Free The Blind Side by Patricia Wentworth Page B

and dropped it down where it come from.”
    â€œGet that down, Abbott,” said the Inspector. “Now that revolver was fired some time last night—some time between one and four in the morning as near as the medical evidence can put it. I want to know if you heard anything that might have been the shot.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t—nobody couldn’t down in that basement.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t leave the basement?”
    â€œNot before a quarter to six I didn’t. I work I do, and when I go to bed I go to sleep.”
    â€œSo do I,” said the Inspector heartily. “Now I want to know about the outer door of this place.”
    â€œAnything wrong with that?”
    â€œNo, no. But you lock it up at night, I suppose?”
    â€œYes, I do.”
    â€œWhat time do you lock up?”
    â€œEleven o’clock.”
    â€œAnd if anyone wants to get in after that?”
    â€œThose that lives here has their keys.”
    â€œThe door isn’t bolted?”
    â€œOf course it ain’t!”
    â€œAnd what time do you open up in the morning?”
    â€œSix o’clock mostly.”
    â€œNow, sergeant—this is very important. You locked up last night as usual?”
    â€œEleven o’clock I locked up.”
    â€œAnd after you locked up no one could get in without a key?”
    â€œI told you that.”
    â€œAnd when you came to open up at six o’clock this morning the door was locked as you left it?”
    â€œPutting words into my mouth, aren’t you? What’s the game? Want to get me telling lies and catch me out? Because you won’t! See? To start with, it was a good bit before six when I come to open up this morning, and to get on with, the door wasn’t locked—it was on the jar.”
    The Inspector leaned forward with a hand on either knee.
    â€œThe door was open?”
    â€œNo, it wasn’t—it was on the jar, like I said.”
    â€œIt had been unlocked?”
    â€œSeemingly.”
    â€œBut you’re certain you locked it?”
    â€œWhen it comes to the proper place I’ll be taking my Bible oath I locked it.”
    The Inspector leaned back again.
    â€œIf someone wanted to go out after you locked the place up, could they shut that door without being heard?”
    A grim smile appeared on Rush’s face.
    â€œYou’d better ask Mr. Pyne in number one about that. Ten years he’s been complaining about the noise that door makes when it shuts.”
    â€œThen if anyone wanted to come or go without being heard, they probably wouldn’t risk shutting that door. They would, in fact, be inclined to leave it as you found it, on the jar?”
    Rust grunted.
    â€œNone of my business what they’d do. I locked up, and that I’ll swear to.”
    Detective Abbott wrote this down. The Inspector looked round at him, said, “I’m taking a list of the flat-holders—get it down on a separate sheet so I can have it handy,” and turned to Rush again.
    â€œNow, sergeant, just give me all those flats from A to Z.”
    â€œThey don’t run no more than one to twelve,” said Rush, with his scowl at its blackest.
    The Inspector was not to be moved from his good humour.
    â€œWell, let’s have ’em from one to twelve,” he said easily.
    Stiffly erect, Rush ticked them off.
    â€œNumber one—that’s Mr. Pyne. Want me to tell you about ’em as we go along?”
    â€œIf there’s anything to tell.”
    â€œThey’re people,” said Rush. “Always something to tell about people, only it don’t always get told.”
    Here at last was a subject on which he would be willing to talk. Lee Fenton could have told the Inspector that.
    â€œWell, Mr. Pyne, he’s in number one—old bachelor as thinks himself an invalid—nothing to do but plan whether it’s a pill or a powder he’d best be taking next.