Moonflower Murders

by Anthony Horowitz

  ‘We heard a car, but it wasn’t her,’ Eric added.

  ‘And when was that?’

  He shrugged. ‘About six.’

  What Eric had just said corresponded with what Pünd had already heard from Simon Cox. The producer had pulled up outside the house at that time but he had stayed in his car.

  ‘Miss James arrived a few minutes later,’ Phyllis continued. ‘She went into the house and continued straight upstairs, I think. It’s hard to be sure because my hearing isn’t too good and anyway, the walls in this house are very thick. My son, Eric, can tell you about that.’

  Eric looked up briefly from the table but said nothing.

  ‘What time did you leave the house?’ Pünd asked.

  ‘It was actually later than I liked. We were visiting my sister, Betty, and we were expected at seven but we didn’t leave until twenty-five past six.’

  ‘Had you seen Mr Pendleton leave?’

  ‘No, sir. But he kept his car in the bay on the other side of the house. He would have gone out through the French windows in the living room.’

  ‘But you informed the police that somebody came to the house after he had gone.’

  ‘That’s right, sir. The doorbell didn’t ring but we heard Kimba barking, which was a sure sign that there was a stranger here. And then about a minute later the door opened and closed, which proved it.’

  ‘But you did not go out to see who it was.’

  ‘We were off duty. We weren’t properly dressed to receive visitors.’

  ‘It is quite possible, then, that when you left the house, Miss James was alone with this stranger – whoever it was – who had come to the door.’

  Mrs Chandler’s cheeks reddened. ‘I don’t know what you’re suggesting, sir. We had no reason to believe that any harm would come to her. Tawleigh is a very quiet place. We don’t even lock the house up at night. Nothing like this has ever happened before.’ She pointed at a door. ‘Eric and I went out the back way. We got into the Bentley and we drove off.’

  ‘And you heard nothing more before you left? No sound of a struggle? The breaking of a lamp?’

  ‘We didn’t hear anything, sir. The house was completely quiet.’

  The interview seemed to be over. Pünd got to his feet. ‘There is one last thing I must ask you,’ he said. ‘You were arguing with your son just before you left.’ He spoke the words as if they were an afterthought, with no great relevance.

  Phyllis Chandler was offended. ‘I don’t believe that’s the case, sir.’

  ‘You were not discussing the Moonflower Hotel? You do not believe that there is something there that might be described as crooked?’

  Eric looked puzzled, but his mother cut in quickly. ‘We may have mentioned the hotel,’ she said. ‘Everyone knows it’s been losing money, and since you ask, Miss James did have her concerns about the way it was being managed.’

  ‘You’re referring to the Gardners, I believe?’

  ‘I couldn’t say, sir. It had nothing to do with Eric or with me.’

  ‘And yet you were angry with your son.’

  ‘I’m disappointed in my son. If you’d ever known his father, you’d understand why.’

  ‘Ma! You can’t talk about me like that.’ Eric stood up for himself for the first time.

  ‘I will talk like that!’ Phyllis glared at him. ‘Every day of your life I’ve been disappointed in you. Your father was a war hero. But what have you done with yourself?’ She folded her arms. ‘I’ve nothing more to say.’

  ‘I have one last question.’ Pünd examined her closely. ‘Were you afraid of Miss James discovering a truth that you have not revealed to us? Was that what you were discussing in the kitchen that evening?’

  Pünd had not repeated the entire accusation that Cox had made. He had claimed that the Chandlers would kill Melissa James if she found out.

  Phyllis Chandler rounded on him. ‘It’s wicked how people are always spying on each other. Yes. Eric and I did have a few words, but it was nothing important. It takes it out of you running a house like this, and do you think we get any pleasure in working together? Maybe we argued. But everyone argues. And if someone was eavesdropping, they should come here and confront us themselves rather than acting like a coward and going behind our backs.’

  ‘I am sorry, Mrs Chandler. But it is my job to understand every last detail.’

  ‘Well, it’s completely irrelevant.’ She drew a breath. ‘Eric hasn’t been pulling his weight. That’s all. I felt it necessary to have a few words and so I did.’

  ‘Very well, Mrs Chandler. We will say no more.’

  Atticus Pünd smiled as if to reassure the woman that there was nothing to worry about, then he and the detective chief inspector left the kitchen and went back into the hall.

  Miss Cain was waiting for them, sitting in a chair. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Pünd,’ she exclaimed.

  ‘I hope you have recovered, Miss Cain.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I just took a turn around the garden.’ She tried to smile but it was clear she was still shaken.

  ‘Do you wish to return to the hotel?’

  ‘No, sir. I’d like to stay with you.’ There was a pinch of anger in her cheeks. ‘It was such a wicked thing to do. I want to find out who was responsible.’

  ‘I hope I will not disappoint you,’ Pünd said.

  ‘What did you make of those two?’ Hare asked, glancing in the direction of the kitchen.

  ‘They are unhappy,’ Pünd replied. ‘And they have something to hide. That much is clear. But we must remember, Detective Chief Inspector, that Melissa James telephoned Dr Collins after they had both left.’

  ‘That’s what they say.’

  ‘Perhaps Dr Collins will be able to tell us more.’

  * * *

  Phyllis Chandler watched them leave from the kitchen window. Eric got up from the kitchen table and walked over to her.

  ‘He knows,’ Phyllis said, without turning round. ‘And if he doesn’t know yet, he’ll find out.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Eric’s voice came out as a whine. He felt like a small child all over again, watching his father leave for the army, coming home from school, waiting to hear what his mother had planned for him.

  But this time she wasn’t having any part of it. ‘You mean, what are you going to do?’

  She turned and walked away, leaving Eric alone with his dark thoughts.

  Ten

  Come, Sweet Death

  ‘Good morning. Welcome to Bedside Manor.’

  Dr Collins had met them at the door of his home. He had taken off his jacket but still wore the shirt, tie and waistcoat they had seen him in earlier. There was a pipe in his hand.

  ‘It’s not actually called that,’ he went on. ‘The house has a rather dull name. Church Lodge. I wanted to change it but Samantha wouldn’t hear of it. She rather likes being lodged next to a church. But all my patients call it Bedside Manor and so do I. Come on in and have that cup of tea I promised you.’

  With Pünd leading the way, they entered the cosy family home that the doctor and his wife had made for themselves in Rectory Lane. Everything – from the carpets to the curtains to the wallpaper – was a little the worse for wear but that was part of its charm. With coats of every size and colour bundled together in the hall, wellington boots lined up in a row, a wireless playing somewhere upstairs and the smell of freshly baked bread coming from the kitchen, it immediately felt lived in, in a way that Clarence Keep had not.

  ‘That’s my surgery over there,’ Dr Collins said, pointing at a door with the stem of his pipe. ‘Come into the living room.’

  He showed them into a simple, square room with two bulging sofas, lots of shelves jammed with books, an upright piano that even before it was played managed to look completely out of tune, and some fading Victorian portraits. There was a cross, a crucifix, on top of the piano and a page of sheet music: ‘Come, Sweet Death’ by J. S. Bach.

  ‘Do you play the piano?’ P
ünd asked.

  ‘Samantha does.’ Collins noticed the music. ‘She likes Bach, but I suppose that’s not completely appropriate at the moment.’ He turned it round so that the title was hidden. ‘Please take a seat. Samantha saw you arrive and she’ll be with you in a tick.’

  ‘Is your brother-in-law here, sir?’ Hare asked.

  ‘Algernon? Yes. He’s upstairs. Don’t tell me you want to see him too.’

  ‘It might be a good idea, sir. Before we leave.’

  ‘I hope you don’t think he had anything to do with it, Detective Chief Inspector. Algie is a bit of a loose cannon, but I don’t think he’d go that far!’

  It was unclear to what extent Dr Collins was joking. A certain steel had come into his eyes as soon as Algernon’s name had been mentioned.

  A few moments later, Samantha Collins arrived with the tea. It would, Pünd thought, have been hard to imagine her without a tray in her hands – or perhaps a basket of washing or a vacuum cleaner. There was, he remembered, an English word he might use to describe her. A busybody? No – that was not quite what he meant, although she had that sort of body, an attitude that suggested she was always busy. She had brownish hair that had begun to lose much of its colour, tied back with a ribbon. She wore no make-up. It struck Pünd that she did not seem to care very much how she looked, or perhaps it was simply that with her twin roles in the church and the surgery, she never had the time to do anything about it.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Pünd,’ she said. According to the clock, it was exactly 10 a.m.

  ‘Mrs Collins.’ He began to get to his feet.

  ‘Do sit down, please! I hope you don’t mind tea bags. It was either that or Earl Grey. It’s good to see you again, Detective Chief Inspector. And you must be Miss Cain.’

  ‘How do you do.’ Madeline Cain nodded but did not get up.

  ‘My husband told me that he’d met you at Clarence Keep and that you were coming here. You chose a good time. The children are with Mrs Mitchell at the lighthouse because we’re going out this afternoon, so it’s nice and quiet in the house. Do you take milk?’

  ‘A little, please.’

  ‘I’ll have mine with a slice of lemon if that’s possible,’ Miss Cain said.

  ‘Len – I left a saucer with some lemon slices in the kitchen. Do you mind?’

  ‘Right-ho!’ The doctor got up and left the room.

  ‘This has been the most terribly upsetting business,’ Samantha continued as she poured the tea. ‘A murder is such a horrible thing, and somehow strangling someone makes it worse. The last thing Melissa saw was the person who was killing her. The last thing she felt was his hands around her throat. We prayed for her last Sunday in the church. We had a reading of Psalm 23. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures . . .”’

  ‘Pastures Green!’ Miss Cain had been making notes but now she looked up.

  ‘That’s right. That was the title of one of her films, so we thought it was an appropriate choice. The vicar delivered a wonderful homily about her.’

  ‘Were you close to her?’ Pünd asked.

  Samantha thought before answering. ‘I can’t say that I was particularly close, Mr Pünd. Of course, everyone knew who she was and maybe that was part of the trouble. It’s not very easy to become friends with someone who’s famous.’

  ‘Here you are!’ Dr Collins had come back in with the lemon.

  ‘But you were acquainted with her,’ Pünd continued his line of questioning.

  ‘Oh yes. She came to this house quite a few times.’

  ‘She was not well?’

  ‘She was a bit run-down with all the problems she’d been having,’ Dr Collins said. ‘But actually it wasn’t me she came to see.’

  ‘My brother, Algernon, worked as her financial adviser,’ Samantha explained. ‘They spent a lot of time together.’

  ‘And I understand that your brother was staying with you on the day the crime took place.’

  ‘Yes, he was. He was out all afternoon with some friends and got in about seven o’clock.’

  No alibi at time of death. Pünd noticed Miss Cain scribbling the words down on her pad.

  ‘Did you speak to him?’ Pünd asked.

  ‘No. He went straight to his room.’ Samantha looked perplexed. ‘Why are you asking all these questions about Algie? He would never hurt anyone.’

  ‘I am trying only to establish the facts,’ Pünd reassured her. He turned to Dr Collins. ‘It would help me if you could tell me exactly what occurred at the time of Miss James’s death, starting with the telephone call you received.’

  Dr Collins nodded. ‘You know, I tried to save her,’ he said. ‘If I’d got there just a few minutes earlier, I might have.’

  ‘I am sure you did everything you could.’

  ‘I thought at first that I’d arrived in time. She was lying on the bed and I could see there’d been a struggle, but she looked – well, she might have been alive. The first thing I did was to feel for a pulse and there wasn’t one.’

  ‘Please. Begin at the beginning.’

  Dr Collins drew a breath. ‘I was in the surgery with Samantha. What time was it, dear?’

  ‘Just before half past six.’

  ‘That’s right. The surgery had been fairly quiet that evening. Just Mr Highsmith with his rheumatism. And Mrs Leigh came in with the twins – both of them with whooping cough, although fortunately we caught it early. I was just packing up when the phone rang and it was Melissa.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She didn’t make a great deal of sense, Mr Pünd. She was clearly very upset. She said there was somebody in the house with her and could I come over straight away.’

  ‘She did not tell you the person’s name?’

  ‘I’m not sure she actually knew it. “He’s here!” – that was what she said. “I don’t know what he wants. I’m frightened.” She was crying. I told her to calm down and said I’d be right round.’ Once again he turned to his wife. ‘How long was I on the phone?’

  ‘Only a minute. Maybe not even as much as that.’

  ‘And did you hear any of the conversation, Mrs Collins?’

  Samantha considered. ‘I could hear her voice. It was definitely Miss James. And I could see Len was alarmed so I came over to him. I heard her calling out for help.’

  ‘I got off the phone as quickly as I could,’ Dr Collins said. ‘I knew I had to get round there straight away. I grabbed my medicine bag and I went.’

  ‘And it took you how long to reach Clarence Keep?’

  ‘Well, obviously it’s the other side of the village from here and it took me a few goes to get the car started. We’re going to have to buy a new one. The Morris is on its last legs – or wheels! Anyway, I went round as quickly as I could.’

  ‘And what happened when you arrived?’

  ‘I rang the doorbell but there was no answer. So I opened the door – it was unlocked – and went in. That little dog of hers came rushing out, barking at me, but apart from that the place was as quiet as – well, the grave. I called Melissa’s name but there was no answer. I went into the kitchen to see if I could find Eric or Phyllis but they were out. I remembered then that there had been no cars parked in the drive. I tried the living room and the dining room but they were both empty and there was no sign of any disturbance. Even so, I have to say, I was quite worried. I went upstairs, with the dog following me, and I headed straight for the main bedroom. You may be wondering how I knew my way around, but of course I’d visited the house on several occasions when Melissa was unwell.

  ‘My first thought was that she might be in bed, but as I turned the corner, I saw at once what had happened. The door was open and she was lying on her back with the telephone cord wrapped around her neck. One of the tables had been knocked over. She had kicked off one of her shoes. I rushed straight in, tried to find a sign of life and then gave her CPR. But without success.’

  ‘You were not concern
ed for your own safety, Dr Collins? Her attacker might still have been there.’

  ‘Do you know – that never really occurred to me! My only thoughts were for Melissa. When I realised there was nothing I could do, I went back downstairs as I obviously couldn’t call the police from the bedroom. The cord had been torn out of the wall. I went into the living room and made the call there.’

  ‘And what of the dog?’

  ‘What a very strange question, Mr Pünd. What do you mean?’

  ‘Did it follow you?’

  ‘Yes, it did. The poor chap seemed quite distressed. Not that I had any time for him. I went back outside and sat in my car and waited for the police to arrive.’

  There was a brief pause while Pünd took all this in. Miss Cain had been writing rapidly but she finally caught up with what had been said and stopped.

  ‘Can you describe your relationship with Miss James?’ Pünd asked. ‘I notice that you refer to her as Melissa and, as you say, you were intimate with the layout of her house. I ask only because it puzzles me why she should have called you first.’

  ‘As opposed to . . . ?’

  ‘Well, the police.’

  Dr Collins nodded. ‘There’s a simple answer to that. I was much nearer. The police would have had to come all the way from Bideford. As to our relationship, Melissa was something of a hypochondriac so we saw quite a lot of each other. To be honest, there wasn’t very much I could do for her medically speaking, but she liked having someone to talk to and I would say we ended up as good friends. I think she found me reassuring.’

  ‘You became her confidant.’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Did she speak to you of her relationship with her husband? The possibility that she was perhaps seeing somebody else?’

  ‘I’m not sure I should answer that.’ Dr Collins frowned. ‘I have to think of doctor–patient confidentiality. But actually, she didn’t say anything about Francis. She was an actress. She liked to talk about herself, particularly her work. She was going to do a film with Alfred Hitchcock. She was excited about that.’