Death in High Heels (21 page)

“Did anyone see you do this?”

“Not that I know of, unless there was a porter about. What is all this leading to, Inspector? I don’t see what it has got to do with Mrs. Best.”

“Neither do I,” said Smithers, smiling pleasantly, “but, as I said before, I have to go into all these things. One more question and then I won’t bother you any further: did any of the other young ladies go into this flatlet that Mrs. Best had taken for the night?”

“Only Mrs. David. I went in with Irene when she arrived and took her some things for the night, and so on, and helped her to settle in; then we came upstairs and all the others came on up to my flat. Afterwards Mrs. David and I went down and tucked Irene up and left her for the night. I don’t think that at that time she had anything like this in her head; but she was dreadfully upset and unhappy and I blame myself terribly for having given her the extra sleeping powders. In the light of what has happened, Inspector, it seems a criminally stupid thing to have done; but you must believe me when I say that the thought of it just never entered my head. And none of the others seem to have thought of it, either,” she added, brightening considerably. “They all heard me offer her the box, and none of them suggested for a moment that it was unwise.”

“No, I quite appreciate that, Miss Gregory, I’m sure you need feel no responsibility in the matter.” He produced a small chamois leather case and, taking out of it a square of dark glass, held it out before her so suddenly that she took it before she was aware of what she was doing.

“Whatever is this?” she said.

“Oh, I beg your pardon—what on earth am I thinking of? I meant to offer you a cigarette. I’m afraid you are in need of one after all these questions,” said Smithers, unobtrusively slipping the glass back into its case. “Now you go back to bed and try and get some sleep.…” He left her with the promised cigarette, and on his way back to Irene’s room handed the case to his sergeant. “I want these finger-prints compared with any in the room downstairs. When the man gets here, ask him to ’phone through to me as soon as he gets any results. I’m going to Mrs. David’s… I shall be at that number.”

Bobby Dazzler had left a large drawing on the studio mantelpiece, depicting himself and his sister, she with very fat legs and he with very untidy hair, dining in great state at a palatial restaurant and with a couple of theatre tickets conspicuously displayed in the foreground, and this Victoria took to be an indication that they would not be back until late. It was a huge, square room with an overhead light, one corner occupied by the paraphernalia of painting, one by a dining-table and four chairs, and a third by a fireplace surrounded by easy chairs and a sofa. The easel and model’s throne stood in the centre and around them Victoria was obliged to make a careful detour as she fussed about picking up her sister-in-law’s scattered possessions and making up the sofa into a tolerably comfortable bed. She cried quietly to herself as she moved and her hands were shaking, but she completed her tasks and began to prepare for bed. As she slid into her nightdress, the doorbell rang.

“Curse Bobby,” said Victoria, without venom. “He always forgets his key.” She hung a gay blue dressing-gown about her shoulders and went to the door.

Three strange men pushed their way unceremoniously into the flat.

Victoria stared at them open-mouthed, automatically adjusting her dressing-gown. Smithers repeated his act with a second glass, but this time did not trouble himself to explain. One of his henchmen departed with the chamois leather case, and the other propped himself up against the door and pulled out his little book. Smithers took a look round the room, sniffed at the sight of the easel and the canvases piled round the walls, and sat down on the arm of one of the easy chairs. Victoria, frankly terrified, gasped out a protest at his intrusion.

“I’m afraid I can’t waste time on fancy speeches, Mrs. David,” said Smithers, in his excitement reverting, as usual, to type. “I have to tell you that Mrs. Irene Best ’as bin found dying in ’er room; I think you already know something about that, don’t you?”

Victoria did not swoon as Gregory had done. She stared at him with horrified eyes and said faintly: “Why should you come to me about it?”

“Because I believe that you and Miss Gregory were the last persons to see Mrs. Best before she went to bed.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” said Victoria, looking a tiny bit relieved. “We went down to her room with her and saw her into bed. How—how could she have been found dying?”

“She was found by me. There is a suggestion that she may have taken, or been given, an overdose of sleeping draught.”

“She did have a sleeping draught. I—I gave it to her myself, in Gregory’s flat.”

“You don’t suppose you can have given her too much—
by any chance
?” asked Smithers, smiling unpleasantly.

“Too much—no, of course not! I gave her one powder, like Gregory said. You don’t imagine …”

“I’m not ’ere to imagine, Mrs. David. I’m ’ere to find out.”

“Where’s Mr. Charlesworth?” said Toria, suddenly. “Why isn’t
he
here? Why hasn’t
he
come to see me?”

“Because I’ve taken over part of the conduct of the case from Mr. Charlesworth and I’m here in his place.”

“Well, I don’t think I ought to talk to you,” said Victoria, pulling herself together. “I’d rather see Mr. Charlesworth; and I don’t think I ought to say anything till my husband’s here. I’m not going to tell you any more.”

“I’m afraid you haven’t got very much choice,” said Smithers, nastily. “You can refuse, of course, but you’re putting yourself in a very peculiar position if you do. I must warn you, Mrs. David, that I have reason to believe that you know more about the supposed suicide of Mrs. Best than you pretend to, and that, in fact, you are under grave suspicion of being concerned in it. I should advise you to tell me frankly what you know about it.” He disregarded her gasp of terror and went on, relentlessly, “Miss Gregory gave you a key to Mrs. Best’s flat.
What did you do with that key?
”

Victoria turned her head nervously from side to side, and passed her dry tongue over her lips. Smithers repeated his question, and as she still made no reply, urged: “Come on, now, if you have nothing to conceal, you can surely tell me what became of the key.”

“I put it through the letter-box,” said Victoria, desperately.

“Then how do you account for the fact that it was found on the table at Mrs. Best’s bedside?”

Victoria went terribly white. “How can you explain that?” repeated Smithers, watching the expression on her face.

“I can’t explain it—I don’t know,” said Toria, frantically. “Gregory asked me to put it through the letter-box, and that’s what I did.”

“I suggest to you that you did not put the key through the letter-box. I suggest that, having given Mrs. Best an overdose of sleeping powder before she went to bed, you entered the flat with the key Miss Gregory had given you, and printed on one of Mrs. Best’s own cards a confession of murder and suicide?”

“Did Irene leave a confession?”

“A ‘confession’ was found under her pillow before she was taken to hospital.”

“To hospital!” cried Victoria, and now every vestige of colour had left her face, and her hands shook as though she had the ague. “Do you mean to say that Irene isn’t dead?”

“That frightens you, doesn’t it, Mrs. David? No, she isn’t dead; you have to thank me for saving you from, perhaps, a double charge of murder.”

“I don’t understand what you mean?”

“I mean that it may have been to conceal your implication in another murder that you staged this apparent suicide.”

“No, no,” cried Victoria, mad with fear.

“How else can you account for the fact that the key you speak of had not been pushed through the letter-box at all and that a forged confession of suicide was found under Mrs. Best’s pillow? How can you account for that?”

“A forged confession? I can’t understand what it’s all about.”

“No, I wouldn’t expect that you could. Now, Mrs. David, I want to ask you one or two questions about the glass which was found beside the bed. When you and Miss Gregory went into the room to put Mrs. Best to bed, did you handle the glass?”

“I didn’t touch it. Miss Gregory put the glass, full of water, beside Irene. But I’m sure Miss Gregory doesn’t know any more about it than I do.”

“Perhaps you put the box of powders—full or empty, whichever it was—beside the glass?”

“I didn’t. I didn’t touch them after I put the box back in the cupboard in the bathroom upstairs. Gregory took them out and brought them down with her, and she put the glass on the table and handed the box to Irene; and Irene put it on the table beside the bed. Not that I mean to suggest that Gregory …”

“Don’t you worry about Miss Gregory, Mrs. David. You’ve got troubles enough of your own. Now, about what happened upstairs.…”

He took her through the events of the earlier part of the evening. Who had suggested that Mrs. Best should go to the guest-room in the first place? Toria thought it had been Judy. Who had thought of giving Mrs. Best a sleeping draught? Well, that was Rachel … her eyes kept straying to the door, watching for her husband’s return, and when the telephone rang she started towards it eagerly and her face lit up with relief; but Smithers was as quick and he took the receiver out of her hand.

“Hallo, yes? Oh, Davies, is that you? You got the two lots of prints I sent along?”

“I’m checking up the whole room,” said the fingerprint expert, speaking from Irene’s guest-flat. “So far I’ve only got three lots of prints, except for some old ones which I take to be a servant’s, left while cleaning the place and so forth. The others all belong either to Mrs. Best herself or to the other two lots you sent me; at least, as far as I can tell, until I get them back for testing, but I don’t think there’s any doubt about it. I haven’t finished yet, but I understood you were anxious to know about the glass which was standing on the table by the bed. The outside of it had been recently wiped absolutely clean, and there are two lots of prints on it; the thumb and four fingers of Mrs. Best, very clear, as though she had gripped the glass with her hand, possibly drinking from it; and the thumb and three fingers of the second lot you sent me—Mrs. David’s. What I think may be of special interest to you, from what I’ve heard from your man here, is that the prints of Mrs. David must have been made
after
Mrs. Best had handled the glass. They’re superimposed.”

Inspector Smithers put down the receiver with a sigh of pure satisfaction and turned to Victoria, huddled in one corner of the sofa, staring at him with panic-stricken blue eyes. “Mrs. David,” he said, savouring every word, “it is my duty to ask you to come to the police-station with me for questioning regarding the attempted murder of Mrs. Irene Best; and I must warn you again that anything you say will be taken down and may be used in evidence.”

2

Charlesworth, returning gaily from his night off, was met by the persistent ringing of his telephone bell. Victoria’s husband was on the other end of the line, frantic with fear and anger. The Dazzler had taken a liking to Mr. Charlesworth, and having obtained his private number, now placed himself and Victoria unreservedly in that young man’s hands. “There’s been some ghastly mistake,” he said down the ’phone. “Do get hold of this bloody fellow, Smithers, and make him see reason. What on earth had Toria to gain by harming Irene Best?… The whole thing is so utterly monstrous and fantastic that I can’t seem to see daylight anywhere. I’m going to get hold of my mother now, she has a bit of a pull with the big noises at your place; meanwhile, be a good chap, Charlesworth, and get hold of this Smither and tell him.…”

Charlesworth got hold of Smithers and told him. His language surprised that acute young man into a fairly accurate summing-up of Mr. Charlesworth’s feelings for the lady in question, for his reputation for susceptibility was not unknown to his colleagues. Smithers produced his proofs triumphantly, but found Charlesworth obstinately unimpressed.

“What if her prints
were
on the glass? I thought you said the overdose was administered upstairs?”

“Yes, by Mrs. David.”

“Then what’s the significance of the finger-prints on the glass? Why should you get so excited about them?”

“Only that Miss Gregory says that Mrs. David didn’t touch the glass while they were all three in the room.”

“She may easily be mistaken.”

“No, no, Mrs. David herself says that she didn’t touch it.”

“What difference does it make, if the stuff was administered upstairs?”

“We can’t be certain of that. Very possibly Mrs. David put an extra dose in the glass and gave it to Mrs. Best when she went into her flat later.”

“I don’t even see why you can be so sure she did go into the flat. Anybody could have entered it after she had put the key through the letter-box, and picked up the key from the mat inside and left it on the table. It needn’t necessarily have been Mrs. David.”

“Anyone?”

“Well, Miss Gregory, then. She had a second key, she gave it to you herself. She even admits that she was snooping about downstairs, long after Mrs. David had gone home. Why pick on Mrs. David? Why not Miss Gregory?”

“For half a dozen excellent reasons,” said Smithers, joyfully. “Firstly, I’m not prejudiced in favour of Mrs. David!” He looked pointedly at Charlesworth, who had the grace to blush. “Secondly, because it was obviously a genuine shock to Miss Gregory to hear that Mrs. Best had been found dying, and it just as obviously wasn’t a surprise at all to Mrs. David. Thirdly, because Miss Gregory has, as far as I can see, told the truth all the way along, even volunteering the information that she went downstairs with the letter, which she needn’t have done, because she knows that there was nobody about to see her; fourthly, because nobody handled the key after Mrs. David for the simple reason that her finger-print is the last to have been made on it—oh, I grant you it may have been picked up by a gloved hand, but is it likely, my dear man? and lastly, because if Mrs. David didn’t leave her finger-prints on the glass when she went into the room with Mrs. Best and Miss Gregory, she must have entered the room later and left them then. Will that satisfy you?”