‘In the drawer in my room.’ ‘Who knew that you kept it there?’ ‘I wouldn’t know who knows what in this house.’ ‘What do you mean by that, Mr Hudd?’ ‘Aw, they’re all nuts?
‘When you came into the Hall, was everybody else there?’ ‘What d’you mean by everybody?’ ‘The same people who were there when you went to repair the fuse.’ ‘Gina was there… and the old lady with white hair and Miss Bellever… I didn’t notice particularly – but I should say so.’ ‘Mr Gulbrandsen arrived quite unexpectedly the day before yesterday, did he not?’ ‘I guess so. It wasn’t his usual routine, I understand.’ ‘Did anyone seem upset by his arrival?’ Walter Hudd took a moment or two before he answered: ‘Why no, I wouldn’t say so.’ Once more there was a touch of caution in his manner.
‘Have you any idea why he came?’ ‘Their precious Gulbrandsen Trust I suppose. The whole set-up here is crazy.’ ‘You have these “set-ups” as you call it, in the States.’ ‘It’s one thing to endow a scheme, and another to give it the personal touch as they do here. I had enough of psychiatrists in the Army. This place is stiff with them.
Teaching young thugs to make raffia baskets and carve pipe-racks. Kids’ games! It’s sissy?
Inspector Curry did not comment on this criticism.
Possibly he agreed with it.
He said, eying Walter carefully:
‘So you have no idea who could have killed Mr Gulbrandsen?’ ‘One of the bright boys from the College practising his technique, I’d say.’ ‘No, Mr Hudd, that’s out. The College, in spite of its carefully produced atmosphere of freedom, is none the less a place of detention and is run on those lines. Nobody can run in and out of it after dark and commit murders.’ ‘I wouldn’t put it past them! Well – if you want to fix it nearer home, I’d say your best bet was Alex Restarick.’ ‘Why do you say that?’ ‘He had the opportunity. He drove up through the grounds alone in his car.’ ‘And why should he kill Christian Gulbrandsen?’ Walter shrugged his shoulders.
‘I’m a stranger. I don’t know the family setups.
Maybe the old boy had heard something about Alex and was going to spill the beans to the Serrocolds.’ ‘With what results?’ ‘They might cut off the dough. He can use dough uses a good deal of it by all accounts.’ ‘You mean – in theatrical enterprises?’ ‘That’s what he calls it?’ ‘Do you suggest it was otherwise?’ Again Walter Hudd shrugged his shoulders.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ he said.
CHAPTER 13
Alex Restarick was voluble. He also gestured with his hands.
‘I know, I know! I’m the ideal suspect. I drive down here alone and on the way to the house, I get a creative fit, I can’t expect you to understand. How should you?’ ‘I might,’ Curry put in drily, but Alex Restarick swept on.
‘It’s just one of those things! They come upon you there’s no knowing when or how. An effect – an idea and everything else goes to the winds! I’m producing Limehouse Nights next month. Suddenly – last night – the set-up was wonderful… The perfect lighting. Fog -and the headlights cutting through the fog and being thrown back – and reflecting dimly a tall pile of buildings.
Everything helped! The shots – the running footsteps and the chug-chugging of the electric power engine could have been a launch on the Thames. And I thought – that’s it – but what am I going to use to get just these effects? – and ‘ Inspector Curry broke in.
‘You heard shots? Where?’ ‘Out of the fog, Inspector.’ Alex waved his hands in the air – plump well-kept hands. ‘Out of the fog. That was the wonderful part about it.’ ‘It didn’t occur to you that anything was wrong?’ ‘Wrong? Why should it?’ ‘Are shots such a usual occurrence?’
‘Ah, I knew you wou!dn’t understand! The shots fitted into the scene I was creating. I wanted shots. Danger opium – crazy business. What did I care what they were really? Backfires from a lorry on the road? A poacher after rabbits?’ ‘They snare rabbits mostly round here.’ Alex swept on: ‘A child letting off fireworks? I didn’t even think about them as – shots. I was in Limehouse – or rather at the back of the stalls – looking at Limehouse.’ ‘How many shots?’ ‘I don’t know,’ said Alex petulantly. ‘Two or three.