Whose Body? - Dorothy L. Sayers (motivational books to read .TXT) š
- Author: Dorothy L. Sayers
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āLady Levy seems to have had the knack of makinā people devoted to her,ā said Peter. āLook at the pea-green incorruptible Levy.ā
āThatās quite true, dear; she was a most delightful girl, and they say her daughter is just like her. I rather lost sight of them when she married, and you know your father didnāt care much about business people, but I know everybody always said they were a model couple. In fact it was a proverb that Sir Reuben was as well loved at home as he was hated abroad. I donāt mean in foreign countries, you know, dearājust the proverbial way of putting thingsālike āa saint abroad and a devil at homeāāonly the other way on, reminding one of the Pilgrimās Progress.ā
āYes,ā said Peter, āI daresay the old man made one or two enemies.ā
āDozens, dearāsuch a dreadful place, the City, isnāt it? Everybody Ishmaels togetherāthough I donāt suppose Sir Reuben would like to be called that, would he? Doesnāt it mean illegitimate, or not a proper Jew, anyway? I always did get confused with those Old Testament characters.ā
Lord Peter laughed and yawned.
āI think Iāll turn in for an hour or two,ā he said. āI must be back in town at eightāParkerās coming to breakfast.ā
The Duchess looked at the clock, which marked five minutes to three.
āIāll send up your breakfast at half-past six, dear,ā she said. āI hope youāll find everything all right. I told them just to slip a hot-water bottle in; those linen sheets are so chilly; you can put it out if itās in your way.ā
āāSo there it is, Parker,ā said Lord Peter, pushing his coffee-cup aside and lighting his after-breakfast pipe; āyou may find it leads you to something, though it donāt seem to get me any further with my bathroom problem. Did you do anything more at that after I left?ā
āNo; but Iāve been on the roof this morning.ā
āThe deuce you haveāwhat an energetic devil you are! I say, Parker, I think this co-operative scheme is an uncommonly good one. Itās much easier to work on someone elseās job than oneās ownāgives one that delightful feelinā of interferinā and bossinā about, combined with the glorious sensation that another fellow is takinā all oneās own work off oneās hands. You scratch my back and Iāll scratch yours, what? Did you find anything?ā
āNot very much. I looked for any footmarks of course, but naturally, with all this rain, there wasnāt a sign. Of course, if this were a detective story, thereād have been a convenient shower exactly an hour before the crime and a beautiful set of marks which could only have come there between two and three in the morning, but this being real life in a London November, you might as well expect footprints in Niagara. I searched the roofs right alongāand came to the jolly conclusion that any person in any blessed flat in the blessed row might have done it. All the staircases open on to the roof and the leads are quite flat; you can walk along as easy as along Shaftesbury Avenue. Still, Iāve got some evidence that the body did walk along there.ā
āWhatās that?ā
Parker brought out his pocketbook and extracted a few shreds of material, which he laid before his friend.
āOne was caught in the gutter just above Thippsās bathroom window, another in a crack of the stone parapet just over it, and the rest came from the chimney-stack behind, where they had caught in an iron stanchion. What do you make of them?ā
Lord Peter scrutinized them very carefully through his lens.
āInteresting,ā he said, ādamned interesting. Have you developed those plates, Bunter?ā he added, as that discreet assistant came in with the post.
āYes, my lord.ā
āCaught anything?ā
āI donāt know whether to call it anything or not, my lord,ā said Bunter, dubiously. āIāll bring the prints in.ā
āDo,ā said Wimsey. āHallo! hereās our advertisement about the gold chain in the Timesāvery nice it looks: āWrite,āphone or call 110, Piccadilly.ā Perhaps it would have been safer to put a box number, though I always think that the franker you are with people, the more youāre likely to deceive āem; so unused is the modern world to the open hand and the guileless heart, what?ā
āBut you donāt think the fellow who left that chain on the body is going to give himself away by coming here and inquiring about it?ā
āI donāt, fathead,ā said Lord Peter, with the easy politeness of the real aristocracy; āthatās why Iāve tried to get hold of the jeweller who originally sold the chain. See?ā He pointed to the paragraph. āItās not an old chaināhardly worn at all. Oh, thanks, Bunter. Now, see here, Parker, these are the finger-marks you noticed yesterday on the window-sash and on the far edge of the bath. Iād overlooked them; I give you full credit for the discovery, I crawl, I grovel, my name is Watson, and you need not say what you were just going to say, because I admit it all. Now we shallāHullo, hullo, hullo!ā
The three men stared at the photographs.
āThe criminal,ā said Lord Peter, bitterly, āclimbed over the roofs in the wet and not unnaturally got soot on his fingers. He arranged the body in the bath, and wiped away all traces of himself except two, which he obligingly left to show us how to do our job. We learn from a smudge on the floor that he wore india rubber boots, and from this admirable set of finger-prints on the edge of the bath that he had the usual number of fingers and wore rubber gloves. Thatās the kind of man he is. Take the fool away, gentlemen.ā
He put the prints aside, and returned to an examination of the shreds of material in his hand. Suddenly he whistled softly.
āDo you make anything of these, Parker?ā
āThey seemed to me to be ravellings of some coarse cotton stuffāa sheet, perhaps, or an improvised rope.ā
āYes,ā said Lord Peterāāyes. It may be a mistakeāit may be our mistake. I wonder. Tell me, dāyou think these tiny threads are long enough and strong enough to hang a man?ā
He was silent, his long eyes narrowing into slits behind the smoke of his pipe.
āWhat do you suggest doing this morning?ā asked Parker.
āWell,ā said Lord Peter, āit seems to me itās about time I took a hand in your job. Letās go round to Park Lane and see what larks Sir Reuben Levy was up to in bed last night.ā
āAnd now, Mrs. Pemming, if you would be so kind as to give me a blanket,ā said Mr. Bunter, coming down into the kitchen, āand permit of me hanging a sheet across the lower part of this window, and drawing the screen across here, soāso as to shut off any reflections, if you understand me, weāll get to work.ā
Sir Reuben Levyās cook, with her eye upon Mr. Bunterās gentlemanly and well-tailored appearance, hastened to produce what was necessary. Her visitor placed on the table a basket, containing a water-bottle, a silver-backed hair-brush, a pair of boots, a small roll of linoleum, and the āLetters of a Self-made Merchant to His Son,ā bound in polished morocco. He drew an umbrella from beneath his arm and added it to the collection. He then advanced a ponderous photographic machine and set it up in the neighbourhood of the kitchen range; then, spreading a newspaper over the fair, scrubbed surface of the table, he began to roll up his sleeves and insinuate himself into a pair of surgical gloves. Sir Reuben Levyās valet, entering at the moment and finding him thus engaged, put aside the kitchenmaid, who was staring from a front-row position, and inspected the apparatus critically. Mr. Bunter nodded brightly to him, and uncorked a small bottle of grey powder.
āOdd sort of fish, your employer, isnāt he?ā said the valet, carelessly.
āVery singular, indeed,ā said Mr. Bunter. āNow, my dear,ā he added, ingratiatingly, to the kitchen-maid, āI wonder if youād just pour a little of this grey powder over the edge of the bottle while Iām holding itāand the same with this bootāhere, at the topāthank you, Missāwhat is your name? Price? Oh, but youāve got another name besides Price, havenāt you? Mabel, eh? Thatās a name Iām uncommonly partial toāthatās very nicely done, youāve a steady hand, Miss Mabelāsee that? Thatās the finger marksāthree there, and two here, and smudged over in both places. No, donāt you touch āem, my dear, or youāll rub the bloom off. Weāll stand āem up here till theyāre ready to have their portraits taken. Now then, letās take the hair-brush next. Perhaps, Mrs. Pemming, youād like to lift him up very carefully by the bristles.ā
āBy the bristles, Mr. Bunter?ā
āIf you please, Mrs. Pemmingāand lay him here. Now, Miss Mabel, another little exhibition of your skill, if you please. Noāweāll try lamp-black this time. Perfect. Couldnāt have done it better myself. Ah! thereās a beautiful set. No smudges this time. Thatāll interest his lordship. Now the little bookāno, Iāll pick that up myselfāwith these gloves, you see, and by the edgesāIām a careful criminal, Mrs. Pemming, I donāt want to leave any traces. Dust the cover all over, Miss Mabel; now this sideāthatās the way to do it. Lots of prints and no smudges. All according to plan. Oh, please, Mr. Graves, you mustnāt touch itāitās as much as my place is worth to have it touched.ā
āDāyou have to do much of this sort of thing?ā inquired Mr. Graves, from a superior standpoint.
āAny amount,ā replied Mr. Bunter, with a groan calculated to appeal to Mr. Gravesās heart and unlock his confidence. āIf youād kindly hold one end of this bit of linoleum, Mrs. Pemming, Iāll hold up this end while Miss Mabel operates. Yes, Mr. Graves, itās a hard life, valeting by day and developing by nightāmorning tea at any time from 6.30 to 11, and criminal investigation at all hours. Itās wonderful, the ideas these rich men with nothing to do get into their heads.ā
āI wonder you stand it,ā said Mr. Graves. āNow thereās none of that here. A quiet, orderly, domestic life, Mr. Bunter, has much to be said for it. Meals at regular hours; decent, respectable families to dinnerānone of your painted womenāand no valeting at night, thereās much to be said for it. I donāt hold with Hebrews as a rule, Mr. Bunter, and of course I understand that you may find it to your advantage to be in a titled family, but thereās less thought of that these days, and I will say, for a self-made man, no one could call Sir Reuben vulgar, and my lady at any rate is countyāMiss Ford, she was, one of the Hampshire Fords, and both of them always most considerate.ā
āI agree with you, Mr. Gravesāhis lordship and me have never held with being narrow-mindedāwhy, yes, my dear, of course itās a footmark, this is the washstand linoleum. A good Jew can be a good man, thatās what Iāve always said. And regular hours and considerate habits have a great deal to recommend them. Very simple
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