Free The Act of Roger Murgatroyd by Gilbert Adair Page B

the Chief-Inspector, who stood in the centre of the room in front of a massive mahogany desk on top of which sat two of Rogerffolkes’s embossed stamp albums, an extra-large magnifying-glass, the typewriter on which Gentry’s notes had been typed out and, of all unlikely, unlovely artefacts, one of those ‘humorous’ ashtrays on whose rim a diminutive top-hatted toper unsteadily supports himself against a lamppost.
    When everybody was settled, the Colonel mutely signalled to the detective to assume command.
    ‘Well now,’ said the Chief-Inspector, ‘I’d first like to thank you all for being so prompt. Each of you knows why you’re here, so the only thing that remains is for me to decide the order in which you’re questioned.’
    He reflectively scanned the party as though he hadn’t already made up his mind who his first victim would be.
    ‘Perhaps I might call on you, Vicar,’ he said at last, ‘to open the batting?’
    The Vicar almost leapt out of his chair.
    ‘Me!’ he exclaimed. ‘Why … why me?’
    ‘Well, somebody has to go first, you know,’ said Trubshawe with an only just perceptible twinkle in his eye.
    ‘Yes, but I …’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Well, it does seem unfair to pick on … to …’
    ‘Of course, if you’d rather not, perhaps you yourself would nominate one of your friends to take your place?’
    ‘Oh, but that’s also unfair! Oh, calamity!’ groaned the Vicar, who looked as though he were about to burst into tears.
    ‘Come now, Mr Wattis,’ said his tormentor gently but firmly, ‘aren’t you being a little childish? I promise I’ll do my utmost to make it all as painless as possible.’
    Aware not only from the Chief-Inspector’s rebuke but also from the way his friends were staring at him that he had let himself be shown in a rather unattractive light, the Vicar now hastened to retrieve his composure.
    ‘Oh well … in that case, Mr Trub – I mean, Inspector Trub – that’s to say,
Chief
-Inspector Trub. Trubshawe! I suppose if you really think …’
    ‘Yes, Vicar, I do. I really do,’ the policeman nimbly cut in. ‘However –’ he began to add.
    ‘Yes? You say however?’ the Vicar once more interrupted him, and this time his already squeaky voice came perilously close to cracking.
    ‘However, I say – in the light of Miss Mount’s account of last night’s events, an account with which, I noted, not one of you present – you yourself included, Vicar – chose to take issue, I feel duty-bound to advise you that the phrase “as painless as possible” shouldn’t be construed to mean that our conversation will be totally, ah, pain-free. You do realise I’m going to have to ask you some very probing – indeed, some very personal – questions?’
    ‘Oh dear, I – I just don’t know whether –’
    ‘Questions,’ pursued Trubshawe, who was no longer prepared to be put off his stride by the clergyman’s interjections, ‘that, had I been assigned to this case in an officialcapacity, I would be asking you teat-a-teat, as the Frogs say, in the privacy of your own home or in a police station. But since everyone, you again included, fell in with the Doctor’s proposal that my interrogation, which, I repeat, is wholly informal –’
    Now it was Cora Rutherford’s turn to interrupt.
    ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Trubshawe, we know all that!’ she snapped. ‘Do stop blethering, will you!’
    ‘Patience, dear lady, patience,’ Trubshawe calmly retorted. ‘When it comes, as it will, to your own turn, you may not be quite so desirous to have things rushed. The fact is that my presence is extremely irregular, and I wish to make sure you all understand that no one is actually, legally, obliged to undergo questioning here and now.’
    ‘But, I tell you, we do understand!’
    ‘Also,’ he went on unperturbed, ‘that, if you do agree to be questioned, then, notwithstanding the fact that you aren’t under oath, there’s simply no point to the exercise if you