The Red Lacquer Case_A Golden Age Mystery by Patricia Wentworth

Author:Patricia Wentworth [Wentworth, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2016-06-16T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

“This must be the place, sir. Two miles out, and a high wall running all along by the road—”

Major Armitage brought the car to a standstill and swung round, his hand still on the steering wheel.

“Well, what’s the procedure?” he asked.

“Ask if the lady is at home as if you were paying a friendly call, I should say, sir.”

“No thanks, Williams. It’s a beastly job, but for the Lord’s sake don’t make it any worse than it is. This is an official visit, and you do the talking.”

“Very good, sir—it’s all in the day’s work as far as I’m concerned.”

They got out, tried the door in the wall, and found it unlocked whereat the inspector frowned.

“Either there’s nothing in it, or they’re expecting us,” he said, as they passed in.

There were lights in the front of the house. One room on the ground floor showed a glow behind curtains. From a bedroom above it a broad ray of warm light streamed out upon the dusk.

Bill pressed the bell, but the inspector lifted up his hand, and beat a heavy tattoo with the knocker. The sound died away, and a momentary silence was broken by the tapping of high-heeled shoes upon a stone or brick floor. An instant later the unbolted door was opened by a woman in the grey alpaca and white linen of a nurse—rather hard faced but very correct, with dark enquiring eyes. Correct—yes, that was the word—impassive too, and foreign certainly.

Bill summed up Nadine in these terms, whilst the inspector was asking for Miss Shaw, and they were being shown upstairs as far as a half landing which displayed two doors. Nadine opened the one upon the right, switching on the light as she did so, and they were left in a primly old-fashioned drawing-room. It was of good size, but so crowded with furniture as to lose all effect of size. Heavy brocaded curtains of a rose-magenta in colour hung before the two windows. An enormous ebony piano sprawled across the far end of the room, and photographic enlargements of Miss Shaw’s parents adorned the patterned walls.

Major Armitage had time to observe these things, and was proceeding to condemn the room as” frowsty” when the door opened and Miss Etta Shaw came in. She had washed her face as Lazare had bidden her. She had also composed herself to the best of her ability, but she was obviously in some agitation as she came forward and enquired:

“Did you wish to see me?”

“If you are Miss Etta Shaw,” said the inspector. Bill merely bowed, and wished for the thousandth time that they were through with it and on the road again.

“I am Miss Etta Shaw.”

“Then I have a few questions to ask you, if you will be so good as to answer them.” The inspector here dived into his pocket and produced a notebook from which, having cleared his throat, he proceeded to read.

“When, if I may ask, did you last see Miss Sally Meredith?”

Etta flushed scarlet and swung round on Bill.

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