The Affair of the Bloodstained Egg Cosy

by James Anderson

  'You can imagine my state of mind: not only had I helped an enemy agent to escape - and it was purely chance that he hadn't got away - but I had been responsible for Anilese's death as well - for had I not agreed to help, she would not have been in that house when the bomb fell. For a time I was absolutely consumed by grief and guilt. However, my part in the escape was never discovered, and I ended the war with an unblemished reputation.

  'A year after the armistice I went back to France, to the town where Anilese told me she had been born and brought up. But nobody there remembered anything of her family. There were no records in the town hall, the church, or the school, of her ever having been there. I told myself that I had misunderstood her, and got the name of the town wrong. I went home, resolving, when I had a chance, to make enquiries about any other places with similar-sounding names. But somehow I never did and, for me, until last Friday, Anilese was dead.'

  Richard looked from one girl to the other. 'Well, that's my story. Not very edifying, is it?'

  'Oh, I think it is,' Gerry said with a sigh. 'I think it's a terrific story. Frightfully exciting and mysterious and sad.'

  'Did she tell you over the weekend what had actually happened to her?' Jane asked.

  'She said she'd left the house about four minutes after me to fetch the car while Pierre was changing. The bomb fell when she was about twenty metres away. She was knocked unconscious by the blast. When she came to, she was in a complete daze. All she remembered was that she had to get to Dijon. She started off on foot, then got a lift. She was put down at a crossroads about half way there, started walking again, then collapsed. She woke up in hospital - and found she'd lost her memory. That's as far as she got. How she lived for the rest of the war, when it was she recovered her memory, why she never got in touch with me - all this she had been going to tell me later.'

  Rather tentatively, Jane said: 'Do you believe her story?'

  'I don't know, Jane. Quite possibly some of it's true.'

  Gerry said: 'Perhaps I shouldn't ask, but can we know what happened after she arrived here - when you learnt she was intending to blackmail you, and so on?'

  'Yes, you can know. There's not much point in my trying to hide anything any more. I first learnt what she was really after on Saturday morning. We adjourned the talks and I took Anilese for a walk round the lake. Then she sprang it on me. She'd known I was here: she'd known about the talks. Her so called accident had been faked. And I had to make certain important concessions in the talks - or else. Obviously Batchev was behind it - though at first, of course, that didn't occur to me, because I believed him to be the real Martin Adler. I imagined some outside agency was trying to influence the negotiations. But even before I learnt his real identity I came to the conclusion, incredible as it seemed, that "Adler" was behind it. How he found out about Anilese and me in the first place, whether he contacted her, or she him, I'll never know. Anyway, he must have previously arranged with her to hold herself ready to fake the accident if he gave the word. I think he'd anticipated after our very first session that his initial plan of bluffing and browbeating us into giving way was not going to work, and he 'phoned her on Friday afternoon. It must have been Saturday morning on the terrace, just after we broke off the talks, that he gave her the signal to start applying pressure.'

  Gerry was looking puzzled. 'How did Anilese intend to prove you helped Pierre to escape? Wouldn't it have been just her word against yours?'

  'Unfortunately, no. She had a letter.'

  'What sort of letter?'

  'A short note I'd written to her at the time, making the final arrangements for the escape - telling her to be at the pension with the fresh clothes for Pierre at a certain hour. It was something I'd naturally assumed she'd burnt within seconds of reading it. But no. Perhaps even then she saw its potential.'

  Gerry gave an exclamation. 'While you were actually planning to save her cousin's life!'

  'He wasn't her cousin.'

  They stared. Gerry said: 'But—'

  'I know. But that was one of the other things she casually revealed on Saturday. She'd never even seen the chap; she'd been paid by his associates to feed me the whole story. And there'd be only my word that Anilese ever told me he was her cousin at all. If the affair came to light, it could be argued that I was paid to do it - or was a German sympathiser myself.'

  'But that could never be proved,' Gerry said.

  'It wouldn't need to be, would it, Richard?' said Jane.

  He shook his head. 'There'd be no danger of my being charged. Not now. But simply a public accusation of that sort would be enough to finish my career, if I wasn't able to clear myself absolutely.'

  'Where's the letter now?' Gerry asked.

  'I've got it.'

  'You?' They spoke together.

  'Yes. Anilese relented, you see. She told me on Saturday evening after dinner that she wasn't going through with the blackmail. She'd been going to leave here first thing yesterday morning.'

  'And she gave you the letter back?' Gerry said.

  'No, she told me it was in London. But she promised I'd get it back today. Sure enough, it came by first delivery this morning. It's postmarked 9 p.m. Saturday.'

  Gerry looked blank. 'I don't understand.'

  'Anilese's driver, this man Roberts, was obviously a close associate of hers. What their precise relationship, was I don't know. But it seems that Saturday afternoon she made a telephone call. It must have been to Roberts at the Rose &C Crown. I think she told him that the scheme was off, she was backing out, and she advised him to get away. Wilkins tells me that he took the five-forty-two to town. She must have given him instructions to get the letter and send it to me.'

  'And you haven't destroyed it?' Jane said.

  'No, and I don't intend to yet.'

  'But it's the only proof you helped Pierre to escape,' Gerry said incredulously.

  'It's also the only proof that I had no motive for killing Anilese. You see, I had to tell Wilkins of her blackmail threat - and that I went to her room in the early hours of Sunday.'

  'So that was you—' Gerry stopped.

  'What was me?'

  She reddened. 'You - you that Mr. Deveraux heard going along the corridor.'

  'Yes, it was. She told me to come along when everyone else was in bed, and she would explain everything. Only when I arrived, she wasn't there. The police could argue that I had opportunity and motive for her murder. However, if I can prove that Anilese didn't have the letter at the time she was killed, and that by then it had actually been posted to me -well then, it would be much harder for them to maintain I had reason to kill her.'

  Jane was looking puzzled. 'But can you prove you received the letter this morning?'

  'Yes. I was waiting for it and I made sure I had a witness. Peabody was with me when Merryweather brought it. He saw me open it. And I got him to initial and date the letter and the envelope there and then. So he can identify it and testify as to when I received it.'

  'Would showing the police the letter clear you?' Gerry asked.

  'I'm afraid not. It would weaken the case against me. But they might still suspect Anilese was holding other material damaging to me and that killing her was my only means of keeping it dark. So I'm not out of the wood by any means.'

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Concealed Weapons

  'You want me to do what?' Deveraux said.

  Take Mr. Peabody for a walk, and when he's at least fifteen minutes away from the house, ask him if he has any objection to our searching his suite and luggage.'

  'But how do I get him to come for a walk?'

  'I'm sure you'll think of something,' Wilkins said.

  'And what reason do I give for wanting to search their things?'

  'I would have thought that fabricating unlikely but convincing lies was much more your line than mine.'

  'I hope that's a compliment. Very well: mine not to reason why. When?'

  'Now, if possible. If he says yes to the se
arch, bring him straight back and, unless I tip you the wink to the contrary, try to get him to take you straight up to their rooms without speaking to his wife and start right away.'

  'What'll I be looking for?'

  'You'll know when you find it.'

  'And suppose he says no?'

  'Don't push it.'

  'All right, old man, I'll play along. But I'm not promising success. Why can't you ask him, by the way?'

  'Because at the same time I shall be asking Mrs. Peabody precisely the same question. You only search if she says no to me.'

  * * *

  Deveraux achieved his end by the simple process of approaching Peabody when the latter was sitting on the terrace reading a copy of The Wall Street Journal which had arrived for him that morning, and saying ingenuously: 'Mr. Peabody, would you care to give me your views on this whole affair?'

  Peabody was nothing loath. 'Sit down, son,' he said and waved to a chair.

  'Well, sir, I've been sitting down most of the day. What do you say to a stroll round the lake while we talk?'

  'Suits me.' Peabody got to his feet and they set off across the lawn.

  The millionaire seemed positively eager to discuss the case, and was in no doubt that the murders and the theft of necklace and guns were connected. 'It's simply too much of a coincidence for all those things to have happened just about the same time, purely by chance,' he said.

  'I tend to agree with you,' Deveraux said.

  'Would I be breaching professional etiquette if I asked whether you're satisfied that one of the people presently at Alderley is implicated?'

  'It's an inevitable conclusion.'

  'And you've no doubt got your own ideas as to who it is?'

  'Ideas, yes. Certainty, no.'

  'But you won't want to be cluttered up with other guys' theories?'

  'If you've got any theories I'd be glad to hear them.'

  'Off the record?'

  'Certainly.'

  'Then if you ask me, Felman's your man.'

  'Why do you say so?'

  'He's not behaving naturally. He hasn't from the start. He's jumpy - on his guard all the time.'

  'He's worried about his sister, of course.'

  'Granted. But he's also worded about himself. I can feel it. Then again, what do you really know about him? It seems to me everyone else here has got a well-authenticated background. But nobody here knew a thing about him before last Thursday. He arrived here with Batchev. It seems to me he's the only one likely to have a motive.'

  'Our problem is getting evidence. If we could only search his room, now . . .'

  'Why don't you?'

  'We don't know how he'd take the suggestion. He might try to claim diplomatic immunity; and the government wouldn't want us to press too hard. I'll tell what, sir: you might be able to help us in this.'

  'How?'

  'You're in more or less the same position as Felman. You're not a diplomat, but you are a distinguished foreign visitor. If we were to ask you for permission to search your rooms, and you agreed, then it would make it that much more difficult for Felman to refuse. How about it?'

  'Say, look at that squirrel,' Peabody exclaimed.

  'Deveraux glanced in the direction he was pointing. 'Oh yes.'

  'Interesting creatures. You interested in wild life, Deveraux?'

  'Not particularly. About this search . . . ?'

  'Oh, the search. Er, when would you want to do it?'

  'As soon as possible.'

  'I see. Well, it's like this. I'd rather you didn't. Not today, anyway. It's Mrs. Peabody - she wouldn't be at all keen to have strangers poking through her things. Of course, if it were really necessary, I could probably talk her into it, but I'd need time. Do you understand?'

  'Of course.'

  'That's mighty accommodating of you. Shall we start back now? My doctor doesn't like me to walk too far.'

  Deveraux glanced at his watch. 'By all means,' he said.

  * * *

  'Why, yes, of course, Mr. Wilkins, you go right ahead and search to your heart's content.'

  'Thank you, Mrs. Peabody. That's very obliging of you. I should really obtain your husband's permission, too, but he doesn't seem to be around, and it is rather urgent.'

  'That's quite all right. Hiram would say the same as me. I'm sure we've nothing to hide. And you're welcome to do anything which might help get my necklace back.'

  'Then shall we go up?'

  'Oh, you want me with you?'

  'If you please, madam.'

  They went upstairs and while Mrs. Peabody stood placidly by, Wilkins and Leather began a search of the suite.

  It was in Peabody's dressing room that they found it.

  Wilkins was standing on tiptoe, trying to feel it there was anything on top of the wardrobe. His groping fingers touched something that moved, but he just wasn't tall enough to get hold of it.

  He called: 'Jack.'

  Leather came across and easily lifted down a small suitcase.

  Carrie Peabody said: 'Those are just souvenirs of our trip -curios we've bought all over Europe. Do open it.'

  Leather did so. He lifted out a number of ornaments, and then came to a folded Spanish shawl. Wrapped in it he could feel something hard and bulky. He unfolded it. Resting inside was an engraved Bergman Bayard pistol.

  Wilkins gave a sigh of satisfaction, at the same moment casting a sharp glance at Mrs. Peabody. On her face was an expression of blank astonishment.

  'Well, madam?' Wilkins said.

  She spoke in a whisper. That's - that's Lord Burford's gun?'

  Wilkins nodded. 'Can you explain how it happens to be here?'

  'No.' Her face was white. 'I don't - I can't understand it. I - he must have brought it ba - brought it here.'

  'Lord Burford?'

  'Yes.'

  'You say he planted his own gun in your suitcase?'

  She gulped. 'I don't want to say anything else until I've spoken to my husband.'

  'I think perhaps you're wise, Mrs. Peabody. I'll want a few words with him myself when he turns up. But now I must go and show this to his lordship.'

  * * *

  'In Peabody's room!' Lord Burford's eyes bulged.

  'Yes, my lord.'

  'But what the blue blazes was it doing there?'

  'I don't know. It is definitely your genuine Bergman, my lord? Not a replica?'

  'No doubt about it. But what does Peabody say?'

  'I haven't seen him since, my lord. Mrs. Peabody — '

  'What about her?'

  'She claims you must have put it there yourself, my lord.'

  'What?'

  'Of course, the idea of your lordship hiding one of your guns in the luggage of one of your guests is quite absurd, but I had to put it to you as a matter of form. So if your lordship will kindly give me a formal denial, we can get on.' Wilkins stopped and waited expectantly. Seconds passed. 'Er - my lord?' Still Lord Burford didn't speak. 'Are you all right, my lord?'

  'I've got nothing to say.'

  'Nothing at all, my lord?'

  'Not until I've seen my solicitor.'

  'As you wish, my lord. Then I wonder if I could trouble you once more for the key of the collection room. I want to have another look round in there after I've seen Mr. Peabody.'

  * * *

  Peabody stared. He opened his mouth. Then he closed it again. He gulped. 'I'm not saying anything,' he said.

  'Nothing at all, sir?'

  'No. I want to see an attorney first.'

  'I see, sir. That's your privilege.' Peabody walked off.

  'Well, well, well, well, well,' said Wilkins. Then he trotted off to the collection room.

  * * *

  'Did you expect to find the gun there?' Deveraux asked, after Wilkins had told him everything that had happened.

  'I'm always ready for anything, Mr. Deveraux. Now you can do me another favour, if you'll be so kind.'

  Deveraux eyed him suspiciously. 'What's that?'
/>
  'Search Lord Burford's study.'

  'You - you mean without his knowledge?'

  'That's right.'

  'You're joking.'

  'No.'

  'I can't do that! Suppose he caught me?'

  'Leather will be placed in a strategic position where he can see if his lordship approaches. He will then rush excitedly up and say that I want to see him on a matter of the utmost urgency.'

  'What'll you tell him then?'

  'Let me worry about that.'

  'Why can't I worry about it and you search?'

  'Because I can't search without either his permission or a warrant. I can't see him giving me permission at present, and a warrant to search an Earl's premises wouldn't be got quickly. But you're not bound by the same regulations as me. And you're a guest here.'

  'That makes it worse!'

  'Look, Mr. Deveraux, we're trying to solve two murders. We can't afford to be squeamish.'

  'You really think there's something in the Earl's study that'll help solve the murders?'

  'Not exactly.' Wilkins tugged at his ear. 'Just something that's going to help complete the overall picture.'

  'You talk as though the case were nearly over, and that you only had a couple of minor points to clear up.'

  'Yes, I think that's true.'

  Deveraux gaped at him. 'What on earth do you mean?'

  'That you're quite right - there are still a few minor points to clear up.'

  'A few!'

  'Yes. It's been a very complicated business. Even now I can't explain every feature of it. I don't expect to. Hercule Poirot always says that when trying to solve a mystery, any theory you evolve must explain each isolated fact and happening: they've all got to fit into a harmonious pattern with no loose ends. Of course, I'm not in the same class as him - though they do say I look a bit like him - and I can never get that far. At the end of a case there's nearly always something left unaccounted for. But as long as I can explain the main outline of the crime and provide proof of guilt, I'm happy. I'm not an ambitious man.'