They Do It With Mirrors / the Unexpected Guest

  Miss Bennett seated herself on the sofa. 'No, no, I wasn't in the car,' she told him. 'It was the hospital nurse Mr Warwick had at the time. A Nurse Warburton.'

  'Did you go to the inquest?' the inspector asked.

  'No,' she replied. 'But Richard told us about it when he came back. He said the boy's father had threatened him, had said he'd get even with him. We didn't take it seriously, of course.'

  Inspector Thomas came closer to her. 'Had you formed any particular impression about the accident?' he asked.

  'I don't know what you mean.'

  The inspector regarded Miss Bennett for a moment, and then said, 'I mean do you think it happened because Mr Warwick had been drinking?'

  She made a dismissive gesture. 'Oh, I suppose his mother told you that,' she snorted. 'Well, you mustn't go by all she says. She's got a prejudice against drink. Her husband - Richard's father -drank.'

  'You think, then,' the inspector suggested to her, 'that Richard Warwick's account was true, that he was driving well within the speed limit, and that the accident could not have been avoided?'

  'I don't see why it shouldn't have been the truth,' Miss Bennett insisted. 'Nurse Warburton corroborated his evidence.'

  'And her word was to be relied upon?'

  Clearly taking exception to what she seemed to regard as an aspersion on her profession, Miss Bennett said with some asperity, 'I should hope so. After all, people don't go around telling lies -not about that sort of thing. Do they?'

  Sergeant Cadwallader, who had been following the questioning, now broke in. 'Oh, do they not, indeed!' he exclaimed. 'The way they talk sometimes, you'd think that not only were they within the speed limit, but that they'd managed to get into reverse at the same time!'

  Annoyed at this latest interruption, the inspector turned slowly and looked at the sergeant. Miss Bennett also regarded the young man in some surprise. Embarrassed, Sergeant Cadwallader looked down at his notes, and the inspector turned again to Miss Bennett. 'What I'm getting at is this,' he told her. 'In the grief and stress of the moment, a man might easily threaten revenge for an accident that had killed his child. But on reflection, if things were as stated, he would surely have realized that the accident was not Richard Warwick's fault.'

  'Oh,' said Miss Bennett. 'Yes, I see what you mean.'

  The inspector paced slowly about the room as he continued, 'If, on the other hand, the car had been driven erratically and at excessive speed - if the car had been, shall we say, out of control -'

  'Did Laura tell you that?' Miss Bennett interrupted him.

  The inspector turned to look at her, surprised at her mention of the murdered man's wife. 'What makes you think she told me?' he asked.

  'I don't know,' Miss Bennett replied. 'I just wondered.' Looking confused, she glanced at her watch. 'Is that all?' she asked. 'I'm very busy this morning.' She walked to the door, opened it, and was about to leave when the inspector said, 'I'd like to have a word with young Jan next, if I may.'

  Miss Bennett turned in the doorway. 'Oh, he's rather excited this morning,' she said, sounding somewhat truculent. 'I'd really be much obliged if you wouldn't talk to him - raking it all up. I've just got him calmed down.'

  'I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we must ask him a few questions,' the inspector insisted.

  Miss Bennett closed the door firmly and came back into the room. 'Why can't you just find this man MacGregor, and question him?' she suggested. 'He can't have got far away.'

  'We'll find him. Don't you worry,' the inspector assured her.

  'I hope you will,' Miss Bennett retorted. 'Revenge, indeed! Why, it's not Christian.'

  'Of course,' the inspector agreed, adding meaningfully, 'especially when the accident was not Mr Warwick's fault and could not have been avoided.'

  Miss Bennett gave him a sharp look. There was a pause, and then the inspector repeated, 'I'd like to speak to Jan, please.'

  'I don't know if I can find him,' said Miss Bennett. 'He may have gone out.' She left the room quickly. The inspector looked at Sergeant Cadwallader, nodding his head towards the door, and the sergeant followed her out. In the corridor, Miss Bennett admonished Cadwallader. 'You're not to worry him,' she said. She came back into the room. 'You're not to worry the boy,' she ordered the inspector. 'He's very easily - unsettled. He gets excited, temperamental.'

  The inspector regarded her silently for a moment, and then asked, 'Is he ever violent?'

  'No, of course not. He's a very sweet boy, very gentle. Docile, really. I simply meant that you might upset him. It's not good for children, things like murder. And that's all he is, really. A child.'

  The inspector sat in the chair at the desk. 'You needn't worry, Miss Bennett, I assure you,' he told her. 'We quite understand the position.'

  CHAPTER NINE

  Just then Sergeant, Cadwallader ushered in Jan, who rushed up to the inspector. 'Do you want me?' he cried excitedly. 'Have you caught him yet? Will there be blood on his clothes?'

  'Now, Jan,' Miss Bennett cautioned him, 'you must behave yourself. Just answer any questions the gentleman asks you.'

  Jan turned happily to Miss Bennett, and then back to the inspector. 'Oh, yes, I will,' he promised. 'But can't I ask any questions?'

  'Of course you can ask questions,' the inspector assured him kindly.

  Miss Bennett sat on the sofa. 'I'll wait while you're talking to him,' she said.

  The inspector got up quickly, went to the door and opened it invitingly. 'No thank you. Miss Bennett,' he said firmly. 'We shan't need you. And didn't you say you're rather busy this morning?'

  'I'd rather stay,' she insisted.

  'I'm sorry.' The inspector's voice was sharp. 'We always like to talk to people one at a time.'

  Miss Bennett looked at the inspector and then at Sergeant Cadwallader. Realizing that she was defeated, she gave a snort of annoyance and swept out of the room, the inspector closing the door after her. The sergeant moved to the alcove, preparing to take more notes, while Inspector Thomas sat on the sofa. 'I don't suppose,' he said amiably to Jan, 'that you've ever been in close contact with a murder before, have you?'

  'No, no, I haven't,' Jan replied eagerly. 'It's very exciting, isn't it?' He knelt on the footstool. 'Have you got any clues - fingerprints or bloodstains or anything?'

  'You seem very interested in blood,' the inspector observed with a friendly smile.

  'Oh, I am,' Jan replied, quietly and seriously. 'I like blood. It's a beautiful colour, isn't it? That nice clear red.' He too sat down on the sofa, laughing nervously. 'Richard shot things, you know, and then they used to bleed. It's really very funny, isn't it? I mean it's funny that Richard, who was always shooting things, should have been shot himself. Don't you think that's funny?'

  The inspector's voice was quiet, his inflection rather dry, as he replied, 'I suppose it has its humorous side.' He paused. 'Are you very upset that your brother - your half-brother, I mean - is dead?'

  'Upset?' Jan sounded surprised. 'That Richard is dead? No, why should I be?'

  'Well, I thought perhaps you were - very fond of him,' the inspector suggested.

  'Fond of him!' exclaimed Jan in what sounded like genuine astonishment. 'Fond of Richard? Oh, no, nobody could be fond of Richard.'

  'I suppose his wife was fond of him, though,' the inspector urged.

  A look of surprise passed across Jan's face. 'Laura?' he exclaimed. 'No, I don't think so. She was always on my side.'

  'On your side?' the inspector asked. 'What does that mean, exactly?'

  Jan suddenly looked scared. 'Yes. Yes,' he almost shouted, hurriedly. 'When Richard wanted to have me sent away.'

  'Sent away?' the inspector prompted him gently.

  'To one of those places,' the youngster explained. 'You know, where they send you, and you're locked up, and you can't get out. He said Laura would come and see me, perhaps, sometimes.' Jan shook a little, then rose, backed away from the inspector, and looked across at Sergeant Cadwallader. 'I wouldn't
like to be locked up,' he continued, his voice now tremulous. 'I'd hate to be locked up.'

  He stood at the french windows, looking out onto the terrace. 'I like things open, always,' he called out to them. 'I like my window open, and my door, so that I can be sure I can get out.' He turned back into the room. 'But nobody can lock me up now, can they?'

  'No, lad,' the inspector assured him. 'I shouldn't think so.'

  'Not now that Richard's dead,' Jan added. Momentarily, he sounded almost smug.

  The inspector got up and moved round the sofa. 'So Richard wanted you locked up?' he asked.

  'Laura says he only said it to tease me,' Jan told him. 'She said that was all it was, and she said it was all right, and that as long as she was here she'd make quite sure that I would never be locked up.' He went to perch on one arm of the armchair. 'I love Laura,' he continued, speaking with a nervous excitement. 'I love Laura a terrible lot. We have wonderful times together, you know. We look for butterflies and birds' eggs, and we play games together. Bezique. Do you know that game? It's a clever one. And Beggar-my-neighbour. Oh, it's great fun doing things with Laura.'

  The inspector went across to lean on the other arm of the chair. His voice had a kindly tone to it as he asked, 'I don't suppose you remember anything about this accident that happened when you were living in Norfolk, do you? When a little boy got run over?'

  'Oh, yes, I remember that,' Jan replied quite cheerfully. 'Richard went to the inquest.'

  'Yes, that's right. What else do you remember?' the inspector encouraged him.

  'We had salmon for lunch that day,' Jan said immediately. 'Richard and Warby came back together. Warby was a bit flustered, but Richard was laughing.'

  'Warby?' the inspector queried. 'Is that Nurse Warburton?'

  'Yes, Warby. I didn't like her much. But Richard was so pleased with her that day that he kept saying, "Jolly good show, Warby."'

  The door suddenly opened, and Laura Warwick appeared. Sergeant Cadwallader went across to her, and Jan called out, 'Hello, Laura.'

  'Am I interrupting?' Laura asked the inspector.

  'No, of course not, Mrs Warwick,' he replied. 'Do sit down, won't you?'

  Laura came further into the room, and the sergeant shut the door behind her. 'Is - is Jan - ?' Laura began. She paused.

  'I'm just asking him,' the inspector explained, 'if he remembers anything about that accident to the boy in Norfolk. The MacGregor boy.'

  Laura sat at the end of the sofa. 'Do you remember, Jan?' she asked him.

  'Of course I remember,' the lad replied, eagerly. 'I remember everything.' He turned to the inspector. 'I've told you, haven't I?' he asked.

  The inspector did not reply to him directly. Instead, he moved slowly to the sofa and, addressing Laura Warwick, asked, 'What do you know about the accident, Mrs Warwick? Was it discussed at luncheon that day, when your husband came back from the inquest?'

  'I don't remember,' Laura replied immediately.

  Jan rose quickly and moved towards her. 'Oh, yes, you do, Laura, surely,' he reminded her. 'Don't you remember Richard saying that one brat more or less in the world didn't make any difference?'

  Laura rose. 'Please -' she implored the inspector.

  'It's quite all right, Mrs Warwick,' Inspector Thomas assured her gently. 'It's important, you know, that we get at the truth of that accident. After all, presumably it's the motive for what happened here last night.'

  'Oh yes,' she sighed. 'I know. I know.'

  'According to your mother-in-law,' the inspector continued, 'your husband had been drinking that day.'

  'I expect he had,' Laura admitted. 'It - it wouldn't surprise me.'

  The inspector moved to sit at the end of the sofa. 'Did you actually see or meet this man, MacGregor?' he asked her.

  'No,' said Laura. 'No, I didn't go to the inquest.'

  'He seems to have felt very revengeful,' the inspector commented.

  Laura gave a sad smile. 'It must have affected his brain, I think,' she agreed.

  Jan, who had gradually been getting very excited, came up to them. 'If I had an enemy,' he exclaimed aggressively, 'that's what I'd do. I'd wait a long time, and then I'd come creeping along in the dark with my gun. Then - ' He shot at the armchair with an imaginary gun. 'Bang, bang, bang.'

  'Be quiet, Jan,' Laura ordered him, sharply.

  Jan suddenly looked upset. 'Are you angry with me, Laura?' he asked her, childishly.

  'No, darling,' Laura reassured him, 'I'm not angry. But try not to get too excited.'

  'I'm not excited,' Jan insisted.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Crossing the front hall, Miss Bennett paused to admit Starkwedder and a police constable who seemed to have arrived on the doorstep together.

  'Good morning, Miss Bennett,' Starkwedder greeted her. I'm here to see Inspector Thomas.'

  Miss Bennett nodded. 'Good morning - oh, good morning. Constable. They're in the study, both of them - I don't know what's going on.'

  'Good morning, madam,' the police constable replied. I've brought these for the inspector. Perhaps Sergeant Cadwallader could take them.'

  'What's this?' Laura asked, over the rumble of voices outside.

  The inspector rose and moved towards the door. 'It sounds as if Mr Starkwedder is back.'

  As Starkwedder entered the room, Sergeant Cadwallader went out into the hall to deal with the constable. Meanwhile, young Jan sank into the armchair, and observed the proceedings eagerly.

  'Look here,' exclaimed Starkwedder as he came into the room. 'I can't spend all day kicking my heels at the police station. I've given you my fingerprints, and then I insisted that they bring me along here. I've got things to do. I've got two appointments with a house agent today.' He suddenly noticed Laura. 'Oh - good morning, Mrs Warwick,' he greeted her. I'm terribly sorry about what has happened.'

  'Good morning,' Laura replied, distantly.

  The inspector went across to the table by the armchair. 'Last night, Mr Starkwedder,' he asked, 'did you by any chance lay your hand on this table, and subsequently push the window open?'

  Starkwedder joined him at the table. 'I don't know,' he admitted. 'I could have done. Is it important? I can't remember.'

  Sergeant Cadwallader came back into the room, carrying a file. After shutting the door behind him, he walked across to the inspector. 'Here are Mr Starkwedder's prints, sir,' he reported. 'The constable brought them. And the ballistics report.'

  'Ah, let's see,' said the inspector. 'The bullet that killed Richard Warwick definitely came from this gun. As for the fingerprints, well, we'll soon see.' He went to the chair by the desk, sat, and began to study the documents, while the sergeant moved into the alcove.

  After a pause, Jan, who had been staring intently at Starkwedder, asked him, 'You've just come back from Abadan, haven't you? What's Abadan like?'

  'It's hot,' was the only response he got from Starkwedder, who then turned to Laura. 'How are you today, Mrs Warwick?' he asked. 'Are you feeling better?'

  'Oh yes, thank you,' Laura replied. 'I've got over the shock now.'

  'Good,' said Starkwedder.

  The inspector had risen, and now approached Starkwedder on the sofa. 'Your prints,' he announced, 'are on the window, decanter, glass and cigarette lighter. The prints on the table are not yours. They're a completely unidentified set of prints.' He looked around the room. 'That settles it, then,' he continued. 'Since there were no visitors here -' he paused and looked at Laura - 'last night - ?'

  'No,' Laura assured him.

  'Then they must be MacGregor's,' continued the inspector.

  'MacGregor's?' asked Starkwedder, looking at Laura.

  'You sound surprised,' said the inspector.

  'Yes - I am, rather,' Starkwedder admitted. 'I mean, I should have expected him to have worn gloves.'

  The inspector nodded. 'You're right,' he agreed. 'He handled the revolver with gloves.'

  'Was there any quarrel?' Starkwedder asked, addressing his qu
estion to Laura Warwick. 'Or was nothing heard but the shot?'

  It was with an effort that Laura replied, 'I - we - Benny and I, that is - we just heard the shot. But then, we wouldn't have heard anything from upstairs.'

  Sergeant Cadwallader had been gazing out at the garden through the small window in the alcove. Now, seeing someone approaching across the lawn, he moved to one side of the french windows. In through the windows there entered a handsome man in his mid-thirties, above medium height, with fair hair, blue eyes and a somewhat military aspect. He paused at the entrance, looking very worried. Jan, the first of the others in the room to notice him, squealed excitedly, 'Julian! Julian!'