The Listening Eye

Chapter 30

THE police arrived-Inspector Crisp, Inspector Abbott. After seeing Mr. Bellingdon in his study and viewing the necklace they collected all the wrappings and the crushed paper in which it had been packed in order to examine them for fingerprints and other possible clues, and proceeded to interview Parker and other members of the household on the subject of the car.

Parker could hardly have been less co-operative. He had taken the ten-thirty bus into Ledlington on Sunday morning, and he had taken the ten-thirty-five bus back to the corner on Sunday night. If there had been any tampering with the car, it hadn’t been done when he was about. No, it stood to reason the garage wasn’t locked. What would be the sense of locking it with everyone in the house wanting to get in and out and take their cars of a Sunday? Mrs. Herne, she had hers out regular. Mrs. Scott, she might have hers out or she mightn’t, and if she didn’t Mr. Bellingdon would be wanting one of his. A fine business it would be if everything was locked up and no one could get at it.

Inspector Crisp was short with him, and got short answers back. Parker’s cars were the core of his heart, and he was prepared to stick up to the police or anyone else who suggested that he might have neglected them. As for the rest of the household, Arnold Bray said he had arrived on a bicycle and had put it away in one of the old loose-boxes opposite the garage. When? Oh, sometime before lunch. Couldn’t he be a little more particular as to the time? No, he didn’t think he could. He didn’t look at his watch, he just wandered round to the stables and put the bicycle away.

“Didn’t you notice if any of the cars were out, Mr. Bray?”

“Oh, no. I just put my bicycle into the loose-box and came up to the house.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“Oh, no.”

Moira Herne said that she had taken out her car in the morning. She had run David Moray in to Ledlington to the station, and then she had joined a party of friends. She had got back about six and gone for a walk in the grounds.

“Did you see anyone when you were at the garage in the morning?”

She gave Inspector Crisp her bright, pale stare.

“Only Hubert.”

Crisp knew what he would have liked to do with her. Slapping-that was what she wanted, and it hadn’t been done. Under that look of hers his class-consciousness flared. He knew her sort-brought up in the lap of luxury and never done an honest day’s work in her life. He restrained himself, but his tone was sharp as he said,

“You mean Mr. Hubert Garratt?”

“Yes, I said so-Hubert.”

“What was Mr. Garratt doing?”

“Coming out of the garage.”

“Come out as you went in?”

“That’s what I said.”

They were all together in the study, Inspector Abbott at one end of the writing-table taking notes. Hubert Garratt had a chair with his back to the light. He looked ill. When Crisp turned to him he said,

“I was having a look at my car. I thought of taking it out, and I was checking the oil.”

“Did you go out?”

“No-I didn’t feel well enough.”

Crisp went on with his questions, and they got him exactly nowhere.

Most of the party had been in or near the garage. Each of them had had some perfectly natural reason for being there. Any one of them could have loosened the nuts on the wheel of Mr. Bellingdon’s car. But Moira Herne had not been there at lunch when he had talked of going out on the road which led down over Emberley Hill. Nothing to say whether she already knew that Mr. Bellingdon intended to go that way.

When the questioning was over and the party was dispersing, Annabel Scott lingered. Inspector Crisp was busy with the box in which the necklace had come. She found the London Inspector at her elbow.

“Mrs. Scott-whose choice was the drive to Emberley?”

She looked at him, a little surprised.

“I think it was mine. I wanted to see some friends-the Coldwells. They live about ten miles out on the other side.”

“Had you mentioned this to anyone?”

She said, “I expect so,” and got a quick “Please think whether you did.”

He was watching her face. Definitely easy to look at. Lovely eyes and an air of charm. Something more than good looks too-intelligence. She was saying,

“Yes, I must have spoken of it. Muriel Coldwell is one of my oldest friends. She rang up on Saturday evening and said couldn’t we come over.”

Her colour had deepened. He said,

“Mrs. Coldwell rang up, and you came away from the telephone and spoke of her invitation?”

“I told Mr. Bellingdon about it.”

“And afterwards you spoke of it-to whom?”

They were standing together near the door. They kept their voices low. Over by the writing-table Lucius Bellingdon and Crisp were making a parcel of the wrappings. Annabel said,

“To Miss Bray-I know I did that.”

“Who else was there at the time?”

Her eyes had a distressed look.

“I think-nearly everyone-”

He dropped his voice lower still.

“Was Mrs. Herne there?”

There was an effect of withdrawal. He wondered whether she was going to answer him.

In the end she said, “Yes, I think so,” and went out of the room.