They Do It With Mirrors

Maybe the old boy had heard something about Alex and was going to spill the beans to the Serrocolds.' 'With what results?' 'They might cut off the dough. He can use dough uses a good deal of it by all accounts.' 'You mean - in theatrical enterprises?' 'That's what he calls it?' 'Do you suggest it was otherwise?' Again Walter Hudd shrugged his shoulders.

'I wouldn't know,' he said.

Chapter 13

Alex Restarick was voluble. He also gestured with his hands.

'I know, I know! I'm the ideal suspect. I drive down here alone and on the way to the house, I get a creative fit, I can't expect you to understand. How should you?' 'I might,' Curry put in drily, but Alex Restarick swept on.

'It's just one of those things! They come upon you there's no knowing when or how. An effect - an idea and everything else goes to the winds! I'm producing Limehouse Nights next month. Suddenly - last night - the set-up was wonderful… The perfect lighting. Fog -and the headlights cutting through the fog and being thrown back - and reflecting dimly a tall pile of buildings.

Everything helped! The shots - the running footsteps and the chug-chugging of the electric power engine could have been a launch on the Thames. And I thought - that's it - but what am I going to use to get just these effects? - and ' Inspector Curry broke in.

'You heard shots? Where?' 'Out of the fog, Inspector.' Alex waved his hands in the air - plump well-kept hands. 'Out of the fog. That was the wonderful part about it.' 'It didn't occur to you that anything was wrong?' 'Wrong? Why should it?' 'Are shots such a usual occurrence?'

'Ah, I knew you wou!dn't understand! The shots fitted into the scene I was creating. I wanted shots. Danger opium - crazy business. What did I care what they were really? Backfires from a lorry on the road? A poacher after rabbits?' 'They snare rabbits mostly round here.' Alex swept on: 'A child letting off fireworks? I didn't even think about them as - shots. I was in Limehouse - or rather at the back of the stalls - looking at Limehouse.' 'How many shots?' 'I don't know,' said Alex petulantly. 'Two or three.

Two close together, I do remember that.' Inspector Curry nodded.

'And the sound of running footsteps, I think you said?

Where were they?' 'They came to me out of the fog. Somewhere near the house.' Inspector Curry said gently: 'That would suggest that the murderer of Christian Gulbrandsen came from outside.' 'Of course. Why not? You don't really suggest, do you, that he came from inside the house?' Still very gently Inspector Curry said: 'We have to think of everything.' 'I suppose so,' said Alex Restarick generously. 'What a soul-destroying job yours must be, Inspector! The details, the times and places, the pettifogging pettiness of it. And in the end - what good is it all? Does.it bring the wretched Christian Gulbrandsen back to life?' 'There's quite a satisfaction in getting your man, Mr Restarick.' 'The Wild Western touch!'

'Did you know Mr Gulbrandsen well?' 'Not well enough to murder him, Inspector. I had met him, off and on, since I lived here as a boy. He made brief appearances from time to time. One of our captains of industry. The type does not interest me. He has quite a collection, I believe, of Thorwaldsen's statuary -' Alex shuddered. 'That speaks for itself, does it not? My God, these rich men!' Inspector Curry eyed him meditatively. Then he said: 'Do you take any interest in poisons, Mr Restarick?' 'In poisons? My dear man, he was surely not poisoned first and shot afterwards. That would be too madly detective story.' 'He was not poisoned. But you haven't answered my question.' 'Poison has a certain appeal… It has not the crudeness of the revolver bullet or the blunt weapon. I have no special knowledge of the subject, if that is what you me an. ' 'Have you ever had arsenic in your possession?' 'In sandwiches - after the show? The idea has its allurements. You don't know Rose Glidon? These actresses who think they have a name! No I have never thought of arsenic. One extracts it from weed killer or flypapers, I believe.' 'How often are you down here, Mr Restarick?' 'It varies, Inspector. Sometimes not for several weeks.

But I try to get down for weekends whenever I can. I always regard Stonygates as my true home.' 'Mrs Serrocold has encouraged you to do so?' 'What I owe Mrs Serrocold can ney. er be repaid.

Sympathy, understanding, affection ' 'And quite a lot of solid cash as well, I believe?'

Alex looked faintly disgusted.

'She treats me as a son, and she has belief in my work.' 'Has she ever spoken to you about her will?' 'Certainly. But may I ask what is the point of all these questions, Inspector? There is nothing wrong with Mrs Serroc01d.'

'There had better not be,' said Inspector Curry grimly.

'Now what can you possibly mean by that?'

'If you don't know, so much the better,' said Inspector Curry. 'And if you do - I'm warning you.'

When Alex had gone Sergeant Lake said: 'Pretty bogus, would you say?' Curry shook his head.