Death in Disguise

by Caroline Graham

  ‘Oh, I don’t think your uncle was that easy to take in. I’d say, if anything, the boot was on the other foot.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean, Chief Inspector, but I do know I don’t intend to sit here and listen to you malign him.’ He climbed down from the table and was half way to the door when Barnaby spoke again.

  ‘Why did you dye your hair, Mr Carter?’

  ‘We went into all that when I was in your office. I didn’t want anyone to connect me with my uncle.’

  ‘But the likeness was negligible. I could hardly see it at all.’

  ‘I thought it was there—all right? And decided to protect myself. Christ—I was nearly killed three days ago, I’m assaulted tonight by a madman with an iron bar. You’d think I’d get sympathy and understanding. Not a bloody third degree.’

  ‘So fair on the photograph, wasn’t it? Nearly white—very striking. Anyone who’d met you as a child say, as Craigie did, might easily have recognised you again.’

  ‘As a…’ Andrew stared around, inviting everyone to share his incredulity.

  ‘How old were you? Eight, nine? When they worked together?’ Now Andrew shook his head in the way people do when presented with something strictly beyond belief. ‘I’d say this was the real reason you didn’t want the police called in after your uncle’s death. Not because people here might be put on the alert but because of what we might discover.’

  ‘All this is absolute nonsense.’

  ‘I believe Andrew’s right,’ said May. ‘The first gathering I went to, Jim was on the platform and spoke of how meeting the Master changed his life. That was why I joined. I was so moved by his testimony.’

  ‘You can see that old trick, Miss Cuttle, in any market place. A shyster selling rubbish and another in the crowd shouting as how the rubbish changed his life. Tell me—didn’t you find staying at the Windhorse a touch expensive when you first arrived?’

  May appeared taken aback at this sudden swerve in the conversation. ‘I must admit I did. And was asked to charge rather more for my workshops than I personally would have liked. Arno…you came shortly after me, I don’t know if you…?’

  ‘Yes. I remember seeing a notice in a travel agent’s window just after I’d booked my first weekend and I could have had a week in Spain for the same money. Not that it wasn’t worth every penny.’ He looked sideways at May, blushed and turned in his toes—or at least the five that were still movable.

  ‘But wasn’t that just until the place got established?’ asked Heather. ‘Certainly when we joined a year later things were much more reasonable.’

  ‘We couldn’t have come otherwise,’ explained Ken.

  ‘I don’t think it was a question of getting the place established at all, Mr Beavers. I think the original premise was to separate as many people from as much of their cash as was humanly possible.’

  ‘So what went wrong?’ said Ken, amending hastily, ‘Or right, I should say.’

  ‘My own belief—and this is not unheard of although the longer the criminal’s in the game the rarer it gets—is that Craigie, perhaps because of his reading, his pretend prayers, his meditations, his constant exposure to people who were truthfully struggling to live some sort of spiritual life, underwent a genuine transformation. Not a grand Pauline conversion, something slower yet nonetheless quite genuine. In other words the mask became the man.’

  ‘I knew it,’ May spoke quietly. ‘He could not have taught the way he did—’

  ‘Or cared for us the way he did,’ interrupted Suhami.

  ‘And there’s Tim,’ said Arno. ‘He related to people emotionally. He understood what they were really like. He was like a child in that respect, and they’re not easily fooled.’

  Barnaby let that pass. This was not the time to go into the matter of how tragically easily children can be fooled. He continued: ‘But then Craigie became ill. Finally, I’ve no doubt, becoming aware that he would not recover. And this led to what I suspect is the “something terrible” mentioned in Carter’s letter to his nephew. I’ve been aware of the word trust as a persistent irritating niggle and couldn’t think why. I knew all there was to know about Miss Gamelin’s inheritance and how—as I thought—it related to the case, so it didn’t seem to be that. And then I recalled your first interview, Mr Gibbs, and realised that not one, but two trusts are involved here.’

  ‘Really.’ Arno frowned. ‘I can’t think…unless you mean the charity—’

  ‘Exactly,’ said the chief inspector. ‘Craigie wished to deed the house and organisation in such a manner that no single individual had overall control. This enraged Carter who, I’m pretty sure, in spite of what his nephew told me to the contrary—had put money from the sale of his house into the enterprise. Nearly two hundred thousand pounds. I doubt if the altercation Mr Gibbs overheard was the first by a long chalk.’

  ‘He didn’t do it though,’ said Arno. ‘Take charitable status I mean.’

  ‘There was no need,’ said the chief inspector, ‘after Carter’s accident.’

  ‘So it’s an accident now?’ Andrew had flushed dark red. ‘You’re as bad as those incompetents at the inquest.’

  ‘It’s not a good idea to take the law into your own hands, Mr Carter.’

  ‘Well, it’s not exactly shining in yours is it? How do you know what the argument was about? Even Arno who overheard them and lived here doesn’t. And I must say the fact that Riley killed my uncle and has made two murderous attempts on me seems to have been pretty lightly touched on. You seem to have forgotten it was almost my death being investigated here tonight. And no doubt, if you hadn’t turned up when you did, that would have been covered up as well.’

  ‘That’s unfair,’ said May. ‘Tim was only trying to prevent your uncle attacking the Master.’

  ‘We’ve only Arno’s word for that.’

  ‘His word,’ said May staunchly, ‘is good enough for me.’

  ‘The grey sheep. That’s what you rather disarmingly called yourself in my office, Mr Carter, if I remember correctly.’ An uninterested shrug. ‘Your ex-Stowe chum by the way not only genuinely lost his wallet but was five thousand in the red by the time he’d notified Visa and American Express. One item being an antelope jacket.’

  ‘Well it’s not this one. I got it from Aquascutum months ago.’

  ‘That shouldn’t be difficult to prove.’

  ‘If you’ve the time to waste.’

  ‘What did you mean, Inspector?’ Suhami was staring at Andrew Carter with sickened apprehension. ‘About taking the law into his own hands.’

  ‘I’m talking about murder, Miss Gamelin.’ Although his stress on the word was harsh, Barnaby’s glance was not without sympathy as it rested on the girl in the pale green sari.

  ‘Murder.’ Her face became drawn and, whispering, ‘It can’t be true,’ she started to shake. Heather immediately bustled forward and enfolded Suhami in her giant bosoms.

  ‘Of course it isn’t true,’ said Andrew scornfully. ‘I didn’t go near him. Just because you’ve given up on Gamelin you needn’t think you’re pinning this on me. For a start—what earthly motive would I have?’

  ‘A mixture, the most dominant I imagine being revenge. One of the few things you told the truth about in my office was that you had a deep and lasting affection for your uncle. I’ve no doubt, as you told me you kept in touch, that you knew about the set-up here and that things were going wrong. What made you so sure Craigie had killed your uncle? Did you think that thieves had fallen out?’

  ‘There were no thieves to fall out. At least as far as Jim was concerned. He told me in one of his letters that the man who was running things here had developed religious mania. Well, we all know how people like that can turn. Half the psychos going say God was telling them to get rid of prostitutes or rent boys or one-legged pensioners.’ He broke off here to light a cigarette. Heather started coughing and waving at the air.

  ‘You’re right about the argument though. Jim felt the man was a p
oseur. It was only due to my uncle’s constant efforts at persuasion that the prices started to come down.’

  ‘You can think on your feet, son,’ said Barnaby. ‘I’ll give you that.’

  ‘You said the most dominant motive.’ Ken was now also coughing preposterously. ‘What were the others then?’

  ‘Money—as it so often is. First in respect of the entailment of this place which I’ve no doubt Mr Carter, being his uncle’s heir, regards as no more than his due.’ He paused to encourage a response but in vain. ‘And then of course the famous trust fund. Miss Gamelin was about to offload it. Carter was in a difficult position. He’d been pursuing her almost from the first moment he arrived yet there was still no definite engagement, let alone the chime of wedding bells. Perhaps under Craigie’s influence she was still drawn to a more reclusive, maybe even celibate life. Another reason why his death may have forwarded your plans.’

  ‘There weren’t any “plans.” I fell in love.’ His angry glance swung from Barnaby to Troy and back again. ‘Can’t you see how you’re upsetting her? Telling all these bloody lies.’

  Suhami was watching Andrew as he spoke. She saw no traces of remorse. But then, if it was all bloody lies, there wouldn’t be. Her own reaction to all these revelations was most curious. After the first shock of distress and disbelief she found she was experiencing nothing at all. A great yawning void seemed to have opened up around her. Whether Christopher had truly fallen in love with her seemed to be of no importance. She put a little gentle pressure on the memory of past emotions, recalled the moment in the byre when she had been so delirious with joy. The whole scene now seemed no more than faintly pleasurable. For the first time in her life things had gone wrong, more vilely and horribly than ever before, and she was not all over the floor in pieces. It was a mystery but a most consoling one.

  ‘Forgive me for saying so, Inspector,’ murmured Arno, ‘but what you suggest is quite impossible. As Andrew has already explained and we can all confirm—he never went near the dais. Are you saying he had an accomplice?’

  ‘An unwitting accomplice. Not to the act of murder, but of course he had to get the knife and the glove into the Solar. He was dressed—I’m sure deliberately to reinforce his “alibi”—in such a way as to make concealment about his person out of the question.’

  ‘But how could anyone bring a knife in without knowing it?’ said Ken.

  ‘In a bag,’ said Barnaby. ‘There was a thread caught up on the handle proving this. Where were you positioned on the dais, Mr Carter?’

  Andrew did not reply. Suhami said, ‘He was next to me.’

  ‘Yet after fetching Miss Cuttle’s cape you did not return there?’

  ‘May often had distressing times during her regressions. I thought it might be of help if I stayed close.’

  ‘Ever done that before?’

  ‘No, but I should think just the fact that I chose to do it then is enough to knock your theory on the head. If you’re going to kill someone you get as close to your victim as possible, not as far away.’

  ‘Ah, but you had no choice. Because you put the knife in the wrong bag. It was only when opening it to take out the cape that you realised your mistake.’

  ‘In my bag!’ May’s voice surged to a peak of Bracknellian splendour.

  ‘He thought it was Miss Gamelin’s. They’re very similar.’

  Suhami groaned at this and Heather’s bosoms leapt to their cradling once more.

  ‘He did this at the very last minute, perhaps even taking charge to make sure she didn’t open it.’

  ‘Yes that’s right,’ cried Ken. ‘He carried it in for her. I remember.’

  ‘You would,’ said Andrew.

  ‘He was banking on the sort of disturbance which did in fact take place, but of course he expected to be close to Craigie at the time. As I said previously, this was a partly planned, partly impulsive crime.’

  ‘I don’t see how he could possibly have slipped a knife in at the last moment Inspector,’ said Arno. ‘He couldn’t have been carrying it and it certainly wasn’t on the table.’

  ‘Yes, that fazed me for a bit. Then I remembered Guy Gamelin’s complaint that he wasn’t allowed to sit beside Sylvie because one of the community’s disciplines was keeping to the same seat. I’ve no doubt that there was a cushion on Mr Carter’s. The knife was placed beneath it earlier in the day. And the glove, too, of course.

  ‘Stupidly choosing a left-handed one,’ said Andrew scornfully, ‘although I use the right.’

  ‘Just an added pointer in the wrong direction. I think you simply turned it inside out then turned it back. You couldn’t have known of course that Gamelin would be left-handed. That must have seemed a real bonus. As it happened, he tried to offload it behind the curtain and was spotted. I’m sure, if this had not been the case, you would have somehow managed to draw the matter to our attention. Perhaps via Miss Gamelin who was already completely convinced of her father’s guilt.’

  ‘Supposition—all of it. You’re stuck, Inspector—you can’t solve the problem so you’ve dreamed up this fantasy. And if you’re going to say I killed him when I went to switch on the light you can think again. I didn’t go near him at any time. Nor, as you’ve obviously forgotten, was I part of the group that Craigie pointed at before he died.’

  ‘That’s of no matter,’ said Barnaby. ‘For Ian Craigie was not pointing at a person at all.’

  ‘Yes he was. Gamelin. Ask anyone.’

  ‘Certainly it must have seemed that way but going over things earlier tonight, I was struck by one very interesting difference between Guy Gamelin and the rest of the group. He was the only person who was standing up.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘That put him in the way.’

  ‘In the way of what, Inspector?’ asked Arno.

  ‘I believe Craigie was indicating the direction from which the knife was thrown!’

  There was a fair old hubbub at this. The word ‘thrown’ was repeated several times with varying degrees of incredulity. Heather left Suhami and ran excitedly back to Ken. Andrew burst out laughing.

  ‘Oh—that’s brilliant. In a dark room? Ten feet away?’

  ‘Not dark—duskish. And he was wearing a brilliant white robe.’

  ‘Impossible.’

  ‘Not to someone who’s thrown knives for a living.’ The hubbub melted into a stunned silence. ‘You didn’t tell us that did you, Mr Carter?’

  ‘There’s all sorts of things I didn’t tell you.’

  ‘That’s for sure,’ said Troy.

  ‘It was careless to mention your time at Blackpool, because we got in touch with your employers who revealed that, apart from your lion-taming skills for which they had little use, you also offered fire eating and a knife act.’

  ‘Carny people’ll say anything.’ Barnaby was silent for quite a time. Eventually Andrew Carter spoke again.

  ‘That’s it, is it? Your evidence against me? Well, all I can say is that if by some miracle this ever gets as far as a courtroom, the jury’ll be falling off their bench in hysterics.’

  Miracle is right, thought Troy. He had listened, engrossed, totally convinced, whilst the chief unravelled the case against Andrew Carter but now the mesmerising tale was done what did they have? What did they actually have? A thread from a bag caught up on a knife. Everything else was supposition. No prints on the murder weapon. One quick daring movement with everyone looking elsewhere. All Carter had to do was stick to his bewildered denials and a good lawyer would have him out on the streets before you could say no case to answer. He knew that—the cunning bugger. Look at him shrugging, shaking his head, smiling. He wouldn’t crack. Or make mistakes. Even if they managed to dig up some past form—so what? All that proved was he’s not Persil clean. And character defamation could only take you so far. Troy tried to look at his chief but Barnaby, his face blank, was gazing at the stone-flagged floor. Finally he looked up and spoke.

  ‘How did you get the boy to come out of hi
s room?’

  Stone the crows he’s really getting desperate. Clocked the problems, no making the first one stick so going all out on the second which is even more of a no no. Riley’d already attacked Carter once and nearly killed him. Self-defence is a foregone conclusion. They won’t even get him on manslaughter. Troy’s expression revealed none of these ponderings but his heart was heavy. What was it the chief had said yesterday—up the creek without a paddle? Too bloody right! Troy felt a momentary flash of fellow feeling for Barnaby. Almost of affection. This sort of empathetic insight was so alien to his usual way of thinking that he was relieved to see it disappear as quickly and mysteriously as it had arisen.

  Now the tension in the room had snapped, mainly because of Andrew’s burst of apparently quite genuine laughter. May broke a long awkward silence by asking Arno how his foot was feeling. Suhami turned her back on them all. Heather collected the dirty cups and took them to the sink. Only Troy saw the door slowly open.

  Barnaby repeated the question, ‘How did you get the boy to come out?’

  ‘He imitated Arno’s voice.’

  Felicity was wearing her Caroline Charles two-piece and borrowed furry slippers. She looked very white but the words were strong and clear. The pressure in the room shot up again.

  ‘Come and sit down, Mrs Gamelin.’ Barnaby, his sluggish heart once more on the move, drew out a chair. She came further into the room, but hesitantly, looking frightened. Having set her down, Barnaby perched on the table’s edge, his burly form concealing Andrew Carter.

  ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘I woke up wanting the loo. I put a robe on and I’d just started to open the door when I saw… him…’

  ‘Andrew Carter?’

  ‘Christopher.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘Kneeling by the keyhole of Tim’s room. His lips were very close. He said, ‘This is Arno. I’ve got your supper.’ His voice was so different. It was uncanny. He didn’t have a tray or anything but he had this terrible iron bar that he propped up against the wall. And when Tim opened the door, Christopher made a grab, pulled him outside and… and started to hit him with it. I should have gone for help… I know I should. But I was so frightened. I just went inside again. I didn’t even ring the police. I’m sorry…so sorry…’