Mrs Kipper pushed a button at the end of a long extension cord. We waited in silence for a moment before the obese butler came stepping quietly into the room.
'Mom?' he asked.
'Drinks, Chester,' she said. 'The usual for the Reverend and me. Mr Bigg isn't indulging.'
'Yes, mom,' he said gravely and moved out silently. For his size, he was remarkably light on his feet. His movements were almost delicate.
While he was gone, Mrs Kipper began talking about the preview of an art exhibit at a Madison Avenue gallery she had attended the previous evening. Although she looked at me occasionally, ostensibly including me in the conversation, most of her remarks were directed to Knurr. In other words, she did not ignore me, but made little effort to treat me as other than a paid employee to whom one could be polite without being cordial. That was all right; it gave me a chance to observe the lady.
She was silver blonde, pretty in a flashy way, with her hair up and meticulously coiffed. Not a loose end or straggle. She had a really excellent, youthful figure: slender arms and smashing legs, artfully displayed by her short, sleeveless shift of buttery brown velvet. She had a small, perfect nose, and cat's eyes with a greenish tinge.
Her thin lips had been cleverly made up with two shades of rouge to appear fuller.
It was a crisp face, unlined, with tight skin over prominent cheekbones. I wondered if that seamless face and perfect nose owed anything to a plastic surgeon's skill.
She kept her sharp chin slightly elevated, and even when laughing she seemed to take care lest something shatter.
I thought she would make a brutal and vindictive enemy.
Chester came in with the drinks. They appeared to be a Scotch and soda for Knurr and a dry martini straight up for Mrs Kipper. She spoke before the butler left the room.
'Chester,' she said, 'Mr Bigg wishes to inspect the house, top to bottom. Will you escort him about, please? Show him anything he wishes to see?'
'Yes, mom,' the butler said.
I rose hastily to my feet, gripping my briefcase.
'Mrs Kipper,' I said, 'thank you for your kindness and hospitality. I appreciate your co-operation. Mr Knurr, it's been a pleasure meeting you.'
He stood up to shake my hand.
'Hope to see you again, Mr Bigg,' he said, 'Good luck on your inventory.'
'Thank you, sir.'
I followed the mountainous bulk of Chester out of the room. He closed the doors behind us, but not before I heard the laughter, quickly hushed, of Mrs Tippi Kipper
and the Reverend Godfrey Knurr.
The butler paused in the entrance hall and turned to face me.
'You wish to see all the rooms, sah?'
'Please. I'm going to be taking an inventory of the furnishings. Not today, but during several visits. So you'll be seeing a lot of me. I'll try not to be too much of a nuisance.'
He looked at me puzzled.
'To figure the value of the estate,' I explained. 'For taxes.'
'Ah, yes,' the big man said, nodding. 'Many beautiful, expensive things. You shall see. This way, sah.'
He led the way along the corridor at the rear of the hall.
He stopped before a conventional door and swung it open.
Within was a sliding steel gate, and beyond that a small elevator. Chester opened the gate, allowed me to enter, then followed me in. He slid the gate closed; the outer door closed automatically, and I immediately became conscious of his sweet cologne. The butler pressed a button, a light came on in the elevator, and we began to ascend, slowly.
'How long have you been with the Kippers?' I asked curiously.
'Seventeen years, sah.'
'Then you knew the first Mrs Kipper?'
'I did indeed, sah. A lovely lady. Things have — '
But then he stopped and said nothing more, staring straight ahead at the steel gate.
The elevator halted abruptly. Chester pushed the gate aside and opened the outer door. He stepped out and held the door open for me.
'The sixth floor, sah.'
I looked around.
'The main staircase doesn't come up this high?'
'It does not, sah. The main staircase stops on the fifth floor. But there is a back staircase, smaller, that comes all the way up. Also the elevator, of course.'
I opened my briefcase, took out my notebook, and prepared to make what I hoped would appear to be official jottings.
This was the party room Detective Stilton had described to me, a single chamber that occupied the front half of the building. I noted bistro tables and chairs, a giant TV set, hi-fi equipment, a clear central area obviously used for dancing, a movie projector, etc.
'This room is used for entertaining?' I asked.
'Quite so, sah.'
'And those two doors?'
'That one to the rear staircase, and that one to a lavatory,' he said, pronouncing it la vor atree.
'Mrs Kipper does a lot of entertaining?'
'Not since Mr Kipper's passing, sah. But she has said she will now begin again. A buffet dinner is planned for next week.'
I wondered if I detected a note of disapproval in his voice, but when I glanced at him, he was staring into space with those opaque eyes, expressionless as a blind man's.
I walked towards the rear of the room. Two sets of French doors opened on to the terrace. I could see the potted plants, trees, and outdoor furniture Stilton had mentioned. I tried the knob of one of the doors. It was locked.
'Mrs Kipper has ordered these doors to be kept locked, sah,' Chester said in sepulchral tones. 'Since the accident.'
'Could I take a quick look outside, please? Just for a moment?'
He hesitated, then said, 'As you wish, sah.'
He had a heavy ring of keys attached to a thin chain fastened to his belt. He selected a brass key with no fumbling about and unlocked the door. He followed me out on to the terrace. I wandered around, making quick notes: 4 otdr tbls, 8 mtl chrs, cktl tbl, 2 chse lngs, 2 endtbls, plnts, trees, etc.
I walked to the rear of the terrace. The cement wall had recently been repainted.
'This is where the accident happened?' I asked.
He nodded dumbly. I thought he had paled, but it may have been the hard outdoor sunlight on his face.
I leaned over cautiously and looked down. I didn't care what Perce had said, it seemed to me I was a long way up, and no one could survive a fall from that height.
Directly below was the ground floor patio, with more outdoor furniture, and in the rear a small garden now browned and desolate. The patio was paved with tiles, as described. I could see where Sol Kipper had landed, because bright new tiles had replaced those broken when he hit.
I think that was the first time I really comprehended what I was doing. I was not merely trying to solve an abstract puzzle; I was trying to determine how a human being had met his death. That withered garden, those smashed tiles, the drop through empty space — now it all seemed real to me: the dark figure pinwheeling down, arms and legs outspread, wind whipping his clothing, ground rushing up, sickening i m p a c t. .
'Did he cry out?' I asked in a low voice.
'No, sah,' Chester said in a voice as quiet as mine. 'We heard nothing until the poor man hit.'
I shivered.
'Cold out here,' I said. 'Let's go in.'
