The Case of the Vanishing Corpse Page 5

  “Yes, Inspector.”

  Matson came out and went to the breakfast room where the rest of the staff was waiting. Meanwhile Finch walked over to Wyatt.

  “Are you getting all this?” he asked.

  “Yes, Inspector.”

  “Let’s see.” He picked up Wyatt’s notebook, then scowled. “What’s all this? I can’t read a word of it!”

  “It’s in shorthand.”

  “Why?”

  “When I use it, I can get things down more quickly.”

  “And what if something happened to you? Who could read it?”

  “Anyone who can read shorthand.”

  “Well, from now on you take in your notes in ordinary writing. I—” He broke off as Mrs. Wiggins came in. “Mrs. Wiggins?”

  “Yes, Inspector.”

  “Your full name, please.”

  “Mrs. Harold Wiggins.”

  “Your marital status?”

  “Widow.”

  “Sit down, Mrs. Wiggins.” Andrew and Sara could no longer see her, but they heard the scrape of a chair as she sat down. “How long have you been working here?”

  “About nine months, since immediately after Miss Tillett bought this house.”

  “And where were you before that?”

  “You mean where did I live or where did I work?”

  “Both.”

  “I lived in Dingell’s Court near Edgeware Road and I worked in several places. You see, I used to do charring and—”

  “Charring? But you’re the housekeeper here, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did Miss Tillett engage you as housekeeper when you’d had no previous experience?”

  “I think it was because of Master Andrew.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “About a year ago, when Miss Tillett was away in America, Master Andrew was brought to London by his tutor. The tutor disappeared and left him completely alone, not knowing a soul except my daughter, Sara.”

  “How did he know her?”

  “He’d met her on Baker Street, near Mr. Holmes’s rooms. A day or so later he was robbed, hurt. My son Sam brought him to our place, and he lived with us until his mother found him. She was grateful to us for taking care of him and when she bought the house she offered me the job of housekeeper and I took it.”

  “I see. Will you tell me what you did after supper last night?”

  “I didn’t do very much. Sara and Andrew played parcheesi for a while, and I did my accounts and watched them. At a little before ten we all went upstairs. I fell asleep almost immediately and only woke up when Miss Tillett called out.”

  “Where is your room?”

  “On the second floor, near the back.”

  “The same floor as Miss Tillett’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “When did you first hear about the diamonds?”

  “Hear about them?”

  “Hear that they were real.”

  “When Miss Tillett cried out and I went into her room.”

  “You didn’t know it before that?”

  “No. During lunch Mr. Matson said that a man from Hunt and Roskell had been here and brought Miss Tillett some paste jewelry she was going to wear in the play.”

  “Odd you didn’t know that the diamonds were real. Your daughter knew.”

  “She told me that later on, but she said Miss Tillett hadn’t wanted me to know because she was afraid it would worry me.”

  “And would it have worried you?”

  “Of course. But I would rather have worried than feel as awful as I do now”

  “Why do you feel awful?”

  “Because it’s a terrible thing to have had happen, and in a way, I guess I feel responsible.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. After all, I am the housekeeper and Mr. Matson and I are responsible for everything that happens here.”

  “I see. How much do you think the diamonds are worth?”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “You must have some idea.”

  “I haven’t. I never even saw them, just the case they were in.”

  “What would you say if I told you they were worth about forty thousand pounds? At least, that’s what they’re insured for.”

  “Forty thousand …?”

  “Yes. They are, of course, extremely well known and as soon as I get back to the Yard word will go out to every dealer in England, America and the continent informing them that they’ve been stolen. So how do you expect to get rid of them?”

  “How do I …?”

  “Yes. Who do you think will buy them from you, take them off your hands?”

  Somehow Sara had sensed where Finch’s questions were tending before Andrew did, and she had stiffened and begun frowning. At this last one, she leaped to her feet and started toward the sitting room. But someone else was before her. Verna had come down the stairs, and, waving Sara aside, went in ahead of her.

  “All right, Inspector,” she said with icy finality. “That’s enough.”

  Sara and Andrew had followed Verna in. Mrs. Wiggins had risen and was standing there with a look of shocked horror on her face, and Sara went over to her and took her hand. Finch, meanwhile, had turned to Verna with mild surprise.

  “I beg your pardon?” he said.

  “It is Mrs. Wiggins’ pardon you should be begging, not mine. For what you’re suggesting is that she took the diamonds!”

  “That’s right.”

  “You mean you admit it? How dare you make such an outrageous accusation?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Tillett. I know it always comes as a bit of a surprise, but I’ve had a good bit of experience in cases of this sort and I ask you to look at the facts. Robberies are either inside jobs or outside jobs, right?”

  “Well?”

  “Well, having ascertained the circumstances of the crime, I examined the premises and immediately saw that there was no way anyone could climb up to your window and enter. In other words, it couldn’t be an outside job. Which means it had to be an inside job.”

  “Which in turn meant that Mrs. Wiggins was the thief, is that correct?”

  “Well, it stands to reason, doesn’t it? It couldn’t be your butler—he was with Lord Gower for fourteen years. But Mrs. Wiggins was just a charlady before she came here, and I’ll wager you never even asked for her references.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Well, there you are. No references, knew about the diamonds—at least her daughter did. Doesn’t that make her a logical suspect? Of course, it might be someone else on your staff—the upstairs maid or the cook or the tweeny—and I’ll get to them, question them. But in the meantime—”

  “Just a second, Inspector. Am I to understand that, having accused Mrs. Wiggins of having stolen the diamonds, you now intend to accuse everyone else in the house of the same crime?”

  “Yes, Miss Tillett. That way we can see who the most likely suspect is. It’s fairly standard procedure—”

  “Well, it’s not going to be used here. I think you’d better go, Inspector!”

  “I don’t understand—”

  “That’s obvious! I have complete faith in everyone in this house but particularly in Mrs. Wiggins, and I don’t intend to have any of them bothered, badgered or exposed to your ridiculous questions. So, as I said, I think you’d better go.”

  “I’d like to remind you,” said Finch, drawing himself up, “that a crime has been committed—”

  “I agree!” said Verna, her eyes blazing. “Your accusation was a crime against my intelligence and against generally accepted civilized behavior, and I will not tolerate it! That is why I insist that you leave.”

  “Very well,” said Finch, his face flushed. “But I must warn you that this is not the end. You can’t trifle with the police this way. I’ll be back.” And jerking his head at Wyatt, he stalked out of the room. Wyatt closed his notebook and stood up, looking at Verna with frank admiration.

  �
�Wyatt!” called Finch from outside.

  “Coming, Inspector,” he said. Bowing to Verna, he followed Finch to the door and they both left. Still looking stricken, Mrs. Wiggins watched them go. Then, turning to Verna, she tried to say something, couldn’t, burst into tears and ran out of the room. Sara followed her.

  “Well, this is a fine thing!” said Verna, still indignant. “And it certainly hasn’t increased my respect for Scotland Yard. Do you think your friend, Mr. Holmes, would have approached the case this way?”

  “No,” said Andrew.

  “Neither do I. Excuse me.” And she went off after Mrs. Wiggins, too. Andrew went to the window and looked out. Finch and Wyatt were walking down the driveway together. When they reached Rysdale Road, Finch, scowling, said something to Wyatt. Wyatt saluted, Finch went off and Wyatt began walking slowly up and down the hedge that separated the garden from the street. He was still there a few minutes later when Sara came back into the sitting room.

  “Is she all right now?” asked Andrew.

  “Yes,” said Sara. “What are you looking at?”

  “Constable Wyatt. He seems to be staying here.”

  Sara looked out of the window, then at Andrew. Without a word they went out and down the driveway to the street.

  “Hello,” said Andrew.

  “Hello,” said Wyatt. “I was hoping you’d come out. I wanted to apologize to you for Finch’s behavior.”

  “That’s all right. We know you didn’t think Mrs. Wiggins had anything to do with it.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Why are you staying here?” asked Sara.

  “Finch’s orders. He’s still angry, wants me to watch the house, tell him who goes in and out.”

  “Why?” asked Andrew. “Does he think that whoever stole the diamonds may come out and wave them under your nose?”

  “Maybe,” said Wyatt with a grin.

  “Do you have any idea who could have taken them?” asked Sara. “And how?”

  “You need facts before you can even begin to develop a theory, and I don’t have any. You heard Finch when I tried to look around.”

  “Yes,” said Andrew. “Why don’t you come in and look around now?”

  “I can’t. Finch is perfectly capable of coming back to see if I’m obeying orders and staying on my post out here.”

  “Couldn’t we do it for you?” asked Sara. “Look around, I mean.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. It wouldn’t do any harm.”

  “Where do you want us to look?” asked Andrew. “And for what?”

  “I can tell you where to look, but that’s all. There are flower beds under the two dressing room windows. Go over them carefully and tell me what you find there. Then go upstairs and examine the sills of the dressing room windows.”

  “All right,” said Andrew. “We’ll be back in a little while.”

  In order to save time, they decided to split up and Andrew searched the flower beds while Sara went inside and up to the dressing room. Both Holmes and Wyatt had complimented Andrew on the way he used his eyes and he tried to be particularly careful now, going over both beds inch by inch. He was still looking when Sara came out.

  “Find anything?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Let’s go back and talk to Wyatt.”

  The constable had walked up the street toward Three Oaks while he was waiting, but when he saw them he came hurrying back.

  “Well?” he said.

  “I did the flower beds,” said Andrew. “There was nothing in the one around the side of the house, but there were some faint marks on the edge of the grass near the bed in front of the house that might have been footprints.”

  “Oh? Nothing in the bed itself?”

  “A few little white flakes of something. Here.” He gave Wyatt a fragment that was half the size of his smallest finger nail. Wyatt studied it, then rubbed it between his fingers and it crumbled.

  “What do you think it is?” he asked.

  “A bit of stucco,” said Andrew.

  “That’s what I think too. What about the sills of the dressing room windows?”

  “I did those,” said Sara. “There was nothing on the one to the side, but there was a little smear of dirt in the middle of the one in front.”

  “When you say dirt,” said Wyatt, “do you mean dust or do you mean earth, garden dirt?”

  “I mean garden dirt,” said Sara. “I couldn’t blow it away, and when I rubbed it, it smeared.”

  “I said you two make quite a team,” said Wyatt. “And you do.”

  “Thanks,” said Andrew. “If I’m following you, you don’t think it was an inside job. You think someone came in through the window.”

  “That’s right.”

  “But how could they without a ladder—and a very long ladder at that? And if they did use a ladder wouldn’t Matson, Mother or I have heard them?”

  “Probably. But I don’t think they did use a ladder.”

  “How did they get up to the window then?”

  “I’d rather not say—not quite yet.”

  5

  The Second Robbery

  It was Fred who brought them word of the next robbery. When Andrew came downstairs the next morning, Fred, his eyes bright with excitement, was talking to Sara outside the breakfast room. Seeing Andrew, Sara checked Fred and said, “Tell him.”

  “Oh, he wouldn’t be interested,” said Fred, looking at Andrew.

  “Stop teasing and tell him.”

  “All right. Well, mate, seems like we’re not the only pebble on the beach or the only pigeon in St. John’s Wood either.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s been another robbery, right next door at the marchioness’s.”

  “What? How do you know?”

  “How do you think I know? Because I did it.”

  “Come on, Fred. Tell me.”

  “Well, use your loaf. When you get robbed, you send for the police. Who do you send? A coachman, a groom or a stableboy. I’m up early exercising the new hunter when who comes down the road but young Billy from next door riding the gelding I’ll be borrowing for you. I ask him what’s up and he tells me.”

  “Who was robbed? The marchioness?”

  “No. Her American friend, Mrs. Van Gelder.”

  “Did she lose very much?”

  “Billy said from the way she was taking on you’d think it was the crown jewels, but of course, that don’t mean nothing.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it does. I wonder if Inspector Finch will be handling that case, too.”

  “He will.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because the sergeant at the police station said that one of Scotland Yard’s best men was working on our robbery and that he’d be over to see the marchioness as soon as he got in.”

  “That does sound like Finch—though if he’s Scotland Yard’s best, we’re in a bad way. Could you keep your eye on the road and let us know when he gets there?”

  “Why do you want to know that?”

  “I’d just like to.”

  “You’re up to something, I’m not sure what. All right. I’ll let you know.” And he went off.

  “Have you had breakfast?” Andrew asked Sara.

  “I always have it with Mum, but I’ll come in and sit with you.” She waited until he’d helped himself from the dishes on the buffet, then said, “Well?”

  “There’s something strange about this. First mother’s robbed, then someone right next door is.”

  “You think it was the same person—or the same gang?”

  “I don’t know, but wouldn’t you like to go over to Three Oaks and find out just how it was done, see if it’s anything like the way mother was robbed?”

  “Of course, I would, but how can we? Even if they let us in—and they probably wouldn’t—nobody would talk to us.”

  “No, but they would ta
lk to Mother.”

  “Oh. Do you think she’d do it—go over there and let us come with her?”

  “I’ll ask her and see. Is she up yet?”

  “I don’t think so. And she probably won’t be for a while—not after yesterday.”

  The day before had been very difficult. Shortly after Finch left, Mr. Harrison, the theatre manager, had arrived. With the help of Wyatt and the constable who replaced him later, he kept the newspaper men who gathered outside the house away from Verna, and he remained with her while she discussed the robbery with Mr. Jenkins of Hunt and Roskell and then with the man from the insurance company. By then it was time to leave for the theatre for the matinee, and she had stayed there until after the evening performance.

  “Well, will you ask Annie to call us as soon as she does get up?”

  “All right. In the meantime, read that.” And she nodded at the morning paper, which lay on the table. It wasn’t as neatly folded as usual, and he suspected that for once Sara had read it before he had.

  He picked it up as she went upstairs and had no trouble finding the story. It was near the bottom of the front page and was captioned: ROBBERY IN ST. JOHN’S WOOD. It mentioned the play and discussed Verna’s career and the history of the Denham diamonds, but it did not tell Andrew anything about the robbery that he did not know already except for the ending, which stated that Inspector Finch of Scotland Yard, who was in charge of the case, had several leads and expected to make an arrest very shortly.

  Andrew had just finished reading the article when Sara came back into the breakfast room.

  “Annie says she’s up. She rang for her breakfast tray a little while ago.”

  “Let’s us go up then.”

  Verna was sitting up in bed, drinking her tea and reading the paper that Annie had brought up with the tray.

  “I didn’t think you’d be up yet, Mother,” said Andrew.

  “Neither did I, but there it is.” She held up her copy of the paper. “Did you read this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “No. There’s something we wanted to tell you. There was another robbery last night—right next door.”

  “What? You mean the marchioness was robbed?”

  “No. Her friend, Mrs. Van Gelder.”