Death on the Air: and other stories

‘Nothing, as like as not, but they’ll have to be notified. I can’t give a certificate as things are. If it’s electrocution, how did it happen?’

‘But the police!’ said Guy. ‘That’s simply ghastly. Dr Meadows, for God’s sake couldn’t you—?’

‘No,’ said Dr Meadows, ‘I couldn’t. Sorry, Guy, but there it is.’

‘But can’t we wait a moment? Look at him again. You haven’t examined him properly.’

‘I don’t want to move him, that’s why. Pull yourself together, boy. Look here. I’ve got a pal in the CID – Alleyn. He’s a gentleman and all that. He’ll curse me like a fury, but he’ll come if he’s in London, and he’ll make things easier for you. Go back to your mother. I’ll ring Alleyn up.’

That was how it came about that Chief Detective Inspector Roderick Alleyn spent his Christmas Day in harness. As a matter of fact he was on duty, and as he pointed out to Dr Meadows, would have had to turn out and visit his miserable Tonkses in any case. When he did arrive it was with his usual air of remote courtesy. He was accompanied by a tall, thickset officer – Inspector Fox – and by the divisional police surgeon, Dr Meadows took them into the study. Alleyn, in his turn, looked at the horror that had been Septimus.

‘Was he like this when he was found?’

‘No. I understand he was leaning forward with his hands on the ledge of the cabinet. He must have slumped forward and been propped up by the chair arms and the cabinet.’

‘Who moved him?’

‘Chase, the butler. He said he only meant to raise the arm. Rigor is well established.’

Alleyn put his hand behind the rigid neck and pushed. The body fell forward into its original position.

‘There you are, Curtis,’ said Alleyn to the divisional surgeon. He turned to Fox. ‘Get the camera man, will you, Fox?’

The photographer took four shots and departed. Alleyn marked the position of the hands and feet with chalk, made a careful plan of the room and then turned to the doctors.

‘Is it electrocution, do you think?’

‘Looks like it,’ said Curtis. ‘Have to be a p.m. of course.’

‘Of course. Still, look at the hands. Burns. Thumb and two fingers bunched together and exactly the distance between the two knobs apart. He’d been tuning his hurdy-gurdy.’

‘By gum,’ said Inspector Fox, speaking for the first time.

‘D’you mean he got a lethal shock from his radio?’ asked Dr Meadows.

‘I don’t know. I merely conclude he had his hands on the knobs when he died.’

‘It was still going when the housemaid found him. Chase turned it off and got no shock.’

‘Yours, partner,’ said Alleyn, turning to Fox. Fox stooped down to the wall switch.

‘Careful,’ said Alleyn.

‘I’ve got rubber soles,’ said Fox, and switched it on. The radio hummed, gathered volume, and found itself.

‘No-oel, No-o-el,’ it roared. Fox cut it off and pulled out the wall plug.

‘I’d like to have a look inside this set,’ he said.

‘So you shall, old boy, so you shall,’ rejoined Alleyn. ‘Before you begin, I think we’d better move the body. Will you see to that, Meadows? Fox, get Bailey, will you? He’s out in the car.’

Curtis, Hislop, and Meadows carried Septimus Tonks into a spare downstairs room. It was a difficult and horrible business with that contorted body. Dr Meadows came back alone, mopping his brow, to find Detective-Sergeant Bailey, a fingerprint expert, at work on the wireless cabinet.

‘What’s all this?’ asked Dr Meadows. ‘Do you want to find out if he’d been fooling round with the innards?’

‘He,’ said Alleyn, ‘or – somebody else.’

‘Umph!’ Dr Meadows looked at the Inspector. ‘You agree with me, it seems. Do you suspect—?’

‘Suspect? I’m the least suspicious man alive. I’m merely being tidy. Well, Bailey?’

‘I’ve got a good one off the chair arm. That’ll be the deceased’s, won’t it, sir?’

‘No doubt. We’ll check up later. What about the wireless?’

Fox, wearing a glove, pulled off the knob of the volume control.

‘Seems to be OK,’ said Bailey. ‘It’s a sweet bit of work. Not too bad at all, sir.’ He turned his torch into the back of the radio, undid a couple of screws underneath the set, and lifted out the works.

‘What’s the little hole for?’ asked Alleyn.

‘What’s that, sir?’ said Fox.

‘There’s a hole bored through the panel above the knob. About an eighth of an inch in diameter. The rim of the knob hides it. One might easily miss it. Move your torch, Bailey. Yes. There, do you see?’

Fox bent down and uttered a bass growl. A fine needle of light came through the front of the radio.

‘That’s peculiar, sir,’ said Bailey from the other side. ‘I don’t get the idea at all.’

Alleyn pulled out the tuning knob.

‘There’s another one there,’ he murmured. ‘Yes. Nice clean little holes. Newly bored. Unusual, I take it?’

‘Unusual’s the word, sir,’ said Fox.

‘Run away, Meadows,’ said Alleyn.

‘Why the devil?’ asked Dr Meadows indignantly. ‘What are you driving at? Why shouldn’t I be here?’

‘You ought to be with the sorrowing relatives. Where’s your corpse-side manner?’

‘I’ve settled them. What are you up to?’

‘Who’s being suspicious now?’ asked Alleyn mildly. ‘You may stay for a moment. Tell me about the Tonkses. Who are they? What are they? What sort of a man was Septimus?’

‘If you must know, he was a damned unpleasant sort of a man.’

‘Tell me about him.’