Bats in the Belfry by E C R Lorac

Author:E C R Lorac [Lorac, E C R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781464209666
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press, Inc.
Published: 2018-02-04T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter IX

When Macdonald returned to Scotland Yard after his talk with Mr. Todbury, it was nearly half-past four. His note-book testified to a good day’s work, being entered up as follows.

8.0–8.15. Interviewed Burroughs at Station.

9.0–9.45. With Rockingham at The Small House.

10.0–12.0. Author’s Club. Took Jennings to Mortuary.

12.15–1.15. Park Village South. Weller.

1.30–2.30. Lunch. Pagani’s.

2.45–4.0. Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Todbury, Wether & Goodchild.

Seated drinking his tea, Macdonald listened to Reeves’ report of his day which had also been profitably spent, but Reeves, a great believer in routine, kept his narrative in strictly chronological order, so that his bonne bouche came last. His morning had been occupied by “getting a line” on Mrs. Attleton—not very successfully. After an overnight consultation with Weller, Reeves knew that Mrs. Attleton had a mother, Mrs. Langtree, who resided at Brighton. The Southern Electric took Reeves to that famous resort in exactly an hour—according to schedule—(a trip he had much enjoyed) and by half-past ten he was interviewing a very unwilling parent in the Riviera Hotel. Mrs. Langtree described herself as a neurasthenic, under the treatment of a psychoanalyst, and she interviewed Reeves from a couch, speaking languidly and petulantly by turns. She assured Reeves that she had no idea of her daughter’s address, that Mrs. Attleton was taking a rest cure (like herself) and that this fuss over Mr. Attleton’s whereabouts was uncalled for. Bruce was the most erratic of men, and it was quite characteristic of him to break engagements, to stay away for days at a time without giving any address, and generally to behave in an inconsiderate manner, and this intrusion on her (Mrs. Langtree’s) privacy was quite unjustified. She had already told Mr. Rockingham so, and considered that the latter had lost his head completely to be making such a to-do. Reeves left the scented, over-heated apartment without any information, but a conviction that Mrs. Langtree was frightened—very much frightened.

“She’s probably agitated about her daughter and Mr. Thomas Burroughs,” said Macdonald. “I expect we shall find that Thomas has spent the last week with the injured wife—that’s why he’s doing the strong silent man touch. What oddities these people are, Reeves. Mrs. Attleton wants a divorce, but she also wants to be the injured party. Her husband was to supply the evidence while she posed as Julius Cæsar’s wife and got the world’s sympathy. We’d better turn the B.B.C. on to the job—and if Mesdames Langtree and Attleton get a shock, that’s not our fault. We’ve wasted enough time considering their feelings. I’m glad you liked Brighton. Personally—and professionally—I never want to hear the name of the place again.”

“It doesn’t bring the department luck, and that’s a fact,” admitted Reeves, “however, I earned my oats when I got back. Caught the eleven twenty-five. Back at Victoria at twelve-thirty. Not bad. I’ve been on the run about after Debrette. That chap Grenville wasn’t pulling the long-bow. Debrette was in Trafalgar Square yesterday evening, and what’s more, he’s pretty well known by sight.”

Reeves had got his first information from a newspaper vendor close to Charing Cross Post Office.

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