Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 34, No. 13 & 14, Winter 1989

“I say,” he said, “what a magnificent head... you didn’t... did you?”

“Yes, I did. I’m a deer stalker. Do you hunt?”

“Not me — you need to be a big strong fellow for that. I fish sometimes. Mostly I work in the garden and round the house, but for a hobby I write a bit — not much — just the odd short story and a bit of verse.”

“A poet! You seem less and less like a policeman.”

“I’m not. I’m Percy Bannister and I live at the end of the road in Tihoi Street.”

“Then why the devil didn’t you say so?”

“I was going to, but you seemed so obsessed with the police — are you expecting them?”

“Not exactly.” The big man dismissed the matter as of no importance. “So what can I do for you, Percy?”

Percy explained. He considered reciting his verse, of which he was rather proud and at which Mrs. Lee had clapped her hands with pleasure, but in time he remembered the line about the door of Twenty-four. “What do you think of the idea?” he concluded.

His host was delighted. “I think that’s great. You’re quite right — we should be more caring of each other. Glad to know you, Percy. Uncommon name. I’m Dick Shaw, though my wife called me Richard — thought it was more classy.”

“Don’t you have a wife any more?” asked Percy, pleased with himself for being able to broach the subject so soon.

Dick considered the question before answering. Then he shrugged. “I suppose I have.”

“Don’t you know?”

“Well, I suppose the answer is yes I have, but we had a flaming row a while back and she left home. Haven’t seen her since.”

“I am sorry.”

“Well,” Dick considered, “so am I in a way. On the other hand it’s pretty marvelous. Terrible nag she’s become lately. Do this — do that — why don’t you do the other. All day long, it was beginning to drive me mad. Why couldn’t I have a bit of peace now that I’m retired and do what I wanted? I wasn’t causing any trouble.”

“No. I see what you mean, I can understand how you felt.”

“Can you, Percy? Does your wife nag you too?”

“Not much really, but she never stops talking. I don’t listen, of course, but there are times when I could cheerfully bash her one.”

“I could strangle mine sometimes.”

“You didn’t. Did you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What... oh, the police thing. There’s a stupid woman next door — she was on good nagging terms with Mag and just because Mag went off without telling her — and why should she, for Pete’s sake — she’s spreading a rumor that I’ve done the old girl in.”

“Ah, so that accounts for the police business.” Percy began to feel a wave of sympathy for Dick.

“I’ve been half expecting her to go to them and report a murder. Not a shred to go on, of course, but I wouldn’t put it past the silly old cow. They’d only laugh at her.”

“They’d curse her and all you’d do is tell them where your wife is and Mrs. Drew would look a right Charleen.”

“Mrs. Drew?”

“From Twenty-two.”

“Of course, old poet — sorry, I’m a bit slow on the uptake. Not quite as easy as that, though. I haven’t the foggiest where she’s gone.”

“You mean you don’t know where she is?”

“No, and I don’t care. She’s welcome back any time, but I’m not going chasing after her. She walked out, not me.”

“But if she’s been gone more than a week, shouldn’t you report her missing?”

“If I did that, old boy, they’d be sure to find her. After all, she must have gone somewhere — to some friend or cousin that I don’t know about, or to a hotel. Back to England, even.”

“Could she really walk out just like that?”

“It wasn’t quite so casual. I say, old visitor, I’m being very inhospitable burdening you with my troubles without offering you something. What’ll it be? Something alcoholic, or are you a tea and coffee man?”

“Thank you, we generally do have a cup of coffee at this time of the day, but that would be imposing.”

“Not at all. Not at all. If you hadn’t called, I’d be putting the kettle on anyway.”

He led Percy through to a pleasant room with kitchen at one end and dining table at the other and seated him on a high stool at a counter that divided the room while he busied himself with the kettle. From his seat, Percy looked through a wide picture window to an unobstructed view of lake and mountains.

“I like this room best,” said Dick.

“It’s easy to see why.” Percy was enthusiastic. “What a magnificent open view. Mine’s restricted by trees.”

“Trees are good, too, but I love my mountains and the forest.” He put two steaming mugs of coffee and slices of fruit cake on the counter, which was wide enough for him to sit opposite Percy. For a while they were quiet, savoring the view and the coffee.

“You make an excellent cup of coffee and this cake’s good. You didn’t make it, did you?”

Dick laughed. “No, Mrs. Adams or Mrs. Irvine made the cake. I’m strictly a bush cook, and that doesn’t run to fruit cake. Mag was a dab hand at cake, I’ll say that for her.”

“So you had a barney one evening, and when you woke up next morning she’d gone?” Percy was anxious not to let the subject drop.

“No, no, it wasn’t like that. I got up very early and went into the Kaimanawas. I stayed there two days.”