The Ginger Cat Mystery by Robin Forsythe Page B

yet, Mr. Vereker. The butler locked up and bolted all the doors and unlocked and unbolted them in the morning. He says he found every door leading out of the house locked and bolted as he had left them the night before. Of course, Mr. Frank Cornell may have opened one of these doors again to go out and then locked and bolted it on his return, but the butler is certain he didn’t.”
    â€œYou’ve accepted the butler’s words as true?”
    â€œThe man looked as if he were speaking the truth and for the time being we’ll say his statement is correct. We must begin somewhere and somehow.”
    â€œAnd the windows?”
    â€œHe says he personally examined all the windows and doors immediately he found Mr. Frank had changed into a lounge suit, because he himself inferred that the young man had been out or at least intended to go out.”
    â€œTemporarily we’ll say he didn’t go out, but he must have gone downstairs for some purpose after he had changed, otherwise there wouldn’t have been those blood splashes on the half-landing and second flight of steps. This is working itself up into a first-class mystery, Heather. Where’s his bedroom?”
    â€œFirst door on your left.”
    â€œLet’s have a good look at it. I may pick up some information there.”
    â€œBefore we leave the staircase, Mr. Vereker, there’s one important thing I must tell you. I was going to hide it, but feel it wouldn’t be quite fair. The young gentleman had taken his shoes off and dropped them on the half-landing in his ascent. The shoelaces hadn’t been untied.”
    â€œI was on the point of asking you why his shoes had been taken off before the police photographed the body,” remarked Vereker smiling. “I suppose we must infer he was creeping up the stairs in his socks to avoid disturbing the sleeping household. The tied shoelaces is a curious point and needs thinking over. Anything else you’re concealing so as to favour your own chances?”
    â€œNothing unfair,” said Heather with a smile. “I mustn’t bottle-feed you or you’ll get lazy.”
    With these words he glanced at his watch and said he must keep an appointment with the Deputy Chief Constable. “Mrs. Cornell, Mrs. and Miss Mayo are lunching with Dr. Redgrave. They won’t be back till late. Mr. Carstairs has gone over to the village. I’ve told the servants in the house that you’re my assistant, so you’ll be able to scratch round on your own while I’m over at Bury. We’ll discuss matters in the ‘Dog and Partridge’ when I return.”
    â€œThat’s splendid, Heather, I like scratching round on my own. It’s the same when I’m painting. I always become self-conscious if there’s anyone looking over my shoulder; paralyses all my faculties.”
    â€œOn my way I’ll call at Dr. Redgrave’s surgery where the body lies. He has extracted the bullet and I’ll pick it up. I’ll ask him to let you see the body if you think it worth while.”
    â€œIt may not be necessary, Heather. You’re not hiding the fact that you’ve found the ejected cartridge shell if the weapon was an automatic?”
    â€œNo trace of a shell. It may have been an ordinary revolver,” replied the inspector.
    â€œI shall want to see the bullet, Heather.”
    â€œYou shall, Mr. Vereker. I hope the beer’s good in Bury.”
    â€œWasn’t it one of your sayings, Heather, that there’s no such thing as bad beer, but that some kinds are better than others?”
    â€œPossibly. I always forget my best wisecracks. Someone ought to record them for posterity.”
    â€œBefore you go will you tell me where the dead man’s shoes are?”
    â€œYou’ll find them in his dressing-room. They’re a heavy pair of brown brogues. You can’t make any mistake.”
    â€œThanks. I’ll see you on