Death in the Stocks (5 page)

'There's no call for you to swear,' said Murgatroyd.

'You want to look for the initial. No, Miss Tony, you know very well that one thing I won't do is take those murdering dogs of yours out. You get rid of them and have a nice little fox-terrier, and we'll see.'

'Oh, well, I'd better take them now, I suppose,' replied Antonia, and put on her hat again and strolled out.

The flat, which was over a garage, had a small yard attached to it, reached by an iron stair leading out of the kitchen. The garage, which Antonia rented, had a door giving on to the yard, and had been converted into a roomy kennel. Three bull-terrier bitches occupied it, and greeted their mistress in the boisterous manner of their kind. She put them all on leashes, called Bill to heel, and started out for a walk, sped on her way by Murgatroyd, who came to the top of the iron stairs to say that if she happened to be passing a dairy she might bring in another half-dozen eggs. 'Ten to one we'll have that Miss Williams here to supper,' Murgatroyd said gloomily. 'Enough to make your poor Mother turn in her grave! Her and her poster-sketches! And what's to stop her and Master Kenneth getting married now Mr Arnold's no more?'

'Nothing,' replied Antonia, resisting the efforts of one of the bitches to entangle her legs with the lead.

'That's what I say,' agreed Murgatroyd. 'There's always something to take the gilt off the ginger-bread.'

Antonia left her to her cogitations, and set off in the direction of the Embankment. When she returned it was an hour later, and she had forgotten the eggs. Having given her dogs their evening meal, she ran up the steps to the kitchen, where she found Murgatroyd making pastry. A fair girl, with shrewd grey eyes and a rather square chin, was sitting with her elbows on the table, watching Murgatroyd. She smiled when she saw Antonia. 'Hullo!' she said. 'Just looked in for a minute.'

'I haven't got the eggs,' announced Antonia.

'It's all right: I got them,' the other girl said. 'I hear your half-brother's been murdered. I don't condole, do I?'

'No. Is the blushing Violet here?'

'Yes,' said Leslie Rivers in a very steady voice. 'So I thought I wouldn't stay.'

'You can't anyway: there isn't enough to eat. Seen Kenneth?'

'Yes,' said Leslie Rivers again. 'He's with Violet. I suppose it's useless for me to say anything, but if Kenneth isn't careful he'll land himself in jug. I should think the police are bound to think he murdered your half-brother.'

'No, they won't. They think I did. Kenneth wasn't there.'

'He hasn't got an alibi,' stated Leslie in her matter-of-fact way. 'He doesn't seem to see how with him inheriting all that money, and being in debt, and loathing Arnold, things are bound to point his way.'

'I bet he didn't do it, all the same,' replied Antonia.

'The point is you may find it hard to prove he didn't.'

'I wonder if he could have?' Antonia said thoughtfully.

Murgatroyd let the rolling-pin fall with a clatter. 'I never did in all my born days! Whatever will you say next, Miss Tony? Your own brother too, as wouldn't hurt a fly.'

'If you had a fly-swotting competition, he'd win it,' Antonia replied sensibly. 'I'm not saying he did kill Arnold; I only wondered. I wouldn't put it above him, would you, Leslie?'

'I don't know. He's a weird creature. Yes, of course I would. What rot you are talking, Tony! I'm going.'

Five minutes later Antonia wandered into the studio and nodded curtly to the girl in the big arm-chair. 'Hullo! Come to celebrate?'

Miss Williams raised a pair of velvety brown eyes to Antonia's face, and put up a well-manicured hand to smooth her sleek black hair. 'Tony darling, I don't think you ought to talk like that,' she said. 'Personally, I feel -'

'Good God, you were right!' exclaimed Kenneth. 'My adored one, where did you pick up that bestial habit? Don't say personally, I implore you!'

A faint tinge of colour stole into the creamy cheeks. 'Well, really, Kenneth!' said Miss Williams.

'For God's sake, don't hurt her feelings,' begged Antonia. 'I'm damned if I'll have any nauseating reconciliations over supper. And while we happen to be on this subject, who the devil asked you how you think I should talk, Violet?'

The brown eyes narrowed a little. 'I suppose I can have my opinions, can't I?' said Miss Williams silkily.

'You look lovely when you're angry,' said Kenneth suddenly. 'Go on, Tony: say something more.'

Miss Williams' beautiful lips parted and showed small very white teeth. 'I think you're perfectly horrid, both of you, and I utterly refuse to quarrel with you. Poor little me! What chance have I got with two people at me once? How awful for you to have actually been at Mr Vereker's house when it happened, Tony! It must have been ghastly for you. I simply can't bear to think of it. Let's talk of something else!'

'Why can't you bear to think of it?' asked Kenneth, not so much captious as interested. 'Do you object to blood?'

She gave a shudder. 'Don't Kenneth, please! Really, I can't stand it.'

'Just as you like, my treasure, though why you should turn queasy at the thought of Arnold's being stabbed I can't imagine. You never even knew him.'

'Oh, no, I shouldn't know him if I saw him,' said Violet. 'It isn't that. I just don't like talking about gruesome things.'

'She's being womanly,' explained Antonia. Her eye alighted on a couple of gold-necked bottles. 'Where the hell did they spring from?'

'I boned 'em off Frank Crewe,' replied Kenneth. 'We've got to celebrate this.'

'Kenneth!'

'That's all right,' soothed Antonia. 'He meant his accession to wealth.'

'But you can't drink champagne when Mr Vereker's been murdered! It isn't decent!'

'I can drink champagne at any time,' replied Antonia.

'What have you done to your nails?'

Violet extended her hands. 'Silver lacquer. Do you like it?'

'No,' said Antonia. 'Kenneth, if you're the heir you'll have to make me an allowance, because I want a new car.'

'All right, anything you say,' agreed Kenneth.

'There are sure to be Death Duties,' Violet said practically. 'It's absolutely wicked the amount one has to pay. Still, there's the house as well. That'll be yours, won't it, Kenneth?'

'Do you mean that barrack in Eaton Place?' demanded Kenneth. 'You don't imagine I'm going to live in a barn like that, do you?'

'Why ever not?' Violet sat up, staring at him. 'It's an awfully good address.'

'Who cares about an awfully good address? If you'd ever been inside it you wouldn't expect me to live there. It's got Turkey carpets, and a lot of Empire furniture, and pink silk panels in the drawing-room, and a glass lustre, and marble-topped tables with gilt legs.'

'We could always get rid of anything we didn't like, but I must say I like nice things, I mean things that are good.'

'Turkey stair carpeting and gilt mirrors?' said Kenneth incredulously.

'I don't see why not.'

'Darling, your taste is quite damnable.'

'I can't see that there's any need for you to be rude because I like things you don't like. I think Turkey carpets are sort of warm and - and expensive looking.'

Antonia was measuring out the ingredients for cocktails, but she lowered the bottle of gin she was holding, and directed one of her clear looks at Violet. 'You don't care whether a thing's good to look at or not as long as it reeks of money,' she remarked.

Violet got up, quickly yet gracefully. 'Well, what if I do like luxury?' she said, her low voice sharpening a little. 'If you'd been born with a taste for nice things, and never had a penny to spend which you hadn't worked and slaved for, you'd feel the same!' One of her long, capable hands disdainfully brushed the skirt of her frock. 'Even my clothes I make myself ! And I want - I want Paris models, and nice furs, and my hair done every week at Eugene's, and - oh, all the nice things that make life worth living!'

'Well, don't make a song about it,' recommended Antonia, quite unmoved. 'You'll be able to have all that if Kenneth really does inherit.'

'Of course I inherit,' said Kenneth impatiently. 'Hustle along with the drinks, Tony!'

Antonia suddenly put down the gin bottle. 'Can't. You do it. I've suddenly remembered I was supposed to meet Rudolph for lunch this morning. I must ring him up.' She took the telephone receiver off the rest, and began to dial. 'Did he ring me up, do you know?'

'Dunno. Don't think so. How much gin have you put in?'

'Lashings… Hullo, is that Mr Mesurier's flat? Oh, is it you, Rudolph? I say, I'm frightfully sorry about lunch.

Did you wait for ages? But it wasn't my fault. It truly wasn't.'

At the other end of the telephone there was a tiny pause. Then a man's voice, light in texture, rather nasal, rather metallic, in the manner of modern voices, replied hesitatingly: 'Is it you, Tony? I didn't quite catch — the line's not very clear. What did you say?'

'Lunch!' enunciated Antonia distinctly.

'Lunch? Oh, my God! I clean forgot! I'm devastatingly sorry! Can't think how I could ..'

'Weren't you there?' demanded Antonia.

There was another pause. 'Tony dear, this line's really awful. Can't make out a word you say.'

'Put a sock in it, Rudolph. Did you forget about lunch?'

'My dear, will you ever forgive me?' besought the voice.

'Oh yes,' replied Antonia. 'I forgot too. That's what I rang up about. I was down at Arnold's place at Ashleigh Green and -'

'Ashleigh Green?'

'Yes, why the horror?'

'I'm not horrified, but what on earth made you go down there?'

'I can't tell you over the telephone. You'd better come round. And bring something to eat; there's practically nothing here.'

'But, Tony, wait! I can't make out what took you to Ashleigh Green. Has anything happened? I mean -'

'Yes. Arnold's been killed.'

Again the pause. 'Killed?' repeated the voice. 'Good God! You don't mean murdered, do you?'

'Of course I do. Bring some cold meat, or something, and come to supper. There'll be champagne.'

'Cham - Oh, all right! I mean, thanks very much: I'll be round,' said Rudolph Mesurier.

'By all of which,' remarked Kenneth, shaking the cocktails professionally, 'I gather that the boy-friend is on his way. Will he be bonhomous, Tony?'

'Oh, rather!' promised Antonia blithely. 'He can't stand Arnold at any price.'

Chapter Five

There was no sitting-room in the Verekers' flat other than the big studio. Supper was laid on a black oak table at one end, after one dog-whip, two tubes of paint, The Observer folded open at Torquemada's crossword, Chambers's Dictionary, The Times Atlas, a volume of Shakespeare, and the Oxford Book of Verse had all been removed from it. While Murgatroyd stumped in and out of the studio with glasses and plates, Kenneth took a last look at the half-completed crossword, and announced, as was his invariable custom, that he was damned if he would ever try to do another. Rudolph Mesurier, who had arrived with a veal and ham pie, and half a loaf of bread, said he knew a man who filled the whole thing in in about twenty minutes; and Violet, carefully powdering her face before a Venetian mirror, said that she expected one had to have the Torquemada-mind to be able to do his crosswords.

'Where did them bottles come from?' demanded Murgatroyd, transfixed by the sight of their opulent gold necks.

'Left over from Frank Crewe's party last week,' explained Kenneth.

Murgatroyed sniffed loudly, and set down a dish with unneccessary violence. 'The idea.' she said, 'Anyone'd think it was a funeral party.'

Constraint descended on the two visitors. Violet folded her lovely mouth primly, and cleared her throat; Rudolph Mesurier fingered his tie and said awkwardly: 'Frightful thing about Mr Vereker. I mean - it doesn't seem possible, somehow.'

Violet turned gratefully and favoured him with her slow, enchanting smile. 'No, it doesn't, does it? I didn't know him, but it makes me feel quite sick to think of it. Of course I don't think Ken and Tony realise it yet - not absolutely.'

'Oh, don't they, my sweet?' said Kenneth derisively.

'Kenneth, whatever you felt about poor Mr Vereker when he was alive, I do think you might at least pretend to be sorry now he's dead.'

'It's no use,' said Antonia, spearing olives out of a tall bottle. 'You'd better take us as you find us, Violet. You'll never teach Kenneth not to say exactly what he happens to think.'

'Well, I don't think it's a good plan,' replied Violet rather coldly.

'That's only because he said that green hat of yours looked like a hen in a fit. Besides, it isn't a plan: it's a disease. Olive, Rudolph?'

'Thanks.' He moved over to the far end of the studio, where she was seated, perched on a corner of the diningtable. As he took the olive off the end of the meat-skewer she had elected to use for her task, he raised his eyes to her face, and said in a low voice: 'How did it happen? Why were you there? That's what I can't make out.'

She gave him back look for look. 'On account of us. I wrote and told him we were going to get married, thinking he'd be pleased, and probably send us a handsome gift.'

'Yes, I know. I wish you'd consulted me first. I'd no idea -'

'Why?' interrupted Antonia. 'Gone off the scheme?'

'No, no! Good God, no! I'm utterly mad about you, darling, but it wasn't the moment, I mean, you know I'm hard up just now, and a fellow like Vereker would be bound to leap to the conclusion that I was after your money.'

'I haven't got any money. You can't call five hundred a year money. Moreover, several things aren't paying any dividend this year, so I'm practically a pauper.'

'Yes, but he had money. Anyway, I wish you hadn't, because as a matter of fact it's landed me into a bit of a mess. Well, not actually, I suppose, but it's bound to come out that we had a slight quarrel on the very day he was murdered.'

Antonia looked up, and then across the room towards the other two. They seemed to be absorbed in argument.

She said bluntly: 'How do you know which day he was murdered?'

His eyes, deep blue, and fringed with black lashes, held all at once a startled look. 'I - you told me, didn't you?'

'No,' said Antonia.

He gave an uncertain laugh. 'Yes, you did. Over the telephone. You've forgotten. But you see the position, don't you?. Of course, it doesn't really matter , but the police are bound to think it it bit fishy, and one doesn't want to be mixed up in anything — I mean, in my position one has to be somewhat circumspect.'

'You needn't worry .' said Antonia. 'It's me they think fishy, I was there.'

'Tony, I simply don't understand. Why were you there? What in the world can have taken you there? You haven't been on speaking terms with Vereker for months, and then you dash off to Riverside Cottage for the week-end - it doesn't seem to me to make sense!'

'Yes, it does. Arnold wrote me a stinking letter from the office on Saturday morning, and I got it that day. I went down to tackle him about it.'

'Ah, you darling!' Mesurier said, laying his hand in hers, and pressing it. 'You needn't tell me. He wrote something libellous about me. I can just imagine it! But you shouldn't have done it, my sweet. I can look after myself.'

'Yes, I daresay you can,' answered Antonio, 'but I wasn't going to have Arnold spreading lies about you all the same.'

'Darling! What did he tell you?'

'He didn't tell me anything specific, because I never saw him. He wrote a few pages of drivel, all about how I should very soon know the sort of blackguard I meant to marry, and how you were a skunk, and a thief, and various other things like that.'

'Gosh, he was a swine!' Mesurier exclaimed, flushing. 'He realised, of course, that in another year he couldn't prevent our marriage, so he tried to blacken me to you. Have you got that letter?'

'No, I burned it. I thought it would be safer.'

He looked at her intently. 'You mean in case the police got hold of it? You aren't keeping anything back, are you, darling? If Vereker made any definite accusation I wish you'd tell me.'

'He didn't.' Antonio got off the table as Murgatroyd came into the studio, and glanced towards her brother. 'If you've finished quarrelling, supper's ready.' She thought it over, and added conscientiously: 'And if you haven't, it still is.'

Kenneth came towards the table. 'I've made her cross again, haven't I, my lovely? Where's the oil and vinegar?'

'I'm not cross,' Violent said in a sad voice. 'Only rather hurt.'

'My adored!' he said contritely, but with a gleam of his impish smile.

'Yes, that's all very well,' said Violet, taking her place at the table, 'but I sometimes think you only care about my good looks.'

He flashed his brilliant, half-laughing, half-earnest glance at her. 'I worship your good looks,' he said.

'Thank you,' replied Violet dryly.

'She isn't really so good-looking,' observed Antonio, wrestling with the joints of a cold fowl. 'Her eyes are set a bit too far apart, for one thing, and I don't know if you've noticed, but one side of her face isn't as good as the other.'

'But look at that lovely line of the jaw!' Kenneth said, dropping the wooden salad spoon, and tracing the line in the air with his thumb.

'When you've quite finished, both of you!' Violet protested. She looked provocatively at Mesurier, seated opposite to her, and said: 'Aren't they awful? Don't you think we're frightfully brave to marry them?'

He responded in kind, and they kept up an interchange of light badinage throughout the meal. Attempts to draw the other two into the conversation were not very successful. Kenneth had a glowering look on his face, which Violet could always conjure up by flirting with another man; and Antonia, when appealed to by Violet to assure Mesurier that she didn't look marvellous in red, but, on the contrary, positively haggish, replied with such disastrous frankness that the topic broke off like a snapped thread.

'You're an artist, aren't you?' said Rudolph hastily. 'No,' said Kenneth.

'Well, I may not be an artist as you highbrows understand it -'

'You aren't. You can't draw.'

'Thank you, dear. But I do make a living out of it,' said Violet sweetly. 'As a matter of fact I do poster-designs and commercial work, Mr Mesurier. I found I had a sort of knack' - Kenneth sank his head in his hands and groaned - 'a sort of knack,' repeated Violet, 'and I suppose my stuff caught on. I've always had a sense of colour and line, and -'

'Oh, darling, do shut up!' begged Kenneth. 'You've got about as much sense of colour and line as Tony's bull-terriers.'

Violet stiffened. 'I don't know if you're trying to annoy me, but —'

'My angel, I wouldn't annoy you for the world, but if only you'd just be, and not talk!' begged Kenneth.

'I see. I'm to sit mum while you air your views.'

'She can't possibly not talk at all, Kenneth,' said Antonia reasonably. 'What he means is, Don't talk Art.'

'Thank you. I'm quite aware that nobody but Kenneth knows anything about Art.'

'Well, if you're aware of it, why the hell do you -'

'Champagne!' said Rudolph, leaping into the breach. 'Miss Williams, you will, won't you? Tony?'

'Why is there never any ice in this place?' demanded Kenneth, suddenly diverted.

'Because we bought the oak coffer with the money we meant to spend on a refrigerator,' replied Antonia.

This change of topic, coupled with the champagne, saved the party from breaking up there and then. No further references were made to Art, and by the time the quartette rose from the table and drifted over to the other end of the room Violet had softened towards Kenneth, who was passionately anxious to make amends; and Rudolph had volunteered to make Turkish coffee if Murgatroyd didn't mind. He and Antonia went off to the kitchen together, and under Murgatroyd's scornful but indulgent eye brewed a decoction which, though it would have puzzled a Turk, was quite drinkable.

It was a warm evening, and all this exertion made Antonia so hot that she announced her intention of having a bath. She withdrew into the bathroom, reappearing in the studio a quarter of an hour later in beach pyjamas, which became her very well, but offended Murgatroyd, who told her she ought to be ashamed of herself, on a Sunday and all. Kenneth, flat on a divan, had taken off his coat, somewhat to Violet's disapproval, and was lying with his hands linked behind his head, and his shirt open at the throat. Violet sat on a floor cushion, looking graceful and cool, and self possessed; and Rudolph Mesurier, who had compromised with the heat by undoing the buttons of his rather too-waisted coat, leaned against the window, blowing smoke rings.

Ten minutes later the door-bell rang, and Antonia said: 'That'll be Giles.'

'Lord I'd forgotten he was coming!' said Kenneth.

Violet reached instinctively for her vanity case, but before she had time to do more than peep at her reflection in the tiny mirror, Murgatroyd had ushered in the visitor.

'Here's Mr Giles!' she announced grimly.

Giles Carrington paused on the threshold, surveying the group in some amusement. 'You look like an illustration of high life and low life,' he remarked. 'Sunbathing, Tony?'

'Come inside, and pour yourself out a drink,' said Kenneth. 'And don't be shy of telling us the worst: it's all in the family. Am I the heir, or am I not? If I am, we're going to buy a refrigerator. There's no ice in this ruddy place.'

Giles paid not the slightest attention to this, but smiled down at Violet. 'It's useless to expect either of my cousins to introduce us. My name is Carrington.'