Chapter 15 Section 15

Inspector Craddock had arranged to meet Harold Crackenthorpe at his office.He and Inspector Wesler arrived on time. The office was on the fourth floor of a row of downtown office buildings.It shows a thriving atmosphere, and also reveals the highest modern commercial interest. A neat young woman asked his name and made a discreet whispered phone call.Then she got up and took them to Harold Crackenthorpe's private office. Harold Crackenthorpe sat behind a large leather-covered desk, looking as flawless and confident as ever.Although the Inspector was presumed to be on the brink of bankruptcy, based on his personal knowledge, he did not show the slightest sign.

He looked up in a frank, welcoming look. "Good morning, Inspector Craddock. You are here today, and I hope you will bring me definite news." "I'm afraid not, Mr. Crackenthorpe. I just wanted to ask you a few more things." "Still asking? We've literally answered every conceivable thing by now." "I think, Mr. Crackenthorpe, that's just how you feel. But, it's just our routine." "Okay, what do you want to ask this time?" He said impatiently. "I would like you to tell me what you were doing on the afternoon and evening of December 20th last year, between about four o'clock and midnight."

Harold Crackenthorpe was flushed with anger. "That seems like a very startling question. What does it mean, please?" Craddock smiled softly. "I just wanted to know where you were on Friday, December 20th, between three o'clock in the afternoon and midnight." "why?" "I wanted to keep things down to the bare minimum." "Narrowed down to the smallest extent? So, you got additional information?" "Sir, we hope that the available information is closer to the facts." "I'm not sure I should answer your question, I mean, without my lawyer present."

"That, of course, is entirely up to you," said Craddock. "You are not obliged to answer my questions. You have every right to have a lawyer present." "You're not—let me put it plainly—you're not threatening me?" "Oh, no, sir," said Craddock, with great astonishment, "it's never going to happen, and what I'm asking you is what I'm asking a few other people, and it's definitely not just one person. Yes, this is a necessary step to weed out materials irrelevant to the case." "Then, of course, I should like to help you as much as I can. Now let me think about it. Things like this are not easy to answer right away. But we have everything in order here. I think, Miss Alice." can help us."

He picked up a telephone receiver on the table, said a few words briefly, and almost immediately a modern girl in a well-tailored suit walked in with a notebook in her hand. "My secretary, Miss Alice, Inspector Craddock. Now, Miss Alice, the Inspector wants to know what I was doing one afternoon and one evening. That was on—what date?" "Friday, December 20th." "Friday, December 20th. I suppose you'll have any records?" "Ah, yes," Miss Alice went out, and when she came back, she brought a memorandum calendar specially for the office, and opened it to check.

"On the morning of December 20th, you were in your office. You had a meeting with Mr. Goldie to discuss the merger of Cromarty & Co., you had lunch with Sir Forswell at the Barclay's—" "Yes, that day, yes." "You came back to the office about three o'clock and dictated a dozen or so letters. Then you left and went to Sotheby's. There was an auction of some rare ancient manuscripts there that day, and you were very interested. You didn't Come back, but I've got a note to remind you that you're going to a caterer's club dinner that night."

She raised her head and looked at him, as if asking if he was right. "Thank you, Miss Alice." Miss Alice went out quietly. "I remember it very well now," said Harold. "I went to Sotheby's that afternoon, but the price for what I wanted was too high, and afterwards I had tea in a little teahouse in Jimmy Street— It's a place called Russell's Tea House, I think. I stumbled into a news theater for about an hour and a half and then came home. I live at 43 Gadigan Square. The Caterer's Club dinner at seven o'clock Half at the Undertaker's Club, and I'll go home and sleep after dinner, I suppose that answers your question?"

"Quite clear, Mr. Crackenthorpe. When did you go home and change?" "I don't think I can remember the exact time. It was after six o'clock, I think." "What about after dinner?" "I think it was half past eleven when I got home." "Does your valet open the door for you? Or Mrs. Crackenthorpe?" "My wife, Baroness Alice is in the south of France. She has been there since the beginning of December. I opened the door with my own key." "So, there's no one who can prove that it's time to go home?" Harald stared at him coldly.

"I'm sure the servants will have heard me go in. I've hired a couple to do the housekeeping for me. But, really, the Inspector—" "Don't worry, Mr. Crackenthorpe. I know these are annoying questions, but I'm almost done. Do you have a car?" "Yes, a Hanboying car." "Do you drive it yourself?" "Yes. I don't use it much except at weekends. It's totally impossible to drive in central London these days." "I suppose you drove to Brahamton to see your father and sister?" "No, I don't drive unless I'm going to be there for a long time. If I'm going to spend the night there, say, for an inquest two days ago, I always take the train. It's very comfortable now, and it's faster than a car. I The taxi hired by my sister will pick me up at the station."

"Where is your car?" "I've rented a car park in Stable Street, behind Gaddigan Square. Any questions?" "I think that's all for now," Inspector Craddock smiled, standing up. "I'm sorry to bother you." As they went outside, Inspector Wessler--who was secretly suspicious of all--said in a deliberate way: "He doesn't like what you're asking—not at all. He's angry." "If you didn't kill someone, it would certainly make you angry if anyone thought you did," said Inspector Craddock gently. Angry. That doesn't matter. Now we have to check to see if Harold Crackenthorpe was seen at the auction that afternoon. Check the teahouse too, he probably took the 4.54 Take that train, push the woman's body off, and come back on the train, in time for that dinner. Also, he might drive down that night, move the body into the sarcophagus, and come back, you to the stables Go check it out on the street."

"Yes, Inspector. Do you think that's what he actually did?" "How should I know?" asked Inspector Craddock. "He's a tall, brown-haired man. He might have been on that train, and he was connected with the Loserzin estate, who was involved in the case." A possible suspect. Now, we're going to interview his brother Alfred." Alfred Crackenthorpe has a flat in West Hampstead.The apartment was in a modern building that cut corners a bit.That building has a patio just for the owner of the apartment to park his car, which is a bit inconsiderate to other people. The apartment was modern, with furniture built into the walls, and it was clearly rentable furnished.There was a plywood table that pulled down from the wall, a sofa bed, and some mismatched chairs. Alfred received them with lovely friendliness, but, Craddock thought, he was nervous. "It's a shame to be here!" he said. "May I get you a glass of wine, Inspector Craddock?" He offered him some bottles. "No, thank you, Mr. Crackenthorpe." "Is it so disrespectful?" He laughed at his joke, and then asked what's the matter. "Are you asking me what I did on the afternoon and evening of December twentieth? How would I know? Why, that was—what?—more than three weeks ago." "Brother Harold will be able to tell us exactly what he does." "Mr. Harold may be, but not Mr. Alfred." Then he added with a touch of peculiarity—which might have been malicious jealousy. "Halald was the successful man in our family—busy, efficient, with good time, had time to do everything, and at that time, everything could be done. For example, even though he Even if he intends to murder someone, he will also carefully calculate the time and do it meticulously." "Is there any particular reason for your citing that example?" "Oh, no—just a very ridiculous instance that came to mind." "Now tell me something about yourself." Alfred spread his hands. "As I told you, I can't remember the time nor the place. If you ask me about Christmas, I can answer you--that's an excuse. I know where I was on Christmas day. place. We spent time in Brackhamton with my father. I don't know why, he complained that we lived there was too expensive. But if we didn't go to him, he complained that we never Not approaching him, we really went to please our sister." "Is this what you are doing this year?" "right." "But, unfortunately, your father is ill, isn't he?" Craddock is now deliberately taking a sideways approach.It was an instinct of men in his line of work. "He was ill. He was living on a tight stomach in order to achieve the honorable goal of frugality, but once he ate and drank, it had bad consequences." "That's it, isn't it?" "Of course, what else?" "I think his doctor—was concerned." "Ah, that old fool Kumpe," said Alfred immediately contemptuously. "Inspector, it's no use listening to him. He's a man who loves to make a fuss." "Really? I think he seems to be a very sensible person." "He's a complete fool. My father isn't really a sick man. There's nothing wrong with his heart. But he takes Kumpo's word for it. Naturally, when he does feel ill, he makes a fuss and makes a lot of money." Kunpo ran around, asking questions. Whether it was what he ate or drank, he took care of it. It was all ridiculous." Alfred said angrily. Craddock was silent for a minute or two; he did so effectively.Embarrassed, Alfred gave him a quick look, then said petulantly: "Oh, what's the matter? Why do you want to know where I was on Friday alone three or four weeks ago?" "So, do you really remember that it was Friday?" "I think you said that." "Perhaps I did," said Inspector Craddock. "At any rate, the twentieth, Friday, was the day I was asking about." "why?" "Routine investigation." "That's nonsense! Have you found any more information about that woman? Do you know where she came from?" "The information we have obtained is not complete." Alfred gave him a stern look. "I hope you won't be influenced by Emma's fancy that she might be my eldest brother's widow. That's sheer nonsense." "Didn't this Martin ever ask you to take her in?" "Ask me? Lord, no. That would be a big joke." "Do you think she is more likely to go to your brother Harald?" "That's more likely. His name is in the papers a lot. He's rich. I wouldn't wonder if she wanted to ask him for help. Not because she's going to get anything. Harold is as stingy as our old lord. Of course." Well, Emma is the softest of our family, and she is Edmond's dearest sister. Still, Emma is not credulous. She knows very well that this woman is a fake. She has arranged for the whole family meet her there—with a shrewd and practical lawyer." "Very clever," said Craddock. "Is there a date for our meeting?" "It was meant to be sometime not long after Christmas. That weekend, the twenty-seventh—" He stopped suddenly. "Ah," Craddock said jokingly, "it turns out that dates mean something to you." "I have told you that there is no date set." "But you talked about it just now—when?" "I really can't remember." "So, can't you tell me what you yourself were doing on Friday, December 20th?" "Sorry, my mind is blank." "Don't you have a dating book?" "I can't stand that kind of stuff." "The Friday before Christmas—that shouldn't be too hard to imagine." "One day I played golf and probably won." Alfred Crackenthorpe shook his head. "No, it was the week before that. I was probably hanging out. Most of my time That's how it kills. I've found that one gets more done in a bar than anywhere else." "Maybe people here, or your friends, can help?" "Maybe. I'll ask them. I'll try." Alfred is confident now. "I can't tell you what I did that day," he said, "but I can tell you what I didn't. I didn't murder anybody in the long warehouse." "Why do you say that, Mr. Crackenthorpe?" "Come on, my dear Inspector. You're investigating this murder, aren't you? When you ask 'where were you at such and such a time?', you're narrowing down some facts. I I'd like to know why you thought of Friday the 20th - when? - between lunch and midnight? It couldn't be proved by the medical report of the autopsy, it couldn't be proved after so long. Did anyone see the dead man sneak into that warehouse that afternoon? She went in and never came out, did she?" Inspector Craddock's alert black eyes were watching him carefully.However, he is an experienced case handler and would not show any reaction to this kind of thing. "I'm afraid we'll have to leave you guessing," he joked. "The police are really tight-lipped." "It's not just the police, I suppose, Mr. Crackenthorpe. If you try hard you'll remember what you did on that Friday. Of course, you may have your reasons for not wanting to recall—" "You won't catch me that way, Inspector. Suspicious, of course, very suspicious. True, I shall not remember. But, ah, I remember! Wait! I was there that week." Chi, at a hotel near the Town Hall—can't remember the name of it. But, you'll find it easily. That might be Friday." "We'll look into it," said the inspector dryly. He stood up. "I regret that you could not have worked better with us, Mr. Crackenthorpe." "Unfortunately for me! Cedric's in Avish, which is a very safe alibi. Harold, no doubt, has checked business appointments, and public gatherings. Records, accounted for every hour. Me, no alibi at all. It's miserable, and it's all so boring. I already told you I don't murder. So, why would I murder a plain Unknown woman? For what? Even if the body is that of Edmond's widow, why would anyone in our family want to kill her? Suppose she married Harald in wartime, and now suddenly reappears, Then our respectable Harold would be embarrassed—he would be guilty of bigamy, and other troubles. But, Edmond! Ah, we are all glad to have our father give her a little money to live on. stipend, and send the kid to a decent school. Father will be furious, but out of respect he can't let it go. Inspector, won't you leave without a drink? Too bad I can't help you. " "Inspector, listen to me, do you know what I found?" Craddock looked at his excited inspector. "What, Weissler, what did you find?" "I've thought of seeing him somewhere, Inspector. That guy. I've been trying to make sure of it, and then it hit me. He's the guy who got in that canned goods case with Dicky Rogers. We There's never been any evidence of him—he's too cunning. He's close to one or two of the Sue and Quarter gang, and deals in watches and Italian gold coins." certainly!Craddock was only now discovering why there had been a vague sense of déjà vu in the first place.Those people are cheating people with second-rate goods, and they will never prove to you that it is illegal.Alfred has always been on the periphery of some scams.He always had plausible-sounding, absolutely innocent reasons that he wasn't involved in that.But the police were sure he was always on the safe side for a small profit. "That puts some light on the situation," Craddock said. "Do you think he did it?" "I can't say he was the type to murder. But it explains something else—why he couldn't produce evidence that he wasn't there when the murder happened." "Yes, it looks like it's working against him." "Not really," said Craddock. "It's a very clever way to just say firmly that you don't remember. A lot of people can't remember what they did or where they were even a week ago. If you don't want to It's especially useful for calling attention to the way you spend your time. Like those fun trysts with Dicky Logis and his gang at roadside cafés where the van passes." "So, do you think he's okay?" "I can't say there's nothing wrong with anyone," said Inspector Craddock. "You'll have to look into it, Wesler." He went back to his office, sat behind his desk, frowning, and wrote this on a legal pad in front of him: The murderer...a tall, brown-haired man! ! ! The victim...could have been Martine, Edmund Crackenthorpe's girlfriend, or widow. or Probably Anna Strowenska.Exactly at that time quit the tour.age, appearance.Compatible with clothes etc.According to known information, she has nothing to do with Luo Saijin Villa. Possibly Harold's ex-wife!bigamy! Possibly Harold's mistress.blackmail! If there is a relationship with Alfred, it may be blackmail!Because she knew some secrets that could land him in jail?And if it was Cedric—perhaps connected to him in a foreign country—Paris?What about Balearic? or The victim was Anna Strowenska pretending to be Martin or the victim was an unknown woman killed by an unknown murderer! "The latter guess is the most likely," said Craddock aloud.He mused sullenly about the situation.You won't get very far until you find your motivation.All the motives he'd speculated so far seemed either inadequate or far-fetched. If only old Mr. Crackenthorpe had killed him.There are many motivations. He had an idea and remembered one thing. He made a few more notes on the legal pad: Ask Dr. Kunpo about Christmas symptoms. Cedric - Alibi. Ask Miss Marple about the latest rumors.