by Gary Lovisi
“Conversation?” she repeated. She was doing that a lot today. “Well, it was . . . you, Miss Caine. I mean, your presence here in Overdale, the way you solved that other case. You have quite a reputation.”
Ordinarily, modesty would forbid, but in this instance, it was quite unavoidable, so I was forced to agree with her.
“Ask yourselves, if you were planning to commit a murder, would you do it when you knew for a fact that a celebrated detective was in the vicinity at that moment? Mr Mountjoy, you and the late Reverend Parbold were involved in an internecine conflict for years. You could have done him in whenever you wanted.”
Mountjoy began to protest, but I had no time or patience for his “poor, helpless old blind man” speech, so I pressed on.
“You, Mr Meridian, you’d thought about killing the vicar since you were a boy.” Jago was clearly extremely unhappy at my speaking this truth out loud, but there was no stopping me now. “Couldn’t you have waited another week? Of course you could. No, the only reason for anyone to have killed Alistair Parbold on that particular day is because they knew it was going to be their last chance. Say, if they were about to leave the country?”
Elspeth goggled. She opened her mouth but nothing beyond a slight choking noise came out. At long last, she managed to say something that wasn’t simply what I’d just said.
“Oh, Hilary, you are so wrong!”
“You assured us that you didn’t know about your uncle’s money, but I think you knew all about it.”
“But I didn’t! Not until he told me!” She waved a finger in Troughton’s direction.
“So this is all just about money?” asked the Inspector, sounding a trifle disappointed.
“Yes, but the guest list for the luncheon served as an excellent distraction. What are the odds that two such excellent suspects should be on hand on the very day the Reverend is murdered? Probably as high as the odds that I should be on hand to solve it. And once you’d acquired the poison, Elspeth, it was just a matter of time ’til you used it. When you finally had to return to America, you decided: ‘Hang the risk, I’m going to do it!’ Isn’t that how it happened? Unfortunately, the risk just hanged you.”
Troughton evidently viewed these words as his cue to act. He moved silently across the room and took Elspeth gently by the hand. She didn’t struggle, but she was not happy.
“You think you know me?” she asked in a tone I had not heard her adopt before. “You don’t know a thing about me.”
“I know this much,” I replied. “I don’t think we’re going to be friends after all.
