Suspects

This was the part of his work that he enjoyed the most.

The chief inspector had asked all six members of the household to gather in the manor house’s living room. There was the mistress of the house, now a widow; the butler, who found the master shot dead in the library; the maid, who was upstairs dusting at the time; the gardener, who was pruning in the back garden; the cook, who was stewing fruit in the kitchen, and she was joined there by the chauffeur who had come in for a cup of tea. On the face of it, none of them where in the library when the gun was used. All of them were at home when the fatal shot was fired. They all seemed to have alibis, but the inspector was about to blow the lid off the case.

He looked up from his notebook as they assembled. He counted five. “We seem to be one short,” he said, then asked, “Where’s the maid?” The mistress raised her hand, saying, “I’ll get her,” and hurried out. The inspector caught a brief smile that passed from the cook to the butler. He assumed that it wasn’t unusual for the maid to get behind with things. They all sat waiting in silence. After several long minutes, the inspector asked the gardener to go and fetch them so that he could move forward with the case. He was getting impatient, but he tried to remain professional. When even more minutes had ticked passed the chauffeur gave an impatient grunt and got up saying he’d go and give them a big hurry up. After even more waiting the cook hurried out without saying a word. The inspector, now left alone with the butler and wondering what was going on, went to say something, but was stopped when the butler said he would get to the bottom of it, and left.

The inspector was left on his own in the room, and as though it was perfectly natural, was still there when he looked at the time several minutes later. With a great sigh, and feeling more than a little foolish, he left the room in search of any one of them. After checking all of the rooms, from top to bottom, he found himself back downstairs and listening to a series of muffled noises. When he entered the kitchen, he heard something that sounded like giggling, coming from the pantry. He opened the door and the butler stepped forward, trying really hard not to laugh. “I’m sorry, inspector,” taking on a more serious and apologetic voice, we shouldn’t have done this, we know that.” He looked around at the others, who all stood nodding and looking like naughty school children. “It’s just that, well, you know how it is, the big manner house, the police inspector solving the case, gathering everybody in the living room, naming the culprit, making the arrest, all of that.” He looked around again at the others. “We knew who did it before we telephoned…” he giggled, then suppressed it, “it was the groom!”

The inspector stood gobsmacked for a while, trying to take it all in. “Groom? What groom, you don’t have any horses!”

“No, not our groom, he’s from the farm further down the lane. He and the master were always having words,” he looked back again and they were all nodding, this time seriously, “sometimes they would get into shouting matches,” he went on, “usually about money… we think the master may have owed him.”

They all slowly made their way out into the kitchen, while the butler explained.

“The gardener and I wrestled him to the floor, tied him up, gagged him and put him in the cellar.”

“Cellar? You don’t have a cellar.”

“Ah! Beg pardon, we do, sir. The cupboard under the stairs leads to a secret passage, with steps down to a small cellar. We tied him up pretty thoroughly.” Again he looked around at the others who were nodding at one another and smiling with obvious pride. The inspector made a brief note in his book and said, “Show me.”

They all trooped out into the hall and filed through the door under the stairs and down to the cellar. As he’d been told, the groom was not only securely bound and gagged, but tied to the leg of a table.

Back upstairs, with the man in handcuffs, the inspector called the station and arranged for the culprit to be taken into custardy. When this had been done, the inspector suggested they all return to the living room.

It was there that the inspector explained that his report would show that he, and he alone, had successfully caught and arrested the culprit, and in return he would not be laying charges against any of them on the grounds of perverting the course of justice.

As he left for the station, he considered himself lucky that no one had asked him who he had intended to name…