The Jade God by Alan Sullivan (snow like ashes series txt) 📕

you know, of course, that Mr. Millicent’s gardener turned up very soon after I took Beech Lodge?”

“Yes, Mr. Derrick; Constable Peters reported that you had authorized him to occupy the cottage.”

“Then can you guess what brought him here all the way from Burma?”

“Did he go that far?”

Derrick nodded. “And came back by way of Canada⁠—”

“There might be several reasons,” said the big man thoughtfully.

“Well, as a matter of fact there is but one.”

“How do you know, sir?”

“Martin told me himself.”

“What was it?” Burke’s tone had changed a little.

“He had to come. He had no bones about saying so.” Derrick paused a moment. “Sergeant, could an innocent man have felt like that?”

The sergeant stared at his own massive boots, glittering mountains of leather that shone with official luster.

“Anything else, Mr. Derrick?”

“Of course you remember Perkins?”

“Perfectly; the sort of woman one can’t forget.”

“Yes; a strange character, showing nothing on the surface, and so much a part of Beech Lodge that we took her on with the house.”

Burke grinned. “I can see that she hasn’t changed much.”

“No, she can’t change. But did you know that she walked in her sleep?”

The sergeant looked at him sharply. “For a newcomer, sir, you’ve unearthed a good deal. I never heard that before.”

“And would you think it of interest if I told you that the desk at which Mr. Millicent was found is of particular attraction to both Martin and Perkins?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I’ve seen them both examining it closely when they thought they were unobserved. They were looking for something, sergeant.”

Burke got up, stood at the diminutive window, and with his hands folded behind his back stared at the verdant expanse of Bamberley Green. Obviously he was thinking very hard. Derrick lit his pipe and contemplated the big frame, the thick neck, and round, neatly clipped skull. There was no promise of great ability here, no quick perception, no imaginative brain. Burke found his inspiration in his official regulations. Law, order, and discipline, was it not all in a book? He was the type for whom it was hard to let go, and impossible to forget. And the biggest thing in his life was still the Millicent murder. It hurt, just as Constable Peters had intimated. Presently he turned.

“Mr. Derrick, in most cases of crime, and especially that of murder, the force is pestered with amateur detectives who believe they have the one and only clue. It’s very often a reporter for some paper. They make all kinds of trouble, and always mix things up if you give them any rope. But you’ve said enough to justify me in talking about what took place at the inquest on Mr. Millicent; though, mind you, it’s entirely unofficial.”

“That’s all I ask, sergeant; and if this thing can be solved I have no desire to appear in it at all. I’d much sooner not. If we get any results, they’re yours, not mine. I don’t pose as an amateur detective; but, from what I have already seen and know, I believe this thing can be run to earth.”

Burke reached to a shelf above his head and took down a large leather-bound volume. On the well-thumbed pages of this were pasted envelopes, from one of which he extracted a docket bearing the name of Millicent, with a date. The manner in which he turned to it suggested that this procedure had often taken place before. He cleared his throat and began rather stiffly.

“At ten thirty on the night of October fourteenth⁠—that’s two years ago less three days⁠—I was just leaving this office when Paling, the groom of Dr. Henry, drove up in great haste and said that I was wanted at once at Beech Lodge by the doctor, who was himself at that time at the Lodge. He had been summoned there by Martin, Mr. Millicent’s gardener, who told him that a murder had been committed. We galloped all the way to the Lodge, arriving there at ten thirty-seven by my watch. I left instructions here that Constable Franklin should follow me without delay. I was admitted by the maid Perkins, who took me to the study, where I found Mrs. Millicent, her daughter, and the doctor. A lamp was burning on the desk, and beside it was Mr. Millicent, lying forward so that his head rested on the desk. He was quite dead. There was a large wound in his neck that had bled profusely and formed a puddle among his papers. The doctor very wisely had left things undisturbed, because his first examination proved that life was extinct.”

“Were Perkins and Martin in the room at this time?” asked Derrick evenly.

“No, only Mrs. and Miss Millicent and the doctor. Perkins and Martin waited in the hall with the doctor’s groom.”

“And then?”

Burke turned a page. “It was, of course, most important not to destroy the slightest clue that might have been left, so a very careful examination of the room was made, with exact measurement of the position in which the body was found. I searched the room, examined the door leading to the lawn, and found that it was fastened. By this time Constable Franklin had arrived, and he helped. We went over the entire ground floor, made sure that all windows were closed, then locked the study door, and took Mr. Millicent upstairs to his own room. I left the constable on guard outside with instructions that no person should be allowed to enter or leave the grounds.”

“What sort of a night was it?”

“Dull, mild, and rather cloudy, with no rain.”

“And the outside of the house?”

“Nothing could be done till next morning except make sure that any tracks should remain undisturbed; but after a most careful examination we found nothing of the kind. My own conclusion, and it has not been changed since, was that the blow must have been struck by some member of the household⁠—or”⁠—here Burke paused significantly⁠—“at any rate someone in the family service. Mind you, Mr. Derrick, this is absolutely unofficial.”

“I quite understand that. Now what can you tell me about the inquest?”

“I was just