by Ellis Peters
‘But in that case,’ she objected thoughtfully, ‘why burn the will at all? If he was so sure of his own alibi, why destroy the will? He had nothing to gain – we know it wasn’t signed, because neither McHugh nor anyone else was called to witness it.’
‘That doesn’t necessarily prove it wasn’t signed. If Richard did finish writing, and felt sleep coming on him, how do we know he didn’t add his signature, even without witnesses? Maybe Laurence knows enough to know that a court just might uphold such a will, if there was sufficiently strong evidence of the genuineness of the signature. In which case it would be crazy to take the risk. Far better to get rid of it.’
There was an answer to everything. The trouble was that she never knew how right the answers were. She frowned down at the doctor’s surprisingly precise hand, and said only: ‘All right. It was Dr Randall who closed the door, and that was at ten o’clock. Go on, we’re down to the last one.’
‘Trevor Mason. Trevor’s account bears out Randall’s to the point where they parted in the hall. After that he says he was in the bar. Certainly he was when I went in there myself, and he stayed there until about twenty past ten, and then said good night and left. But bear in mind he’d also been through for the beer at about twenty to ten, and nobody’s mentioned being around at the time to swear to his movements. He could have looked in here on his way.
‘Now for the Mehlert family. Their accounts are largely useful as enlarging on the movements of the rest of us. Mrs Mehlert was in the kitchen baking all the evening, and saw very little of any of us. Franz was in the bar most of the time. He served Richard with two litres of beer in pretty rapid succession, and remembers his asking for some writing paper, and carrying off the second litre into this room. Franz passed through the hall only two or three times during the evening, but he bears out that this door stood open at about a quarter to ten, but closed from about ten.
‘It wasn’t Franz who served McHugh with the cognac, that was Frau Agathe. She confirms that he picked up the two glasses and marched straight across the hall to bring the one to Richard in here. One of the foresters, seeing him with both hands full, opened the door for him. Liesl, who happened to be coming back after taking a look to see if we’d all quit the dining room, so that she could clear the table, saw him put down Richard’s drink on the table here, swap a few words with him, and start back towards the door. She must have been only a few seconds ahead of you.’
‘She went through into the kitchen just as Laurence came down the stairs.’
‘Then, some time later – he thinks just before half-past ten – Franz went through the hall for the last time, and opened this door and looked in to see if anyone was still here. Richard was still writing, and told him he’d put out the lights when he finished. His beer mug was then empty, so Franz brought it away with him and closed the door again. He says Richard seemed awake and normal enough then. At least, he noticed nothing wrong.’
‘Did he notice how much of the brandy had been drunk?’
‘That’s bright of you,’ said Neil approvingly. ‘You remember Randall didn’t notice. But Franz was a practical publican clearing up for the night, and he wouldn’t miss a thing like that. If it had been empty he’d have brought the glass away, but it wasn’t. But he says the level was down about three-quarters.’
‘So we can take it the morphine – papaveretum, or whatever it is – was in it and taken before that point.’
‘I think we can. No one would dare to doctor it after it got as low as that. Moreover, it would be, infinitely more difficult as soon as he’d finished his beer and drew the brandy glass nearer to him. The doctor wouldn’t commit himself on the time when the dose must have been swallowed. He says the effect can vary widely with different cases, and there’s no way of knowing how many tablets were used. But in view of what Franz says we can be pretty certain the tablets were added between half-past nine and half-past ten.
‘Let’s see what we can make of these statements, then, as regards motive and opportunity. Who had motive? You, Mrs Quayne, Laurence, Randall, and Mason all stood to gain substantially if Richard died intestate. There could be other motives, I suppose, though I’m damned if I’ve been able to find any traces of them up to now. Here was Richard making a will with the expressed intention of squashing any hopes you had in that direction, and before he could finish it he was killed, and the uncompleted will made away with. There was nothing casual about the murder, his wallet’s intact, he wasn’t robbed.’
‘No need to labour it,’ said Susan. ‘We all know the facts, it’s not much good disputing them.’
‘So much for motive. Opportunity we must consider in two phases. Opportunity to obtain the morphine, and opportunity to use it. Randall swears his bag was intact just before dinner; he didn’t open it then, but he did handle it. And in any case, the only motive we know of didn’t appear until the will was read, which was after dinner. Whoever took the morphine took it after that cat was out of the bag. So, then, we have myself: I went upstairs first, while you were all wrangling down here, I had opportunity. So had Miranda, who went up at twenty to ten. So had Laurence, who went up for his coat about half-past nine. So had Trevor, who went to fetch some beer at just after twenty to ten, though he didn’t have a lot of time – still, nobody actually timed him. The other three cases are more difficult. You, I suppose, could have rushed upstairs before following Laurence into the bar, no one was watching you; but in view of what follows, thank God, you can rule yourself out. McHugh did have the opportunity to get the morphine while we were all shut in together reading the will, but as he had no motive, didn’t know the terms of the will, and wasn’t involved in it, I think he can be ruled out, too. Then there’s Randall himself. Obviously he could possess himself of tablets from his own bag whenever he liked, but until after dinner I swear he knew nothing about the provisions of the will, so why should he? He didn’t know he was going to have a use for it.’
‘He wouldn’t have had to slit open the bag to get it, either,’ said Susan, frowning over the list of names he had compiled.
‘No, but as he pointed out to me, very fairly, that hardly lets him out. If he wanted it for murder he wouldn’t simply unlock the bag and take it, would he? That would make him the only possible suspect.’
‘No, of course not. And supposing he just happened to have that tube of tablets on him, instead of locked in his bag, when he suddenly acquired an urgent motive for killing Richard? He’d use them, and then slit up the bag afterwards, wouldn’t he? To let us all into the picture. And he could have done that at leisure any time after he went to bed at ten.’
‘That’s true,’ said Neil, glumly staring. ‘No need to make it even more complicated than it is, but you’re right, it could have happened like that. In any case, he can’t be ruled out when it comes to having access to the poison. And finally, opportunity to administer the poison. Take the list of those who might have got possession of it. Me – I could have taken it any time I was upstairs, and I could have gone in to Richard and made an opportunity of dropping it into his glass when I came down, I suppose, if I’d had any reason to want to do such a thing. Leave me in. Mrs Quayne was not under anyone’s eye from the time she went upstairs, she could have come down again unobserved easily enough. She’s in. Laurence – you know about him – he is undoubtedly in. Trevor? Yes, he could have done it, either before he brought back the beer, or when he left the bar at half-past ten, though that’s very late. You? No, bless you, you’re out. You didn’t go near Richard during the whole of the period in question. You say it, Laurence says it, and McHugh says it, and that’s enough. McHugh? He’s pretty thoroughly covered, too, you can count him out. Randall? Yes, he said good night to Richard at ten, he’s in.’
‘We’re taking a lot for granted, aren’t we?’ she suggested after some hesitation, ‘in supposing that the brandy could have been doctored like that, during an encounter of only a few minutes, and under Richard’s very nose? The tablets, even if they’r
e reasonably soluble, wouldn’t just vanish in a moment.’
‘He wasn’t paying any heed to the brandy, he was still drinking his beer. And remember, Richard was busy composing a will, and pretty determined about it, and it would have all his attention. I think any person he knew among us could have leaned over his table, even perched on the edge of it – they’re good, solid fixtures – and obscured the glass with his own body while he slipped the tablets into it. And quite simply, it was done. There was no other time when it could have been doctored, it must have been done while it stood on that table. Or have you an alternative suggestion?’
If she had, she kept it to herself, continuing to study the list before her with shadowed eyes. Neil threw down his pen suddenly, and took his face wearily between his hands.
‘I don’t know what we’re hoping to prove,’ he groaned. ‘We can go on manipulating the times as long as we like, and it won’t do away with that bit of burned paper in the safe, or the doctor’s phial, either. But I had to go through all the motions, in case something equally suggestive turned up, pointing in the opposite direction. God knows what I was hoping for – I shouldn’t like it any better whichever way it pointed. But nothing’s turned up, of course, and nothing will. Oh Lord, Susan, I wish it was over! I wish we were safely out of here.’
‘It’s late to run,’ she said, ‘it’s happened.’
‘I wish I knew if it’s finished happening, that’s all. Once a thing like this begins, who’s to know where it’s going to stop? Four legatees would get a bigger share each than five, and three a bigger still. It’s an invitation to murder, like a tontine.’ He pressed his fingertips hard into the dull hollows under his eyes, and shook his head violently. ‘Well, we’ve got him under lock and key, I don’t see what more we can do. And I’m damned if I see what else we could have done. A court wouldn’t want any more evidence than we’ve got to bring in a verdict of guilty.’
‘No,’ agreed Susan, pushing all the scattered papers together into one tidy pile in the middle of the table. She didn’t know what she’d been hoping for from them, either, but whatever it was, she hadn’t found it. There was no miraculous salvation there.
She got up from the table, and walked restlessly across the room and back, hugging herself as though she felt the cold.
‘Neil,’ she said abruptly, ‘it’s not good, I’ve got to tell you. But you’ve got to treat what I say as confidential.’
‘Of course,’ he said blankly, looking up at her in astonishment and concern, ‘if you say so.’
‘I must have help, and you’re the only one I can turn to.’ She lifted desperate eyes to his face, and out it came with a rush. ‘I was lying when I said I didn’t have Laurence under observation all the time he was standing by Richard’s table. I saw every move he made. He couldn’t possibly have dropped anything in the glass without my knowing. He couldn’t, and he didn’t. Neil, he’s absolutely innocent.’
CHAPTER IX
They all have double faces! All of them together!
Act 3
Neil sat gripping the table, staring at her with great bruised eyes of doubt and consternation. ‘What?’ he said in an almost voiceless whisper. ‘But why? Why did you tell such a lie? If you could have cleared him at once, why on earth didn’t you?’
‘Because I saw a chance of finding out who had done it. Because when that purely accidental set of his prints turned up on the glass, and McHugh jumped like a tiger to seize on them as proof of guilt – which was damned silly, if we hadn’t all been so on edge – I suddenly realized that the real murderer would be looking for a scapegoat, and by sheer incredible luck had picked on the one person who could be proved innocent. Laurence was with me all the evening, and I knew, I could testify absolutely that he never put a hand near that glass.
‘Then I don’t see why you didn’t say so.’ His temper was rising now, and no wonder, when she remembered to what cumulative horrors her impulse had led them all, and what compunction Neil must be feeling for his part in Laurence’s horrible night. ‘Honestly, Susan, this is a fine thing to throw at us now—’
‘I know it is, I’m not ducking, I’m trying to tell you why, if you’ll listen. What would have happened if I’d cleared him on the spot? The murderer would only have waited for the next lead and acted on that, and his second choice mightn’t have had a witness to swear to his movements. Look at that list! Mightn’t have had? He wouldn’t have had! Only Laurence and I spent the whole evening together. Someone else would have been dragged into the mud, and we still shouldn’t have known who was behind it.’
‘And what, for God’s sake,’ he demanded hotly, ‘did you hope to achieve by throwing fuel on the fire? You didn’t just refrain from clearing him, you threw in additional evidence. It was you who told us he’d gone upstairs to fetch his coat. It was you who pointed out he’d had the chance to steal the morphine, as well as to use it.’
‘I know I did. I wanted to encourage the murderer to think he was on the right horse, and could safely go ahead. I wanted him to take the hint, and plant the clinching evidence on Laurence. I was forewarned, I meant to make sure he was caught doing it. He couldn’t have planted it already, you see. How could he? How did he know which way the evidence was going to point? He had to wait and see which of us fate elected to be chief suspect, and then help the good work along. So all I had to do was confirm him in his choice of Laurence, and then make sure nobody got to Laurence’s room before I did. He couldn’t plant evidence actually on him, not while we were all in the same room together. No, it had to be his room, and it had to be done quickly. And even if my gamble didn’t come off, you see, and nothing was planted after all, I could get Laurence out of his mess at any time by telling the truth. I didn’t think there was any risk of anything worse than a bad hour or so for him, and maybe one almost as nasty for me.’
‘But, Susan, this is fantastic—’
‘So’s murder, isn’t it? Maybe it looks fantastic to you now, but it made sense then to me. As soon as there was mention of searching I knew we should have to split up, and the only other woman was his mother. I could manage her if I had to. As it turned out I didn’t have to, she disposed of herself very effectively, and when you sent me upstairs with Liesl I was dead sure everything was going to work out.’
Neil’s drawn brows, levelled into a single long line, scowled at her. ‘You mean you repeated all this farrago to Liesl? She was supposed to exercise supervision over you, not to do what you told her.’
‘I did tell her what to do. I didn’t have time to tell her why, but I must have been convincing, because she didn’t argue. We rushed to my room, and I changed quickly, and she had a look through my things, and then we went to Laurence’s room. The door wasn’t locked, and we left it ajar so that we could hear when anyone came up the stairs. We weren’t going to be making any noise ourselves, so it wouldn’t be difficult to hear. We hid there and waited. I thought he was sure to come, because he had to. If I could make a way of getting there, so could he. We were behind the window curtains, we should have been able to see everything. Only he didn’t come. It all went horribly wrong. When we did at last hear someone coming it was the whole lot of you crowding up the stairs, and we had to scramble out and rush to meet you, so that you wouldn’t find us in the wrong corridor.’
‘Well, go on!’ said Neil grimly. ‘Finish the tale, now you’ve taken it so far. No one came in and hid anything, and yet when we searched that room we found the phial, damned well hidden, and the remains of the will, hurriedly but almost completely burned.’
‘I know we did. But not by him! When could he have done it, tell me that!’
‘The phial was no problem. He hid that as soon as he’d taken the tablets from it, before he came down to join you for your walk. And when you came back at midnight he let you go upstairs ahead of him, and then rushed in here to fetch the will. It wouldn’t take him long to burn the thing in his own room before going to wake the doctor. It was done in a hurry, or h
e’d have made a more thorough job of it. Now you tell me when anyone else but Laurence could have planted them. Go ahead and tell me!’
‘I can’t,’ she owned, halting before him. ‘Somehow he – the murderer, whoever he is – must have made sure of his choice earlier. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but he must have chosen Laurence, and planted his evidence accordingly. There’s a great deal I don’t know, but I do know this, Laurence didn’t poison Richard Hellier. I know it. I never took my eyes from him, and I know. So we’ve got to try other ways of getting at the murderer, quickly, for everyone’s sake.’ She leaned forward over the table, and gripped his hands convulsively in hers. ‘Neil, help me! You must help me!’
The uncontrolled desperation of the gesture, coming from her, had shaken him like a shock of sudden cold. His hands quivered under hers, and then opened and took them in gently. ‘I don’t understand what you want me to do,’ he said in a softer voice, but with some constraint. ‘We did everything we could think of doing at once, and you know what we found. If you have reason to suspect someone else you must in justice speak out. For you do see, don’t you, that you haven’t shown me any such reason yet.’
‘I can only tell you those things that have had their effect on me. Whether you’ll call them reasons is another matter. You see, I started with the knowledge that it wasn’t Laurence. That gave me an advantage while all the rest of you were watching him. But think, Neil!’ She was trembling with eagerness, and felt that the circumstance only made her less convincing, but she could not control it. ‘Who was it who jumped in and began to make himself so useful, testing for fingerprints? The one man who’d made sure that his had a perfect right to be there, and wouldn’t be questioned, the man who bought the drinks. Who jumped to call attention to those accidental prints of Laurence’s as though they were proof positive of guilt, when obviously, if we’d had time to think, they were nothing of the kind? Who found the burned will when Franz failed to question it? Who openly reminded us that he wasn’t one of us lucky legatees, and hadn’t any connection in the world with Mrs Byrne or Richard, beyond a temporary business engagement? McHugh! Always McHugh!’
