The Murder at the Vicarage-7
The Murder at the Vicarage
Chapter Seven
Colonel Melchett is a dapper little man with habit of snorting
suddenly and unexpectedly. He has red hair and rather keen, bright – blue eyes.
"Good morning, Vicar," he said. "Nasty business, eh?
Poor old Protheroe. Not that I liked him. I didn’t. Nobody did for that matter. Nasty
bit of work for you, too. Hope it hasn’t upset your missus."
I said Griselda had taken it very well.
"That’s lucky. Rotten thing to happen in one’s house. I
must say I’m surprised at young Redding – doing it the way he did. No sort of
consideration for anyone’s feeling."
A wild desire to laugh came over me, but Colonel Melchett evidently saw
nothing odd in the idea of a murderer being considerate, so I held my peace.
"I must say I was rather taken aback when I heard the fellow had
marched in and given himself up," continued Colonel Melchett, dropping onto a chair.
"How did it happen, exactly?"
"Last night. About ten o’clock. Fellow rolls in, throws down
a pistol, and says, ‘Here I am. I did it.’ Just like that."
"What account does he give of the business."
"Precious little. He was warned, of course, about making a
statement. But he merely laughed. Said he came here to see you – found Protheroe
here. They had words and he shot him. Won’t say what the quarrel was about. Look
here, Clement – just between you and me – do you know anything about it?
I’ve heard rumors – about his being forbidden the house and all that. What was
it – did he seduce the daughter or what? We don’t want to bring the girl into it
more than we can help, for everybody’s sake. Was that the trouble?"
"No," I said. "You can take it from me that is was
something quite different, but I can’t say more at the present juncture."
He nodded and rose.
"I’m glad to know. There’s a lot of talk. Too many women
in this part of the world. Well, I must get along. I’ve got to see Haydock. He was
called out to some case or other, but he ought to be back by now. I don’t mind
telling you I’m sorry about Redding. He always struck me as a decent young chap.
Perhaps they’ll think out some kind of defense for him. Aftereffects of war, shell
– shock, or something. Especially if no very adequate motive turns up. I must be off.
Like to come along?"
I said I would like to very much, and we went out together.
Haydock’s house is next door to mine. His servant said the doctor
had just come in and showed us into the dining – room, where Haydock was sitting down
to a steaming plate of eggs and bacon.
He greeted us with an amiable nod.
"Sorry I had to go out. Confinement case. I’ve been up most
of the night over your business. I’ve got the bullet for you."
He shoved a little box along the table. Melchett examined it.
"Twenty – five?"
Haydock nodded.
"I’ll keep the technical details for the inquest," he
said. "All you want to know is that death was practically instantaneous. Silly young
fool, what did he want to do it for? Amazing by the way, that nobody heard the shot."
"Yes," said Melchett, "that surprises me."
"The kitchen window gives on the other side of the house," I
said. "With the study door, the pantry door, and the kitchen door all shut, I doubt
if you would hear anything, and there was no one but the maid in the house."
"H’m," said Melchett. "It’s odd, all the same.
I wonder the old lady – what’s her name – Marple didn’t hear it. The
study window was open."
"Perhaps she did," said Haydock.
"I don’t think she did," said I. "She was over at
the Vicarage just now and she didn’t mention anything of the kind, which I’m
certain she would have done if there had been anything to tell."
"May have heard it and paid no attention to it – thought it
was a car backfiring."
It struck me that Haydock was looking much more jovial and good –
humored this morning. He seemed like a man who was decorously trying to subdue unusually
good spirits.
"Or what about a silencer?" he added. "That’s quite
likely. Nobody would hear anything then."
Melchett shook his head.
"Slack didn’t find anything of the kind, and he asked
Redding, and Redding didn’t seem to know what he was talking about at first, and then
denied point – blank using anything of the kind. And I suppose one can take his word
for it."
"Yes, indeed, poor devil."
"Damned young fool," said Colonel Melchett. "Sorry,
Clement. But he really is! Somehow one can’t get used to thinking of him as a
murderer."
"Any motive?" asked Haydock, taking a final draft of coffee
and pushing back his chair.
"He says they quarreled, and he lost his temper and shot
him."
"Hoping for manslaughter, eh?" The doctor shook his head.
"That’s story doesn’t hold water. He stole up behind him as he was writing
and shot him through the head. Precious little ‘quarrel’ about that."
"Anyway, there wouldn’t have been time for a quarrel," I
said, remembering Miss Marple’s words. "To creep up, shoot him, alter the clock
hands back to six twenty – two, and leave again would have taken him all his time. I
shall never forget his face when I met him outside the gate, or the way he said, ‘You
want to see Protheroe – Oh! You’ll see him, all right!’ That in itself
ought to have made me suspicious of what had just taken place a few minutes before."
Haydock stared at me.
"What do you mean – what had just taken place? When do you
think Redding shot him?"
"A few minutes before I got to the house."
The doctor shook his head.
"Impossible. Plumb impossible. He’d been dead much longer
than that."
"But, my dear man," cried Colonel Melchett. "You said
yourself that half an hour was only an approximate estimate."
"Half an hour, thirty – five minutes, twenty – five
minutes, twenty minutes possibly, but less, no. Why, the body would have been warm when I
got to it."
We stared at each other. Haydock’s face had changed. It had gone
suddenly gray and old. I wondered at the change in him.
"But look here, Haydock." The Colonel found his voice.
"If Redding admits shooting him at a quarter to seven…"
Haydock sprang to his feet.
"I tell you it’s impossible," he roared. "If
Redding says he killed Protheroe at a quarter to seven, then Redding lies. Hang it all, I
tell you I’m a doctor, and I know. The blood had begun to congeal."
"If Redding is lying…" began Melchett. He stopped, shook
his head.
"We’d better go down to the police station and see him,"
he said.
http://christie.soim.net
กกกก