A fairly representative bag, thought Doctor Richard Sheldon with a trace of cynicism as he left his surgery after the last patient had departed. Two embryo duodenal ulcers occasioned by worry over income tax, an overweight woman in need of exercise and three children with chicken-pox.
Richard Sheldon was a country General Practitioner of the older school. Grey of hair and comfortable of figure, he had the enviable knack of making his patients feel better as a result of having seen him. The mother of the last chicken-pox-afflicted child had induced in him a desire for a glass of sherry. He was just reaching for the decanter when the front door bell rang. More chicken-pox, diagnosed the doctor pessimistically.
“There’s a gentleman from the police to see you, sir,” announced the parlour-maid with ill concealed excitement.
Sheldon’s glass was half-way to his lips. “A policeman to see me?” he said. “Now, what can I have done wrong?”
The maid giggled. “He’s a plain-clothes man, a detective,” she elaborated.
“Well, at least that means I haven’t left my car where I shouldn’t,” said Sheldon. “You’d better ask him to come in, Judy.” A sudden thought struck him. “Perhaps you’d bring another glass. There must be a policeman somewhere in England who’ll accept a glass of sherry when on duty.”
Judy appeared with the glass and Inspector Ford. She lingered hopefully for a moment but was dismissed by a nod from Sheldon.
“Doctor Sheldon?” said Ford briskly. “I’m Detective-Inspector Ford. I hope I’m not disturbing you when you’re busy.”
“Not at all,” murmured Sheldon. “Er—have a glass of sherry, won’t you?”
“That will be very acceptable, sir,” said Ford.
“Excellent,” said Sheldon. He busied himself with the decanter. “I’ve often wondered why policemen never accept a drink when they’re making inquiries.”
“It’s not universal, Doctor Sheldon,” said Ford. They toasted one another gravely. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here, sir.”
“I must confess to being a little curious,” admitted Sheldon. “How exactly can I help you?”
“I understand you have a young lady staying with you, sir—a Miss Walters.”
“That’s right. She’s my niece.”
“Do you think I could have a word with her?”
“Yes, by all means. But what exactly—?”
“No need to be alarmed, sir,” reassured Ford. “I just want to ask her a few questions—purely routine stuff. I’m investigating the murder on the houseboat High Tor.”
“Ah, yes,” said Sheldon. “I was talking to Katherine about it only this morning. The murdered man was an Italian, wasn’t he?”
“That’s right, sir. His name was Paul Rocello. He was staying with a Mr. Cooper.”
“Cooper,” said the doctor thoughtfully. “I’ve met him, I think. Was Rocello a friend of his?”
“So we believe. But our information’s rather secondhand at the moment because we haven’t been able to contact Cooper.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you over that, Inspector,” said Sheldon. “I thought he worked for a firm of solicitors but apart from that I know very little about him.”
“We thought Mr. Cooper worked for a firm of solicitors too,” said Ford.
“Oh? And doesn’t he?”
Ford changed the subject adroitly and pleasantly. “I think if you don’t mind, sir, I’ll tell you why I want a word with Miss Walters. I understand she hired a punt yesterday and spent an hour or so on the river.”
“Did she?” said the doctor. “I know she went out in the afternoon but I didn’t know she went on the river.”
With a faint smile, Ford produced a notebook. “She hired a punt from Barker Brothers and was on the river from half-past two until about four o’clock. At least, that’s according to our information.”
“I’m sure your information is correct, Inspector,” said Sheldon. “No doubt you know exactly what I was doing then as well.”
“Yes indeed, sir,” said Ford. The slight twinkle in his eyes belied the seriousness of his tone. “You were in your surgery until quarter to four and then you came in here for a cup of tea.”
“I have a wholesome regard for our police force,” murmured Sheldon. “You’re perfectly right.”
“It wasn’t a bad guess, sir,” said Ford. They both laughed. Ford went on: “Has Miss Walters been staying with you long, sir?”
“Not very long. Her father—that’s my brother—died rather suddenly and unfortunately—” he broke off as Katherine came into the room. “Ah, there you are, my dear. This is Inspector Ford. He wants to ask you a few questions.”
Katherine eyed the newcomer in surprise.
“Questions?” she repeated, taken aback.
“It’s about the murder on the houseboat, Miss,” explained Ford somewhat apologetically, noting her intelligent eyes and sensitive mouth.
“Just a matter of routine, Miss,” he added with a smile. “Always the same in a murder case. We have to question hundreds of people, in the hope we might get something to work on.”
“Well, I don’t think I can be of much help,” said Katherine. “But I’ll answer anything I can.”
“That’s fine,” said Ford. “I understand you spent part of yesterday afternoon on the river. Is that correct?”
Katherine nodded. “Perfectly,” she said. “It was a glorious afternoon so I hired a punt.”
“And moored it about fifty yards from High Tor.”
“High Tor?”
“That’s the houseboat where the murder was committed.”
“What, that lovely white one?”
“That’s the one. Now, what I want to know, Miss Walters, is whether you saw or heard anything that aroused your suspicions in any way?”
“Not a thing, I’m afraid. But I did see a man on deck, now I come to think of it.”
Ford’s bushy black eyebrows slid together to form one line. “You saw a man, did you?”
“Yes,” replied Katherine.
“What was he doing?”
“He came up on deck and stood there for a moment. Then he waved to someone in a car on the bridge. He left the houseboat, got into the car and they drove away. That’s all I saw.”
“It’s something to be going on with,” commented Ford. “What time was this?”
“About half-past three, I should think.”
Doctor Sheldon rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “What time was the murder committed, Inspector?” he asked.
“Hard to say, sir. Probably between one o’ clock on Wednesday morning and four o’clock on Thursday afternoon.”
“Not very definite, is it?”
“It’s the best the police surgeon could do for us, sir.”
“I really must apologize for asking questions,” said Sheldon, “after all, I’m supposed to be answering them. But could you tell me how this man was killed?”
“That’s perfectly all right, sir,” said Ford. “It seems that there had been a straggle and he’d been hit across the face, possibly with the butt of a revolver.” He turned to Katherine again. “You didn’t recognize this man, I suppose.”
“No, I’d never seen him before.”
“Can you describe him?”
“I only just caught a glimpse of his face when he turned round in my direction.” Katherine looked apologetically at Ford. “I really am trying my best to be helpful but I wasn’t to know that there was a dead body fifty yards away from me.”
“I quite understand, Miss Walters,” said Ford. “And you’re being very helpful indeed.” There was no place, he thought a shade bitterly, for beautiful young women in murder investigations. A girl like this, for instance, should be free to laze around in a punt, go to dances with boy friends and live a pleasant, sheltered existence away from weary police investigators asking silly questions. Ford sighed mentally. The only thing he had to do was bring the murderer to justice and he’d have to ask a lot more damn’ fool questions before this particular killer was in the dock.
“I won’t bother you for much longer, Miss Walters,” said Ford. “Now, this car that was waiting. Did you see the driver?”
“I’m afraid not. You see, it was very hot, and I was reading a book most of the time. I wasn’t really taking much interest in anything.”
Ford smiled suddenly. “I have occasional afternoons like that myself, Miss Walters. In fact, I was due for a holiday when this murder cropped up. Did you see what sort of car it was?”
Katherine said: “Yes, it was a saloon. I definitely noticed that.”
“Colour?”
“Dark. Either black or dark blue.” She looked appealingly at Ford. “I know what you’re thinking. About every other car on the road is a dark saloon. I only wish I could be more helpful.”
“You’re doing very well, Miss Walters.” The deep-set eyes under their thick, black eye-lashes looked straight into her own. “One thing more. Would you recognize the man you saw on the houseboat again if you saw him?”
Katherine answered after a barely perceptible pause.
“Yes, I think I would, Inspector.…”