Полная версия
‘Get your hat and coat and come along. I haven’t got my nail-pulling apparatus and the rest of the bag of tricks with me. We keep all that down at the station. Got the handcuffs handy, Fletcher?’
‘Sir!’ said Sergeant Fletcher with appreciation.
‘But I do not want to come,’ screeched Mitzi, backing away from him.
‘Then you’ll answer civil questions civilly. If you like, you can have a solicitor present.’
‘A lawyer? I do not like a lawyer. I do not want a lawyer.’
She put the rolling pin down, dusted her hands on a cloth and sat down.
‘What do you want to know?’ she asked sulkily.
‘I want your account of what happened here last night.’
‘You know very well what happened.’
‘I want your account of it.’
‘I tried to go away. Did she tell you that? When I saw that in the paper saying about murder. I wanted to go away. She would not let me. She is very hard—not at all sympathetic. She made me stay. But I knew—I knew what would happen. I knew I should be murdered.’
‘Well, you weren’t murdered, were you?’
‘No,’ admitted Mitzi grudgingly.
‘Come now, tell me what happened.’
‘I was nervous. Oh, I was nervous. All that evening. I hear things. People moving about. Once I think someone is in the hall moving stealthily—but it is only that Mrs Haymes coming in through the side door (so as not to dirty the front steps, she says. Much she cares!). She is a Nazi herself, that one, with her fair hair and her blue eyes, so superior and looking at me and thinking that I—I am only dirt—’
‘Never mind Mrs Haymes.’
‘Who does she think she is? Has she had expensive university education like I have? Has she a degree in Economics? No, she is just a paid labourer. She digs and mows grass and is paid so much every Saturday. Who is she to call herself a lady?’
‘Never mind Mrs Haymes, I said. Go on.’
‘I take the sherry and the glasses, and the little pastries that I have made so nice into the drawing-room. Then the bell rings and I answer the door. Again and again I answer the door. It is degrading—but I do it. And then I go back into the pantry and I start to polish the silver, and I think it will be very handy, that, because if someone comes to kill me, I have there close at hand the big carving knife, all sharp.’
‘Very foresighted of you.’
‘And then, suddenly—I hear shots. I think: “It has come—it is happening.” I run through the dining-room (the other door—it will not open). I stand a moment to listen and then there comes another shot and a big thud, out there in the hall, and I turn the door handle, but it is locked outside. I am shut in there like a rat in a trap. And I go mad with fear. I scream and I scream and I beat upon the door. And at last—at last—they turn the key and let me out. And then I bring candles, many many candles—and the lights go on, and I see blood—blood! Ach, Gott in Himmel, the blood! It is not the first time I have seen blood. My little brother—I see him killed before my eyes—I see blood in the street—people shot, dying—I—’
‘Yes,’ said Inspector Craddock. ‘Thank you very much.’
‘And now,’ said Mitzi dramatically, ‘you can arrest me and take me to prison!’
‘Not today,’ said Inspector Craddock.
As Craddock and Fletcher went through the hall to the front door it was flung open and a tall handsome young man almost collided with them.
‘Sleuths as I live,’ cried the young man.
‘Mr Patrick Simmons?’
‘Quite right, Inspector. You’re the Inspector, aren’t you, and the other’s the Sergeant?’
‘You are quite right, Mr Simmons. Can I have a word with you, please?’
‘I am innocent, Inspector. I swear I am innocent.’
‘Now then, Mr Simmons, don’t play the fool. I’ve a good many other people to see and I don’t want to waste time. What’s this room? Can we go in here?’
‘It’s the so-called study—but nobody studies.’
‘I was told that you were studying?’ said Craddock.
‘I found I couldn’t concentrate on mathematics, so I came home.’
In a businesslike manner Inspector Craddock demanded full name, age, details of war service.
‘And now, Mr Simmons, will you describe what happened last night?’
‘We killed the fatted calf, Inspector. That is, Mitzi set her hand to making savoury pastries, Aunt Letty opened a new bottle of sherry—’
Craddock interrupted.
‘A new bottle? Was there an old one?’
‘Yes. Half full. But Aunt Letty didn’t seem to fancy it.’
‘Was she nervous, then?’
‘Oh, not really. She’s extremely sensible. It was old Bunny, I think, who had put the wind up her—prophesying disaster all day.’
‘Miss Bunner was definitely apprehensive, then?’
‘Oh, yes, she enjoyed herself thoroughly.’
‘She took the advertisement seriously?’
‘It scared her into fits.’
‘Miss Blacklock seems to have thought, when she first read that advertisement, that you had had something to do with it. Why was that?’
‘Ah, sure, I get blamed for everything round here!’
‘You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you, Mr Simmons?’
‘Me? Never in the world.’
‘Had you ever seen or spoken to this Rudi Scherz?’
‘Never seen him in my life.’
‘It was the kind of joke you might have played, though?’
‘Who’s been telling you that? Just because I once made Bunny an apple pie bed—and sent Mitzi a postcard saying the Gestapo was on her track—’
‘Just give me your account of what happened.’
‘I’d just gone into the small drawing-room to fetch the drinks when, Hey Presto, the lights went out. I turned round and there’s a fellow standing in the doorway saying, “Stick your hands up,” and everybody gasping and squealing, and just when I’m thinking—can I rush him? he starts firing a revolver and then crash down he goes and his torch goes out and we’re in the dark again, and Colonel Easterbrook starts shouting orders in his barrack-room voice. “Lights,” he says, and will my lighter go on? No, it won’t as is the way of those cussed inventions.’
‘Did it seem to you that the intruder was definitely aiming at Miss Blacklock?’
‘Ah, how could I tell? I should say he just loosed off his revolver for the fun of the thing—and then found, maybe, he’d gone too far.’
‘And shot himself?’
‘It could be. When I saw the face of him, he looked like the kind of little pasty thief who might easily lose his nerve.’
‘And you’re sure you had never seen him before?’
‘Never.’
‘Thank you, Mr Simmons. I shall want to interview the other people who were here last night. Which would be the best order in which to take them?’
‘Well, our Phillipa—Mrs Haymes—works at Dayas Hall. The gates of it are nearly opposite this gate. After that, the Swettenhams are the nearest. Anyone will tell you.’
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
