Fox looked at Andy. “You were in the library with the rest of them when I got there.”
He nodded. “I entered by the front terrace and the voices guided me to the library. There was already a lot of commotion in there, half a dozen people. Pretty soon everyone else was there, but not Nancy, and I guess I got panicky. I ran through the house out to this terrace and yelled for her. I couldn’t hear any answer and I ran around the house to where the cars were parked, and then on around to the other side, but there wasn’t any sign of her. From there I could hear the voices in the library and I thought I recognized hers, so I went through some shrubbery and entered by the French windows, but she wasn’t there. Then you came in and then you went out. I was just going after you to ask if you had seen Nancy when she came.”
“How did you know you could get into the library — hold it.”
Fox slipped off the table and stood. The door from the house had opened for the exit of District Attorney Derwin. He was in his shirt sleeves and his face was covered with perspiration. He took four paces on the flags, stopped, looked the party over and spoke:
“If you please, everybody! I won’t insult you by apologizing for the inconvenience you are enduring. To talk of such inconvenience in the presence of such a tragedy, such a crime, would be — uh — insulting. We are doing all we can. Two of my assistants are talking with Mrs. Pemberton. Colonel Brissenden is talking with Mr. Jeffrey Thorpe. I am talking with Mr. Kester.”
A man blurted, “Is there any reason—”
“Please! We are doing all we can to expedite matters. We would like first to have from each of you a brief statement as to where you were and what you were doing when the shot was fired. You will be asked to sign it. Sergeant Saunders of the state police is in the breakfast room and you will be taken there one at a time to give him the statement, which he will take down. Also in that room is the equipment for examining a person’s hands to ascertain if that person has recently fired a revolver. You will be asked to permit the examination. You have the right to refuse to permit it, but we hope that none of you will. Mrs. Pemberton, Mr. Thorpe and Mr. Kester have already permitted it. When that is concluded we shall proceed to further steps with all possible expedition.”
He turned. A man darted forward expostulating. Derwin snapped at him:
“We’re doing the best we can!”
He disappeared inside. A man who had come out with him looked around and said, “Miss Grant? Come with me, please.”
Chapter 15
Two hours later, Fox, ushered into the library by a trooper and guided to a chair which was turned to face directly the light from the expanse of windows, glanced around before he sat. To his accustomed eye the room, though its contents were in order, displayed numerous signs of having been subjected to a rigorous police examination. The place on the rug where Ridley Thorpe’s body had sprawled was vacant. Four men were looking at him. District Attorney Derwin, sweating more generously than ever, was seated at Ridley Thorpe’s desk, and off at his right was a pimply young man with a stenographer’s notebook and fountain pen. At the far end of the large desk was a slightly older young man with horn-rimmed glasses, whom Fox recognized as an assistant district attorney, and standing near the door was the trooper who had brought Fox in.
Derwin said, not belligerently, “Well, Fox, this time apparently it was really Ridley Thorpe. What do you think?”
Fox smiled at him. “Reserving decision, Mr. Derwin. I only saw him when he was lying face down.”
Derwin nodded without attempting to return the smile. “I like to be prudent too, but we’re going on the assumption that it was Thorpe.” He picked up the top paper from a pile. “You seem to have been further away than anyone else when it happened. A third of a mile or more. Down the other side of the greenhouse. Are you interested in greenhouses?”
“Sure, among other things.” Fox threw one knee over the other and folded his arms. “If you want to make it a sparring match I don’t mind, but it would be a waste of time. I was waiting to have a talk with Thorpe and was out strolling around.”
“You had already had a talk with Thorpe, hadn’t you?”
“A very brief one. Kester, his secretary, was present. Thorpe asked me to wait until he had seen Colonel Brissenden and some business associates.”
“What did he want to talk to you about?”
“He said he mistrusted the ability of the police to discover who killed Arnold and he wanted to hire me to do it.”
“You agreed with him about the ability of the police, of course.”
“I neither agreed nor disagreed. It promised to be an interesting job.”
“And a lucrative one?”
“Sure. Thorpe could afford to pay.”
Derwin glanced at the paper in his hand. “You say here that you were on the service drive about 300 yards from the house when you heard the shot, that you thought it might be a car backfiring but walked faster, then you heard excited voices and began to run. When you were about 150 yards from the house you saw a man running towards it from another direction, one of the guards with his revolver in his hand.”
“That’s right.”
“Did you see anyone besides the guard?”
“No. From the time I left the greenhouse until I entered the library, I saw no one but the guard.”
“Had you seen someone in the greenhouse?”
“No. I merely used that as a starting point. Let me put it this way: I saw or heard no one and nothing, at any time, that would help you or me to find the murderer.”
“That ought to cover it,” said Derwin dryly. He glanced aside at the gliding pen of the stenographer and in the other direction at the face of his assistant, a solemn owl with the horn-rimmed glasses, and then looked at Fox again and asked abruptly:
“How long have you known Ridley Thorpe?”
“I met him in your office yesterday evening.”
“Was that the first time you ever saw him?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever do any work for him?”
“No.”
“Did you ever sell him anything?”
“No.”
“Was he ever indebted to you for any services performed for anyone, or for anything else?”
“No.”
“Did he ever pay you any money, cash or check, for anything whatever?”
“No.”
“Will you swear to that?”
“Certainly not,” said Fox impatiently. “Not since you’ve made it so plain that you’ve found the stub of the check for fifty thousand dollars that he gave me this morning.”
Derwin stared. The trooper shifted to his other foot. The owl emitted a little grunt.
“You admit it?” Derwin demanded, his voice raised.
“Of course I do. How can I help it?”
“You admit you just lied about it!” Derwin had a fist on the desk. “You admit you had reason to attempt to conceal the fact that Thorpe paid you a large sum of money shortly before he was murdered! There’s one question I didn’t ask you! Were you blackmailing Ridley Thorpe?”
“No. I haven’t—”
“Then what did he pay you for? What did he pay you fifty thousand dollars for?”
Fox was looking disgusted. “This is a dirty shame,” he declared. “Send for Luke Wheer and Vaughn Kester.”
“I’ll send for nobody! I’ve got it on you, Fox! I’ve got you! Unless you tell me—”
“You’ve got nothing,” Fox snapped. “Specifically you’ve got nothing that has any connection with the murder you’re investigating. I don’t intend to tell you very much about that check, and I’ll tell you nothing whatever unless you get Wheer and Kester in here. Make a fool of yourself and put a detention on me. That’s that.”