CHAPTER 17

‘Have any of the rest come down yet, Ernie?’ Alec asked as the young D.C. hurried into the parlour.

‘Most of ’em, Chief. Mr. Smythe-Pike’s laid up with a bad attack of the gout – and Mr. Bretton and Mr. Jeremy Gillespie look like they wish they had half as good an excuse to stay in bed. Mrs. Jeremy’s come down. If you ask me, Chief, she’s much too big to murder anyone. Wouldn’t be surprised if it popped out any minute.’

‘Let’s hope not! Things are going to be difficult enough as it is. It seems we’re right about those scratches.’

Piper looked puzzled. ‘Don’t that make it easy, Chief? All we have to do is check their hands and we’ve got chummy by the short hairs.’

‘We’re going to have to look at their arms, too.’ Alec explained Daisy’s reasoning. ‘It’s easy enough for the gentle men to take off their jackets and roll up their sleeves,’ he went on, ‘though some of them will undoubtedly squeal. The difficulty’s with the women. If they’re wearing tight sleeves they’ll have to change, and then they’ll have every right to object to our scrutinizing their arms. I suppose I’ll have to get hold of a police matron. I hope Halliday can produce one.’

‘Why not ask Miss Dalrymple to do it, Chief?’

‘Because . . .’ Why not? Because he hated to see Daisy involved in the sordid business of murder any more than she herself made absolutely necessary?

‘Do what?’ Tom returned from the telephone.

‘You got through already?’ Alec asked. ‘That was quick.’

‘Told the girl urgent police priority, Chief. Don’t want to be stuck up here longer’n we must, do we? The missus’ll be getting in a pucker. She’s always afraid I’ll fade away without good home-cooked meals.’

‘No fear of that, Sarge,’ said Piper.

‘Cheeky cub,’ the vast sergeant said tolerantly. ‘Inspector Fielding’s on his way, Chief. What are we asking Miss Dalrymple to do?’

‘Check the women’s arms. But we’re not.’ He had come up with a reasonable reason. ‘I don’t want Belinda either mixed up in it or left alone, and I need you two.’

‘She likes the Indian doctor, Chief,’ said Piper. ‘He’s already out of it, pretty much. Check his arms first, then ask him to look after Miss Belinda.’

Alec considered. There was nothing against it but his own reluctance to ask for Daisy’s help. And if the Berwick force had no matron, it might take hours to bring one in from elsewhere.

‘All right, assuming Dr. Jagai is cleared, I’ll see if Miss Dalrymple is willing.’ Fat chance she’d refuse. ‘We could take them in two groups, men and women, but I think we’ll do it one by one in case chummy gets excited. I don’t think it’s any of the women, but Ernie, you’ll stand at the door of whatever room Miss Dalrymple’s in and get in there fast if you hear the slightest squeak.’

‘Don’t worry, Chief,’ said Ernie importantly, ‘I’ll take care of her. Shall I go and ask her to come here so’s you can explain?’

‘Not yet. We’d better let her – and everyone else – eat their breakfasts in peace. Then I’ll see Dr. Jagai first to make sure he’s willing to keep an eye on Belinda. In fact, go and tell him I’d like to consult him as soon as he’s finished. Discreetly, Ernie. I don’t want the others wondering.’

‘Easy, Chief, he’s sitting with Miss Dalrymple and Miss Belinda’.

Piper popped out again. Alec discussed with Tom the best order in which to call in the gentlemen. Bretton and Jeremy Gillespie first, they decided, as their statements were sketchy in the extreme.

‘Then Peter Gillespie, while Miss Dalrymple keeps his missus out of the way,’ Tom suggested.

‘Good point! In fact, we’ll see him first to make sure of coordinating with his wife’s absence. Then Bretton and Jeremy, then we’ll tackle Smythe-Pike, in bed or out of it. Any further details we can get out of them may help our case. I’d say the scratches will be damning evidence, but you know what lawyers are like’.

‘Slippery as jellied eels,’ Tom agreed. He looked round as Piper came back once more. ‘Hooked fish, young ’un?’

‘Dr. Jagai’ll be here in a coupla minutes, Chief. He eats his porridge the Scotch way, Sarge, and he don’t follow it up with a ton and a half of bacon and eggs. Nor curry, neether,’ Piper added regretfully, as if such proof of foreign eccentricity would have pleased him.

The doctor didn’t keep them waiting long. ‘A medical consultation, Mr. Fletcher?’ he asked. ‘I have my black bag upstairs.’

‘No, Doctor. I have a favour to ask of you. But first, would you mind letting me look at your hands?’

Jagai raised his eyebrows, but he promptly held out his hands, brown-skinned, blunt-fingered, competent, with well-trimmed, spotless nails. The scratches he had received while helping Belinda now formed a network of rows of tiny scabs. Fingernail scratches would be in roughly parallel lines, Alec thought, and wider, therefore slower to start to heal.

The Indian turned his hands, revealing pink palms, one stained with iodine where a thorn had stabbed more deeply. ‘Nothing vital pierced,’ he said quizzically. ‘Cat scratches are worse. They tend to fester.’

‘What about human?’ Alec queried. ‘I’m afraid I must ask you to take off your jacket and roll up your sleeves.’

Jagai shrugged out of his jacket and unfastened his cufflinks. ‘So Mr. McGowan branded his assailant,’ he said, baring arms unmarked but for a small white scar near one elbow. ‘Good for the old boy! Human scratches can be nasty, partly because of the width, partly because they are usually inflicted by dirty nails, though not, of course, in this case.’

Alec held his jacket for him to put back on. ‘By the way, did you in fact take this off in Mr. McGowan’s compartment?’ he asked.

‘Yes. It was too hot in there for comfort.’

‘He invited you to do so? Would he have done the same for his other visitors?’

‘I rather doubt it,’ Jagai said dryly. ‘He disliked them and wouldn’t have cared for their discomfort. But it’s possible, certainly.’

‘I’m sorry to have had to check you. You weren’t really still under suspicion but I had to be quite sure, partly just for the sake of thoroughness, partly because of the favour I spoke of.’

‘What can I do for you?’

‘You’re free to leave, but would you be kind enough to take charge of my daughter for a while this morning? I need Miss Dalrymple’s help, I need both my men, but I dare not leave Belinda alone after what may have happened out on the walls yesterday. She likes and trusts you.’

‘It will be a pleasure, Mr. Fletcher,’ Jagai said, smiling.

‘You realize she must not be left for so much as a minute?’

‘You truly think she is in danger?’ he asked gravely. ‘Believe me, I had no idea or I’d not have left her yesterday.’

‘We didn’t know then. She’s no threat to the murderer now, if she ever was – she’s told us what she knows, whether it turns out to be useful or not, and in any case we now have the scratches to go by – but he or she isn’t aware of that.’

‘Better safe than sorry. I’ll keep my eye on her. It might do her good to get away from the hotel for a while. May I take her for a walk, in the town, not on the walls?’

‘That sounds like a good idea, for an hour or so. Thank you, Doctor.’ Alec shook his hand. ‘Don’t mention the scratches to anyone, please. I’d rather they didn’t know exactly what we’re looking for. Piper, go with Dr. Jagai; explain to Belinda and tell Miss Dalrymple I request the pleasure of her company.’

Daisy was rather disappointed to find Alec intended to share the pleasure of her company with both Piper and Tring. However, she cheered up when she discovered she was actually being invited to lend a hand in the investigation.

‘Gosh, need you ask, of course I’ll help,’ she said. ‘If anyone decides to be difficult, I’ll tell them the alternative is a grim old police matron. Do you want me to ask them questions, too?’

‘No, Daisy, absolutely not!’ Alec looked appalled. ‘Don’t you dare. In fact, if you should find suspicious scratches, which I don’t expect, you’re not to comment, let alone ask for explanations or make accusations. Just tell Piper. He’ll be right outside your door.’

Daisy had not considered that there might be a threat to her own safety. She still didn’t really, not when she’d only be seeing the ladies, but it would be comforting to have help at hand in case someone went for her with a poker. ‘Good,’ she said, with a warm smile for the young detective, who blushed and beamed.

They decided her bedroom was the best place for her to operate. She went up, and a few minutes later Piper ushered in Enid Gillespie.

‘Really, Miss Dalrymple,’ she snapped, ‘I can scarcely believe you are lending yourself to this sordid business.’

‘If you prefer to go to the police station and see a police matron, I’m sure Chief Inspector Fletcher will oblige,’ Daisy assured her.

‘Certainly not!’

‘Then I rest my case. May I look at your hands, please, Mrs. Gillespie?’

‘My hands? Good gracious, is that what all this fuss is about? The police must be quite baffled if they are taking up palmistry,’ Enid Gillespie said sarcastically, holding out her hands palms up. At Daisy’s request she turned them over to display several singularly ugly, rings, ornate Victorian settings of not very valuable stones. No scratches.

‘Now I must see your arms.’

‘This is going too far!’ Mrs. Gillespie spluttered.

‘Shall I ask Detective Constable Piper to escort you to the police station?’ Daisy prayed the obstreperous woman would give in. Whether Piper, or even Alec, had the authority to do anything of the kind she had no idea. She should have found out.

In grim silence, Mrs. Gillespie removed the fitted jacket of her black costume, unbuttoned the cuffs of her white blouse, and rolled the sleeves up to her elbows. Daisy was quite disappointed not to discover any evidence blazoned upon that loose, pallid, blotchy skin.

After her, the rest were easy. Mrs. Smythe-Pike, though bewildered, was willing. Madame Pasquier was quick and businesslike. Anne was so busy complaining about the hotel’s lack of facilities for small children that she was hardly aware of baring her arms for Daisy’s inspection. Judith seemed distinctly uneasy, worried even, but she complied without demur. As for Kitty, she considered the whole thing a terrific lark. All were unmarked.

As Kitty bounced out, Piper stuck his head into the room. ‘There’s just Mrs. Jeremy Gillespie left, miss,’ he said, ‘and I don’t think she oughta be running up and down more’n she need ’case she has her baby on the stairs.’

‘Is she crying?’ Daisy asked apprehensively.

‘No, miss, not at the moment, but the chief’s decided to see her right after her husband, and he’s in there now.’

‘Let’s hurry, then.’ Daisy headed for the stairs, Piper on her heels. ‘If everyone’s finished in the dining room, I’ll see her in there. Not that I believe for a moment she could possibly have attacked anyone.’

‘Don’t seem likely, do it, miss?’ Piper agreed.

Mattie Gillespie was scratchless – and tearless until, lumbering from the dining room with Daisy, she met Piper with a request to proceed to the Chief Inspector’s lair. Eyes swimming, she clutched Daisy’s arm.

‘Come with me,’ she begged.

Suppressing with ease a noble impulse to suggest Jeremy as a preferable escort, Daisy went. Alec couldn’t very well object after asking for her help. In fact, he looked resigned but made no protest.

His questioning was of the gentlest, without the least hint of suspecting Matilda. Nonetheless all he got out of her, through floods of tears, was that Jeremy didn’t do it and she didn’t care about the money, all she wanted was to go home.

Alec sighed and let her go. Daisy supported her tottering steps from the room, though obviously dying to stay and find out what progress he had made.

She wasn’t missing anything. He was, as Tom said, ‘No forrader.’ Peter Gillespie without his wife was no more informative than with her. Jeremy Gillespie and Harold Bretton sober remembered no more than they had drunk – less if anything. Not a scratch on any of them.

‘None of the women scratched, I take it, Ernie?’ Alec said. Piper shook his head. ‘We’ll go up to Smythe-Pike then. I want to leave Raymond till last. It won’t hurt to give him time to get the wind up.’

‘Poor chap,’ Tom murmured.

‘Poor chap indeed,’ Alec soberly agreed, ‘but it’s for the lawyers to argue over diminished responsibility. Our job’s to find Albert McGowan’s killer.’

From the fuss Smythe-Pike kicked up when asked to bare his arms, anyone might have guessed him to be the murderer. Sitting up in bed in his crimson-striped flannel pyjamas, he roared curses at the presumptuous peelers who dared disturb a sick man’s rest. However, the Chief Constable with whom he claimed intimate friendship was hundreds of miles away. At last he grudgingly pushed up his pyjama sleeves, revealing sinewy arms without a sign of a scratch.

That was his only concession. When Alec tried to ask a few questions, Smythe-Pike brandished his fist and gobbled like a turkey, his face turning as crimson as the stripes on his pyjamas. Afraid of causing an apoplectic fit Alec desisted.

‘Crikey,’ breathed Piper as the door closed behind them, ‘I’m glad we don’t have to try and arrest him!’

‘What about the lawyer, Chief?’ Tom asked.

‘If he done it, why’d he stick around?’ said Piper. ‘He didn’t have to. You’d think he’d be off like a shot.’

‘He’d’ve wanted to keep tabs on things,’ Tom informed him, ‘see if we was looking his way. They often do. Not that I think it was him.’

‘Nor do I,’ Alec agreed, ‘but I suppose we’d better check him. The more I think about it, the more Miss Dalrymple’s theory seems like a far-fetched farrago, but I don’t want to have to tell her I didn’t even look. You take a dekko at McGowan’s valet, Tom, while Ernie and I pay a call on Braeburn. See you downstairs.’

The solicitor was up and dressed, but once again huddled in the chair by the fire. He still looked thoroughly miserable, red-eyed and hollow cheeked, his black silk scarf wound close about his throat.

‘I’m very sorry to disturb you again, sir,’ Alec said. ‘Your throat’s still bad, is it? Well, I shan’t be asking you to do much talking, unless you have recalled anything new?’

‘Nothing,’ said Braeburn gruffly. ‘What do you want?’

‘We’re just asking everyone who entered Mr. McGowan’s compartment to show us their hands and arms, sir. If you wouldn’t mind . . .’

‘Mind? Of course I mind! You can’t do that without a warrant.’

Alec raised his eyebrows with a cold stare. ‘I can’t insist without a warrant, sir. I’m just requesting. None of the others has refused.’

‘They all have a motive for wanting Albert McGowan dead. No doubt they’re anxious to clear themselves.’

‘We don’t have to prove motive, sir, though it helps. I’d be remiss in my duty if I didn’t check everyone who had means and opportunity.’

‘Well, I don’t practise criminal law,’ Braeburn reluctantly conceded. ‘I am not conversant with the ins and outs of it. Very well.’ He stood up, took off his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves.

His bony arms were clean as a whistle. So much for Daisy’s wild conjectures, Alec thought, solicitously helping him on with his jacket. Young Ernie must be disappointed at this proof of her fallibility.