Death on Allhallowe’en (12 page)

Horseman, seeming a little put out by this disturbance of his act, tapped irritably for the band.

Carolus was standing quite near Horseman and watching him closely. What he actually saw was straightforward tragedy—Horseman falling behind the lectern and collapsing sideways to the ground. But he was aware of more than that. He was not conscious of
hearing a
shot or seeing anything beyond the collapse, yet he knew that a shot had been fired. Horseman had been shot through the heart, and death must have been instantaneous for no sound came from the prone figure.

The fire-crackers continued to explode, and at first those
who had actually been watching Horseman realised what had happened. The pistol shot had been indistinguishable among the noise of the fire-crackers. But after a very quick examination of the dead man, Carolus acted with decision. He left those near to gather round Horseman's body and hurried out to Rutters.

‘A man's been shot,' he said. ‘Keep everybody in at this door and I'll go round the back and hold the others.'

The policeman was so surprised that he obeyed.

‘No one may leave,' he said importantly to the first who tried to make a bolt for it. Then, gaining confidence, he said, ‘Keep calm. Just sit down, please. No one may leave the hall till the police officers arrive. Dr Richards, will you look after the wounded man?'

Carolus ran round to the back and was just in time to find Albert Gunning coming through the door, followed by Cicely.

‘I'm sorry,' Carolus said. ‘I've been asked by the police to prevent anyone leaving.'

Albert, no longer the calm and civil man whom Carolus had known, shouted, ‘Who the hell are you? My wife's got to have some fresh air. Get out of the way!'

It could have been a very unpleasant scene. Gunning was roused to fury. But Cicely said, ‘Albert! Albert, don't!'

Carolus suggested that Mrs Gunning should sit in the doorway in the fresh air.

‘I'm sorry, Albert,' he said. ‘But the police are right, you know. Horseman is dead.'

‘Yes,' said Mr Lark, who had joined them. ‘I heard Dr Richards say he'd been shot through the heart.'

‘You can see that the police must prevent everyone from leaving.'

Albert was calmer.

‘I suppose so, if there's been a murder.'

‘Look here, Albert. Will you hold on here for a while? I must go round and let Rutters phone the station. You won't let anyone out, will you?'

'All right. No one'll go till the police come.'

Carolus went back to Rutters.

‘I can hold them if you want to phone the station,' he said.

‘I don't know what to do. I must get ‘em here straight away, but I oughtn't to leave this job to anyone else.'

‘You can't do two things at once. You can trust me, you know.'

Rutters went and Carolus took over his position. Most people in the hall had settled down. The doctor remained by the bulky figure of the dead man, looking grotesque in its unsuitable sailor's uniform. There was a hum and mutter of conversation in the room.

Rutters returned from the phone.

‘The police van will be here in ten minutes,' he announced to those round the door. Then to Carolus, ‘The sergeant's coming. I shall be glad to hand this lot over to him, I can tell you. Had any trouble?'

‘None at all,' said Carolus, and as he spoke he thought what an extraordinary thing it was that none of those in the hall had demanded to be released. He would have thought the teenagers, notoriously rebellious, would have made a rush for it. But even more, he would have supposed that William Garries, who had already shown his hostility to Carolus, or Xavier Matchlow, who wasn't a man to accept authority, would have asked him his business there and tried to leave. He remembered this strange acquiescence later.

Carolus returned to Albert Gunning.

‘All quiet?' he asked.

‘Yes. One or two of the young ones had a try to get out, but I soon settled that.'

‘Good. Won't be long now.'

‘I hope you don't think there was anything funny about me making for this door when it happened. Only, see, the wife gets very upset with anything like that and I thought I'd better get her out to the air.'

‘I quite understand.'

'I hope you do. I shouldn't like you to think I had anything to hide.'

‘That's all right, Albert.'

‘Because it's known that I never cared for Horseman and half blamed him over Cyril…'

‘I didn't think anything like that. I simply co-operated with the police in keeping everyone in.'

Albert did not seem satisfied.

‘As long as you feel like that about it,' he said doubtfully.

‘Albert wouldn't hurt a fly,' put in Cicely.

Carolus had said all he could and left the Gunnings. He made his way across to the group at the bar.

Matchlow, looking very calm and still elegant, said, ‘How much longer are we to be kept here?'

‘Don't ask me,' said Carolus. ‘It's a police affair.'

‘You seem to be in their confidence.'

‘Not at all. Rutters has phoned for some senior officers.'

‘That's good. They may have some sense. Do you suppose they'll want to search us?'

‘I have no idea. I should, in their place, but I'm not a policeman.'

‘That fellow Horseman has caused nothing but trouble ever since he came here.'

‘He won't cause any more,' said Carolus drily.

He left the group and went back to Rutters.

‘What about Horseman's wife?' he said. ‘Oughtn't she to be told?'

The policeman no longer resented Carolus, who had helped him in a tricky situation and did not want any credit for it.

‘I suppose she did,' he said, with one of those breaches of syntax which particularly delighted Carolus. ‘Tell you what,' he added after a moment's thought. ‘I'll leave that to the sergeant. He should be here at any minute. He'll send someone to tell her, and I hope it won't be me. Not the sort of job I go for.'

‘Just a sergeant coming?'

'I don't know. I made my report to the station. I shouldn't be surprised if he picks up the CID on the way. After all, it looks like murder.'

‘It is murder. What else could it be? And a very well-planned murder, too.'

Lights were visible in the lane, and in a few seconds a police car stopped. A sergeant in uniform and two plain-clothes men alighted and crossed to Rutters. Carolus drifted inconspicuously away.

The police were competent and courteous. The ladies were asked to show the contents of their bags to a policewoman and allowed to leave when they had given their names and addresses to one of the plain-clothes men. The men also gave their names, and after asking the permission of each—in no case refused—one of the CID men quickly frisked them. They, too, were released.

But when Drummer Sloman swaggered up to the officers there was some excitement because a pistol was still in his holster.

‘What's this?'

^‘
A .38 revolver,' replied Drummer.

‘Is it your own property?'

‘No.'

‘Where did you get it?'

‘A friend lent it to me. For the dance.'

‘For the dance?'

‘Yeah. Can't you see this is a Western outfit I'm wearing?'

‘What friend? What's his name?'

‘I'm not saying.'

One of the policemen examined the weapon. It was unloaded.

‘A shot has recently been fired from one chamber of this revolver.'

‘Go on!' said Drummer cheerfully.

‘Did you fire that shot?'

‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

There was a long tense pause.

‘You'll come with us for questioning,' said the policeman.

‘Okay,' said Drummer, who did not appear to take the matter seriously.

‘And your younger brother.'

‘You might let my mum know then. She'll be waiting up.'

Many versions of this incident were carried away by those dispersing and in a short time went through the village. Drummer Sloman had fired the shot which had killed Horseman and had been charged with murder, Drummer Sloman had been taken away for questioning, Drummer Sloman had supplied the revolver with which Horseman was killed, and so on.

Carolus went up to the sergeant. He had removed his cape and deerstalker.

‘I think I should tell you that I was standing beside that young man when the shot was fired,' he said.

‘And?'

‘He didn't fire it.'

‘Who are you?'

‘My name is Deene. I'm staying in the village.'

‘Very well, Mr Deene. Let me have your name and address. If we need your testimony we will call on you.'

He continued with the remainder of the public. No other revolver was found on any of them. The members of the band were advised to take their instruments with them as the hall would be locked up for some time while it was under examination. Carolus watched them as they carried out their drums and saxophones. They were in a hurry to escape and their leader had not waited to put his instrument in its case, but carried both. Ebby Smith looked about him in a rather baffled way—he took his responsibilities seriously and perhaps wondered when he would be able to clear up the mess in the hall.

When everyone was out of the hall except the two CID men the doors were closed. Carolus guessed that they were waiting for the experts and photographers before removing the body,
and in the meantime would search everywhere in the hall for another weapon.

He decided not to wait until the unfortunate experts had been summoned from their beds, for he would of course be excluded from the examination of the corpse, which remained untouched, and he was likely to learn nothing at all of their conclusions until the inquest.

At the rectory he found John Stainer and Ron and Margaret Lark together round a fire.

‘I've brought Mrs Horseman back here,' Margaret Lark said, in the solemnity of the occasion indulging in no abbreviations. ‘Dr Richards gave her a couple of pastilles and she's sleeping quite peacefully. It was, of course, a terrible shock.'

‘It is for everyone,' said John.

No one suggested by the least word or sign that Carolus was in any way to blame, yet he felt that among them was some doubt as to whether he could not have prevented the tragedy.

‘It was a shock to me too,' he said.

‘I suppose we should have had some inkling after that shot in the lane the other night,' said John Stainer.

‘On the contrary, that gave me a certain security—false as it turned out. I can only say that there must have been a motive far stronger than I dreamed of. I assumed a motive and it was not the right one.'

‘But do you know who shot Horseman?' said Ron Lark impatiently.

‘No, I don't. I shall find out, but what's the use of that now?' ‘Exactly.'

‘Have the police asked Mavis Horseman any questions yet?'

‘No. They're coming at eleven tomorrow morning. She wasn't in a state to be questioned tonight.'

‘Of course not.'

‘But they've arrested the Sloman brothers?'

‘Taken them in for questioning.'

‘Carolus,' said John Stainer seriously. ‘You accused Connor
Horseman of not telling us all he knew the other night. Do you still think he was to blame for that?'

‘Very much.'

‘You mean that if had confided in you, or in the police, his life might have been saved?'

‘Probably, yes.'

‘It's a wretched business.
Why
was he withholding information?'

Carolus decided to suppose this was a rhetorical question and went up to bed.

He came down early and, finding Margaret Lark, asked if she thought Mrs Horseman would see him.

‘Well, I don't know. She was very upset last night.'

‘Tell her I'm trying to find out who killed her husband.'

‘I don't think that will cut much ice. It's my imp that they were scarcely on speaking terms. She was upset, yes; well, anyone would be, wouldn't they? But I wouldn't describe her as heartbroken. If you want to know what I think, I think she was putting on an act last night. Still, I'm going to take her up some breck and I'll ask her.'

Ten minutes later Margaret Lark said, ‘She'll see you. She's coming down very soon.'

Mavis Horseman, when she appeared, seemed to Carolus an unlikely kind of woman to meet in these circumstances. The wife of the biographer of Mathew Hopkins, the widow of a man who had died violently, a woman who had lived in this outlandish village surrounded by intrigue, occultism and malice, should not, he thought, have quite such a commonplace, such a thoroughly conventional, appearance. With her dyed auburn hair and tight uncharitable-looking mouth, her rimless spectacles and business-like manner, she belonged to the world of supermarkets and bingo halls, of morning coffee and nightly television. She seemed to expect that some pretence of tragedy was expected of her, but Carolus felt it
was
a pretence.

‘I hear you want to ask me some questions. I don't know if I'm doing right in talking to you before I see the police.'

Carolus realised that ‘I don't know if I'm doing right' was a catch-phrase, and a favourite one. He therefore started without hesitation.

‘Did you know much of your husband's interest in the occult?'

‘Nothing at all. He never discussed it with me.'

‘But you had read his book?'

‘I tried to. It seemed the proper thing to do. But I couldn't get on with it. I like something lighter, myself.'

‘You were aware of what was going on in Clibburn?'

‘I never took that amount of notice. When Connor came to live here he did not tell me anything much of the place till we'd moved in, and I had to find out for myself all about this witchcraft. Connor and I didn't discuss that sort of thing.'