Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 10: Last Ditch, Black As He’s Painted, Grave Mistake. Ngaio Marsh

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СКАЧАТЬ Alleyn hinted.

      ‘My dear man, in which case I hope for your and the well-meaning Gibson’s collaboration.’

      So he’d got it all tidied up, Alleyn thought. The Boomer would handle the black elements and he and the CID could make what they liked of the white. Really it began to look like a sort of inverted form of apartheid.

      ‘I don’t have to tell you,’ he said, ‘that authorities at every level will be most deeply concerned that this should have happened. The Special Branch, in particular, is in a great taking-on about it.’

      ‘Hah! So much,’ said The Boomer with relish, ‘for all the large men in the shrubberies. What?’

      ‘All right. Touché.’

      ‘All the same, my dear Rory, if it was true that I was the intended victim, it might well be said that I owe my life to you.’

      ‘Rot.’

      ‘Not rot. It would follow logically. You pushed me down in my chair and there was this unhappy Ambassador waving his arms about and looking like me. So – blam! Yes, yes, yes. In that case, I would owe you my life. It is a debt I would not willingly incur with anyone but you – with you I would willingly acknowledge it.’

      ‘Not a bit,’ Alleyn said, in acute embarrassment, ‘It may turn out that my intervention was merely a piece of unnecessary bloody cheek.’ He hesitated and was inspired to add, ‘as we used to say at Davidson’s.’ And since this did the trick, he hurried on:

      ‘Following that line of thought,’ he said, ‘you might equally say that I was responsible for the Ambassador’s death.’

      ‘That,’ said The Boomer grandly, ‘is another pair of boots.’

      ‘Tell me,’ Alleyn asked, ‘have you any theories about the pistol shot?’

      ‘Ah!’ he said quickly. ‘Pistol! So you have found the weapon?’

      ‘No. I call it a pistol-shot, provisionally. Gun. Revolver. Automatic. What you will. With your permission we’ll search.’

      ‘Where?’

      ‘Well – in the garden. And the pond, for instance.’

      ‘The pond?’

      Alleyn gave him a digest of Mrs Cockburn-Montfort’s narrative. The Boomer, it appeared, knew the Cockburn-Montforts quite well and indeed had actually been associated with the Colonel during the period when he helped organize the modern Ng’ombwanan army. ‘He was efficient,’ said The Boomer, ‘but unfortunately he took to the bottle. His wife is, as we used to say, hairy round the hocks.’

      ‘She says the man in the lavatory was black.’

      There followed a longish pause, ‘If that is correct, I shall find him.’ he said at last.

      ‘He certainly didn’t leave these premises. All the exits have been closely watched.’

      If The Boomer was tempted to be rude once more about Mr Gibson’s methods he restrained himself.

      ‘What is the truth,’ he asked, ‘about this marksman? Did he in fact fire at me and miss me? Is that proved?’

      ‘Nothing is proved. Tell me, do you trust – absolutely – the spear-carrier?’

      ‘Absolutely. But I shall question him as if I do not.’

      ‘Will you – and I’m diffident about asking this – will you allow me to be there? At the assembly?’

      For a moment he fancied he saw signs of withdrawal but if so they vanished at once. The Boomer waved his paw.

      ‘Of course. Of course. But, my dear Rory, you will not understand a word of it.’

      ‘Do you know Sam Whipplestone? Of the FO and lately retired?’

      ‘I know of him. Of course. He has had many connections with my country. We have not met until tonight. He was a guest. And he is present now with your Gibson. I couldn’t understand why.’

      ‘I asked him to come. He speaks your language fluently and he’s my personal friend. Would you allow him to sit in with me? I’d be very grateful’

      And now, Alleyn thought, he really was in for a rebuff – but no, after a disconcerting interval The Boomer said: ‘This is a little difficult. An enquiry of this nature is never open to persons who have no official standing. Our proceedings are never made public.’

      ‘I give you my firm undertaking that they wouldn’t be in this instance. Whipplestone is the soul of discretion, I can vouch for him.’

      ‘You can?’

      ‘I can and I do.’

      ‘Very well,’ said The Boomer. ‘But no Gibsons.’

      ‘All right. But why have you taken against poor Gibson?’

      ‘Why? I cannot say why. Perhaps because he is too large.’ The enormous Boomer pondered for a moment. ‘And so pale,’ he finally brought out. ‘He is very, very pale.’

      Alleyn said he believed the entire household was now assembled in the ballroom and The Boomer said that he would go there. Something in his manner made Alleyn think of a star actor preparing for his entrance.

      ‘It is perhaps a little awkward,’ The Boomer reflected. ‘On such an occasion I should be attended by my Ambassador and my personal mlinzi – my guard. But since the one is dead and the other possibly his murderer, it is not feasible.’

      ‘Tiresome for you.’

      ‘Shall we go?’

      They left, passing one of Gibson’s men in Costard’s livery. In the hall they found Mr Whipplestone, patient in a high-backed chair. The Boomer, evidently minded to do his thing properly, was extremely gracious. Mr Whipplestone offered perfectly phrased regrets for the Ambassador’s demise and The Boomer told him that the Ambassador had spoken warmly of him and had talked of asking him to tea.

      Gibson was nowhere to be seen but another of his men quietly passed Alleyn a folded paper. While Mr Whipplestone and The Boomer were still exchanging compliments, he had a quick look at it.

      ‘Found the gun,’ it read. ‘See you after.’

      IV

      The ballroom was shut up. Heavy curtains were drawn across the french windows. The chandeliers sparkled, the flowers were brilliant. Only a faint reek of champagne, sandarac and cigarette smoke suggested the aftermath of festivities.

      The ballroom had become Ng’ombwana.

      A crowd of Ng’ombwanans waited at the end of the great saloon where the red alcove displayed its warlike trophies.

      It was a larger assembly than Alleyn had expected: men in full evening dress whom he supposed to be authoritative persons in the household, a controller, a secretary, undersecretaries. СКАЧАТЬ