The Santa Klaus Murder

by Mavis Doriel Hay

  No one took much notice of her, except that Mr. Witcombe, after he had put Miss Melbury into a chair, went up to her and tried to quiet her. He had taken off his Santa Klaus dress, and the beard and false eyebrows, but the rouge was still on his face. I suppose no one liked to tell him about it.

  The door opened suddenly and Miss Carol sort of burst in and then stopped and said: “Oh! Where’s mother? What’s the matter?” There was a sort of shocked silence and then she saw her mother signing to her and went and sat beside her, talking to her in a low voice.

  Then Mr. Cheriton came in and he also seemed as if he had rushed to the library in a hurry, which of course was only natural. He looked round anxiously till he saw Miss Jennifer, who looked towards him as though she were relieved that he had come, and he went up to her and began to talk to her.

  Just then Mrs. Stickland came up to me and asked me to go and see that tea was served to the children and nurses in the day nursery and to give a message to nurse about putting them to bed. I was rather glad to have something to do and to get away. I couldn’t get used to the idea that Sir Osmond was dead and I was very uncomfortable in the library, not knowing whether I should stay, because I might be needed over some business, but feeling that they didn’t want me there. In fact, it seemed as if each one of them didn’t want some of the others there. As each one came in, someone would look up at them as if somehow that made it all worse. It was like a group of people having a private conversation, which makes them feel awkward when someone walks in upon them suddenly. I suppose it was the awful shock and no one quite understanding what had really happened.

  Chapter Six

  Review of the Situation

  by Col. Halstock, Chief Constable of Haulmshire

  Certainly the most difficult and painful situation I have ever found myself involved in! My old friend, Sir Osmond Melbury, found shot in his study on Christmas Day. Evidence seems to point to someone in the household as the criminal, and the large party gathered there consists almost entirely of members of his family, whom I have known from their childhood.

  Here and now (11.40 p.m. on Christmas Day—just returned from Flaxmere) I will record my personal impressions, as well as the bare facts.

  Facts which seem to be generally agreed upon:

  After Christmas-tree business Sir Osmond went to his study at about 3.30. Miss Portisham and Bingham, the chauffeur, last saw him in the library at this time. Mr. Witcombe, impersonating Santa Klaus, followed him into the study and was there instructed by him concerning distribution of presents in servants’ hall. Sir Osmond said he would be in his study until tea time (4.30) and was expecting a telephone call. Mr. Witcombe was to report to him there when he had finished his Santa Klaus job. (Only Mr. Witcombe’s evidence for this conversation.)

  Rest of the party were for the next half-hour scattered about hall and drawing-room. Miss Portisham and Hilda Wynford say they were in the hall all the time and confirm each other’s evidence on this point pretty well, declaring that they were talking to each other after the first five or ten minutes. No one seems sure of having seen any of the others during the whole of this half-hour.

  George Melbury’s wife, Patricia, was talking to Eleanor Stickland in the drawing-room and then went into the hall to quieten two of the children who were quarrelling. Eleanor followed her into the hall when she heard the crackers being pulled, as she thought her daughter would be frightened. Edith Evershot says she was in the drawing-room all the time. Miss Melbury went upstairs at some point to fetch her knitting. Jennifer says she was “all over the place,” chiefly playing with the children in the hall. Carol Wynford says the same. So much for the women.

  Of the men, George Melbury, David Evershot and Gordon Stickland say they were in the drawing-room most of the time. George went into the hall once to see what was going on, he says, because he was on the look-out for some summons to them all from his father “to see Santa Klaus off the premises.” He returned to the drawing-room. Gordon Stickland says he sat in the drawing-room all the time, working out a crossword puzzle, and didn’t particularly notice who else came and went. David Evershot says he looked into the hall when the cracker-pulling began, to see what was up, and then, because of the noise and smell, felt he must get some fresh air, so he went out of the front door and took a breather up and down the drive in front of the house, returning after about five minutes.

  Philip Cheriton says he was moving about, chiefly talking to Jennifer and Carol, who both agree that they were talking to him “practically all the time,” but they struck me as rather vague about this. In short, it seems impossible to be sure of anyone’s exact movements during that half-hour.

  No one admits seeing anyone enter the study after Oliver Witcombe left Sir Osmond there, until Witcombe returned and found him dead. Clearly he was shot after Witcombe left. Evidence for this: Miss Portisham, who remained in the library when Witcombe followed Sir Osmond into the study, testifies that the door was left open and she heard their voices in conversation until she went into the hall. Bingham, who was also in the library for some time, agrees that the door was left open. Witcombe knew they were there and can hardly have known when they left, so we can wipe out the possibility that he followed Sir Osmond into the study to murder him.

  Witcombe left the study by the door leading into the hall. But the study can be entered from the library and there is a door between the library and dining-room—in fact a route by which you can get from the passage behind the hall to the study without entering the hall or, providing the library door is shut, being seen from it.

  The next visitor to the study, as far as anyone admits, was Oliver Witcombe again, acting on Sir Osmond’s instructions, he says, to report when he had distributed the presents in the servants’ hall. He entered library from hall (seen by several) and so into study. About 4 p.m. Found Sir Osmond seated at his writing table, shot in side of head; dead. Pistol on table before him.

  Witcombe says he felt Sir Osmond’s heart but otherwise touched nothing. Attempted to open door into hall but found it locked. (Door certainly locked when I arrived and key not yet found.) Came round into hall through library, locking study door behind him, lest the children might run in. Spoke to Hilda Wynford and Miss Portisham, found George Melbury in drawing-room and spoke to him, and returned to library. As he entered he saw Miss Portisham there and Mrs. Wynford, the latter just opening the study door. He followed her in and they found Lady Evershot already there. George Melbury came into the study soon after them.

  At George’s request, Miss Portisham telephoned to Doctor Tarrant. (He says she sounded very upset; the gist of her message was that Sir Osmond had shot himself.) George himself telephoned to me. (By my own observation it was 4.12 when I reached the telephone. There was a little delay in getting hold of me, and the line was not clear; I couldn’t make out at first what George was saying. George remained in the study until Doctor Tarrant arrived at 4.27. Jennifer Melbury came into the study while he was telephoning. He seems to have cleared them all out when he had finished telephoning to me and he remained there alone. I was there at 4.46. The police and police surgeon (notified by me) arrived soon after. The only people who seem to have been alone in the study with the corpse, after Witcombe gave the alarm, were, first Edith Evershot, and then George.

  The gist of the doctors’ report is that Sir Osmond was shot at close range—a foot or two, probably—in the left side of the head, almost certainly by the weapon found on the table in front of him. One bullet had been fired from it. The bullet which killed Sir Osmond, extracted from his head by the doctors, fits the weapon. Doctors consider it quite impossible that Sir Osmond could have shot himself. He was not left-handed (my own knowledge, as well as evidence of members of the family). The weapon was not held with barrel pressed against head—the almost inevitable position in cases of suicide, and one which would be clearly shown by scorching. The weapon had not been dropped on floor, thou
gh Sir Osmond’s arms hung down over sides of chair, but had been replaced on table. As we found it, it lay across the table in front of him, with the butt nearest to the right hand side of the table as one stood facing the body. (But see notes re Jennifer.) Oliver Witcombe says he noticed the revolver when first he saw the body, but did not particularly notice its position.

  The weapon is identified by George positively as a .22 target pistol belonging to Sir Osmond and usually kept in the gun room. Nobody remembers seeing it lately, either in the gun room, the study, or elsewhere. Ammunition could have been obtained from the gun room. Gun room was generally locked but key hung on hook, above children’s reach, in passage near gun room door (at back of hall). This seems to have been common knowledge.

  No signs of disorder in the study or of a violent quarrel, or of robbery as motive. George, Miss Portisham, and others, testify that nothing was displaced or missing, so far as a hasty survey could show.

  Soon after Sir Osmond entered the study there was a good deal of cracker-pulling in the hall. A pistol-shot might easily have been unnoticed; doors and walls are thick. No one admits hearing a shot. There was probably also a good deal of general noise in the hall from children playing, toy train, etc. In fact no one admits hearing any noise at all from the study—raised voices, or anything of that sort.

  Impressions of members of the house party.

  Must face the obvious fact that nearly every member of the party probably had something to gain by Sir Osmond’s death, although just how much is not clear until we see the will.

  George Melbury showed natural state of distress and shock. Nothing unusual. Seems to have taken correct course of action, except for allowing other members of the family to go in and out of the study and behave rather oddly after the tragedy had been discovered.

  Jennifer Melbury may stand to gain more than her sisters, because Sir Osmond’s death removes the obstacle to her marriage with Philip Cheriton, and probably provides her with the income which will make this possible without hardship.

  Says she happened to enter the library (after the tragedy was discovered), saw Oliver Witcombe and others there and learnt that her father was shot. Went at once into study. George was telephoning. (His call to me.)

  In the midst of this telephone conversation I heard part of a remark addressed by George to her: . . . “You mustn’t . . . Jennifer.” When I asked George about this, he said he couldn’t see Jennifer from where he was sitting, but heard a “sort of jarring noise,” thought she had bumped against Sir Osmond’s table, and therefore warned her not to touch anything. Jennifer, when questioned, was very distressed; said she hardly knew what she was doing; it was such a shock seeing her father like that. Thinks she did touch the pistol—“Just because it was a strange thing there; I couldn’t connect it with anything at the moment.” Doesn’t remember exactly how it was lying, or if she changed its position.

  Jennifer’s evidence is undeniably vague and confused, but she is obviously suffering from shock.

  Miss Portisham probably stands to gain nothing comparable with her loss of a good position. Appears very distressed; also very frightened (natural, I think, in her position, with some members of the family not very well disposed towards her). Her evidence is very clear. She followed George and Hilda into the study, having been asked to telephone to the doctor, and she left the study with Jennifer.

  Hilda Wynford says that on hearing news from Witcombe, her first thought was to go to her father. Knew the study door into hall was locked, as she had been standing near it when Witcombe tried it from inside. So went through library into study. On opening study door, found her sister Edith there. Left, after a few minutes, with Witcombe.

  Obviously very distressed; seems stunned; but clear in her statements.

  Carol Wynford says that Parkins, the manservant, told her that “there had been an accident in the study” and then she realized that everyone else had gone into the library and she followed them. Doesn’t know how it was that no one else had told her or that she didn’t notice that anything was amiss, but there was a general atmosphere all the afternoon of “what’s going to happen next” in connection with the Santa Klaus affair, which she says she was rather bored with. Blasé younger generation attitude! She struck me as knowing a little more than she was ready to give away.

  Patricia Melbury, the fluffy type. Heard the news in the hall and “hardly knows who told her” and didn’t seem to think I had any right to ask. Very upset and incoherent.

  Edith Evershot says she was told that something had happened in the study and she went through the library into the study, unlocking the door (locked by Witcombe behind him). N.B. According to other evidence, she shut the door again behind her. Says that on seeing her father she was too shocked to do anything at all, and that Hilda and others came in almost at once.

  Is in a highly nervous state and struck me as frightened of something.

  Sir David Evershot—curious character; restless and jumpy; unhelpful. Snarled at me: “I tell you I know nothing; haven’t been into the study at all to-day. I was outside on the drive—my usual confounded luck—just before it happened, but I don’t know anything.”

  Eleanor Stickland, always a placid sort of woman and now in a state of subdued grief. Learnt news from Miss Portisham in hall; gave orders to nurse to keep children out of the way and helped shepherd them from the hall before she went into the library.

  Gordon Stickland; suave, detached; answered questions clearly. Suggested possibility of entry to study from outside the house (but shutters were all closed and hooked on inside).

  Miss Mildred Melbury probably stands to gain nothing by her brother’s death. Almost hysterical and unable to give any clear evidence, but Witcombe states that he found her in drawing-room, that she broke down on hearing the news, and he took her into the library to join the others. She seems to take the curious view that she always said no good would come of these family gatherings at Christmas; but gave no clear idea of what misfortune she had expected, or why.

  Oliver Witcombe seems to be the one member of the party who has nothing whatever to gain by Sir Osmond’s death and something to lose. I should say he never had much chance with Jennifer and now has not an earthly. But he never struck me as a very ardent suitor—though that may be merely modern manners. I think he is not very popular with the rest of the family.

  No doubt he had opportunity, more than most of the others, so far as can be seen. His Santa Klaus rig-out would make it easy to conceal the pistol. He hardly had opportunity to get it when he went to dress up, as Philip Cheriton went with him, and it is highly unlikely that those two would plot anything together. But after Witcombe left Sir Osmond in the study his movements are not clear. Some discrepancy between his own statement and those of others. (Clear this up.) Apparently he went out through hall and by door into passage at back, but came back again through dining-room with crackers. (He could easily have gone into gun room on the way and got pistol.) He left hall again by door into library—presumably to go through dining-room to back premises—but it would have been a simple move to go from library into study, where he knew Sir Osmond was, shoot him, lock door into hall to prevent premature discovery of crime, return through library and dining-room to servants’ hall.

  Philip Cheriton obviously stands to gain a good deal—the way clear to marry Jennifer, and Jennifer’s money which she presumably inherits from her father.

  He answered my questions fairly clearly, but seemed worried. A bit vague about how he spent the fatal half-hour; was “here and there,” talking to Jennifer and Carol. He seems to have been deputed by Sir Osmond to help Witcombe, so probably knew the plan of his movements exactly and may have known that Sir Osmond would be in the study.

  Possibly Jennifer and Carol suspect something and are trying to shield Cheriton by saying they were talking to him all the time. He may have slipped out at the back of the hall unobt
rusively as soon as Witcombe was out of the way; taken pistol from gun room, gone by passage, through dining-room and library into study, and back into hall the same way. Possible that he may even have wangled Witcombe’s movements, so as to make suspicion fall on him.

  That accounts for all the house party. Servants all seem straight and none of them has any motive, so far as I can see at present, for getting rid of a master who may have been stern but was not unjust. Most of them have been at Flaxmere for some years.

  Henry Bingham, the chauffeur, was in attendance on the Christmas-tree until the lights were switched off; says he left the library whilst Witcombe was still talking to Sir Osmond in the study. Look into Bingham’s subsequent movements—when did he reach the servants’ hall? Could have gone back to the library?

  Witcombe is sure Bingham was in the servants’ hall when he distributed the presents and also maintains that none of the others could have been absent because Sir Osmond expressly stated that there was a parcel for each and Witcombe found a recipient for every parcel. There are also the two nurses, the Sticklands’ nurse recently engaged by them, but they were occupied with the children and in every way unlikely suspects.

  In spite of my hypothetical case against Philip Cheriton, which is nothing but a demonstration of the possibility that he could do it, the facts really point to Oliver Witcombe as our man. But as well as his lack of motive, there seems to be a lack of reason in his movements if they were really part of a plan for murder. Detective-Inspector Rousdon was all for arresting him last night and obviously thought me an old fool to leave him at large. But he is under close observation. A point which carries a good deal of weight with me, though it’s too vague to explain to Rousdon, is that the family don’t seem to suspect him. They must know a good deal more about this than they have yet admitted; they do suspect someone. If Witcombe had any motive some of them would surely know of it and they would connect it at once with the obvious facts against him. Moreover, they would be less likely to shield him than one of themselves, or even Philip Cheriton, whom some of them certainly like and who is a much older friend of the family than Witcombe. I believe I do know all they can tell me about Witcombe, but probably not about anyone else.