‘We felt that Rosie Falkner, with her openness and robust common sense, was the least likely of the remaining siblings to be guilty, although we couldn’t, of course, rule her out. As for Harry Falkner, he didn’t appear to be party to the upheavals in the all-female household, apparently knowing nothing about them at the time of the murder. He was an ordinary, uncomplicated sort of chap, with a business to worry about; and though he could possibly have done it he seemed an even less plausible suspect than Rosie was.
‘That left Beatrice and Alison. Alison had just been reunited with Albert Little after fourteen years apart, and though she had as much reason to resent her mother as the others she would probably have been too preoccupied with Albert to contemplate revenge. There simply wasn’t, we felt, the necessary incentive there.
‘Beatrice, however, was different. More emotional and imaginative and bright enough to be cynical, she appeared to be the most affected by the loss of her lover, and struggled to say that she loved her mother. Not that I set much store by the latter; I find it hard to believe that any of them did. We decided we had probably found our murderer; but Beatrice wasn’t telling, and none of the others, if they knew anything, were likely to either. They were simply too close to one another. Persistent interrogation might have opened a chink, but I doubted it.
‘I decided to send the visitors home. There was probably nothing more to learn from them and we were worried about their safety. It would also make it clear to those remaining that the chase was closing in. Furthermore, it would be difficult for the perpetrator to say goodbye to her brother and other relatives with feigned equanimity, knowing she might never see them again. Perhaps, observing them, we would be able to confirm our suspicions. It was only after I’d made that decision that two things happened. Firstly, I remembered something that Beatrice had said, describing her mother as plotting and planning what her daughters should do around the farm. It was an awkward turn of phrase and I got the impression at the time that she’d been intending to say something else and had swiftly improvised a change of subject. Plotting and planning murder, is what one assumes she nearly said. However, at the time we knew nothing of Hannah’s intentions – she was then simply the victim, not the perpetrator – and I had let it go.
‘The other thing was that we returned from the churchyard to our interview room to discover that Sergeants Nash and Yardley had discovered, like Beatrice before them, that simply by lifting and reversing the fatal chocolates in their box one could readily create the conditions necessary for murdering the murderer. Not only that, but it had actually been done — as Forensics’ original photograph clearly showed, although one had to look closely to see it.
‘It now seemed reasonably clear that the culprit was Beatrice, but I decided to stick to our plan. She might be moved to confess, which would save a lot of trouble. And, of course, there was always a chance that we were wrong. I suppose it could be said to have worked, after a fashion. Delia Falkner bravely but foolishly attempted to save her sister by confessing in her place – she had known, of course, that it must be she – and Rosie and Alison had innocently come out to say goodbye. Beatrice remained behind, choosing instead to make away with herself.’ Felix sighed wearily. ‘And that was that, sir.’
‘The A/C sat nodding in silence for a while. ‘What I don’t understand,’ he said, ‘is how the old lady hoped to get away with it. You would surely have got her eventually.’
‘We wondered about that, sir,’ said Felix, ‘as one so often does, of course. But she was an arrogant, opinionated woman, and in her hubris, might simply have assumed she would. Either that or she planned to pin it on one of the daughters, with jealousy of Florence and Alf as the motive. She might have considered that a reasonable price to pay to keep the farm in the family.’
‘And what of Beatrice Falkner? Do you think you would have secured a conviction if she hadn’t chosen to poison herself?’
‘Hard to say, sir. We had yet to find concrete proof and if she’d remained silent, she might have got away with it. She must, however, have known the misery that further investigation would have inflicted on her sisters, and the possibility of one of them being wrongly accused, or even convicted. She probably felt she couldn’t take that chance.
‘I must say, sir, I found this case particularly affecting. One feels desperately sorry for those women and their blighted lives, and in that I include Beatrice. Perhaps especially Beatrice. It was all such a dreadful waste. The only light in the darkness is that several people in the place seem to have found happiness together.’
◆◆◆
‘Darling, I hate to see you like this,’ said Connie. ‘It’s been a week now, and I don’t think you’ve smiled once. Would you rather not do it anymore? Seriously.’
Felix looked up distractedly from his armchair. ‘Do it?’ he enquired.
‘You know what I mean — be a policeman. You don’t have to be. You could pack it in and start that stud farm. And if you won’t borrow from my parents, or yours, we could use the house money. That’s if you think it’d be enough. You only live once, after all.’
Felix shook his head. ‘We’ve talked about this, old thing. You wouldn’t like it. You know you wouldn’t. You like shops and bustle and I wouldn’t inflict it on you.’
‘I wouldn’t mind, if it was what you wanted. And it would be good for Abby to be away from these dreadful fogs. Her brother or sister too, whichever it’s going to be. I must consult Maurice.’
Felix looked at her in surprise and then began to laugh. ‘Well, that’s a peculiar way to tell me and no mistake! I’ll have to work it out.’ Reaching up he pulled her onto his lap. ‘Come to me, mother of my children!’
‘I don’t see what’s peculiar about it,’ frowned Connie. ‘What is there to work out?’
The End
Death Among the Kisses (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 10) Page 14
