Read Online The Scandal at 23 Mount Street (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 9) by Clara Benson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Clara Benson
Tags: murder mystery
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thinking. Angela turned away and stared at the wall. At that moment she felt more alone than she had ever done before.
EIGHT
The doctor soon pronounced it to be his considered opinion that David Marchmont had died at some time between eight o’clock on Saturday night and two o’clock on Sunday morning, and that death had occurred as a result of a gunshot to the head—most likely from a small-calibre weapon of some sort, perhaps a revolver. It then became a matter of some urgency to find the murder weapon. A search of Angela Marchmont’s flat was instituted, but turned up nothing. However, other evidence of some interest was unearthed. Firstly, the little chest of drawers in which Mrs. Marchmont claimed to have kept her revolver was tested for finger-prints, and the results indicated that only she had touched it. Secondly, a search of Mr. Marchmont’s body revealed that he was not in possession of a key to the door of his wife’s flat, which suggested strongly that Mrs. Marchmont had let him in herself. On questioning, Mrs. Marchmont stated that she had no idea what had happened to her maid’s key, but guessed that perhaps the murderer had taken it. Be that as it may, it was certain that the key was missing and nobody knew where it might be. It was also remarked during the search of Davie’s pockets that he was carrying three gloves: one pair in tan suède and an odd one in dark grey. It was assumed, however, that he had lost the other grey glove and had forgotten to take its mate out of his pocket before coming out, and the fact was quickly forgotten.
The search of the flat continued for most of the day, and all the while Angela sat quietly, keeping out of everyone’s way and saying nothing unless asked a question by the police. Her husband’s remains were removed, along with a number of her personal effects, and still the search went on. At about three o’clock one of the men gave a sudden grunt of satisfaction, and announced that he had found the bullet. It had embedded itself into the wall next to a large painting, and there was some activity while they tried to get it out. Eventually it was removed, and the men congratulated one another at having retrieved it more or less undamaged. The same could not be said of the wall, however, which was now quite ruined. Angela considered saying something about it, but then decided against it, for it seemed to her that a hole in the plaster-work was quite the least of her worries.
Meanwhile, Sergeant Willis had been sent out to question the other people who lived in the building. Most of them had been out for all or part of the evening, but of the ones who preferred to remain at home on a Saturday night none had seen or heard Davie Marchmont arrive—for this was not the sort of building in which one neighbour spied on another, being inhabited mostly by wealthy people who were far too pleased with themselves and their own concerns to trouble their heads over what their fellow residents were doing at any given moment. Willis did manage to establish, however, that a number of loud bangs had been heard over the course of the evening, including several after midnight. Given that it was only a few days after the fifth of November, everyone had assumed that the noise was youngsters letting off fireworks, and had disregarded it as nothing more than a nuisance. According to one irate elderly woman, there had been one particularly loud bang just after ten, which was so loud that it almost seemed as though it had gone off in the building itself. Inspector Scott disregarded this when he heard it, since Mrs. Marchmont claimed to have an alibi for that time. Instead he concentrated his attention on the bangs that had been heard after midnight, for it seemed most likely that one of them had been the shot that killed Davie Marchmont.
After Willis had got all the information he could out of the other residents and reported back to Inspector Scott, the two men stood on the landing
EIGHT
The doctor soon pronounced it to be his considered opinion that David Marchmont had died at some time between eight o’clock on Saturday night and two o’clock on Sunday morning, and that death had occurred as a result of a gunshot to the head—most likely from a small-calibre weapon of some sort, perhaps a revolver. It then became a matter of some urgency to find the murder weapon. A search of Angela Marchmont’s flat was instituted, but turned up nothing. However, other evidence of some interest was unearthed. Firstly, the little chest of drawers in which Mrs. Marchmont claimed to have kept her revolver was tested for finger-prints, and the results indicated that only she had touched it. Secondly, a search of Mr. Marchmont’s body revealed that he was not in possession of a key to the door of his wife’s flat, which suggested strongly that Mrs. Marchmont had let him in herself. On questioning, Mrs. Marchmont stated that she had no idea what had happened to her maid’s key, but guessed that perhaps the murderer had taken it. Be that as it may, it was certain that the key was missing and nobody knew where it might be. It was also remarked during the search of Davie’s pockets that he was carrying three gloves: one pair in tan suède and an odd one in dark grey. It was assumed, however, that he had lost the other grey glove and had forgotten to take its mate out of his pocket before coming out, and the fact was quickly forgotten.
The search of the flat continued for most of the day, and all the while Angela sat quietly, keeping out of everyone’s way and saying nothing unless asked a question by the police. Her husband’s remains were removed, along with a number of her personal effects, and still the search went on. At about three o’clock one of the men gave a sudden grunt of satisfaction, and announced that he had found the bullet. It had embedded itself into the wall next to a large painting, and there was some activity while they tried to get it out. Eventually it was removed, and the men congratulated one another at having retrieved it more or less undamaged. The same could not be said of the wall, however, which was now quite ruined. Angela considered saying something about it, but then decided against it, for it seemed to her that a hole in the plaster-work was quite the least of her worries.
Meanwhile, Sergeant Willis had been sent out to question the other people who lived in the building. Most of them had been out for all or part of the evening, but of the ones who preferred to remain at home on a Saturday night none had seen or heard Davie Marchmont arrive—for this was not the sort of building in which one neighbour spied on another, being inhabited mostly by wealthy people who were far too pleased with themselves and their own concerns to trouble their heads over what their fellow residents were doing at any given moment. Willis did manage to establish, however, that a number of loud bangs had been heard over the course of the evening, including several after midnight. Given that it was only a few days after the fifth of November, everyone had assumed that the noise was youngsters letting off fireworks, and had disregarded it as nothing more than a nuisance. According to one irate elderly woman, there had been one particularly loud bang just after ten, which was so loud that it almost seemed as though it had gone off in the building itself. Inspector Scott disregarded this when he heard it, since Mrs. Marchmont claimed to have an alibi for that time. Instead he concentrated his attention on the bangs that had been heard after midnight, for it seemed most likely that one of them had been the shot that killed Davie Marchmont.
After Willis had got all the information he could out of the other residents and reported back to Inspector Scott, the two men stood on the landing
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