An Author Bites the Dust. Arthur W. Upfield
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I had entered the room and he had closed the door. Then he told me that he had given the dead man a thorough overhaul six weeks previously, and had found him quite fit, except for stomach ulcers, which were drying up. He was very doubtful of the cause of death and said he’d be unable to sign the certificate until he had made an autopsy. That, however, was not the reason why he called me, and he asked me to stand by the window and see if I could see what he had seen and still saw.
“I did as he suggested. The room was not in great disarray, and there was no evidence of a struggle. The dead man’s clothes were folded neatly on a chair, and over the back of it hung his dinner jacket. The bedclothes were normal. On the writing desk was a kerosene pressure lamp, a glass jug that had contained milk and a glass that had also contained milk. There was a bottle of brandy almost half full and another glass, and an empty dry ginger bottle. In addition there were several books and papers and the usual appointments. There were four bookcases against the walls, and a couple of chairs, and a typewriter on a table. There was no wardrobe or any other bedroom furnishings other than the bed. Over the floor was thick wall-to-wall felt covering.
“At first sight it appeared that Blake had been taken ill during the night and had got as far as the door when he collapsed. He was lying in a partial huddle, the top of his head and his right shoulder about five inches from the bottom of the door. His left arm was under his chest as he was lying almost completely face downward, and his right arm was bent as though his last effort had been to raise himself. He had been slightly sick.
“I saw several distinct scratches on the paintwork of the door. They were low down and on the outer edge. When the doctor saw me looking at these marks, he told me they had been made by the dead man’s fingers. The fingers of the right hand were badly lacerated when he tried to get out of the room and was too weak, or in too much pain, to reach up for the lock.
“I couldn’t see anything else of significance. Not for a minute or two, anyway.” Simes chuckled. “I’m only an ordinary policeman, not a trained detective. The doctor wouldn’t help me, and so I went on staring at this and that, until I saw that the felt inside the closed door was damp. It was so damp that I must have been blind not to have noticed it before. The colour of the felt was rose and the wet place was much darker. The rain the night before had beaten in through the door to a limit of about fifteen inches, and on this wet patch lay the dead man’s head and his shoulders and right arm.
“I went over to the corpse and knelt beside it. The hair at the back of the head was damp, and the collar and upper part of the pyjamas. Then I saw that under the body the carpet was quite dry. I could follow the edges of the dry place without moving the corpse and thus see that the rain had beaten in through the open door after he had died.
“I asked the doctor if he were sure that the guest had told him the door was closed when he went to call Blake for breakfast, and Fleetwood said he was sure. He asked him the second time about it when making the examination, and the guest asserted again that the door had been shut.
“The doctor asked me then if I worked it out as he had done,” proceeded Simes. “I wasn’t sure what time the rain had begun, because I went to bed about half past eleven the previous night. I knew that it had stopped when I got up that morning at six, and that it hadn’t rained after I got up. So the rain on the dead man’s head and shoulders and on the carpet must have fallen before six o’clock. I said, ‘After Blake was dead, someone came into this room and stayed for at least a minute before going out again and shutting the door’.”
Chapter Seven
Human Reactions
“That’s very interesting,” Bony said. “But there’s nothing about rain on the floor in your report or in the summary provided for me.”
“I spoke of it,” Simes said levelly, “because you asked me in a decent manner to collaborate, and because I’m sure you won’t regard me as a liar or a damn fool. It was like this.
“I went through the dead man’s pockets and found his keys, one of which fitted the door. I got the other from the lock where the doctor had left it. I told Dr Fleetwood that I’d have to report to headquarters, which I did, and the result was that the homicide crowd didn’t arrive until a quarter to twelve. They were in no hurry, because I wasn’t in a position to report that Blake had been murdered.
“Inspector Snook was in charge and they were accompanied by a surgeon. Everything then proceeded according to routine. The photographer did his stuff as I was making my verbal report, backed by the doctor. The doctor then went into conference with the surgeon and they moved the dead man from the floor to the desk. I had told the inspector about the rain falling on the dead man and the felt, and told of what seemed to me the obvious theory about it, but Inspector Snook was sarcastic because by then the wetness had dried out of the floor covering. When Dr Fleetwood corroborated, he was told that the obvious explanation was that Blake in his last gasp had managed to open the door and push it wide, that the door had remained open for a little while until a gust of wind had slammed it shut.
“Such was Inspector Snook’s attitude that Dr Fleetwood would say no more about it, and I went dumb. The doctor wouldn’t undertake the autopsy. The finger-printer dusted the entire place. There were plenty of finger-prints on the glass milk-jug and the glass that had contained milk, but the brandy bottle and the glass used to drink the brandy bore only the prints of Mervyn Blake.
“Subsequently the doctor and I talked about the wet floor and the rain on the dead man, and we discussed the inspector’s theory that Blake himself had flung open the door and then collapsed, and the wind had slammed the door shut.
“It so happened that the doctor was called out to an accident that night shortly before twelve. He did not get home again until two. At half past two he was called to a confinement. He says that the rain began about midnight. It fell in showers until shortly after four o’clock, and at no time during the night was the wind gusty or even moderately strong.
“Just before we left the building—I to make my report—we both swung the door out and in several times, to test the theory about the wind, because the inspector’s theory had then occurred to us. We found that the door was not properly swung. In fact, when the catch of the lock was free, its tendency was to swing open.”
“Very, very interesting,” Bony murmured. “The accident that took the doctor out that night—was it in the open air or inside a house?”
“It was a bad car accident. He was out in the rain from first to last. The police at Warburton had charge of it, which is why I wasn’t called out, too.”
Simes loaded his pipe, regarding Bony with moody eyes.
“A day before the inquest, Inspector Snook called here. He told me that the post mortem had proved nothing, no poison, no other cause for Blake’s sudden collapse. He said also that Dr Fleetwood had stated that when he overhauled Blake several weeks before his death he found him to be physically sound, including his heart. Then he said that the post mortem had revealed that Blake’s heart was not in a healthy condition, and added, ‘That shows how these country doctors can make errors. Dr Fleetwood made one error about Blake’s heart, and can therefore make another error about that door being opened by a murderer. An efficient policeman, Simes, doesn’t permit himself to indulge in imagination—only facts.’ ”
Simes shrugged his broad shoulders, saying with finality, “That was that. Now I am wondering just how you came into it.”
Without hesitation, Bony said, “Because, my dear Simes, Superintendent Bolt does indulge his imagination. Have you considered likely reasons why anyone should enter Blake’s room when he was dead?”
Simes shook his head and confessed that, in view of the medical evidence, he had racked his brain without result.
“Don’t continue to rack it,” Bony urged. “Let’s try in our respective spheres to find evidence that will lead us to the reason, or reasons, why that person entered the writing-room after Blake was dead. Now for other matters. We have had Snook’s reactions and the doctor’s. Let’s examine the others, beginning with Mrs