The Dead of Winter by David Stuart Davies

Author:David Stuart Davies [David Stuart Davies]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Level Best Books
Published: 2022-02-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

In the study, Craddock and Brown sat behind the desk, a chair placed before them for the interviewee, while Wilde was sitting in the shadowed corner of the room in a comfortable wing chair.

‘There is one thing that I think you ought to know,’ said Wilde casually as he lit up a cigarette. ‘There has been no intruder in the house. That broken French window was a setup, created to mislead.’

Craddock raised an eyebrow. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Didn’t you notice the snow outside in close proximity to the window?’

Craddock paused and then shook his head.

‘Anyone standing outside the window to break in would have left marks in the snow. There were none. It was pristine. Someone has tried to create the impression of an intruder breaking into the conservatory to focus attention away from the guests. It is clear to me that the glass was broken by someone inside the house. Notice how you managed to close the window. It had not been locked.’

Craddock and Brown exchanged glances and then the inspector sported a reluctant grin. ‘Quite the Sherlock Holmes, aren’t we, Mr Wilde?’

‘Good bit of detective work,’ enthused Brown.

Craddock threw the sergeant a dark glance. ‘So’, said the inspector, ‘we are left with the situation as before. The killer is one of the inmates.’

‘That is how I read the riddle,’ observed Wilde, puffing gently on his cigarette. ‘So it’s our job to softly, softly, catchee monkey.’

‘Quite,’ said Craddock, not too happy with the phrase ‘our job, but he let it pass. ‘Well, let’s have a chat with all of them. With a bit of luck, the guilty party will make some kind of fatal slip. Pick a name off the list, Brown, and we’ll make a start.’

‘How about Bertram Silverside,’ said Brown.

‘Fine. Please go and rouse him. In the meantime, perhaps you can give us the low down on this feller, Mr Wilde.’

* * *

Bertram ‘Bertie’ Silverside beamed with amusement at the inspector as he took the seat opposite him. ‘Crikey,’ he said, ‘it’s like being back at school is this. Hauled up before the headmaster for being a naughty boy. Are you going to confiscate my catapult and give me six of the best?’

‘Were you a naughty boy?’ asked Craddock without humour.

‘I was a healthy, normal lad—and I continue to be so. Now then what d’you need to know?’

‘Well, let’s start with how you came to be here, to be spending Christmas at Pelham House.’

‘Because I was invited. Algernon Markham asked me.’

‘How do you know him?’

‘Well, if the truth be known, I don’t actually ‘know him’ as such. He’s really only an acquaintance. We met at a picture sale some months ago. I bought one of his landscapes. A small study of Ullswater by Arnold Mellor. Not a masterpiece, you understand, but it took my fancy. Markham and I fell into conversation after the sale and we had drinks together. We seemed to rub along nicely. He’s a decent enough bloke. I invited him to visit me at my factory and I gave him the royal tour.

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