Superintendent Harper said, “That is, assuming the girl was killed before midnight.”
“Haydock said she was. He’s a very sound fellow in police work. If he says a thing, it’s so.”
“There might be reasons — health, physical idiosyncrasy or something.”
“I’ll put it to him.” Melchett glanced at his watch, picked up the telephone receiver and asked for a number. He said, “Haydock ought to be in now. Now, assuming that she was killed after midnight-”
Harper said, “Then there might be a chance. There was some coming and going afterward. Let’s assume that Gaskell had asked the girl to meet him outside somewhere say at twenty past twelve. He slips away for a minute or two, strangles her, comes back, and disposes of the body later in the early hours of the morning.”
Melchett said, “Takes her by car twenty miles to put her in Bantry’s library? Dash it all, it’s not a likely story.”
“No, it isn’t,” the superintendent admitted at once.
The telephone rang. Melchett picked up the receiver. “Hullo, Haydock, is that you? Ruby Keene. Would it be possible for her to have been killed after midnight?”
“I told you she was killed between ten and midnight.”
“Yes, I know, but one could stretch it a bit, what?”
“No, you couldn’t stretch it. When I say she was killed before midnight I mean before midnight, and don’t try and tamper with the medical evidence.”
“Yes, but couldn’t there be some physiological whatnot? You know what I mean?”
“I know that you don’t know what you’re talking about. The girl was perfectly healthy and not abnormal in any way, and I’m not going to say she was just to help you fit a rope round the neck of some wretched fellow whom you police wallahs have got your knife into. Now, don’t protest. I know your ways. And, by the way, the girl wasn’t strangled willingly, that is to say, she was drugged first. Powerful narcotic. She died of strangulation, but she was drugged first.” Haydock rang off.
Melchett said gloomily, “Well, that’s that.”
Harper said, “Thought I’d found another likely starter, but it petered out.”
“What’s that? Who?”
“Strictly speaking, he’s your pigeon, sir. Name of Basil Blake. Lives near Gossington Hall.”
“Impudent young jackanapes!” The colonel’s brow darkened as he remembered Basil Blake’s outrageous rudeness. “How’s he mixed up in it?”
“Seems he knew Ruby Keene. Dined over at the Majestic quite often, danced with the girl. Do you remember what Josie said to Raymond when Ruby was discovered to be missing. ‘She isn’t with that film man, is she?’ I’ve found out it was Blake she meant. He’s employed with the Lenville Studios, you know. Josie has nothing to go upon except a belief that Ruby was rather keen on him.”
“Very promising. Harper, very promising.”
“Not so good as it sounds, sir. Basil Blake was at a party at the studios that night. You know the sort of thing. Starts at eight with cocktails and goes on and on until the air’s too thick to see through and everyone passes out. According to Inspector Slack, who’s questioned him, he left the show round about midnight. At midnight Ruby Keene was dead.”
“Anyone bear out his statement?”
“Most of them, I gather, sir, were rather… er far gone. The… er young woman now at the bungalow, Miss Dinah Lee, says that statement is correct.”
“Doesn’t mean a thing.”
“No, sir, probably not. Statements taken from other members of the party bear Mr. Blake’s statement out, on the whole, though ideas as to time are somewhat vague.”
“Where are these studios?”
“Lenville, sir, thirty miles southwest of London.”
“It’s about the same distance from here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Colonel Melchett rubbed his nose. He said in a rather dissatisfied tone, “Well, it looks as though we could wash him out.”
“I think so, sir. There is no evidence that he was seriously attracted by Ruby Keene. In fact,” Superintendent Harper coughed primly “he seems fully occupied with his own young lady.”
Melchett said, “Well, we are left with X, an unknown murderer, so unknown Slack can’t find a trace of him. Or Jefferson’s son-in-law, who might have wanted to kill the girl, but didn’t have a chance to do so. Daughter-in-law ditto. Or George Bartlett, who has no alibi, but, unfortunately, no motive either. Or with young Blake, who has an alibi and no motive. And that’s the lot! No, stop. I suppose we ought to consider the dancing fellow, Raymond Starr. After all, he saw a lot of the girl.”