Free The Ginger Cat Mystery by Robin Forsythe Page B

his feet.
    â€œWhen was this room last cleaned out, Crawley?” he asked.
    â€œThe morning of the very day Mr. Frank was killed, sir. It was done properly, too. All the chair covers taken off and replaced with new ones, carpet vacuum cleaned, paint all washed and the chimney swept. It was all finished by lunch time.”
    â€œIt hasn’t been used at all since?” asked Vereker with surprise.
    â€œNo, sir, I don’t think a soul has been in the room except Doctor Redgrave who looked in the other night to see if he could see the ghost. If you ask me, sir, he simply wanted to have a quiet chat with madam and wasn’t bothering about no ghost.”
    â€œThanks, Crawley. Don’t let me keep you off your work if you’re busy,” suggested Vereker, who noticed that the butler had just glanced at his watch.
    â€œI was going to suggest, sir, that if you didn’t want me, I had a particular job I’d like to get on with. Mr. Carstairs is going to be in for lunch at one o’clock. If there’s anything you’d wish will you please ring.”
    â€œI thought everyone had gone over to Doctor Redgrave’s for lunch,” remarked Vereker.
    â€œOnly the ladies, sir. Mr. Carstairs said he’d be here all afternoon in case there was any urgent inquiries by the police and Mrs. Cornell was glad there was someone to take charge in her absence.”
    With these words Crawley departed and Vereker began a very systematic and thorough search of the room. He lifted up the top of the grand piano, thrust his hands into the interstices of chairs and settee, peered behind pictures, and even probed up the chimney. He then unlocked the door leading down to the garden by the stone steps and immediately a look of surprise came over his face. Something important had caught his highly alert and observant senses. As he stood ready to step out he again turned the key forwards and backwards. This moved the bolt of the lock with such unexpected ease and silence that he promptly looked closely at the bolt and found that it had been recently oiled. Quickly bending down, he smelled the bolt and then brought his hand down with an ecstatic slap on his knee.
    â€œBy Jove, this is excellent,” he exclaimed. “There’s simply no mistaking the pleasant, sweetish odour of ‘Three in One’ oil.”
    Descending the flight of stone steps, he wandered round a portion of the garden and carefully examined the gravel path that ran contiguous with the walls of the house. Finding nothing to arrest his attention, he returned, re-entered the music room, and locked the door once more. He had just satisfied himself that for the time being there was nothing else to be learned in this quarter of the house and was about to explore the rooms leading off the first-floor corridor, when he heard footsteps ascending the stairs and a few seconds afterwards a tall young man entered the room. He had an earnest, shrewd face with a firm mouth and chin and walked with that gait which unmistakably discloses a full measure of self-confidence.
    â€œYou are Mr. Vereker?” he asked bluntly.
    â€œI am,” replied Vereker as briefly.
    â€œMy name’s Carstairs,” he continued with an added inflection of amiability as if he felt his address had been too curt and wished to apologize for it. “Mrs. Cornell has asked me to take charge here for her while police investigations are being carried out. If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
    â€œThanks, I’m very much obliged. Can you tell me if there’s a cat in the house?” asked Vereker.
    For a moment an unpleasant look of aggression lit Mr. Carstairs’ eye. He thought that the visitor was being impertinently facetious. Seeing that Vereker was in earnest he replied, “As far as I know, only one black cat which is an excellent mouser. Mrs. Cornell adores him.”
    Silence ensued and was at length