Mad About the Boy? by Dolores Gordon-Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

concrete than unfounded suspicions to make him investigate the case properly.’ He blew out a mouthful of smoke in an irritated sigh. ‘I wish Superintendent Ashley was here but he’s on holiday. I got to know him last year. There was a murder over in Breedenbrook.’
    Smith-Fennimore turned round. ‘Was that the business the newspapers called The Fortune Teller’s Tent Mystery? You were caught up in it, weren’t you?’
    Haldean nodded. ‘That’s the one. After that, I know Ashley would take me seriously. As it is . . .’ He shrugged. ‘If there’s anything to find, we’ll have to find it.’
    â€˜Us?’ Smith-Fennimore looked startled. ‘What do you want us to do? I don’t know what to look for. I’m not a detective.’
    Haldean gave a faint grin. ‘It’s not so very complicated.’ He walked across the room and propped himself against the mantelpiece. ‘The first thing we do is to go back to last night. Arthur, when was the last time you saw Tim?’
    â€˜Crikey, Jack, I don’t know what time it was. I didn’t look at my watch.’
    â€˜Well, how soon before the fireworks was it?’
    Stanton frowned. ‘It can’t have been long. I came in from the terrace to the hall and saw Tim going up the stairs. He told me Lyvenden wanted his cigarette case.’ His face cleared. ‘That’s right. Then I went back to the ballroom, saw you and we stood together to watch the fireworks.’
    â€˜And neither of us saw him again. Did you see him, Fennimore?’
    Smith-Fennimore shook his head. ‘I saw him earlier in the evening, but I was talking to Sir Philip for quite a while before the fireworks started. I certainly didn’t see Tim then. Mind you, I wasn’t looking for him especially.’
    â€˜He didn’t watch the fireworks,’ said Haldean thoughtfully. ‘Do you remember when Lord Lyvenden was making his speech? He suddenly decided Lady Harriet needed her shawl. He looked round the crowd and I thought he was looking for Tim.’
    â€˜That’s right, Haldean,’ agreed Smith-Fennimore. ‘Now you mention it, I thought much the same thing. He sent Lady Harriet’s maid, didn’t he?’
    â€˜That’s right. So, as Arthur saw Tim go upstairs just before the fireworks and as he wasn’t there during the fireworks, let’s assume for the time being that’s when it happened. It certainly fits in with what the doctor said. Now, if Tim was murdered, the murderer came into the room with him. Did they leave any traces?’
    Smith-Fennimore raised an eyebrow. ‘Cigar ash and footprints, you mean? This is Sherlock Holmes and no mistake.’
    â€˜Perhaps it is,’ said Haldean with a fleeting smile. ‘Let’s look. Incidentally, Fennimore, do you know anything about this gun?’ He picked it up from the desk and handed it to him. ‘General Flint had a good look at it last night so even if there were any useful fingerprints on it, they won’t be there now.’
    Smith-Fennimore reached his hand out for the gun. ‘It’s Lyvenden’s,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen it before. He always kept it in his desk.’ He pulled a face. ‘I remember Tim commenting on it. The poor beggar knew it was there all right. Doesn’t that scupper your murder theory, Haldean?’
    â€˜Not necessarily. The gun could have been on the desk or if the drawer was open it could have been visible.’ He smiled deprecatingly. ‘There’s another fairly obvious explanation but the great thing in this game is not to jump to conclusions too early and to collect what evidence we can.’ He looked at Stanton and Smith-Fennimore. ‘Er . . . shall we start?’
    The three men began to look round the room.
    Stanton stood by the fireplace. For Jack’s sake he’d go through with this charade, but it was a