đ Whose Body (day 1)
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joi, 16 mai, 01:53 (acum 3 zile)
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Whose Body
I
âOh, damn!â said Lord Peter Wimsey at Piccadilly Circus. âHi, driver!â
The taxi man, irritated at receiving this appeal while negotiating the intricacies of turning into Lower Regent Street across the route of a 19 bus, a 38-B and a bicycle, bent an unwilling ear.
âIâve left the catalogue behind,â said Lord Peter deprecatingly. âUncommonly careless of me. Dâyou mind puttinâ back to where we came from?â
âTo the Savile Club, sir?â
âNoâ â110 Piccadillyâ âjust beyondâ âthank you.â
âThought you was in a hurry,â said the man, overcome with a sense of injury.
âIâm afraid itâs an awkward place to turn in,â said Lord Peter, answering the thought rather than the words. His long, amiable face looked as if it had generated spontaneously from his top hat, as white maggots breed from Gorgonzola.
The taxi, under the severe eye of a policeman, revolved by slow jerks, with a noise like the grinding of teeth.
The block of new, perfect and expensive flats in which Lord Peter dwelt upon the second floor, stood directly opposite the Green Park, in a spot for many years occupied by the skeleton of a frustrate commercial enterprise. As Lord Peter let himself in he heard his manâs voice in the library, uplifted in that throttled stridency peculiar to well-trained persons using the telephone.
âI believe thatâs his lordship just coming in againâ âif your Grace would kindly hold the line a moment.â
âWhat is it, Bunter?â
âHer Grace has just called up from Denver, my lord. I was just saying your lordship had gone to the sale when I heard your lordshipâs latchkey.â
âThanks,â said Lord Peter; âand you might find me my catalogue, would you? I think I must have left it in my bedroom, or on the desk.â
He sat down to the telephone with an air of leisurely courtesy, as though it were an acquaintance dropped in for a chat.
âHullo, Motherâ âthat you?â
âOh, there you are, dear,â replied the voice of the Dowager Duchess. âI was afraid Iâd just missed you.â
âWell, you had, as a matter of fact. Iâd just started off to Brockleburyâs sale to pick up a book or two, but I had to come back for the catalogue. Whatâs up?â
âSuch a quaint thing,â said the Duchess. âI thought Iâd tell you. You know little Mr. Thipps?â
âThipps?â said Lord Peter. âThipps? Oh, yes, the little architect man whoâs doing the church roof. Yes. What about him?â
âMrs. Throgmortonâs just been in, in quite a state of mind.â
âSorry, Mother, I canât hear. Mrs. Who?â
âThrogmortonâ âThrogmortonâ âthe vicarâs wife.â
âOh, Throgmorton, yes?â
âMr. Thipps rang them up this morning. It was his day to come down, you know.â
âYes?â
âHe rang them up to say he couldnât. He was so upset, poor little man. Heâd found a dead body in his bath.â
âSorry, Mother, I canât hear; found what, where?â
âA dead body, dear, in his bath.â
âWhat?â âno, no, we havenât finished. Please donât cut us off. Hullo! Hullo! Is that you, Mother? Hullo!â âMother!â âOh, yesâ âsorry, the girl was trying to cut us off. What sort of body?â
âA dead man, dear, with nothing on but a pair of pince-nez. Mrs. Throgmorton positively blushed when she was telling me. Iâm afraid people do get a little narrow-minded in country vicarages.â
âWell, it sounds a bit unusual. Was it anybody he knew?â
âNo, dear, I donât think so, but, of course, he couldnât give her many details. She said he sounded quite distracted. Heâs such a respectable little manâ âand having the police in the house and so on, really worried him.â
âPoor little Thipps! Uncommonly awkward for him. Letâs see, he lives in Battersea, doesnât he?â
âYes, dear; 59, Queen Caroline Mansions; opposite the Park. That big block just round the corner from the Hospital. I thought perhaps youâd like to run round and see him and ask if thereâs anything we can do. I always thought him a nice little man.â
âOh, quite,â said Lord Peter, grinning at the telephone. The Duchess was always of the greatest assistance to his hobby of criminal investigation, though she never alluded to it, and maintained a polite fiction of its nonexistence.
âWhat time did it happen, Mother?â
âI think he found it early this morning, but, of course, he didnât think of telling the Throgmortons just at first. She came up to me just before lunchâ âso tiresome, I had to ask her to stay. Fortunately, I was alone. I donât mind being bored myself, but I hate having my guests bored.â
âPoor old Mother! Well, thanks awfully for tellinâ me. I think Iâll send Bunter to the sale and toddle round to Battersea now anâ try and console the poor little beast. So-long.â
âGoodbye, dear.â
âBunter!â
âYes, my lord.â
âHer Grace tells me that a respectable Battersea architect has discovered a dead man in his bath.â
âIndeed, my lord? Thatâs very gratifying.â
âVery, Bunter. Your choice of words is unerring. I wish Eton and Balliol had done as much for me. Have you found the catalogue?â
âHere it is, my lord.â
âThanks. I am going to Battersea at once. I want you to attend the sale for me. Donât lose timeâ âI donât want to miss the Folio Dante1 nor the de Voragineâ âhere you areâ âsee? Golden Legendâ âWynkyn de Worde, 1493â âgot that?â âand, I say, make a special effort for the Caxton folio of the Four Sons of Aymonâ âitâs the 1489 folio and unique. Look! Iâve marked the lots I want, and put my outside offer against each. Do your best for me. I shall be back to dinner.â
âVery good, my lord.â
âTake my cab and tell him to hurry. He may for you; he doesnât like me very much. Can I,â said Lord Peter, looking at himself in the eighteenth-century mirror over the mantelpiece, âcan I have the heart to fluster the flustered Thipps furtherâ âthatâs very difficult to say quicklyâ âby appearing in a top-hat and frock-coat? I think not. Ten to one he will overlook my trousers and mistake me for the undertaker. A grey suit, I fancy, neat but not gaudy, with a hat to tone, suits my other self better. Exit the amateur of first editions; new motive introduced by solo bassoon; enter Sherlock Holmes, disguised as a walking gentleman. There goes Bunter. Invaluable fellowâ ânever offers to do his job when youâve told him to do somethinâ else. Hope he doesnât miss the Four Sons of Aymon. Still, there is another copy of thatâ âin the Vatican.2 It might become available, you never knowâ âif the Church of Rome went to pot or Switzerland invaded Italyâ âwhereas a strange corpse doesnât turn up in a suburban bathroom more than once in a lifetimeâ âat least, I should think notâ âat any rate, the number of times itâs happened, with a pince-nez, might be counted on the fingers of one hand, I imagine. Dear me! itâs a dreadful mistake to ride two hobbies at once.â
He had drifted across the passage into his bedroom, and was changing with a rapidity one might not have expected from a man of his mannerisms. He selected a dark-green tie to match his socks and tied it accurately without hesitation or the slightest compression of his lips; substituted a pair of brown shoes for his black ones, slipped a monocle into a breast pocket, and took up a beautiful Malacca walking-stick with a heavy silver knob.
âThatâs all, I think,â he murmured to himself. âStayâ âI may as well have youâ âyou may come in usefulâ âone never knows.â He added a flat silver matchbox to his equipment, glanced at his watch, and seeing that it was already a quarter to three, ran briskly downstairs, and, hailing a taxi, was carried to Battersea Park.
Mr. Alfred Thipps was a small, nervous man, whose flaxen hair was beginning to abandon the unequal struggle with destiny. One might say that his only really marked feature was a large bruise over the left eyebrow, which gave him a faintly dissipated air incongruous with the rest of his appearance. Almost in the same breath with his first greeting, he made a self-conscious apology for it, murmuring something about having run against the dining-room door in the dark. He was touched almost to tears by Lord Peterâs thoughtfulness and condescension in calling.
âIâm sure itâs most kind of your lordship,â he repeated for the dozenth time, rapidly blinking his weak little eyelids. âI appreciate it very deeply, very deeply, indeed, and so would Mother, only sheâs so deaf, I donât like to trouble you with making her understand. Itâs been very hard all day,â he added, âwith the policemen in the house and all this commotion. Itâs what Mother and me have never been used to, always living very retired, and itâs most distressing to a man of regular habits, my lord, and reely, Iâm almost thankful Mother doesnât understand, for Iâm sure it would worry her terribly if she was to know about it. She was upset at first, but sheâs made up some idea of her own about it now, and Iâm sure itâs all for the best.â
The old lady who sat knitting by the fire nodded grimly in response to a look from her son.
âI always said as you ought to complain about that bath, Alfred,â she said suddenly, in the high, piping voice peculiar to the deaf, âand itâs to be âoped the landlordâll see about it now; not but what I think you might have managed without having the police in, but there! you always were one to make a fuss about a little thing, from chickenpox up.â
âThere now,â said Mr. Thipps apologetically, âyou see how it is. Not but what itâs just as well sheâs settled on that, because she understands weâve locked up the bathroom and donât try to go in there. But itâs been a terrible shock to me, sirâ âmy lord, I should say, but there! my nerves are all to pieces. Such a thing has never âappenedâ âhappened to me in all my born days. Such a state I was in this morningâ âI didnât know if I was on my head or my heelsâ âI reely didnât, and my heart not being too strong, I hardly knew how to get out of that horrid room and telephone for the police. Itâs affected me, sir, itâs affected me, it reely hasâ âI couldnât touch a bit of breakfast, nor lunch neither, and what with telephoning and putting off clients and interviewing people all morning, Iâve hardly known what to do with myself.â
âIâm sure it must have been uncommonly distressinâ,â said Lord Peter, sympathetically, âespecially cominâ like that before breakfast. Hate anything tiresome happeninâ before breakfast. Takes a man at such a confounded disadvantage, what?â
âThatâs just it, thatâs just it,â said Mr. Thipps, eagerly. âWhen I saw that dreadful thing lying there in my bath, mother-naked, too, except for a pair of eyeglasses, I assure you, my lord, it regularly turned my stomach, if youâll excuse the expression. Iâm not very strong, sir, and I get that sinking feeling sometimes in the morning, and what with one thing and another I âadâ âhad to send the girl for a stiff brandy, or I donât know what mightnât have happened. I felt so queer, though Iâm anything but partial to spirits as a rule. Still, I make it a rule never to be without brandy in the house, in case of emergency, you know?â
âVery wise of you,â said Lord Peter, cheerfully. âYouâre a very far-seeinâ man, Mr. Thipps. Wonderful what a little nipâll do in case of need, and the less youâre used to it the more good it does you. Hope your girl is a sensible young woman, what? Nuisance to have women faintinâ and shriekinâ all over the place.â
âOh, Gladys is a good girl,â said Mr. Thipps, âvery reasonable indeed. She was shocked, of course; thatâs very understandable. I was shocked myself, and it wouldnât be proper in a young woman not to be shocked under the circumstances, but she is reely a helpful, energetic girl in a crisis, if you understand me. I consider myself very fortunate these days to have got a good, decent girl to do for me and Mother, even though she is a bit careless and forgetful about little things, but thatâs only natural. She was very sorry indeed about having left the bathroom window open, she reely was, and though I was angry at first, seeing whatâs come of it, it wasnât anything to speak of, not in the ordinary way, as you might say. Girls will forget things, you know, my lord, and reely she was so distressed I didnât like to say too much to her. All I said was: âIt might have been burglars,â I said, âremember that, next time you leave a window open all night; this time it was a dead man,â I said, âand thatâs unpleasant enough, but next time it might be burglars,â I said, âand all of us murdered in our beds.â But the police-inspectorâ âInspector Sugg, they called him, from the Yardâ âhe was very sharp with her, poor girl. Quite frightened her, and made her think he suspected her of something, though what good a body could be to her, poor girl, I canât imagine, and so I told the Inspector. He was quite rude to me, my lordâ âI may say I didnât like his manner at all. âIf youâve got anything definite to accuse Gladys or me of, Inspector,â I said to him, âbring it forward, thatâs what you have to do,â I said, âbut Iâve yet to learn that youâre paid to be rude to a gentleman in his own âouseâ âhouse.â Reely,â said Mr. Thipps, growing quite pink on the top of his head, âhe regularly roused me, regularly roused me, my lord, and Iâm a mild man as a rule.â
âSugg all over,â said Lord Peter. âI know him. When he donât know what else to say, heâs rude. Stands to reason you and the girl wouldnât go collectinâ bodies. Whoâd want to saddle himself with a body? Difficultyâs usually to get rid of âem. Have you got rid of this one yet, by the way?â
âItâs still in the bathroom,â said Mr. Thipps. âInspector Sugg said nothing was to be touched till his men came in to move it. Iâm expecting them at any time. If it would interest your lordship to have a look at itâ ââ
âThanks awfully,â said Lord Peter. âIâd like to very much, if Iâm not puttinâ you out.â
âNot at all,â said Mr. Thipps. His manner as he led the way along the passage convinced Lord Peter of two thingsâ âfirst, that, gruesome as his exhibit was, he rejoiced in the importance it reflected upon himself and his flat, and secondly, that Inspector Sugg had forbidden him to exhibit it to anyone. The latter supposition was confirmed by the action of Mr. Thipps, who stopped to fetch the door-key from his bedroom, saying that the police had the other, but that he made it a rule to have two keys to every door, in case of accident.
The bathroom was in no way remarkable. It was long and narrow, the window being exactly over the head of the bath. The panes were of frosted glass; the frame wide enough to admit a manâs body. Lord Peter stepped rapidly across to it, opened it and looked out.
The flat was the top one of the building and situated about the middle of the block. The bathroom window looked out upon the backyards of the flats, which were occupied by various small outbuildings, coal-holes, garages, and the like. Beyond these were the back gardens of a parallel line of houses. On the right rose the extensive edifice of St. Lukeâs Hospital, Battersea, with its grounds, and, connected with it by a covered way, the residence of the famous surgeon, Sir Julian Freke, who directed the surgical side of the great new hospital, and was, in addition, known in Harley Street as a distinguished neurologist with a highly individual point of view.
This information was poured into Lord Peterâs ear at considerable length by Mr. Thipps, who seemed to feel that the neighbourhood of anybody so distinguished shed a kind of halo of glory over Queen Caroline Mansions.
âWe had him round here himself this morning,â he said, âabout this horrid business. Inspector Sugg thought one of the young medical gentlemen at the hospital might have brought the corpse round for a joke, as you might say, they always having bodies in the dissecting-room. So Inspector Sugg went round to see Sir Julian this morning to ask if there was a body missing. He was very kind, was Sir Julian, very kind indeed, though he was at work when they got there, in the dissecting-room. He looked up the books to see that all the bodies were accounted for, and then very obligingly came round here to look at thisââ âhe indicated the bathâ ââand said he was afraid he couldnât help usâ âthere was no corpse missing from the hospital, and this one didnât answer to the description of any theyâd had.â
âNor to the description of any of the patients, I hope,â suggested Lord Peter casually.
At this grisly hint Mr. Thipps turned pale.
âI didnât hear Inspector Sugg inquire,â he said, with some agitation. âWhat a very horrid thing that would beâ âGod bless my soul, my lord, I never thought of it.â
âWell, if they had missed a patient theyâd probably have discovered it by now,â said Lord Peter. âLetâs have a look at this one.â
He screwed his monocle into his eye, adding: âI see youâre troubled here with the soot blowing in. Beastly nuisance, ainât it? I get it, tooâ âspoils all my books, you know. Here, donât you trouble, if you donât care about lookinâ at it.â
He took from Mr. Thippsâs hesitating hand the sheet which had been flung over the bath, and turned it back.
The body which lay in the bath was that of a tall, stout man of about fifty. The hair, which was thick and black and naturally curly, had been cut and parted by a master hand, and exuded a faint violet perfume, perfectly recognisable in the close air of the bathroom. The features were thick, fleshy and strongly marked, with prominent dark eyes, and a long nose curving down to a heavy chin. The clean-shaven lips were full and sensual, and the dropped jaw showed teeth stained with tobacco. On the dead face the handsome pair of gold pince-nez mocked death with grotesque elegance; the fine gold chain curved over the naked breast. The legs lay stiffly stretched out side by side; the arms reposed close to the body; the fingers were flexed naturally. Lord Peter lifted one arm, and looked at the hand with a little frown.
âBit of a dandy, your visitor, what?â he murmured. âParma violet and manicure.â He bent again, slipping his hand beneath the head. The absurd eyeglasses slipped off, clattering into the bath, and the noise put the last touch to Mr. Thippsâs growing nervousness.
âIf youâll excuse me,â he murmured, âit makes me feel quite faint, it reely does.â
He slipped outside, and he had no sooner done so than Lord Peter, lifting the body quickly and cautiously, turned it over and inspected it with his head on one side, bringing his monocle into play with the air of the late Joseph Chamberlain approving a rare orchid. He then laid the head over his arm, and bringing out the silver matchbox from his pocket, slipped it into the open mouth. Then making the noise usually written âTut-tut,â he laid the body down, picked up the mysterious pince-nez, looked at it, put it on his nose and looked through it, made the same noise again, readjusted the pince-nez upon the nose of the corpse, so as to leave no traces of interference for the irritation of Inspector Sugg; rearranged the body; returned to the window and, leaning out, reached upwards and sideways with his walking-stick, which he had somewhat incongruously brought along with him. Nothing appearing to come of these investigations, he withdrew his head, closed the window, and rejoined Mr. Thipps in the passage.
Mr. Thipps, touched by this sympathetic interest in the younger son of a duke, took the liberty, on their return to the sitting-room, of offering him a cup of tea. Lord Peter, who had strolled over to the window and was admiring the outlook on Battersea Park, was about to accept, when an ambulance came into view at the end of Prince of Wales Road. Its appearance reminded Lord Peter of an important engagement, and with a hurried âBy Jove!â he took his leave of Mr. Thipps.
âMy mother sent kind regards and all that,â he said, shaking hands fervently; âhopes youâll soon be down at Denver again. Goodbye, Mrs. Thipps,â he bawled kindly into the ear of the old lady. âOh, no, my dear sir, please donât trouble to come down.â
He was none too soon. As he stepped out of the door and turned towards the station, the ambulance drew up from the other direction, and Inspector Sugg emerged from it with two constables. The Inspector spoke to the officer on duty at the Mansions, and turned a suspicious gaze on Lord Peterâs retreating back.
âDear old Sugg,â said that nobleman, fondly, âdear, dear old bird! How he does hate me, to be sure.â
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