Vintage Murder

‘I’ll try to explain,’ said Miss Dacres. ‘You see, Hailey darling – and Mr Alleyn – Alfie-Pooh sat up late. He had a lot of correspondence to get through, and he brought his typewriter in here. Some time before we got to the last station he thought he would go out to that shocking little platform for a breath of fresh air. Didn’t you, darling?’

Mr Meyer nodded gloomily.

‘We were at that time travelling up or down a thing that I think they call the corkscrew. The guard, who is an exceedingly nice man, and so, so well informed, told us all about it. It appears that this corkscrew—’

‘Spiral,’ corrected Mr Meyer.

‘Yes, darling. This spiral is quite remarkable as railway lines go. One is continually catching one’s own tail and the guard’s wagon is quite often in front of the engine.’

‘Really, Carolyn!’ expostulated Hambledon.

‘Something of the sort, darling. However, that is of no real importance as far as this story goes. The only thing we must all remember is that when it is corkscrewing the train keeps on turning round and round.’

‘What can you mean?’

‘Cut out the comedy, Carolyn,’ begged Mr Meyer. ‘This is serious.’

‘Darling, of course it is. You see, Mr Alleyn, Alfie went out on the little platform and stood there, and all the time the train kept turning corners very fast and it was all rather impressive. Alfie was very excited and thrilled with the view, although it was so dark he could not see much, except the other parts of the train corkscrewing above and below him. He heard a door bang, but he did not look round because he thought it was just someone going along the train. He was holding on very tight with both hands. Luckily. Because otherwise when this person pushed him he would have—’

‘Here!’ said Mr Meyer firmly. ‘I’ll tell them. I was on the platform facing outwards. I noticed the iron door to the steps was opened back and there was nothing between me and God knows all. It was blowing a gale. I kind of knew people were going past me on their way through the train, but I didn’t look round. We came to one of these hairpin-bends and as we swung round someone kicked me on the behind. Hard. By God, I nearly went over. As nearly as damn it. I tell you I lurched out over the step. I grabbed at the door with my left hand, but I must have pulled it away from the catch on the wall as if I was going through and shutting it after me. See what I mean? I clutched the platform rail with my right hand – just caught it close to the iron stanchion by the steps. It seemed to last a lifetime, that hanging outwards. Then the train swung round the opposite way and I got back. Of course when I was all right again and turned round the man had gone. God, I’m all to pieces. Look in that case there, Hailey. There’s a bottle of brandy.’ He turned pale bulging eyes on Alleyn.

‘What the hell do you make of that?’

‘Extremely unpleasant,’ said Alleyn.

‘Unpleasant! Listen to him, will you!’

‘My poor Alfie,’ said his wife. ‘You shall have quantities of brandy. Pour it out, Hailey. There are glasses there, too. We shall all have brandy while Mr Alleyn tells us who tried to assassinate my poor Pooh. Don’t spill it, Hailey. There! Now, Mr Alleyn?’

She looked up with an air of encouragement at the chief inspector. ‘Is she being deliberately funny?’ Alleyn wondered. ‘She’s not really one of those vague women who sound like fools and are as deep as you make them. Or is she? No, no, she’s making a little “cameo-part” of herself, for us to look at. Perhaps she has done it for so long that she can’t stop.’

‘What I want to know is, what do I do?’ Meyer was saying.

‘Stop the train and tell the guard?’ suggested Carolyn, sipping her brandy. ‘You pull the communication cord and pay five pounds and then some woman comes forward and says you attempted to—’

‘Carolyn, do be quiet,’ begged Hambledon, smiling at her. ‘What do you think, Alleyn?’

‘You are quite sure that you were deliberately kicked?’ asked Alleyn. ‘It wasn’t someone staggering along the train who lost his balance and then his head, when he thought he’d sent you overboard?’

‘I tell you I was kicked. I bet you anything you like I’ve got a black and blue behind.’

‘Darling! We must put you in a cage and take you on tour.’

‘What ought I to do, Alleyn?’

‘My dear Mr Meyer, I – really I don’t quite know. I suppose I ought to tell you to inform the guard, and telegraph the police from the next station. There are some very tight footballers farther along the train. I wonder—’

‘Of course,’ said Carolyn with enthusiasm. ‘How brilliant of you, Mr Alleyn. It was a drunken footballer. I mean, it all fits in so splendidly, doesn’t it? He would know how to kick. Think of the All Blacks.’

Mr Meyer listened solemnly to this. Hambledon suddenly began to laugh. Alleyn hurriedly lit a cigarette.

‘It’s all very well for you to laugh,’ said Mr Meyer. He felt his stern carefully, staring at Alleyn. ‘I don’t know about the police,’ he said. ‘That’d mean the Press, and we’ve never gone in for that sort of publicity. What do you think, Hailey? “Attempted Murder of Well-known Theatrical Manager.” It’s not too good. It isn’t as if it had been Carolyn.’

‘I should think not indeed,’ agreed Hambledon with difficulty.

‘So should I think not indeed,’ said Carolyn.

‘Mr Meyer,’ said Alleyn, ‘have you any enemies in your company?’

‘Good God, no. We’re a happy little family. I treat my people well and they respect me. There’s never been a word.’

‘You say that several people went past you while you were on the platform,’ said Alleyn. ‘Did you notice any of them in particular?’

‘No. I stood with my back to the gangway.’

‘Do you remember,’ asked Alleyn after a pause, ‘if there was anyone standing on the opposite platform, the one at this end of our carriage that was linked to yours by the iron bridge?’

‘I don’t think so. Not when I went out. Someone might have come out later. You know how it is – all dark and noisy and windy. I had my hat pulled down and my scarf up to my eyes. I simply stood with my back half turned to that platform looking out at the side.’

‘How long was it before we got to the last station – Okahune?’

‘I should think about half an hour.’

‘What time was it,’ Alleyn asked Hambledon, ‘when I woke up and we began to talk? I looked at my watch, do you remember?’

‘It was ten past two. Why?’

‘Oh, nothing. We got to Okahune at two-forty-five.’

Hambledon glanced sharply at Alleyn. Carolyn yawned extensively and began to look pathetic.

‘I’m sure you are longing for your beds,’ said Alleyn. ‘Come on, Hambledon.’

He got up and was about to say good night when there was a bang at the door.

‘Mercy!’ said Carolyn. ‘What now? Surely they can’t want to punch more holes in our tickets. Come in!’ Valerie Gaynes burst into the little sleeper. She was dressed in a shiny trousered garment, covered with a brilliant robe, and looked like an advertisement for negligées in an expensive magazine. She made a little rush at Carolyn, waving her hands.

‘I heard you talking and I simply had to come in. Please forgive me, darling Miss Dacres, but something rather awful has happened.’

‘I know,’ said Carolyn promptly, ‘you have been kicked by a drunken footballer.’

Miss Gaynes stared at her.

‘But why—? No. It’s something rather awkward. I’ve – I’ve been robbed.’

‘Robbed? Pooh darling, this is a most extraordinary train. Do you hear what she says?’

‘Isn’t it too frightful? You see, after I had gone to bed—’