Crime at Guildford Read online

  ‘I didn’t suspect poison: I suspected a large dose of aspirin. Something to keep the man quiet.’

  French smote his thigh. ‘That’s the ticket,’ he cried. ‘That’s the point I couldn’t get. Frail and small as Minter was, it wouldn’t be easy either to tie him up or to smother him without a struggle. A dose of aspirin might make all the difference. The man would be so drowsy the job could be done with ease.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. Well, chief-inspector, I rang you up before taking any step, because I wondered if you might be interested in connection with your own case.’

  ‘You mean you think this is connected with the theft?’

  ‘I wondered if you would think so.’

  ‘I’ve been wondering it myself since you told me. Candidly, I don’t know for the moment see how it could be, and yet I admit the thing is very suggestive.’

  ‘I thought so, and that is really what I wanted to discuss with you. If there’s any chance of a connection between this and the theft, it occurs to me that we ought to work together. Else we’ll overlap and we might even spoil each other’s inquiry.’

  French was enthusiastic. He entirely agreed. Nothing would, indeed, give him greater pleasure than to work with the super. He had to admit that it was not often that he met with such a broad-minded outlook. Well, since the super had consulted him, he would like to make a suggestion. ‘It seems to me, if you agree, that we should hold our hand for the present. You could get the inquest adjourned on some technical ground that wouldn’t put the wind up Norne. Then let us keep what we know dark until the Minter affair is gone into thoroughly. I suggest that while you continue looking into the details of the crime here in Guildford, I go into the history of Minter and his dealings and health and all about him. That must be done in Town. Probably between the two of us we’d find a motive, or which at present I can see no suggestion.’

  Fenning said he entirely approved this proposal, which, indeed, he was about to make himself. The talk then became more technical and some points of procedure were settled. In brief, these meant little more than that both officers would do their utmost in their respective spheres and pool results, helping each other in every way possible.

  At the end of the discussion Fenning made an offer which French thought not only correct, but generous.

  ‘You’re going to work on Minter,’ he said. ‘It occurs to me that you might like to see the body and the bedroom at Norne’s and so on before you return to Town?’

  Nothing could have suited French better. He had, indeed, decided to ask Fenning if he could do so, but he much preferred the offer to come from the super himself.

  ‘Good,’ Fenning returned. ‘Then let’s go right on at once.’

  Fenning put away the photographs, slipped a notebook into his pocket, and rang for his car.

  ‘We’ll see the body first,’ he explained, ‘and then drive up to Norne’s. Will you come along, chief-inspector?’

  7

  A Change of Scene

  French and Fenning soon reached the mortuary. Fenning unlocked the door and they passed in.

  The body lay on a slab, covered with a sheet. Fenning pulled this back and the two men stood gazing.

  French was surprised by the natural appearance of the remains. All that he could see in any way out of the common was a faint suggestion of violet in the pallor of the face and neck, a slight congestion in the eyes, and just a trace of froth about the lips. The bruises were so slight that had it not been for the doctor’s report he probably would not have noticed them at all. His opinion of Hawthorn rose sharply.

  He was struck also by the deceased’s small size and light build. Probably he was not more than five feet six or thereabouts, and French was sure he weighed less than ten stone. The face looked old and drawn. The hair, though still plentiful, was white, the cheeks sunken, and the hands thin and claw-like.

  ‘Mrs Minter has been down here and seen him,’ said Fenning. ‘I wanted her not to, but she insisted. Of course, it’s been a help in a way. It settles the question of formal identification.’

  ‘When is the body to be handed over?’

  ‘After the inquest tomorrow morning: if the doctor’s ready, as I expect he will be. I had already decided to do what you suggest, and the inquest will be adjourned after the minimum formal evidence. What about going on, chief-inspector?’

  Leaving the mortuary, they got into Fenning’s car and drove out for a short distance along the Godalming road. Then turning to the right, they ascended the hill to Guildown. First they passed through a residential area of good houses, each in its well-planted grounds, then came out on the open slopes of the hill. Guildown was really the northern end of the Hog’s Back; indeed, the ancient Farnham road, which ran from Guildford straight on to the Hog’s Back, passed immediately behind the higher houses. Severno, Norne’s villa, was one of these, but it stood alone, about quarter of a mile farther from the town than the rest, its drive forming the continuation of the made road. French was delighted with the view, and when they reached the gate he stopped for a moment to enjoy it.

  The house was built in the form of an L, with the sides pointing south and east respectively and the hall door in the angle between the two. To the north was the projection of the new billiard room, which changed the L into a rather clumsy T. To the south and east lay the view, and on these sides there were only flower beds and low shrubs. The old track to Farnham ran behind the house to the west, and Norne had planted most of the intervening space with trees, some of which had already grown to a fair size. To the north, behind the new billiard room wing, lay the garage and kitchen garden.

  The two men walked round the grounds to get a general view of the layout, then approaching the door, Fenning rang. Immediately it was opened by Jeffries.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ said Fenning pleasantly. ‘I want to show my colleague the room where Mr Minter died, and then I think we should like to ask you another question or two.’

  French looked with approval at the butler. He thought he knew his type. Old-fashioned, careful, loyal and straightforward: that was how at first sight he would have described him. He imagined his statement would be accurate and truthful, though, of course, this was only an opinion and, like other opinions, would have to be tested.

  ‘You know your way, sir,’ Jeffries said with a motion of his hand towards the stair. ‘If you ring when you’re ready, I shall be at your service.’

  ‘Thank you, Jeffries. Come along, will you, chief-inspector?’

  Minter’s room, which had been sealed by Fenning, was situated in the back of the southern wing, facing the trees and the old Farnham road. It was not large, but was supplied with luxurious built-in furniture, electric heating, hidden lighting except for the bed reading-lamp, and an elaborately fitted private bathroom. Beside the bed was a hinged shelf bearing a few books.

  ‘He was lying in bed when he was found,’ Fenner explained, ‘and there on that shelf at the head of the bed were the bottle and glass. The lights were all off except that in the bathroom. The bathroom door was open, and that made a reduced though sufficient light in here. Norne states that this arrangement obtained when he visited the room, and that Minter explained that when he had these bilious attacks he liked a little light, but that the full glare was too much for his eyes.’

  ‘Reasonable enough.’

  ‘Quite. I’ve had bilious headaches myself and I know how you feel. Except for these matters, the room was as you see it. And, of course, that Minter’s clothes have been taken away.’

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be anything of interest in the room, other than what you’ve told me,’ said French after a careful look round.

  ‘As a matter of fact, there isn’t,’ Fenning agreed. ‘Now, I’ve already taken a statement from Alice, the housemaid, but after our discovery with the glass we might ask her a few more questions.’

  This again was exactly what French wished for. ‘Right,’ he said; ‘suppose we take the butler first,�
� and clinched the affair by ringing the bell. In a moment Jeffries appeared.

  ‘Come in and close the door, will you?’ said Fenning. ‘My friend would like to hear your statement from yourself. Doesn’t believe I could repeat it correctly, you know.’ There was the suspicion of a wink about Fenning’s left eye as he spoke.

  Jeffries bowed correctly, but his expression showed that he appreciated the super’s friendliness.

  ‘Sit down here and tell the story once again from the beginning,’ Fenning went on, and thus adjured, Jeffries sat down and began.

  ‘The first thing, gentlemen, was that Mr Norne told me he was having five gentlemen to stay over the weekend. Three would be coming down in time for dinner on Saturday evening, and two late that night. He said he had arranged with Mrs Peacock about their rooms.’

  ‘Mrs Peacock?’ asked French.

  ‘The housekeeper, sir. Well, the necessary preparations were made. Then on Saturday afternoon there came a telephone from Mr Minter, saying he was not feeling well and that he wouldn’t come down till after dinner: at 9.08, he said. I replied that would be all right and that the car would meet him at the station.’

  ‘Did he ask for Mr Norne?’ Fenning inquired.

  ‘No, sir. He asked who was speaking and I said Mr Norne’s butler. Then he said, “You needn’t disturb him now, but will you tell Mr Norne.” I conveyed the message to Mr Norne at once.’

  ‘And what did Mr Norne say?’

  ‘He made no special comment.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘The other two guests—’

  ‘Just a moment,’ French interposed. ‘Can you say at what time Mr Minter ’phoned?’

  ‘You asked me that, sir,’ Jeffries looked at Fenning, ‘and I wasn’t able to answer it exactly. But it was about half-past four.’

  ‘About half-past four,’ French repeated. ‘Good enough.’

  ‘I arranged with Whatman, that’s the chauffeur, to meet Mr Minter at 9.08. He arrived as expected. I thought he certainly did look a sick man. He was hunched forward and was shivering. Of course, it was a cold night. I said, “Would you like to see Mr Norne at once or go to your room first?” He said, “Tell you the truth, I’m not feeling well and I’d like to go to bed. I’ll be all right in the morning.”

  ‘I said, “Very good, sir. Come this way,” and I carried his suitcase up here. I wanted to unpack and to help him to bed, but he wouldn’t allow me. “I’m accustomed to do for myself,” he said. “I can manage.” I was going out, but he stopped me. “I’d like to see Mr Norne when I’ve settled down a bit,” he said. “Would you ask him to look in, say, in half an hour?” I gave Mr Norne the message at ten o’clock and he went up.’

  ‘You saw him go?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Did you see him come down again?’

  ‘Yes, sir; in about five or six minutes.’

  ‘Did anyone else visit Mr Minter that night?’ French put in.

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘I’m not doubting you, but how are you so sure of that?’

  ‘I would have heard them and seen their shadow. I’ll tell you. When Mr Norne went down I had finished for the night, excepting that I didn’t go to bed in case I should be wanted when the two gentlemen came about one o’clock. As a matter of fact, I was wanted. I had to help Mr Sloley to put away his car, take up the gentlemen’s suitcases, and help generally. I therefore lay down on my bed, but I opened the door of my room, so that I should hear if either of the gentlemen in the library should go to bed. I should have heard if anyone had gone to Mr Minter’s room, and it happens that a light on the stairs throws a shadow of anyone passing into my room and I’d have seen that.’

  ‘You didn’t sleep at all?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Were you reading?’

  For the first time Jeffries seemed slightly confused. ‘I was doing a crossword puzzle, sir,’ he admitted with hesitation.

  French grinned. ‘I sympathise with you there,’ he said. ‘Many a one I’ve done myself. I think, super, if Jeffries doesn’t mind, we’d like to see his room and where the shadow falls.’

  Fenning agreed and Jeffries led the way. Opposite the head of the stairs was a door, opening into a passage which led to the servants’ quarters. In a few feet this passage turned at right angles, and at the turn was Jeffries’ door. The head of his bed was opposite the door, and it was therefore obvious that with the two doors open he could lie on his bed and see the head of the stairs. Moreover, a light from halfway up the stairs shone directly in, and this light would necessarily be obscured if anyone passed from the stairs to the wing in which Minter was sleeping.

  After considering all this, French found himself forced to the conclusion that no one had entered the deceased’s room while Jeffries was on the watch. A word to Fenning showed that he was equally convinced.

  ‘That takes us up to about one o’clock,’ French went on. ‘It was about one that Mr Sloley and Mr Sheen arrived?’

  ‘Shortly before one, sir; about ten minutes to.’

  ‘Very well, it takes us up to ten minutes to one. Did they go to bed soon?’

  ‘Yes, they had drinks and went in about ten minutes.’

  ‘I take it you also closed your door and went to sleep?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Then someone might have gone to Mr Minter’s room after one o’clock?’

  Jeffries seemed somewhat taken aback. ‘I suppose they might,’ he admitted slowly.

  French nodded, exchanging glances with Fenning.

  ‘Very well, what was the next thing?’ the super went on.

  ‘Mr Norne had told me on his way downstairs not to call Mr Minter in the morning. I therefore didn’t do so. But when the others were at breakfast Mr Norne told me to ask him if he’d like his breakfast upstairs. I came up and knocked, two or three times. Then I opened the door and looked in. Mr Minter was in bed and when I called him he didn’t move. I went closer and then’—Jeffries seemed even now upset at the thought of it— ‘I saw he was dead. I went down and told Mr Norne and he came up. He sent me at once to ring up Dr Hawthorn, and then after a few minutes Dr Hawthorn sent me to ring up you, sir.’

  ‘I follow. Now tell me this,’ the super continued, ‘did you hear any unusual sounds that night?’

  Jeffries shook his head decidedly. ‘No, sir; nothing of the kind.’

  ‘And there’s nothing else you can tell us that might bear on the subject?’

  ‘Nothing, sir.’

  ‘Well,’ declared the super, ‘we’re both much obliged to you, Jeffries. I wish you’d send in Alice. Tell her we’ll not keep her long: just a question or two.’

  Jeffries allowed himself a faintly sardonic smile at this, but he bowed politely and said he would give the message.

  ‘That all works in,’ French said with some eagerness when they were alone. ‘Minter asks for Norne to give him Sheen’s list. Norne had intended to go up to see him, but this request makes things all the easier. Norne realises that he cannot murder him then, for though ill, Minter is still in possession of all his faculties and would struggle. But he persuades him to take one or two aspirins. Actually he gives him a number, broken up. Then after one o’clock, when Minter is drugged and everyone else is in bed, he slips back and smothers him.’

  ‘’Pon my soul, chief-inspector, it’s like enough.’

  ‘I think,’ went on French, ‘we can see a step farther. Norne did the smothering so carefully that he believed he had left no traces. If there was nothing to suggest smothering, Minter could only have died from the overdose of the drug. And if there were no prints on the glass but Minter’s, there was proof that Minter had taken the stuff himself; that is, that the affair was either accident or suicide.’

  ‘I’ll bet you’re right. Norne never believed suspicion would arise.’

  ‘And still doesn’t.’

  ‘And still doesn’t. And that’s the way to keep him.’

  French’s reply was
interrupted by the entrance of Alice, a pretty girl in housemaid’s uniform. ‘You sent for me, sir?’ she said to Fenning.

  ‘Thank you, Alice; we just wanted to ask one or two questions. Sit down for a moment, won’t you?’

  The girl sat down. She was evidently nervous, but Fenning’s manner was pleasant and she soon pulled herself together.

  ‘It was about the glass that we found on that table at the head of the bed. Do you remember?’

  Alice didn’t remember. She was struck all of a heap when the thing had happened and hadn’t paid any attention to glasses. She had, however, seen that there was a carafe and glass on the washstand, and on looking over she now saw that the glass was missing. Fenning asked her to bring in a glass of the same kind, and she produced one identical with that of the photograph.

  ‘Did you clean the glass when you were preparing the room for Mr Minter?’ the super went on.

  This question, it was soon apparent, lacked in tact. It was a personal reflection on the perfect housemaid. French stepped into the breach.

  ‘What the super means is, just how did you clean it?’ he explained. ‘Was it done outside and brought in finished, or did you do it here?’

  In this inquiry French was allowed to perceive that he was skating on thin ice. However, by dint of assurances that her excellent technique was not being called in question, he at last discovered what he wanted to know.

  The glass had been washed and polished in the room. It had not been handled in a cloth, but Alice had placed it upon the washstand with her bare hand. It should therefore have borne her finger-prints.

  Alice could give no further help. She had heard nothing in the night nor had she noticed anything unusual at any time during the weekend. Thanking her again, Fenning dismissed her.

  ‘My compliments to Mrs Peacock,’ he said as she was moving out, ‘and if she could spare me a few minutes here, I should be obliged.’

  ‘I’ll tell her,’ said Alice, and vanished.

  The housekeeper proved to be an elderly, dried-up and very official type of woman. She had attended during the weekend strictly to her business and to nothing else. On receiving information from Mr Norne that a weekend party was expected, she had with his advice allocated and prepared the rooms and given the necessary instructions to the servants. She had not personally seen Mr Minter, and beyond the facts that he had come and gone to bed at once, and next morning had been found dead, she knew nothing of the circumstances. No, she had seen nothing in any way unusual, nor had she heard anything in the night.