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

‘If you find evidence of that,’ he said at last, ‘I would be greatly obliged if you would call on me again.’

‘Certainly.’ Alleyn stood up. ‘By the way, have you any idea why she increased the bequest to Miss Hebborn?’

‘I received an impression that – that it was in the nature of a – how shall I put it? – of a peace-offering. Miss Hebborn had, I believe, expressed herself somewhat warmly on the subject of the sect, which she regarded in a most unfavourable light. There had been a heated argument, hasty words amounting to a quarrel. Miss Quayne was greatly attached to her old nurse, who had given her devoted service. From certain remarks she let fall I gathered that she wished to – in a sense to make reparation.’

‘And the bequest to M. de Ravigne? It will amount to something pretty considerable, I imagine. The pictures alone are worth a great deal. There’s a very fine Van Gogh and I noticed a Famille Verte “ginger” jar that wouldn’t be had for the asking.’

‘Precisely. M. de Ravigne is an old friend of the family and, I understand, a collector. I have not the pleasure of his acquaintance.’

‘He has an intriguing temperament. I must go. Goodbye, sir, and thank you a thousand times.’

‘Goodbye. Yes. Thank-yer. Thank-yer. Don’t mention it. Yes,’ gabbled Mr Rattisbon with extreme rapidity. He walked out first on to the landing and there leant forward and peered up into Alleyn’s face. ‘And I hope you’re going to – eh? By the heels? Eh? Always interested in your work. This time – natural anxiety. Well. Mind the steps.’

‘I hope so. Of course. Thank you,’ said Alleyn.

He had a short interview with his Assistant Commissioner, lunched in the Strand and went straight to Knocklatchers Row. Here he found Claude and Lionel and all the Initiates who had been rung up from the Yard grouped in a solid phalanx round Father Garnette’s sitting-room under the eye of Detective-Sergeant Bailey. The priest, looking extremely cadaverous and yellow, was seated at the centre table. Nigel, who had hung about the entrance with Inspector Fox, followed the detectives into the room.

‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,’ said Alleyn cheerfully. ‘Forgive me if I’ve kept you waiting.’

Janey Jenkins said: ‘You’re punctual. It’s just struck two.’

Mr Ogden stood up and said: ‘Well, well, well, look who’s here.’

The rest of the ladies and gentlemen uttered self-conscious noises.

‘I shan’t keep you long,’ Alleyn went on. ‘First of all, if you don’t mind, we would like to take your fingerprints. It’s the usual thing. I could get them on the sly by offering you shiny photos to identify as your third cousins, but there really isn’t time. Detective-Sergeant Bailey will fix you up.’

Janey looked interested, Maurice disgusted, Ogden solemn and de Ravigne faintly amused, while Mrs Candour and Miss Wade were obviously terrified. The acolytes turned pale and Father Garnette remained ghastly and rather remote. Bailey took their prints by getting them to roll the cushion of each finger on a little printer’s ink and then on a sheet of white paper. He thoughtfully offered them an oiled rag to clean up with. This ceremony ended, Alleyn invited them all to sit round the table.

‘First of all,’ he began, ‘I should like you all to tell me as far as you can remember what are the contents of the safe. I understand that several of you had access to it.’

There was a moment’s silence and then Mr Ogden said bluntly:

‘We all know where the key was kept, Chief, but I guess none of us worried.’

‘Where was the key kept.’

‘On my desk,’ said Father Garnette, ‘sometimes.’

‘In your pocket,’ said Mr Ogden. ‘It wasn’t just laying around all the time, Chief. Sometimes there’s quite a little bit of coin in that safe.’

‘How much is there at the moment?’ asked Alleyn.

‘I – ah – I really forget,’ said Father Garnette. ‘Let me see. There should be last Wednesday’s offertory. I really don’t remembah –’

‘It was £61 8s. 6d.’ announced M. de Ravigne.

‘You’ve got it pat!’ said Maurice Pringle unpleasantly.

‘I am a warden,’ replied de Ravigne very placidly, ‘I counted it. Father Garnette and Mr Ogden were here. It was, I repeat, £61 8s. 6d.’

‘And a cheque for twenty pounds,’ said Mr Ogden dryly. ‘You might remember that.’

‘Your own offering, Monsieur Ogden. I remember.’

‘What else?’ asked Alleyn.

‘There is more importantly, M. I’Inspecteur, a parcel of bearer bonds of which I have told you. They are issued by the Kasternek Oil Company. These were given by Miss Quayne to this church to await the raising of the same amount for a building fund. They are in value five thousand pounds. Since they were here you have always kept the key on your person, is it not so, Father?’

‘Quite right, my dear Raoul. You advised me to take this precaution, if you remember.’

‘Certainly.’

‘Quite correct,’ said Mr Ogden emphatically. ‘We may all be OK but that doesn’t say we’ve got to act crazy.’ He stopped short, turned bright red, and glanced uneasily at Father Garnette.

‘Anything else in the safe?’ asked Alleyn.

‘The banking-book is there. That, I believe, is all,’ murmured M. de Ravigne.

‘Right. Well, we’ll just check it over. I’ll ask Mr Garnette to do that. It’s purely a matter of form. You will notice we sealed it last night. The usual procedure under the circumstances. Now, Mr Garnette, if you please.’

He produced the bunch of keys, gave them to Father Garnette and himself broke the police seal. Father Garnette rose, opened the safe and took out the contents one by one, laying them on the table. Nigel noticed that the parcel had been replaced. Bailey must have done that and put a fresh seal on the safe. The cash was counted by Fox who found it correct.

‘Have you looked at the parcel of bearer bonds?’ asked Alleyn.

Father Garnette glanced at him.

‘No,’ he said. He sounded anxious and surprised. ‘No, I have not.’

‘Just open it,’ suggested Alleyn, ‘and make sure there has been no theft. We’ve got to explore every possibility.’

Father Garnette undid the red ribbon and pulled open the brown paper.

A neat wad of newspaper lay revealed.

One would have thought it impossible for Father Garnette’s face to look more unhealthy than it already was that morning, but it undoubtedly became a shade more livid when the contents of the parcel were displayed. It also became absolutely expressionless. For about three seconds he stood still. Then he raised his eyes and stared inimically at Alleyn. Nigel wondered if, for a moment, the priest had a mad idea that the police had played a practical joke on him. Alleyn returned his glance gravely. Suddenly Father Garnette seized the newspaper and with an ugly fumbling movement clawed it apart, shook the leaves open, and then as abruptly, let them fall again. When he spoke it was in a curiously dead voice, as though his throat had closed.

‘Robbed!’ he said, ‘I’ve been robbed – robbed.’

They had watched Father Garnette and Father Garnette only, so that when Mr Ogden produced his national classic expression of incredulity it made them all jump.

Mr Ogden placed both hands on the table and leant towards his spiritual leader.

‘Oh, yeah?’ said Mr Ogden.

CHAPTER 16 Mr Ogden Puts his Trust in Policemen (#)

‘Is that so?’ continued Mr Ogden; and then, for all the world as though he was an anthology of Quaint American Sayings, he completed the trilogy by adding in a soft undertone: