命案目睹记40
时间：2025-10-20 07:27:11
（单词翻译:单击）
II
Cedric Crackenthorpe seemed delighted to see the inspector.
“Doing a spot more sleuthing down here?” he asked. “Got any further?”
“I think I can say we are a little further on, Mr. Crackenthorpe.”
“Found out who the corpse was?”
“We’ve not got a definite identification, but we have a fairly shrewd
idea.”
“Good for you.”
“Arising out of our latest information, we want to get a few statements.
I’m starting with you, Mr. Crackenthorpe, as you’re on the spot.”
“I shan’t be much longer. I’m going back to Ibiza in a day or two.”
“Then I seem to be just in time.”
“Go ahead.”
“I should like a detailed account, please, of exactly where you were and
what you were doing on Friday, 20th December.”
Cedric shot a quick glance at him. Then he leaned back, yawned, as-
sumed an air of great nonchalance, and appeared to be lost in the effort of
remembrance.
“Well, as I’ve already told you, I was in Ibiza. Trouble is, one day there is
so like another. Painting in the morning, siesta from three p.m. to five.
Perhaps a spot of sketching if the light’s suitable. Then an apéritif, some-
times with the mayor, sometimes with the doctor, at the café in the Piazza.
After that some kind of a scratch meal. Most of the evening in Scotty’s Bar
with some of my lower-class friends. Will that do you?”
“I’d rather have the truth, Mr. Crackenthorpe.”
Cedric sat up.
“That’s a most offensive remark, Inspector.”
“Do you think so? You told me, Mr. Crackenthorpe, that you left Ibiza on
21st December and arrived in England that same day?”
“So I did. Em! Hi, Em?”
Emma Crackenthorpe came through the adjoining door from the small
morning room. She looked inquiringly from Cedric to the inspector.
“Look here, Em. I arrived here for Christmas on the Saturday before,
didn’t I? Came straight from the airport?”
“Yes,” said Emma wonderingly. “You got here about lunchtime.”
“There you are,” said Cedric to the inspector.
“You must think us very foolish, Mr. Crackenthorpe,” said Craddock
pleasantly. “We can check on these things, you know. I think, if you’ll
show me your passport—”
He paused expectantly.
“Can’t find the damned thing,” said Cedric. “Was looking for it this
morning. Wanted to send it to Cook’s.”
“I think you could find it, Mr. Crackenthorpe. But it’s not really neces-
sary. The records show that you actually entered this country on the even-
ing of 19th December. Perhaps you will now account to me for your move-
ments between that time until lunchtime on 21st December when you ar-
rived here.”
Cedric looked very cross indeed.
“That’s the hell of life nowadays,” he said angrily. “All this red tape and
form-filling. That’s what comes of a bureaucratic state. Can’t go where you
like and do as you please anymore! Somebody’s always asking questions.
What’s all this fuss about the 20th, anyway? What’s special about the
20th?”
“It happens to be the day we believe the murder was committed. You
can refuse to answer, of course, but—”
“Who says I refuse to answer? Give a chap time. And you were vague
enough about the date of the murder at the inquest. What’s turned up new
since then?”
Craddock did not reply.
Cedric said, with a sidelong glance at Emma:
“Shall we go into the other room?”
Emma said quickly: “I’ll leave you.” At the door, she paused and turned.
“This is serious, you know, Cedric. If the 20th was the day of murder,
then you must tell Inspector Craddock exactly what you were doing.”
She went through into the next room and closed the door behind her.
“Good old Em,” said Cedric. “Well, here goes. Yes, I left Ibiza on the 19th
all right. Planned to break the journey in Paris, and spend a couple of days
routing up some old friends on the Left Bank. But, as a matter of fact,
there was a very attractive woman on the plane… Quite a dish. To put it
plainly, she and I got off together. She was on her way to the States, had to
spend a couple of nights in London to see about some business or other.
We got to London on the 19th. We stayed at the Kingsway Palace in case
your spies haven’t found that out yet! Called myself John Brown—never
does to use your own name on these occasions.”
“And on the 20th?”
Cedric made a grimace.
“Morning pretty well occupied by a terrific hangover.”
“And the afternoon. From three o’clock onwards?”
“Let me see. Well, I mooned about, as you might say. Went into the Na-
tional Galley — that’s respectable enough. Saw a film. Rowenna of the
Range. I’ve always had a passion for Westerns. This was a corker… Then a
drink or two in the bar and a bit of a sleep in my room, and out about ten
o’clock with the girl-friend and a round of various hot spots—can’t even
remember most of their names— Jumping Frog was one, I think. She knew
’em all. Got pretty well plastered and to tell the truth, don’t remember
much more till I woke up the next morning — with an even worse
hangover. Girlfriend hopped off to catch her plane and I poured cold wa-
ter over my head, got a chemist to give me a devils’ brew, and then started
off for this place, pretending I’d just arrived at Heathrow. No need to up-
set Emma, I thought. You know what women are—always hurt if you don’t
come straight home. I had to borrow money from her to pay the taxi. I
was completely cleaned out. No use asking the old man. He’d never cough
up. Mean old brute. Well, Inspector, satisfied?”
“Can any of this be substantiated, Mr. Crackenthorpe? Say between 3
p.m. and 7 p.m.”
“Most unlikely, I should think,” said Cedric cheerfully. “National Gallery
where the attendants look at you with lack-lustre eyes and a crowded pic-
ture show. No, not likely.”
Emma reentered. She held a small engagement book in her hand.
“You want to know what everyone was doing on 20th December, is that
right, Inspector Craddock?”
“Well—er—yes, Miss Crackenthorpe.”
“I have just been looking in my engagement book. On the 20th I went
into Brackhampton to attend a meeting of the Church Restoration Fund.
That finished about a quarter to one and I lunched with Lady Adington
and Miss Bartlett who were also on the committee, at the Cadena Café.
After lunch I did some shopping, stores for Christmas, and also Christmas
presents. I went to Greenford’s and Lyall and Swift’s, Boots’, and probably
several other shops. I had tea about a quarter to five in the Shamrock Tea
Rooms and then went to the station to meet Bryan who was coming by
train. I got home about six o’clock and found my father in a very bad tem-
per. I had left lunch ready for him, but Mrs. Hart who was to come in in
the afternoon and give him his tea had not arrived. He was so angry that
he had shut himself in his room and would not let me in or speak to me.
He does not like my going out in the afternoon, but I make a point of doing
so now and then.”
“You’re probably wise. Thank you, Miss Crackenthorpe.”
He could hardly tell her that as she was a woman, height five foot seven,
her movements that afternoon were of no great importance. Instead he
said:
“Your other two brothers came down later, I understand?”
“Alfred came down late on Saturday evening. He tells me he tried to ring
me on the telephone that afternoon I was out—but my father, if he is up-
set, will never answer the telephone. My brother Harold did not come
down until Christmas Eve.”
“Thank you, Miss Crackenthorpe.”
“I suppose I mustn’t ask”—she hesitated—“what has come up new that
prompts these inquiries?”
Craddock took the folder from his pocket. Using the tips of his fingers,
he extracted the envelope.
“Don’t touch it, please, but do you recognize this?”
“But…” Emma stared at him, bewildered. “That’s my handwriting. That’s
the letter I wrote to Martine.”
“I thought it might be.”
“But how did you get it? Did she—? Have you found her?”
“It would seem possible that we have—found her. This empty envelope
was found here.”
“In the house?”
“In the grounds.”
“Then—she did come here! She… You mean—it was Martine there—in
the sarcophagus?”
“It would seem very likely, Miss Crackenthorpe,” said Craddock gently.
It seemed even more likely when he got back to town. A message was
awaiting him from Armand Dessin.
“One of the girl- friends has had a postcard from Anna
Stravinska.
Apparently the cruise story was true! She has reached Ja-
maica and is having, in your phrase, a wonderful time!”
Craddock crumpled up the message and threw it into the wastepaper bas-
ket.
©2005-2010英文阅读网