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

‘You did not open this box yesterday, Mr Garnette?’ Alleyn went on.

‘No.’

‘When did Miss Quayne call?’

‘I do not know. I did not see her. I was out from midday until about three o’clock.’

‘Where were you?’

‘Father Garnette was my guest at luncheon,’ said de Ravigne. ‘I had invited Cara also, but she desired, she said, to spend the day in meditation in her own house.’

‘She changed her mind, it seems. How would she get in here?’

‘The key to the front door of the church is always left in the porch, monsieur. It is concealed behind the torch there. We all use it.’

‘Did any of you come here yesterday between two-thirty and three o’clock while Miss Quayne was in the hall?’

No one had come, it seemed. Alleyn asked them all in turn where they had been. Maurice had lunched with Janey in her flat and had stayed there till four. Mrs Candour had been at home for lunch, and so had Miss Wade. Miss Wade to everybody’s surprise said she had been in the hall when Cara went through and into Garnette’s flat. Miss Wade had been engaged in a little meditation, it appeared. She had seen Cara come out again and had thought she seemed ‘rather put out.’

‘Why did you say nothing of this before?’ asked Alleyn.

‘Because you did not ask me, officer,’ said Miss Wade.

‘Touché,’ said Alleyn, and turned to the others.

Mr Ogden had lunched at his club and afterwards taken a ‘carnstitootional’ in the park, arriving home at tea-time. Garnette and de Ravigne had remained in the latter’s house until two-forty, when de Ravigne had asked Garnette the time in order to set his clock right. About ten minutes later, Garnette left. He had a Neophytes’ class at three-thirty, and it seemed that two selected advanced Neophytes always stayed on for what Father Garnette called a little repast in his flat, and then went to the evening instruction. This was a regular routine. That would account, Nigel reflected, for Cara Quayne leaving the note in the cigarette-box. Whatever her terrible discovery was, she would know she had no chance of a private conversation before the evening ceremony. After he left de Ravigne’s house Father Garnette had gone straight to the hall. There he found one or two people who had come in early for the ceremony. He had not looked at the safe, but he felt sure he would have noticed if it had been open. De Ravigne lived in Lowndes Square, so it would not have taken many minutes for the priest to walk back to Knocklatchers Row. He probably arrived at about three o’clock. De Ravigne said he had remained at home until it was time to go to the evening ceremony. Claude and Lionel it transpired, had not got up until half-past three in the afternoon.

‘Ah, well,’ said Alleyn, with the ghost of a sigh, ‘I shall not keep you here any longer, ladies and gentlemen. The meeting is adjourned.’

One by one the Initiates got to their feet. Garnette remained seated at the table, his face buried in his hands. Evidently most of them felt desperately uncomfortable at the thought of Father Garnette. They eyed him surreptitiously and made uneasy noises in their throats. Ogden still glared at him and, alone of the Initiates, seemed disinclined to leave. M. de Ravigne clicked his heels, made a formal bow which included Alleyn and Garnette, said ‘Gentlemen’; made a rather more willowy bow, said ‘Ladies,’ and walked out with an air of knowing how to deal with the stiffest social contretemps.

Miss Wade, after some hesitation, made a sudden dart at Garnette, extended a black kid claw and said:

‘Father! Faithful! Last ditch! Trust!’

Whereupon Mrs Candour, who had been waiting for a cue from somebody, uttered a lamentable bellow and surged forward, saying: ‘Yes – yes – yes.’

Garnette pulled himself together and cast upon both ladies a sort of languishing glare.

He said: ‘Faithful! Faithful unto –’ and then, disliking the sound of the phrase, hurriedly abandoned it.

Ogden let them all go and then walked up to Alleyn.

‘Can I have a word with you, Chief?’ he asked.

‘Certainly, Mr Ogden.’

‘What are you going to say?’ demanded Garnette.

‘That’s nobody’s business, Garnette,’ said Ogden. ‘C’m on, Chief!’

He led the way out into the hall, followed by Alleyn, Nigel and Fox. When they were down in the aisle, he jerked his thumb at Nigel.

‘I ain’t giving interviews this trip, Mr Bathgate,’ he said, ‘and something seems to tell me you’re a Pressman.’

‘Mr Bathgate is not here in his official capacity,’ said Alleyn. ‘I think we can trust him.’

‘Seems like I’m doing a helluva lot of trusting. Well – if you say so, Chief, that’s OK by me.’

Nigel returned to his old perch in the front pews, and Mr Ogden paid no further attention to him. He addressed himself to Alleyn.

‘Listen, Chief. I’ve spent quite a lot of my time in this little old island, but right now is the first occasion I’ve come into contact with the Law. Back home in God’s Own Country I’d say a guy was crazy to do what I’m doing. But listen, Chief. I guess you’re on the level, and I guess you ain’t so darned polite you can’t do your stuff.’

Here Mr Ogden paused, drew out a large silk handkerchief and wiped his neck with it.

‘Hell,’ he said. ‘This has got me all shot to bits.’

‘What’s on your mind, Mr Ogden?’ asked Alleyn.

‘Hell,’ repeated Mr Ogden. ‘Well, listen. They opine that in this country you don’t get the hot squat, not without you earn it good and plenty.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ said Alleyn, gazing at him. ‘Oh! I see. I think you’re quite right. There are no miscarriages of justice in capital charges on the conviction side. Only, we hang them over here, you know.’

‘That’s so,’ agreed Mr Ogden, ‘but the principle’s the same.’

‘True,’ said Alleyn.

Mr Ogden seemed to find extreme difficulty in coming to the point. He rolled his eyes and goggled solemnly at Alleyn.

‘Listen, Chief,’ he said again. ‘I guess that you’ve got it figured out that whoever owns the book of the words and songs did the murder.’

‘You mean the book on chemistry?’

‘Yup.’

‘It certainly looks rather like that.’

‘Then it looks all cock-eyed,’ said Mr Ogden violently. ‘It looks all to – Hell! Do you know why?’

‘I think I can guess,’ said Alleyn smiling.

‘You can! Well I’d be –’

‘I rather fancied the book belonged to you.’

‘Chief, you said it,’ said Mr Ogden.

CHAPTER 17 Mr Ogden Grows Less Trustful (#)