then drank gravely to her health. Then he looked at her and Johnny across the desk. He was still a little wary, but the obsequious air had gone, and so, thought Sally suddenly, had all the masks.
‘I think,’ he said quietly, ‘you are Mr and Mrs Heldar.’
Johnny nodded. ‘The papers?’ he asked.
‘Yes. The papers gave the names of those who were at Westwater Manor at the time of Sir Mark Mercator’s death — among them, Mr and Mrs Heldar, who had previously carried out a successful private investigation in a case of murder. There was also a photograph of Madame, with certain others, on their way to attend the inquest upon Sir Mark. And you did not come here only because Willesdon said this was a good restaurant.’
‘No,’ said Johnny. He explained the situation very briefly, but very frankly. ‘We believe that both Thaxton and Willesdon are innocent. But we have no proof, and something which Willesdon said on the day before his death suggested that you might possibly be able to help us. He implied — we think — that you knew something that no one else knew about one of the people concerned.’
