Death in Ecstasy (23 page)

Maurice jerked his head as though he had been struck.

“For God’s sake don’t start that stuff again or I’ll let them hang you. Don’t imagine I still worship at your shrine. I know what you’re like now; I think I’ve known for a long time. A little bit of bloody Brummagen. I’ve let myself be ruined aesthetically and, if you like, morally, for a plaster reproduction that wouldn’t take in a housemaid. If I let them get you I’d be helping at a bit of spring-cleaning. God knows why I’m doing this. That’s not true, either. I’m doing it because I can’t help myself.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Pringle? You’re dopey.”

“Dopey!” He turned to stare again at the hidden Ogden. “For the first time in six months I’m not more or less doped. For Christ’s sake let’s speak the truth. Dope! Half of us are soaked in it. Dagmar, Cara, Me! You two bloody little pansies. You’ve been experimenting, haven’t you? Just trying to see what it’s like. Dear Father Garnette’s been giving you cigarettes. And where does dear Father Garnette get his heroin? You none of you know. He doesn’t know himself. He knows it comes from Paris through an agent in Seven Dials. He doesn’t know who the agent is. I do.”

“He’s mad,” screamed Mrs. Candour.

“Sure, he’s crazy,” said Mr. Ogden soothingly. “You don’t want to get this way, Dagmar.”

A slight movement beside Nigel caused him to turn. Alleyn had opened the door a little wider and now slid in behind the curtain.

“I’m sane, and there’s one of you who knows it. Keep still, all of you. I’m going to tell you what happened here on Sunday afternoon.”

“By all means,” said de Ravigne softly, “let us hear.”

“I came here on Sunday afternoon to pick up a packet of stuff Garnette had arranged to let me have. Cigarettes aren’t good enough for me. I need more than the rest of you. This lot cost me ten pounds. Father Garnette has spiritual qualms about handing it over. Haven’t you, Father? It makes him feel self-conscious, you know. So he leaves it in his little bedside cupboard and I get it for myself and plant the cash. He says heroin helps to divorce the psyche from the body. I came here some time after half-past two. Jane and I had had a row and I needed the stuff. I came in at the front door and went through here into the bedroom. I’d just got the stuff and was going when I heard someone come out of the temple into this room. It wasn’t our spiritual father. I know his step.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake—”

“Go on, Maurice.”

“Yes, Jane. Let me alone. I didn’t quite like to reveal myself. It looked a bit queer my being there. I hesitated. Then I heard a click. Then two or three clicks. It dawned on me that someone was monkeying with the safe. The door wasn’t quite shut, I looked through and saw who it was. It was—”

“I’m chairman of this meeting and I’m not standing for this. It’s out of order. Sit down!”

“No.”

“
Sit down
!”

“By God, if you don’t shut up yourself I’ll make you.”

“Yeah? You and who else?”

“Me,” said Alleyn. “You’re covered, Mr. Ogden.”

Chief Detective-Inspector Alleyn once confessed to Nigel Bathgate that he enjoyed a dramatic close to a big case. “It casts,” he explained, “a spurious but acceptable glamour over the more squalid aspect of my profession.” In the case of Cara Quayne this preference must have been gratified. The close could scarcely have been more dramatic.

At the precise moment when Alleyn gripped his arms from behind, Ogden had reached for his gun, whether to shoot Pringle or himself, will never be known. At that same moment Detective-Sergeant Bailey came in from Garnette’s bedroom, followed by two other officers. Bailey, looking liverish, carried an automatic. Ogden struggled savagely for about a minute. They had to handcuff him. Then Alleyn charged him. Mrs. Candour, seconded by Claude and Lionel, screamed steadily throughout this performance and fainted, unnoticed, at the end of it. The others were silent. Ogden did not speak until they told him to come away. Then he twisted round and confronted Pringle.

“Let him finish,” he said. “He’s got nothing I can’t answer. Let him finish.”

Maurice glanced at Alleyn, who nodded. Maurice turned his eyes toward Ogden, and began to speak.

“I saw you at the safe. You had just opened it. You had the bonds in your hand. Or rather you had the faked packet, I suppose. Then Cara came in quietly. She asked you what you were doing with the bonds. You told her Garnette had said you were to look at them. She just stared at you. I think you knew she didn’t believe you because almost at once you began to talk about the stuff, heroin.”

He paused for a second, moistened his lips, and looked at Alleyn.

“He said he knew she was at it. He asked her if she would miss it very much if she couldn’t get any more. He was very genial and friendly and said he felt like taking her into his confidence. Then he told her about the place in Seven Dials where Garnette got the stuff. He said quite calmly that he owned the racket. It would just be a little secret between himself and Cara, he said, and even Garnette himself didn’t know he had anything to do with it. Then, when Cara said nothing, he added that it would be just too bad if anyone got curious about him because if he was put in an awkward position he’d have to come across with the whole story and then — He made it quite clear that if she gave him away he’d drag her name in and Garnette’s as well. All of us. He told her that a word from him about her would cut her off from all chance of supply. He had only to suggest she was an agent of the police and no one would sell it to her. While he was talking he put the packet back in the safe. He said: ‘So that’s O.K.’ His back was turned while he re-locked the safe and I think it was then she wrote that note you found — it was only a few words — and put it in the cigarette-box, because I heard the lid drop and then a match was struck. She took a cigarette and lit it. All that time she said nothing. Just before she went away, he said very softly: ‘And if that isn’t enough — well, it’d be too bad if we had to look around for another Chosen Vessel.’ There was a long silence after that. Then, Cara said loudly: ‘I shall tell Father Garnette what you have done.’ Ogden said: ‘No you won’t, Cara.’ Without another word she went away. I realised he might come through into the bedroom and I got out by the back door.”

“Why did you say nothing of all this?” demanded de Ravigne.

“Because I’m a bloody skunk,” answered Maurice immediately. “Because I hadn’t got as much courage as she had, if you want to know. I was in the same boat. I’ve got to have the stuff. I’d go mad without it. I thought he’d put the bonds back. When I found he hadn’t it didn’t make any difference. I’ve got to have it. God, can’t you understand?”

“Then why have you done this?” asked Miss Wade. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

“Because he’s
not
a bloody skunk,” said Janey loudly.

“Janey, dear!”

“It’s an admirable explanation, Miss Wade,” said Alleyn. “Let us leave it at that. Mr. Garnette, I am afraid I must ask you to come to the police station with us.”

“On what charge? This is an infamous conspiracy. I am innocent. This man whom I have taken to my bosom — this viper—”

“Aw, can it, you—!” said Ogden so savagely that Garnette was suddenly silent and suffered himself to be led away without further protest.

“Ready, Mr. Ogden?” asked Alleyn. “Right, Fox!”

Inspector Fox, who had come in immediately after the arrest, approached Ogden with his customary air of placid courtesy.

“We’ll just move along now, if you please, sir,” he said.

Ogden seemed to come out of a morose trance. He raised his skewbald eyes and looked from Alleyn to Fox.

“You — Britishers,” he said.

“But aren’t Australians British?” asked Alleyn. For the first time Ogden looked frightened.

“I was born in Michigan,” he said.

“Australia may congratulate herself,” answered Alleyn.

“Sez you!”

“Mr. Ogden,” said Alleyn, “you are too vulnerable. What are you waiting for, Fox?”

They took Ogden out. One by one the Initiates drifted away. Mrs. Candour, Claude and Lionel, who seemed to have discovered some mysterious affinity, left together. De Ravigne, who had remained completely unruffled, made ceremonious adieux.

“I imagine, M. l’Inspecteur, that there is something more than hops to the eye in this affair.”

“It will all hop to the eye soon enough, M. de Ravigne,” said Alleyn sombrely.

“I can believe it. So long as my poor Cara is revenged I am satisfied. I must confess I myself suspected the priest. Without a doubt he is on an equality with Ogden. He introduced to Cara so many infamies. The drugs — to one of her temperament—”

“Did you never suspect the drug?”

“Certainly. I confronted her with it. Monsieur, I am myself almost as culpable. I introduced her to this accursed place. For this I can never forgive myself.”

“There is one question I should like to ask you,” said Alleyn. “Did you remember the
Curiosities of Chemistry
when you saw it again in this room?”

“I remembered that I had held it in my hands, but I could not recollect where, or upon what occasion. It had not interested me. Later, in my flat, the whole scene returned to me. I had upset the glass. The book was stained. I cannot conceive why I had forgotten.”

“I see,” said Alleyn politely. “You discovered the book? Ogden did not show it to you?”

“I discovered it, monsieur. Had I not upset my glass that evening the book would not have been taken from the shelf. I myself called Ogden’s attention to it. He was, as I remember, speaking to Mrs. Candour at the time. I called him to me in order to ask about the book.”

“Ah,” said Alleyn, “that tallies. Thank you very much, monsieur.”

“Not at all, monsieur. If you will excuse me—?”

De Ravigne went out, unruffled. Miss Wade approached Alleyn. As usual she had a deceptive air of perspicacity.

“Good evening, officer,” she said.

“Good evening, Miss Wade,” said Alleyn gravely.

“I am most upset,” announced Miss Wade. “Mr. Ogden has always impressed me as being a very gentlemanly fellow, for a foreigner of course. And now you say he is a poisoner.”

“He is charged with murder,” murmured Alleyn.

“Exactly,” said Miss Wade. “My dear brother was once in Michigan. The world is very small, after all.”

“Indubitably!”

“Obviously,” continued Miss Wade, “Father Garnette has been greatly abused. By whom?”

“Miss Wade,” said Alleyn, “if I may make a suggestion, I–I do most earnestly advise that you put this place and all its associations right out of your mind.”

“Nonsense, officer. I shall continue to attend the ceremonies.”

“There will be no ceremonies.”

Miss Wade stared at him. Gradually a look of desolation came into her faded eyes.

“No ceremonies? But what shall I do?”

“I’m so sorry,” said Alleyn gently.

She instantly quelled him with a look that seemed to remind him of his place. She tweaked her shabby gloves and turned to the door.

“Good evening,” said Miss Wade, and went out into the deserted hall.

“Oh, Mr. Garnette!” swore Alleyn, “and oh, Mr. Ogden!” Maurice and Janey were the last to leave.

“Look here,” said Alleyn, “I’m not going to be official with you two people. Miss Wade has snubbed me, poor little thing, and you can too if you think fit. Mr. Pringle, I have to thank you most sincerely for the stand you took just now. It was, of course, an extremely courageous move. You spoke frankly about the habit you have contracted. I shall speak as frankly. I think you should go into a nursing home where such cases are treated. I know of an excellent place. If you will allow me to do so I can write to the doctor-in-charge. He will treat you sympathetically and wisely. It won’t be pleasant, but it is, I believe, your only chance. Don’t answer now. Think it over and let me know. In the meantime, I have asked Dr. Curtis to have a look at you and he will help you, I am sure. This is an inexcusable bit of cheek on my part, but I hope you will forgive me.”

Maurice stood and stared at him.

“Can I come and see you?” he said suddenly.

“Yes, when I’m not too busy,” answered Alleyn coolly. “But don’t go and distort me into an object for hero-worship. I seem to see it threatened in your eye. I’m too commonplace and you’re too old for these adolescent fervours.”

He turned to Janey.

“Good-bye,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ll be called as witnesses.”

“I suppose so,” said Janey. “Am I allowed to do a spot of hero-worship?”

“You reduce me to the status of an insufferable popinjay,” replied Alleyn. “Good-bye and God bless you.”

“Same to you,” said Janey. “Come on, Blot.”

“Well, Bathgate,” said Alleyn.

“Hullo,” said Nigel.

“You were right again, you see.”

“Was I? When?”

“You warned me on Sunday that Ogden was too good to be true.”

“Good Lord!” said Nigel. “So I did. I’d forgotten. Extraordinarily clever of me. Look here. Could you bear to sit down for ten minutes and — and — confirm my first impression?”

“I knew this was coming. All right. But let it be in your flat.”

“Oh, of course.”

They locked up Father Garnette’s flat and went out into the hall. Only two side lamps were alight and the building was almost as full of shadows as it had been when Nigel walked in, unbidden, on Sunday night. It was so still that the sound of rain beating on the roof filled the place with desolation. The statues, grey shapes against the walls, assumed a new significance. The clumsy gesture of the Wotan seemed indeed to threaten. The phoenix rose menacingly from the sacred flame. Alleyn followed Nigel down the centre aisle. At the door he turned and looked back.

“I wonder what will happen to them,” he said. “One of Garnette’s symbols, at least, is true. The phoenix of quackery arises again and again from its own ashes. Tonight we slam the door on this bit of hocus-pocus and tomorrow someone else starts a new side-show for the credulous. Come on.”

They went down the outside passage and out into the rain. The constable was still on duty.

“It’s all over,” said Alleyn. “You can go home to bed.” Up in Nigel’s flat they built themselves a roaring fire and mixed drinks.

“Now then,” said Nigel.

“What do you want to know?” asked Alleyn a little wearily.

“I don’t want to bore you. If you’d rather—”

“No, no. It’s only the beastly anti-climax depression. Always sets in after these cases. If I don’t talk about it I think about it. Go ahead.”

“When did you first suspect him?”

“As soon as I learnt the order in which they had knelt. He was the last to take the cup before it returned to Garnette. That meant that he had least to risk. Except Garnette, of course. Miss Wade told us that the priest always took the cup in one hand and laid the other over the top. That meant he would not see the little tube of paper. Do you remember I said that Ogden’s position made him the first suspect?”

“Yes. I thought you meant — Never mind. Go on.”

“Ogden would know that Garnette handled the cup in that way. He would also know that Miss Quayne would spend some time over her hysterical demonstration before she drank the wine. There would be time for the cyanide to dissolve. The point you made about the uncertainty of whether the paper would be seen was a good one. It pointed strongly to Ogden. He was the only one, except Garnette and Claude, who could be sure it would not be noticed. I felt that the others would be unlikely to risk it. Claude had neither the motive nor the guts. Garnette had an overwhelming motive, but he’s an astute man and I simply couldn’t believe that he would be ass enough to leave the book lying about for us to find.”

“Did Ogden plant the book?”

“No. Master Claude did that.”

“Claude?”

“Yes, when he called for Garnette’s books, three weeks ago, after the party.”

“On purpose?”

“No. Accidentally.”

“How do you know?”

“The books Garnette leant Ogden were in brown paper wrappers. There were five of them. Ogden’s maid said so and when we saw them in Garnette’s flat there were five that were so covered. Six, counting the
Curiosities
. But Claude told Fox he knew he returned six books to Garnette. He took them in an attaché case, and they just fitted it. What happened, I believe, was something like this. For some time Ogden had thought of murdering Cara Quayne. He may even have pondered over the sodium cyanide recipe, but I think that came later. He knew she was leaving her fortune to Sacred Flame Limited and he was the biggest shareholder. He may have meant to destroy the book and then have thought of a brighter idea, that of planting it in Garnette’s flat. When de Ravigne drew everybody’s attention to the book at the party, I believe Ogden made up his mind to risk this last plan. As soon as they had gone he covered the
Curiosities
in brown paper. Next morning when the maid cleaned up the mess she noticed it had gone. It hadn’t gone. It was disguised as one of Garnette’s bits of hot literature. When Claude called for the books he took the ones with brown paper wrappers: the
Curiosities
among them. I suppose when Ogden found what had happened he waited for developments, but there were none. The six books had been shoved back behind the others and neither Garnette nor Claude had noticed anything. This was a phenomenal stroke of luck for Ogden. No doubt if it hadn’t happened he would have planted the book himself, but Claude had saved him the trouble. He must have waited his chance to find the book and wipe off any prints. He was emphatic about drawing de Ravigne’s attention to the
Curiosities
, but the others, questioned independently, said that de Ravigne himself found the book. If he had already laid his plans this chance discovery by de Ravigne must have disconcerted our Samuel, as it brought the book into unwelcome prominence. He may have thought then of the pretty ruse of incriminating Garnette and pulling in his share of the bequest. But I rather fancy that chance finding by de Ravigne put the whole idea into his head. Otherwise the book would not have been on show. Yes. I think the cyanide scheme was born on the night of the party. It sounds risky, but how nearly it succeeded! There was Elsie, the maid, to swear the book had gone the morning after the party. There were the others to say Garnette and de Ravigne had both handled it the night before. Ogden made a great show of defending de Ravigne, but, of course, if I’d gone for de Ravigne it would have suited his book almost as well as if I’d gone for Garnette. Ogden played his cards very neatly. He owned up to the book with just the right amount of honest reluctance. He gave a perfectly true account of the business arrangement with de Ravigne and Garnette. He had to bring that out, of course, in order to collect when the Will was proved. He made a great point of the legality of their contract. He’s a fly bird, is our Samuel.”