The Affair of the Bloodstained Egg Cosy

by James Anderson

  'Holy cow!' Peabody reached for the gun.

  'Don't touch it. Can you tell just by looking?'

  Peabody put on his spectacles and peered at the pistol while Deveraux twisted it about in accordance with his instructions. Then: 'Yes, it's mine,' Peabody said. His face lit up. 'Gee, that's swell. What a relief! Can I have it now?'

  'Not just yet, sir, if you don't mind. Thanks for your help.' Deveraux turned and walked rapidly off.

  'Say, where did you find it?' Peabody called. But Deveraux had already disappeared through the french windows. Wilkins was not going to like having his interview with Richard Saunders interrupted, but it couldn't be helped.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Lady Geraldine's Confession

  Like a ghastly re-enactment of the previous night, the fingerprint specialists and photographers, the doctor and the ambulance men came and went. Finally Wilkins went too. Only two constables were left on guard duty, Wilkins having arranged for a continuous patrol of the grounds until the alarm system was operative again.

  The house party passed an uneasy evening, and with all of them by now pretty well exhausted, physically and mentally, everyone retired early.

  The only significant incident took place quite late, when Deveraux was writing up a few notes in the music room before going to bed. A knock came at the door and Gerry entered.

  'Can you spare a few minutes?' she asked. 'I've got something to tell you.'

  She crossed the room and sat down. She looked pale, all her gaiety and sparkle seeming to have gone. 'I want to make a confession,' she said.

  'Splendid. To the murders, the robbery, or all three?'

  'Just to withholding information.'

  'I see. Will it clarify the problems or cloud them still further? Because if the latter, I'm not at all sure I'm strong enough to take it.'

  'Look,' she said, 'I know you mean well and you're being flippant to try to make me feel better. Normally I'd play along. I'm a pretty flippant sort of person myself. But I don't really want to be here. I'm not very happy. So could you take me seriously, do you think?'

  'Of course. Sorry. What is this information?'

  'One thing first.' She lit a cigarette. 'I haven't told anybody else except Jane any of this, and I don't want to, if I can avoid it. I realise you may have to make it public. If so, I'll be sorry, but I won't object.'

  'Good enough.'

  'Well, as you probably know I was very suspicious of the Baroness from the start. I feel a bit rotten about it now she's dead, but I was sure she'd gatecrashed the party for a definite reason, and I didn't believe for a moment she didn't know Richard was here. I decided to keep an eye on her. Saturday afternoon I heard part of a 'phone call she was making.'

  Gerry wriggled awkwardly. 'I know it's not quite - quite to eavesdrop on one's guests. But the door of the telephone room had swung open - it tends to do that. I didn't hide or walk on tiptoe or anything. I just stood still as soon as I heard her voice. As it turned out, I didn't hear very much and certainly nothing incriminating. But it was interesting. The first thing I heard was, "I just thought I ought to warn you". Then "No, not yet: I don't want a certain party to see us together again now. I'm going to ask him to come to my room late tonight -about two-fifteen or two-thirty." Finally she said, "You cannot make me change my mind, so don't try - just send it." Then she rang off and I did a bunk before she came out.'

  Gerry drew deeply on her cigarette. 'Of course, I couldn't let things end there. That night I sat up reading until two. Then this is what I did.'

  Deveraux listened closely to her story without interrupting. When she finished, he said: 'Let me get all these comings and goings straight.' He picked up a notebook and pencil. 'You left your room exactly at two?'

  'Yes. The stable clock was striking.'

  'So you were in position not later than one minute past. The Baroness left her room - two - three minutes after that?'

  'Not more than three.'

  'We'll say at four minutes past. You followed her, lost her, and returned to the recess. You were away until about six minutes past. Then half a minute after that, the man arrived. You definitely couldn't identify him?'

  'No: black trousers and black leather shoes was all I could see.'

  'The Baroness arrived back about one minute later, having been gone three or four minutes?'

  Gerry nodded. 'Just long enough to have pinched the necklace.'

  'Oh, that's your theory, is it? Well, the more the merrier. But what about the Wraith?'

  'Has it occurred to you he might have a woman accomplice?'

  'It has. But he's never been known to have an accomplice in the past: and if he did, I can't somehow imagine him letting her do the actual stealing.'

  'Then suppose the Wraith actually was a woman?'

  'My, my, that's an interesting thought. If it's a possibility, I don't know. Everybody's always assumed the Wraith is a man. ; Whether the police - er, whether we know that for a fact, is another matter. However, to revert: at about twelve or thirteen minutes past the man left again?'

  'That's right.'

  'He held the torch low and just flicked it on and off quickly once or twice; finally, there was another arrival, just a few moments after two-thirty. This might have been the same man, or another. He knocked on the door and went in. Then you heard the rumpus in the distance, hurried along to investigate, and the rest is history.'

  'That's about it.'

  Deveraux was thoughtful for a few moments. Then he said: 'Can we just go through what happened after we released you? I'd like to see if we agree on sequence and times.'

  They spent some minutes on this, finding that their recollection was virtually the same. 'I want to do this with Jane in the morning,' Deveraux said.

  He studied what he had written for a few moments, tapping his pencil on the arm of his chair. 'You'd be ready to swear to what happened while you were in the recess, would you?' he asked.

  Gerry looked startled. 'Yes - if I had to.'

  'You may very well have to,' Deveraux said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  'There's a Killer in the House'

  The following morning Jane spent some considerable time battling with her pride. Eventually she won, and went along to the music room. She found Deveraux there alone.

  He looked up. 'Ah, just the person I wanted to see.'

  'Oh?' She raised her eyebrows.

  'Can we go over just what took place the night before last? I'm trying to get the order things happened, and the times, clear in my mind. I should have done this yesterday really, but finding the Baroness's body indoors makes it very important.'

  'Well, I didn't have a watch, so I'll probably be a bit hazy about times.'

  However, they managed eventually to get everything worked out, and in accordance with Gerry's account.

  Then Deveraux said: 'Did you want to see me especially?'

  Jane didn't speak for a moment. Then, with quite an effort, she said: 'I - I want to apologise.'

  'What on earth for?'

  'Oh, everything. I've been feeling very guilty about you. First of all, after finding you half-stunned, instead of calling the Earl and insisting on your lying down, I let you go haring round the house, chasing criminals. Then, when we heard the man in the breakfast room, I messed everything up - rushing forward like that, making a noise, fumbling with the knob, hesitating with the door part open. If I'd let you go first, you'd have probably caught him.'

  'I doubt it.'

  'There'd have been a good chance. But you never said a word of blame afterwards. Then again yesterday, I was an; utter ass when we found Anilese - insisting on going first, then making a fool of myself, screaming and nearly fainting, like a silly little flapper. You should have told me it was my own stupid fault. But you didn't. So I'd just like to say sorry - and thank you.'

  He smiled. 'Well, I won't say it was a pleasure.'

  Jane said: 'Phew. I'm glad to have got that off my chest.' She grinne
d suddenly. 'Mind you, I still haven't forgiven you for nearly drowning me on Thursday afternoon.'

  Just then Merryweather entered to tell Deveraux he was wanted on the telephone.

  * * *

  A few minutes after Deveraux came off the 'phone, Wilkins arrived. He was clearly bursting with news, so Deveraux decided to get his in first.

  'Just had a call,' he said. 'Felman's story confirmed: his sister has been kidnapped. Now, what have you got for me?'

  'Hold on to your hat: the bullet that killed the Baroness did not come from the gun you found by the body - that was the gun used to shoot Batchev.'

  'It was what?'

  'Used to shoot Batchev.'

  'But - that's crazy! It just doesn't make sense.'

  'I know. But there's no doubt about it.'

  'Heaven help us. No prints, of course?'

  'Yes, but they were badly smudged; quite unidentifiable.'

  'Well, at least it takes us one step further,' Deveraux said. 'It cans Batchev's killer came back indoors afterwards. So we can stop deluding ourselves with comforting theories about the Wraith or another outsider shooting him and getting away. We know beyond doubt that there's a killer in the house now.'

  Wilkins sighed. 'I know.'

  'At least it narrows the field. Anyone we can eliminate?'

  'Not from the second murder. Virtually anybody could have killed the Baroness. We just can't pin the time of death down accurately enough to say who's in the clear. The doc says twelve to eighteen hours before he examined the body - or between ten p.m. and four a.m. the previous night.'

  'We can narrow it a bit more than that, I think. Geraldine claims to have seen her just before ten past two, and I believe her. However, that can keep. Obviously, what we've got to do is concentrate on Batchev's death. We know he was killed between two-forty-nine and three a.m. It ought to be possible to work out who couldn't have done that.'

  'Let's try. How long do you reckon it would take?'

  Deveraux considered. 'Well, it wouldn't just be a question of sprinting out, shooting Batchev, and dashing back in again. You'd get very wet. Even if the rain had stopped, your feet and legs would be sodden. So you'd either have to put a macintosh, and wellingtons on beforehand (and you couldn't know in advance that the rain was going to stop), or take time after the shooting to clean and dry yourself. Suppose we try a reconstruction ?'

  The next hour was spent in repeated re-enactments, by Deveraux, Leather, and one of the constables, of every possible permutation of the actions the murderer would have had to perform. Starting and finishing at various points, they went by every conceivable route, including the secret passage, to each possible exit, down to the lake, and back again; they either donned waterproof clothing and rubber boots first and removed them after, or went through the motions of drying and tidying themselves instead. Wilkins timed everything carefully. Afterwards, he dismissed Leather and the constable, and he and Deveraux returned to the music room.

  Deveraux said: 'How long?'

  'Ten minutes absolute minimum.'

  'And that's assuming you were quite reckless about the chance of meeting somebody - at just about the time people were starting to move about the corridors.'

  Wilkins nodded. 'Then assuming Batchev was killed exactly at three, anyone who has a minimum period of ten minutes between two-forty-nine and, say, three-five for which they can't account must at this moment be considered suspect. OK?'

  'Agreed.'

  'And you've got the times everything happened fixed pretty accurately?'

  'I believe so. I've been over the order in which things occurred with both the girls; at the time I looked at my watch frequently, and the stable clock was chiming regularly - I remember, for instance that it struck three just as Merryweather was reporting the result of his enquiries among the servants.'

  'Good. So - who can we eliminate?'

  'Well, both girls, of course. Neither of them was out of my sight for more than eight or nine minutes - and even that time is fully accounted for: Geraldine went to her parents' room, then to her uncle's, then to the Baroness's before coming clown; Jane woke Thornton and Evans, spoke to them both, then found Fotheringay on the floor.'

  'Right. Anyone else?'

  'The sleeping beauty himself.'

  'Is he still asleep?'

  'Yes. The doctor had another look at him last night. He says the sedative doesn't seem to have done him any permanent harm, that he'll wake in his own good time, and we've just got to let him sleep it off.'

  'Remarkable,' said Wilkins. 'Now, let's go through the rest.' He got out his notebook. 'First, Lord Burford.'

  'He's in the clear. I was with him from two-fifty-seven until three-ten when we split up to search.'

  'Lady Burford.'

  'Oh, Wilkins, really—'

  'We can't leave anybody out. Lady Burford strikes me as being a particularly ruthless type.'

  'She's in the clear, anyway: came down with the Earl, stayed till well past three.'

  'Peabody.'

  'Not cleared. Evans is supposed to have woken him at about six or seven minutes past three - but he might have been outside and just that moment got back to bed.'

  'And as Evans works for him and could be lying, we don't really know what Peabody was doing at any time before he and his wife entered the drawing room later. Which means she's not cleared either. What about Evans himself?'

  'I'm not sure. He entered the library not later than four minutes past three. Jane roused him as near as she and I can calculate at two-fifty-five. But it might have been a minute or so earlier - so theoretically he could just have had time. But in practical terms - well, I think I'd put down cleared - query.'

  'Felman.'

  'Not cleared. He was apparently asleep in bed at about two-thirty-five and again fifty minutes later when I went to wake him. Between, he could have been anywhere.'

  'Thornton.'

  'Cleared. Jane went to his room last of the three - after waking Evans and finding Fotheringay and trying to wake him. It must have been two-fifty-eight or fifty-nine by the time she got to Thornton's room. He was in bed. He couldn't possibly have shot Batchev by the lake before three.'

  'Saunders.'

  Deveraux didn't answer immediately: 'Cleared - I think.'

  Wilkins looked dubious. 'Do you?'

  'Well, Geraldine called him at roughly two-fifty-five. He arrived in the library at about seven minutes past three.'

  'Twelve minutes. Longer than Evans.'

  'All right. Put down cleared - query again.'

  'I'd sooner put not cleared - query. That extra two minutes is important. On top of that, remember, he knows the house and grounds like the back of his hand, which windows open easily and quietly, and so on. He could get down to the lake and back much more quickly and safely than any of the others.'

  'Yes, I can see that. But if he did, it means he knew exactly where to find Batchev - which implies a rendezvous.'

  'That could be said of some of the others, too.'

  'Only of Evans. Not Peabody or Felman. If one of them had been up to something, he could have been ready to take advantage of the first break-out to leave by another window immediately when the alarm went off. He would have had to know Batchev was out there somewhere, but given that, he would have had up to eleven minutes just to locate him.'

  'Same applies to Mrs. Peabody.'

  'I'm sorry, Wilkins, but I'm not for one moment prepared to regard Mrs. Peabody as a serious suspect. Peabody is a possibility - but only just. To my mind it's got to be between Felman, Saunders, and Evans.'

  'And who's your favourite?'

  'It ought to be Felman. Batchev was a man who'd killed Felman's pal, kidnapped his sister - and was in the act of selling out his country. It would almost count as justifiable homicide.'

  'The drawback being the very fact that Batchev's men are holding his sister hostage.'

  'Precisely. Would he risk harming Batchev, knowing what might happen to her?
'

  'He might. If he was a particularly fanatical patriot. Or if his sister means very much less to him than he makes out. Perhaps he hates her.'

  Deveraux chuckled. 'You are the most dyed-in-the-wool cynic I've ever met. Here am I, a member of what's supposed to be a hard, tough, sophisticated service, and that possibility had never crossed my mind.'

  'Got to think of everything,' Wilkins said. 'I don't think he did it, mind you.'

  'Who do you fancy, then?'

  'Oh, I'm baffled. I've had a good long talk with everyone here and I still can't see any way out.'

  They were silent for a few seconds. Then Deveraux said: 'Anything on the Baroness yet?'

  'Very little. She had no criminal record either in this country or France. After the Baron died she travelled a lot, all over Europe and America. Her home address was officially Geneva, but she'd only got a tiny flat there and she didn't spend much time in it. She arrived in this country ten days ago, and she's been staying at the Ritz.'

  'What did she live on?'

  'Her wits, I imagine. The late Baron didn't die a poor man; but nor did he leave her enough to pay for the amount of travelling she's been doing.'

  'Did you get anything out of Saunders yesterday?'

  'Not much. He knew her in France during the war, but he hadn't seen her since 1917. He thought she was dead. Apparently a house where she was staying was destroyed by a bomb when he believed she was in it. He says it was a tremendous shock when she turned up here. He had no reason to think her story wasn't genuine. She told him very little about her recent life. They spent most of their time together after she arrived reminiscing.'

  'What did you think of his reaction when he heard of her body being found?'

  'Natural enough. Perhaps a little too natural.'

  'Rehearsed, you mean?'

  'I don't know. Politicians do learn to react in proper, set ways; perhaps it would be wrong to read anything into it.'

  'Do you think he was hiding something?'

  'Of course. Everybody hides something.'