by Anne Morice
‘Give him time,’ I said. ‘He’s capable of anything. And this particular dark stranger is the very one I seek.’
Toby waved his hand in the direction of the tent and, remembering just in time to borrow some money from him, I proceeded on my way.
Babs was waiting outside and I asked her if she would mind my jumping the queue.
‘I need only two minutes,’ I promised her, ‘but there’s a bit of future that needs immediate sorting out if we’re to stave off financial disaster and international incidents.’
‘Quite all right with me, my dear, I’ve had my go.’
‘Oh really? Did she tell you anything nice?’
‘No, she didn’t tell me anything at all. I only went in to make the gesture. I think it’s a load of rubbish and I’m afraid I told her so.’
‘Did she mind?’
‘Not a bit. She was dying to go to the bathroom, and she asked me to stop here and keep everyone at bay for five minutes, while she nipped indoors through the drawing room window.’
‘And then what?’
Babs opened her baby blue eyes. ‘Then nothing. No one came near the place for at least ten minutes, so it would have made no difference if I’d waited or not.’
‘I mean, why are you still hanging around?’
‘Oh, because just as I was leaving Henry turned up, and he’s in a funny mood. I was afraid Sarah might have a bit of trouble with him.’
‘What sort of funny?’
‘Excited. He’s pathetically gullible about all this kind of thing, you know. He’s got it firmly fixed in his head that Sarah really does possess supernatural powers. I can’t get it through to him that it’s meant to be a kind of joke.’
‘Well, I’d back Sarah to handle him,’ I said, with a confidence which got badly dented a moment later when Henry came blundering out of the tent, giving every sign of being still in the grip of the funny mood. He stared at us both without apparent recognition.
‘Are you all right, Henry?’ Babs asked doubtfully.
‘She is NOT there,’ he replied in a rather dazed voice. ‘No one is there.’
‘You don’t mean she hasn’t come back? What on earth can she be doing?’ Babs asked, impatiently pulling aside the entrance flap and sticking her head inside.
‘Are you there, Sarah?’ she called. ‘Is anything wrong?’
The moment her back was turned Henry smiled at me in a puzzled way, and then abruptly streaked off in the direction of the cedar tree.
‘It’s quite true, my dear,’ Babs told me, evidently too annoyed to notice that he had gone. ‘She simply hasn’t bothered to come back. Isn’t that typical? She does exactly what she thinks she will.’
‘Unlike me,’ I said, walking past her into the tent for a personal inspection. ‘I so often find myself doing exactly what I think I won’t.’
‘You can see for yourself,’ Babs said, joining me in the tent. ‘God knows what she expects me to do about it.’
‘Well, cheer up, because I don’t think she’s gone very far.’
I was peering ahead of me, but as I said this I heard a sharp clash of bracelets and when I turned round I saw that Babs was rummaging around in her bag.
‘What do you mean “not very far”?’ she asked in a distant voice, bringing out her cigarettes and lighter. ‘How can you tell?’
‘She’s left her shoes behind, or one of them at any rate. It’s over by the back entrance. One of those red buckled affairs.’
‘Oh well, that accounts for it, I suppose,’ Babs said, sounding merely bored now and walking out of the tent. ‘Probably they were too tight and she’s gone to fetch some others. Where’s Henry?’
‘He left about five minutes ago.’
‘Oh damn I I’d better see if I can find him. He’s supposed to be helping Martin on the display stand. Will you stay here and hold the fort? It looks as though we have some customers coming.’
There were three of them, advancing across the grass towards us, a man with two women, who both wore flowered hats and were both talking at the same time as they gazed adoringly up at their companion. He was loving every minute of it too, laughing and throwing his head back, in the well known gesture which so frequently had a thousand teenagers swooning in the aisles.
Their merriment cooled somewhat as they became aware of spectators and the women became rather self-conscious under our scrutiny. Evidently, Babs knew them, for she went up and spoke to them and after a bit of argument all three walked away.
‘Pathetic old pussies,’ Kit remarked. ‘What’s going on here?’
‘Nothing. Sarah seems to be taking her tea break. I’ve been instructed to wait until she returns. Have you handed out your silver cups and rosettes yet?’
‘No, that’s not until five thirty. I can spare you a moment of my precious company. What a foul way to spend an afternoon, wouldn’t you say?’
‘It could be raining, I suppose.’
‘With Sarah and her Dad in charge? You have to be joking! Shall we go inside? It’s getting bloody cold out here.’
‘It’s not all that cosy in the tent, but I suppose we could sit down. I’ll consult the crystal ball and see if there are any Oscars floating around in your aura.’
As it happened they were the last light hearted words I was to utter for several hours for no supernatural powers were needed to show that, whatever the future might hold for the rest of us, there was none left for Sarah. As I approached her chair behind the table I saw the pair to the discarded shoe, and her foot was still in it.
She lay on her back, her head and shoulders at an unnaturally curved angle, as though she had arched herself in a last tremendous convulsion as death overtook her. The grass around her was stained with blood and the feathers and shaft of a dart were sticking out above the neckline of her dress.
2
There followed an interval of utter madness, in which the Benson-Jones publicity phobia entered a new dimension although the nightmare started before that, with my long and frustrated attempts to find one of them and break the news.
Leaving Kit in charge, I had taken on this task myself, seeing it as the lesser evil, but after only ten minutes would gladly have settled for sitting it out to eternity with half a dozen corpses, sooner than jostle my hopeless way through apathetic crowds to the accompaniment of a selection from ‘The Sound of Music’, interminably asking whether anyone had seen Sir Magnus or Julie. Mostly the response was an indifferent negative, and eventually I came to prefer this to the counter enquiries I received from people who tried to be helpful. It was not really possible to explain to them that a close relative had been stabbed to death in one of the amusement tents, and I was too numbed with shock to invent a plausible alternative.
Even Mrs Parry was useless, for she told me in martyred tones that Julie had not returned and that she could not sell me any more tickets unless I gave her the right money. I unloaded all the silver I had plundered from Toby and struck off towards the house.
Curiously enough it was Walter who finally put an end to this grotesque situation. I met him coming out of the downstairs cloakroom and although he was not the port I would have chosen in this particular storm the sight of a familiar face, even such a red and truculent one, was a haven of a kind.
‘Is Julie in there?’ I asked him.
‘Julie? Why no, she’s not,’ he replied, looking understandably taken aback.
‘You wouldn’t have any idea where I could find her, I suppose?’
‘Sorry, Ma’am, I only just arrived. Been spending the night over in Oxford, and it was quite a party. Consequence was I . . .’
‘And Sir Magnus? You don’t know where he is either?’
‘Why yes, I’d say he was upstairs in his room.’
‘Do you know that for a fact? This is really urgent.’
‘I couldn’t absolutely swear to it,’ he replied ponderously, ‘but what happened was like this, see. I came in here because I was planning on making a telephone call,
but it turned out there was someone on the line. Naturally, I put the phone down, soon as I realised, but it was Sir Magnus’s voice all right. The way I see it, he would have to be in his room if he . . .’
‘Thanks,’ I called, already half way up the stairs by this time, and continuing at such a rate that it was only when I reached Magnus’s door and raised my hand to knock that the full horror of the ordeal ahead at last caught up with me. Taking an enormous breath, I rapped on the door and burst into the room.
It was quite true that he was speaking on the telephone but he heard me coming and swivelled round, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. For an instant he looked so fierce that I felt a wave of relief, believing he must already have heard the news and was telephoning the authorities. It was not so, however, for his expression cleared at once and he said genially:
‘Ah, it’s you! Do come in. This is a tiresome business call, but I’ll be with you in a minute. I want to hear how everything’s going.’
‘I’m sorry, Magnus, but I have some terrible news for you, and it can’t wait. There’s been an accident. It’s very bad, and you’ve got to prepare yourself. I’d have brought Julie, but I couldn’t find her, so you’ll have to hear it from me.’
I suppose my mention of Julie brought it home to him that the accident was to Sarah, for his hand shook as he replaced the receiver and then waited for me to continue.
It took only a minute and he heard me out in silence, while the muscles of his face sagged and all the vibrancy went out of him. When I had finished he fought hard to control himself, pressing his finger tips against his temples and then slowly pushing them upwards into his hair. Recalling the scene now, my principal memory is of the scar standing out like a scarlet thread against the greyish pallor of the surrounding skin.
‘I’ll come at once,’ he said, flattening the palm of his hand on the desk to lever himself up.
‘You don’t think . . . ?’
‘What?’
Twice already that weekend I had found myself urging people to notify the police, and I quailed at the prospect of another repetition.
‘That you should put out a call for Dr Simmons?’ I said, finding a compromise.
‘But you say she’s dead?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then first I must see her. The rest can be done later.’
I could tell that he was quite determined and I said reluctantly:
‘Then we had better go out through the drawing room window. It’s quicker.’
‘And we’re less likely to be seen,’ he agreed, chilling my blood by adding softly: ‘And we have to think of that.’
Julie had joined Kit in the tent when we reached it. They were seated side by side on the grass, with the table between them and Sarah’s body. Ignoring them both, Magnus knelt down beside Sarah, taking her hand in his and gently smoothing back the tousled hair from her forehead. We waited in respectful silence until he stood up, staring in a puzzled way at the blood on his hands and saying:
‘We must try and move her into the house as unobtrusively as possible. Kit and I will carry her and you girls had better station yourselves, one at each entrance, and pass the word when it’s all clear. Are you ready, Kit?’
‘But you mustn’t,’ I implored him. ‘I beg you not to.’
‘Mustn’t what?’ he asked vaguely.
‘Move her. I hate to say this because I know how it must pain you, but it has to be said. She has been murdered and nothing should be touched until the police get here. Apart from anything else, it would make you an accessory.’
‘Ah!’ he replied thoughtfully and without apparent sarcasm. ‘Thank you for reminding me. I am sure you mean well, but possibly you have overlooked certain . . . considerations. I don’t place myself above the law, you understand, but Sarah is my child and I’m damned if I’ll leave her out here. If the police want to raise hell about it, they must do so; but I’m not without influence and I doubt if there’ll be any complaint. You agree, Julie?’
She and Kit had both stood up when Magnus entered and even through deeper preoccupations I had noticed how she had mysteriously acquired a new straightness and dignity.
‘I do agree,’ she said, ‘that we should not publicise what has happened, or ask people to leave. We don’t want to start a panic, and, even more important, we don’t want them blocking up the drive and preventing the ambulance and police cars from getting through.’
‘Yes, a good point. And so now, if you’re quite ready, Kit?’
‘Wait a minute, Magnus,’ Julie said, still with the same strange new authority. ‘I hadn’t finished. Tessa’s right. I’m sure I hate to leave Sarah here quite as much as you do, but from now on our feelings aren’t going to count, and we must learn to accept the fact. Even you can’t break the law in a thing like this and get away with it.’
‘My dear girl, I think you may safely leave that decision to me. And I shall take full responsibility, so you need have no fears on that score. Now, if you would be good enough to take a look outside, Tessa? And perhaps it would be better if you were not to come in again. You can then safely deny all knowledge of our intentions. You too, Julie, if you feel so strongly about it.’
‘But there’s something you’ve both overlooked,’ I said making a last effort. ‘It’s not simply a question of what you can or can’t get away with. Surely it’s equally important to find out who did this? Personally, I don’t think it’s going to be at all easy, but by moving her you may destroy what evidence there is. I can’t believe you would want that.’
Kit, who had not so far uttered a word, now looked at Magnus with a haggard expression and said almost in a whisper:
‘I’m afraid that’s true, sir.’
Magnus sighed: ‘Very well, since you are all against me, I shall withdraw. You may do as you think best.’
‘Thank you, my dear,’ Julie said, in the gentle, faintly smug tones of a mother who has tactfully talked her little boy into handing over the carving knife. ‘I shall go indoors now and telephone the police. Then I’ll ask Dr Simmons to make some kind of announcement over the loud speaker. He had better ask everyone who came on foot to leave by way of the meadow, and those with cars to wait until the ambulance has passed by the spot where they’re parked. He’ll know how to get them to co-operate.’
Having said this, she tilted her head, possibly to spare herself another sight of Sarah, and walked out of the tent. It was quite an impressive performance, the calm, unhurried gait almost obliterating her limp, and this small but decisive victory seeming to have increased her stature by a good two inches.
CHAPTER EIGHT
1
‘Imagine arresting Henry, of all stupid things!’ I said with scorn which repetition had not blunted.
‘Not arrested; he’s helping the police with their enquiries,’ Robin said, also for about the fifth time. Everyone remotely connected with Sarah’s death had been asked to remain in the vicinity and he had joined me at Toby’s house late on Saturday evening.
‘We all know that it amounts to the same thing,’ I retorted.
‘No, we all don’t. Besides, what else could they do? His prints were all over the dart and, according to the medical evidence, she must have been killed within minutes of his being in the tent. Furthermore, even you admitted that he looked a bit stunned when he came out. Mrs Graham had been so concerned about his mood that she deliberately hung around in case Sarah needed help in coping with him.’
‘So she says!’
‘But even if he’s innocent, the chances are that Henry knows something or saw something which he hasn’t yet revealed.’
‘Added to which he’s a stranger, and a coloured one at that, which makes it easier to cut a few corners.’
‘You’re not seriously suggesting that they wouldn’t have acted in precisely the same way if he’d been a local boy?’
‘No, not really, Robin, but you can’t get away from the fact that it would cause a lot less dismay round the parish pum
p if Henry were arrested, rather than say Walter.’
‘No doubt; and on the same principle I daresay there are a few in Harlem or Notting Hill Gate who would have equally irrational reasons for wishing to see Walter in the same spot. The point is that, so far as anyone knows, Walter wasn’t anywhere near when the murder was committed. Whereas Henry not only was, but is displaying all the signs of a guilty conscience.’
‘Or fear. Because he’s no fool and he can probably see as well as I can that whoever is behind this deliberately set out to frame him. In the first place, I don’t believe it was the dart which killed her. That’s mainly why I made such a fuss about their moving her.’
Robin looked interested: ‘Why don’t you think it was the dart?’
‘I doubt if the spike would have been long enough. I may not be a forensic expert, but I have learnt a few things about human anatomy over the years.’
‘It can’t be entirely ruled out, although I agree that it would probably have taken a fair degree of medical knowledge to have picked exactly the right spot, if it was the dart.’
‘But that’s not my only objection, Robin. The real point is that there wouldn’t have been any blood. How could there have been?’
‘How indeed? I’ve been asking myself the same question. We’ll have to wait for the autopsy to confirm it, but I wouldn’t mind betting that some quite different weapon was used. So why bring in the dart at all. You’ll no doubt tell me that it was planted there, with Henry’s prints all over it, purely to incriminate him, but isn’t that over simplifying it? The murderer must have realised that the experts wouldn’t be fooled for a moment.’
‘Nevertheless, Henry has been arrested.’
