Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 2: Death in Ecstasy, Vintage Murder, Artists in Crime

‘And I must say, sir, Mr Ogden isn’t my notion of a Chicago racketeer.’

‘Not mine either. Perhaps we are too conservative, Brer Fox. But because two men come from the United States of America and one’s a rogue, it doesn’t mean they are old associates.’

‘If you put it like that,’ said Nigel, ‘it does sound a bit far-fetched.’

‘Of course they are associates now,’ ruminated Fox, ‘but Mr Ogden seems more like a victim than a crook.’

‘Well, then – Garnette,’ urged Nigel.

‘If,’ said Alleyn, ‘Mr Garnette stole the bonds and killed Miss Quayne with a jorum of sodium cyanide, he set about it in a most peculiar manner. He chose a moment when he and seven other persons would be equally suspected. He must have known that a search would be made of these rooms, yet he left his recipe book in a place where it was sufficiently concealed to look furtive, and not well enough hidden to escape discovery. He destroyed, so far as we know, none of her letters. He left, inside a cigarette-box, her note, suggesting that she had discovered something very upsetting.’

‘But you said he never found it,’ objected Nigel.

‘If that’s so why did he think it necessary to kill her?’

‘She may have rung up or something.’

‘She may, certainly, but wouldn’t she have mentioned the note?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Nigel doubtfully.

‘I quite agree it’s not cast-iron,’ Alleyn continued, ‘I am breaking my own rule and going in heavily for conjecture. So far, I am convinced, we have only scratched the surface of an extremely unsavoury case.’

‘What about the others?’ said Fox. ‘They are a very strange lot – very strange indeed. There may be motives among them, Chief.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Such as jealousy,’ began Nigel eagerly. ‘Jealousy, you know, and passion, and religious mania.’

‘Now you’re talking exactly like the Dormouse. Really, Bathgate, you are a perfect piece of pastiche this evening.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Let us take the others in turn.’

‘Very well,’ said Alleyn resignedly, ‘It’s hideously late but let us. A. Mrs Candour.’

‘There you are!’ cried Nigel. ‘A warped nature if ever there was one. Did you notice how she behaved when you said you supposed Miss Quayne was very beautiful? She fairly writhed. She’s even jealous of that little squirt Wheatley. There are those two bits of paper Fox got from the grate. Obviously a letter beginning: “This is to warn you –” and then later on M – S and CA and what might be the top of an N. Mrs Candour again. And did you notice her face when she said: “Cara doesn’t look so pretty now?” It was absolutely obscene.’

‘It was,’ said Alleyn quietly. ‘You do see things, Bathgate.’

‘I suppose you are making mock of me as usual.’

‘My dear fellow,’ said Alleyn quickly, ‘indeed I am not. Please forgive me if I am odiously facetious sometimes. It’s a bad habit I’ve got. I assure you that if I really thought you slow in the uptake I should never dream of ragging you. You’re kind enough to let me show off and I take advantage of it. Do forgive me.’

He looked so distressed and spoke with such charming formality that Nigel was both embarrassed and delighted.

‘Chief Detective-Inspector,’ he said, ‘I am your Watson, and your worm. You may both sit and trample on me. I shall continue to offer you the fruits of my inexperience.’

‘Very nicely put, Mr Bathgate,’ said Fox.

Alleyn and Nigel stared at him, but he was perfectly serious.

‘Well,’ said Alleyn hurriedly,’ to return to the Candour. She gave, as you say, a very nasty little exhibition. Would she have done so if she’d killed Miss Quayne? It’s possible. She certainly tried to ladle out sympathy later on. She was the first to take the cup. That’s a naught that may be a trifle. So much for her. B. M. de Ravigne.’

‘Ah, now, the French gentleman,’ said Fox. ‘He was in love with the deceased and owned up quite frank to it. Well now, it would have come out anyway, so there’s not a great deal in his frankness, I must say. There seem to have been some nice goings-on between deceased and the minister. Mr Pringle evidently was an eyewitness. Now monsieur never hinted at anything of the sort.’

‘And therefore thought the more,’ murmured Alleyn. ‘Yes, Fox, he was very cool, wasn’t he?’

‘Remarkable,’ said Fox, ‘until I handled deceased’s photograph and then he blazed up like a rocket. What about this crime passionel the French jokers are always dragging in? They let ‘em off for that sort of thing over there. Did you notice what Miss Wade said about the handkerchief?’

‘I did.’

‘He’s a very cool hand is monsieur,’ repeated Fox.

‘We’ll have to trace their friendship back to Paris, I dare say,’ said Alleyn wearily. ‘Oh, Lord! C. Miss Wade. I’m taking them in the order in which they knelt. She comes next.’

‘Nothing there,’ said Nigel. ‘She’s just a little pagan church-hen with a difference. Rather a nice old girl, I thought.’

‘She spoke very silly to the chief,’ pronounced Fox with unexpected heat. “Have you been through the Police College, officer?” These old ladies! You could write a book on them. She’s the sort that makes point-duty what it is.’

‘I adored the way she said she had her eyes shut all through the cup ceremony, and then told you what each of them did,’ said Nigel. ‘Didn’t you, Alleyn?’

‘Yes,’ said Alleyn. ‘It was extremely helpful and rather interesting.’

‘D. will be Mr Pringle,’ observed Fox. ‘And here we go again. To my way of thinking he’s the most likely type. Neurotic, excitable young gentleman and dopes, as you found out, sir.’

‘I agree,’ said Alleyn. ‘He is a likely type. He’s in a bad way. He’s had a violent emotional jolt and he’s suffering from the after-effects of unbridled hero-worship. Silly young dolt. I hope it’s not Pringle.’

‘Obviously,’ ventured Nigel, ‘he would look on Miss Quayne as Garnette’s evil genius.’

‘Yes,’ murmured Alleyn. ‘I don’t pretend to speak with any sort of authority, but I should expect a person in Pringle’s condition to turn against the object of his worship rather than against the – what shall I call her? – the temptress. I should expect him in the shock of his discovery to direct his violence against Garnette there and then, not against Miss Quayne some three weeks later. I may be quite wrong about that,’ he added after a minute or two. ‘However – there is Pringle. He’s neurotic, he’s dopey, and he’s had a severe emotional shock. He hero-worshipped Garnette and made a hideous discovery. He’s probably been living in an ugly little hell of his own for the last three weeks. By the way, we haven’t sampled Mr Garnette’s cigarettes, have we? Another little job for the analyst.’

‘Now Miss Jenkins,’ said Fox. ‘She’s E.’

‘She struck me as being a pleasant creature,’ said Nigel. ‘Rather amusing I should think. Not a “lovely” of course, but moderately easy to look at. Intelligent.’

‘Very intelligent,’ agreed Alleyn.

‘How she got herself mixed up in this show beats me,’ confessed Fox. ‘A nice young lady like that.’

‘She practically said herself,’ Nigel interrupted. ‘She’s attached to that ass Pringle. Women are –’

‘Yes, yes,’ interrupted Alleyn hastily. ‘We needn’t go into all that, I think, As far as we’ve got there’s no motive apparent in Miss Jenkins’s case. We are back at Ogden.’

‘F. Mr Ogden,’ said Fox solemnly. ‘It seems to me, sir, the only call we’ve got for suspecting Mr Ogden more than anybody else is that he’s an American, and it seems as if Father Garnette’s another. It don’t amount to much.’

‘It don’t,’ said Alleyn. ‘Personally I fancy the Atlantic meeting was their first one. I agree with you, Fox.’

‘As regards Father Garnette’s later utterances,’ said Nigel, ‘we had a clear case of in vino veritas.’