Sleuth Page #8

Don't include marriage.

Sex-- sex is the game, marriage the penalty.

Round and round we jog towards

each futile anniversary,

pass "go,"

collect 200 rows, 200 silences,

200 scars in the deep places.

Are you saying, sir, that because

of your indifference to your wife,

you had no motive for murdering Mr. Tindle ?

I'm simply saying, Inspector,

that in common with most men,

I want to have my cookie and ignore it.

It was rather witty, I thought.

And what have we here, sir ?

That's just an old dressing-up basket,

that's all.

A traditional place...

of concealment, I'm sure you'll agree.

Only of the identity, Inspector.

The game.

Shall we go ?

- Shall we go ?

- Oh, yes, sir.

Coming.

Anyway, I thought I'd teach

young master Tindle...

a lesson for his presumption,

test his mettle, as it were.

You may not agree with this,

Inspector, but take it from me:

the shortest way to a man's heart

is through humiliation.

You'll soon find out what he's made of.

Oh. And, uh, how did you plan to

go about this humiliation, sir ?

To begin with, by convincing him...

that as my wife had expensive tastes,

and he was virtually a pauper,

and he could solve that problem by

stealing some valuable jewelry,

which I had in my safe.

I further persuaded him to take off

his clothes and wear a disguise.

Appropriately enough, he chose, out of that

basket you examined, the costume of a clown.

In that ludicrous outfit, he broke

into the house and blew open my safe.

The jewels were in this box.

Good thinking, Inspector.

Bravo.

- And where are they now, sir ?

- I put them in the bank yesterday.

- On a saturday ?

- Yes, Inspector, on a saturday.

I drove over to Salisbury and

put them in the night safe.

How very provident, sir.

May I ask what you did after

he blew the safe open, sir ?

Tindle pocketed the jewels, we

struggled convincingly around

the house as part of the game.

He was about to make off when I turned nasty

and revealed the true purpose of the evening.

This was, of course, that I had

maneuvered him into a position...

where, by pretending to mistake him for a

burglar, I could legitimately shoot him.

When you, uh, revealed your intentions, sir,

what was Mr. Tindle's reaction ?

Electrifying ! He swallowed my

story hook, line and sinker.

He fell to his knees, pleaded for his life.

but I was implacable. I put the gun

against his head and shot him...

with a blank cartridge.

You shot Mr. Tindle...

with a blank cartridge, sir ?

Fainted dead away.

My game was over.

It was the most gratifying win.

You actually... put a gun to his head...

and pulled the trigger... as a game ?

Call it his initiation test, if you like.

He came here aping the gentry,

hoping for acceptance.

But he had to be taught.

You don't join just like that.

There's such a thing as breeding !

The quality that breeding brings...

cannot be acquired.

Of course, he failed his test abysmally.

He may well have done, sir,

but he also must have been

put in fear of his life.

Such irresponsible action...

warrants a serious charge of assault.

I suppose that's marginally better

than the charge of murder...

you were contemplating a few minutes ago.

- I still am contemplating it.

- oh, come on, Inspector.

I told you what happened. After a

few minutes he came to his senses,

realized shrewdly that

he wasn't dead after all,

and after only a few too many

brandies lurched off home.

I'm sorry you appear to find this

all quite so funny, Mr. Wyke.

We may not take quite the same attitude.

Now, look here !

Why can't you see this

from my point of view ?

In a sense, Tindle was a burglar.

He was stealing my wife, wasn't he ?

Which justified your torturing

and then murdering him, sir ?

Of course not. Don't you see ?

It was a game.

Just a bloody game !

- Bloody indeed, sir.

I achieved what I set out to do,

and that was all.

- You may well have achieved murder, sir.

- No !

- I believe so, sir.

- No ! I've told you everything that happened.

Would you mind if I had a look around, sir ?

Crawl about on all fours, if you like.

Get out your envelope and imprison hairs.

Gather ye blunt instruments while ye may.

Now, I ask myself,

if I wanted to conceal Tindle's body,

where would I put it ?

In my good friend Jolly Jack Tar, the sailor.

Very amusing, sir.

May I ask how you did that ?

No. Jolly Jack and I have our little secret.

Then may I ask how you made

those holes in the wall ?

That one over there,

and this one over here.

- They look like bullet holes to me, sir.

- Quite right, Inspector.

So they are.

Oh, I understood you, sir,

say that you used a blank.

Two live bullets to set up the trick,

and one blank to complete it.

I had to persuade Tindle I was in earnest.

Oh, I see, sir. One blank.

Then would you just show me please, sir,

where Mr. Tindle was when you killed him ?

Pretended to kill him, you mean.

Quite so. Then would you show me...

exactly where he was when the bullet hit him.

I keep telling you, it was not a real bullet !

So you do, sir. So you do.

Very well then. Where was he...

when the blank cartridge was fired ?

He was standing, or I should say kneeling,

or more accurately cowering, here.

- About here, you say, sir ?

- Two steps down.

- That's it.

- Were you close to Mr. Tindle

when you fired the gun ?

Oh, very. I was standing over him, in

fact, with the gun against his head.

You see, it was the actual feel of the gun,

coupled with the noise of the explosion,

that did the trick.

The traditional tool of your trade, Inspector ?

Joke blood, sir ?

I don't think I quite follow, Inspector.

Here, on the bannisters,

and underneath the carpet.

- It's dried blood, sir.

- Blood ?

Where ?

Don't touch it.

That's dried blood, all right.

There's some more over here.

Someone's been rubbing the carpet. See that ?

Deep in the pile. That's blood, sir.

It's still damp.

Will you explain to me how that got there ?

I have no idea.

Tindle wasn't wounded or hurt in any way.

Well, you must believe me !

With real bullets... and real blood,

Isn't it about time we stopped

talking about games, sir ?

Look ! Look at the window !

There you can see the pane of glass

he cut out in order to break in.

And down there, the imprint of

the ladder in the flower bed...

and the size 28 boots, or whatever

the hell it was he was wearing.

Look, I can show you !

- Over the years,

my eyes have been adequately trained

to see things for themselves, sir.

I'm sure they have, Inspector.

I'm just trying to point out a few facts...

to substantiate my story,

like the blown safe I've

shown you in the study...

and like the dressing-up basket

you found in the cellar.

You say that Mr. Tindle

disguised himself as a clown.

I saw no such costume in that basket !

Nor have you pointed out...

that mound of earth in the garden,

have you, sir ?

Mound of earth ?

What mound of earth ?

That one over by the far wall...

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