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

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СКАЧАТЬ sort of thing before. Extraordinary animals, cats, aren’t they? Once they get a notion into their heads, there’s no stopping them. It belongs here, doesn’t it?’

      She made no move to take it. A drawing-pin lay on the table under the photograph. Alleyn pushed it back into its hole and looped the chain over it. ‘The cat must have pulled it out,’ he said: and then: ‘Mrs Chubb, you’re feeling poorly, aren’t you? I’m so sorry. Sit down, won’t you, and let me see if I can do something about it? Would you like a drink of water? No. Then, do sit down.’

      He put his hand under her arm. She was standing in front of a chair and dropped into it as if she couldn’t help herself. She was as white as a sheet and trembling.

      Alleyn drew up another chair for himself.

      ‘Mr Whipplestone told me you’d been very much upset by what happened last night and now I’m afraid I’ve gone and made matters worse,’ he said.

      Still she didn’t speak and he went on: ‘I don’t expect you know who I am. It was I who interviewed your husband last night. I’m an old friend of Mr Whipplestone’s and I know how greatly he values your service.’

      Mrs Chubb whispered: ‘The police?’

      ‘Yes, but there’s no need to worry about that. Really.’

      ‘He set on ’im,’ she said. ‘That –’ she shut her eyes for a second – ‘black man. Set on ’im.’

      ‘I know. He told me.’

      ‘It’s the truth.’ And with a startling force she repeated this, loudly, ‘It’s the truth. Sir. Do you believe that, sir? Do you believe it’s the truth?’

      Alleyn waited for a moment.

      He thought: ‘Do I believe this, do I believe the other thing? Everybody asking what one believes. The word becomes meaningless. It’s what one knows that matters in this muddle.’ He waited for a moment and then said: ‘A policeman may only believe what he finds out for himself, without any possible doubt, to be true. If your husband was attacked, as he says he was, we shall find out.’

      ‘Thank Gawd,’ she whispered. And then: ‘I’m sorry, I’m sure, to give way like this. I can’t think what’s come over me.’

      ‘Never mind.’

      He got up and moved towards the photograph. Mrs Chubb blew her nose.

      ‘That’s an attractive face,’ Alleyn said, ‘Is it your daughter?’

      ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘Was.’

      ‘I’m sorry. Long ago?’

      ‘Six years.’

      ‘An illness?’

      ‘An accident.’ She made as if to speak, pressed her lips together and then shot out, as if defiantly: ‘She was the only one, our Glenys was.’

      ‘I can see the likeness.’

      ‘That’s right.’

      ‘Was the medallion special to her, perhaps?’

      She didn’t answer. He turned round and found her staring at the photograph and wetting her lips. Her hands were clasped.

      ‘If it was,’ he said, ‘of course you’d be very upset when you thought you’d lost it.’

      ‘It wasn’t hers.’

      ‘No?’

      ‘I hadn’t noticed it wasn’t there. It gave me a turn, like. When you – you held it out.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Alleyn repeated.

      ‘It doesn’t matter.’

      ‘Was it in London – the accident?’

      ‘Yes,’ she said and shut her mouth like a trap.

      Alleyn said lightly: ‘It’s a rather unusual-looking medallion, isn’t it? An order or a badge or something of that sort, perhaps?’

      She pulled her hands apart as if the gesture needed force to accomplish it.

      ‘It’s my husband’s,’ she said, ‘It’s Chubb’s.’

      ‘A club badge, perhaps?’

      ‘You could call it that, I suppose.’

      She had her back to the door. It opened and her husband stood on the threshold.

      ‘I don’t know anything about it,’ she said loudly. ‘It’s got nothing to do with anything. Nothing.’

      Chubb said: ‘You’re wanted downstairs.’

      She got up and left the room without a glance at Alleyn or at her husband.

      ‘Were you wanting to see me, sir?’ Chubb asked woodenly. ‘I’ve just come in.’

      Alleyn explained about the cat and the medallion. Chubb listened impassively, ‘I was curious,’ Alleyn ended, ‘about the medallion itself and wondered if it was a badge.’

      Chubb said at once and without hesitation, ‘That’s correct, sir. It’s a little social circle with an interest in ESP and so forth. Survival and that.’

      ‘Mr and Miss Sanskrit are members, aren’t they?’

      ‘That’s correct, sir.’

      ‘And Mr Sheridan?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘And you?’ Alleyn said lightly.

      ‘They was kind enough to make me an honorary member, like. Seeing I go in and do the servicing for some of their meetings, sir. And seeing I was interested.’

      ‘In survival after death, do you mean?’

      ‘That kind of thing.’

      ‘Your wife doesn’t share your interest?’

      He said flatly: ‘She doesn’t come into it, does she? It’s kind of complementary to my services, isn’t it? Like wearing a livery button used to be.’

      ‘I see. You must find a different place for it, mustn’t you?’ Alleyn said easily. ‘Out of reach of Lucy Lockett. Good afternoon to you, Chubb.’

      Chubb mouthed rather than sounded his response to this and Alleyn left him, almost as bleached as his wife had been five minutes earlier.

      Mr Whipplestone was still sipping tea. Lucy was discussing a saucer of milk on the hearthrug.

      ‘You must have some tea at once?’ Mr Whipplestone said, pouring it out. ‘And some anchovy toast. I hope you like anchovy toast. It’s still quite eatable, I think.’ He СКАЧАТЬ