It took me just three minutes. Tucked away behind the largest tank, from the interior of which a sibilant hissing added an eerie note to the atmosphere, I found a packet of letters wrapped in a torn piece of brown paper.
I read the first letter.
Oh Laurencemy darling, my own dear love It was wonderful last night when you quoted that verse of poetry. I knew it was meant for me, though you didnt look at me. Aristide said, (You read verse well. He didnt guess what we were both feeling. My darling, I feel convinced that soon everything will come right. We shall be glad that he never knew, that he died happy. Hes been good to me. I dont want him to suffer. But I dont really think that it can be any pleasure to live after youre eighty. I shouldnt want to! Soon we shall be together for always. How wonderful it will be when I can say to you: My dear dear husband Dearest, we were made for each other. I love you, love you, love youI can see no end to our love, I
There was a good deal more, but I had no wish to go on.
Grimly I went downstairs and thrust my parcel into Taverners hands.
Its possible, I said, that thats what our unknown friend was looking for.
Taverner read a few passages, whistled and shuffled through the various letters.
Then he looked at me with the expression of a cat who has been fed with the best cream.
Well, he said softly. This pretty well cooks Mrs Brenda Leonides goose. And Mr Laurence Browns. So it was them, all the time
Chapter 19
It seems odd to me, looking back, how suddenly and completely my pity and sympathy for Brenda Leonides vanished with the discovery of her letters, the letters she had written to Laurence Brown. Was my vanity unable to stand up to the revelation that she loved Laurence Brown with a doting and sugary infatuation and had deliberately lied to me? I dont know. Im not a psychologist. I prefer to believe that it was the thought of the child Josephine, struck down in ruthless self-preservation, that dried up the springs of my sympathy.
It seems odd to me, looking back, how suddenly and completely my pity and sympathy for Brenda Leonides vanished with the discovery of her letters, the letters she had written to Laurence Brown. Was my vanity unable to stand up to the revelation that she loved Laurence Brown with a doting and sugary infatuation and had deliberately lied to me? I dont know. Im not a psychologist. I prefer to believe that it was the thought of the child Josephine, struck down in ruthless self-preservation, that dried up the springs of my sympathy.
Brown fixed that booby trap, if you ask me, said Taverner, and it explains what puzzled me about it.
What did puzzle you?
Well, it was such a sappy thing to do. Look here, say the kids got hold of these lettersletters that are absolutely damning! The first thing to do is to try and get them back (after all, if the kid talks about them, but has got nothing to show, it can be put down as mere romancing), but you cant get them back because you cant find them. Then the only thing to do is to put the kid out of action for good. Youve done one murder and youre not squeamish about doing another. You know shes fond of swinging on a door in a disused yard. The ideal thing to do is wait behind the door and lay her out as she comes through with a poker, or an iron bar, or a nice bit of hose-pipe. Theyre all there ready to hand. Why fiddle about with a marble lion perched on top of a door which is as likely as not to miss her altogether and which even if it does fall on her may not do the job properly (which actually is how it turns out). I ask youwhy?
Well, I said, whats the answer?
The only idea I got to begin with was that it was intended to tie in with someones alibi. Somebody would have a nice fat alibI for the time when Josephine was being slugged. But that doesnt wash because, to begin with, nobody seems to have any kind of alibi, and second, someones bound to look for the child at lunch time, and theyll find the booby trap and the marble block, the whole modus operandi[127] will be quite plain to see. Of course, if the murderer had removed the block before the child was found, then we might have been puzzled. But as it is the whole thing just doesnt make sense.
He stretched out his hands.
And whats your present explanation?
The personal element. Personal idiosyncrasy. Laurence Browns idiosyncrasy. He doesnt like violencehe cant force himself to do physical violence. He literally couldnt have stood behind the door and socked the kid on the head. He could rig up a booby trap and go away and not see it happen.
Yes, I see, I said slowly. Its the eserine in the insulin bottle all over again?
Exactly.
Do you think he did that without Brendas knowing?
It would explain why she didnt throw away the insulin bottle. Of course, they may have fixed it up between themor she may have thought up the poison trick all by herselfa nice easy death for her tired old husband and all for the best in the best of possible worlds! But I bet she didnt fix the booby trap. Women never have any faith in mechanical things working properly. And they are right. I think myself the eserine was her idea, but that she made her besotted slave do the switch. Shes the kind that usually manages to avoid doing anything equivocal themselves. Then they keep a nice happy conscience.
He paused, then went on:
With these letters I think the DPP will say we have a case. Theyll take a bit of explaining away! Then, if the kid gets through all right everything in the garden will be lovely. He gave me a sideways glance. How does it feel to be engaged to about a million pounds sterling?
I winced. In the excitement of the last few hours, I had forgotten the developments about the will.
Sophia doesnt know yet, I said. Do you want me to tell her?
I understand Gaitskill is going to break the sad (or glad) news after the inquest tomorrow. Taverner paused and looked at me thoughtfully.
I wonder, he said, what the reactions will be from the family?
Chapter 20
The inquest went off much as I had prophesied. It was adjourned at the request of the police.
We were in good spirits, for news had come through the night before from the hospital that Josephines injuries were much less serious than had been feared and that her recovery would be rapid. For the moment, Dr Gray said, she was to be allowed no visitorsnot even her mother.
Particularly not her mother, Sophia murmured to me. I made that quite clear to Dr Gray. Anyway, he knows mother.
I must have looked rather doubtful, for Sophia said sharply:
Why the disapproving look?
Wellsurely a mother
Im glad youve got a few nice old-fashioned ideas, Charles. But you dont quite know what my mother is capable of yet. The darling cant help it, but there would simply have to be a grand dramatic scene. And dramatic scenes arent the best things for anyone recovering from head injuries.
You do think of everything, dont you, my sweet.
Well, somebodys got to do the thinking now that grandfathers gone.
I looked at her speculatively. I saw that old Leonides acumen had not deserted him. The mantle of his responsibilities was already on Sophias shoulders.
After the inquest, Gaitskill accompanied us back to Three Gables. He cleared his throat and said pontifically:
There is an announcement it is my duty to make to you all.
For this purpose the family assembled in Magdas drawing-room. I had on this occasion the rather pleasurable sensations of the man behind the scenes. I knew in advance what Gaitskill had to say.
I prepared myself to observe the reactions of eve ryone.
Gaitskill was brief and dry. Any signs of personal feeling and annoyance were well held in check. He read first Aristide Leonides letter and then the will itself.
It was very interesting to watch. I only wished my eyes could be everywhere at once.
I did not pay much attention to Brenda and Laurence. The provision for Brenda in this will was the same. I watched primarily Roger and Philip, and after them Magda and Clemency.
My first impression was that they all behaved very well.
Philips lips were pressed closely together, his handsome head was thrown back against the tall chair in which he was sitting. He did not speak.
Magda, on the contrary, burst into speech as soon as Mr Gaitskill finished, her rich voice surging over his thin tones like an incoming tide drowning a rivulet.
Darling Sophiahow extraordinaryhow romantic. Fancy old Sweetie Pie being so cunning and deceitfuljust like a dear old baby. Didnt he trust us? Did he think wed be cross? He never seemed to be fonder of Sophia than the rest of us. But really, its most dramatic.
Suddenly Magda jumped lightly to her feet, danced over to Sophia and swept her a very grand court curtsey.
Madame Sophia, your penniless and broken-down-old mother begs you for alms. Her voice took on a Cockney[128] whine. Spare us a copper, old dear. Your Ma wants to go to the pictures.
Her hand, crooked into a claw, twitched urgently at Sophia.
Philip, without moving, said through stiff lips:
Please, Magda, theres no call for any unnecessary clowning.
Oh, but Roger, cried Magda, suddenly turning to Roger. Poor darling Roger. Sweetie was going to come to the rescue and then, before he could do it, he died. And now Roger doesnt get anything. Sophia, she turned imperiously, you simply must do something about Roger.
No, said Clemency. She had moved forward a step. Her face was defiant. Nothing. Nothing at all.
Roger came shambling over to Sophia like a large amiable bear.
He took her hands affectionately.
I dont want a penny, my dear girl. As soon as this business is cleared upor has died down, which is more what it looks likethen Clemency and I are off to the West Indies and the simple life. If Im ever in extremis Ill apply to the head of the familyhe grinned at her engaginglybut until then I dont want a penny. Im a very simple person really, my dearyou ask Clemency if Im not.
An unexpected voice broke in. It was Edith de Havilands.
Thats all very well, she said. But youve got to pay some attention to the look of the thing. If you go bankrupt, Roger, and then slink off[129] to the ends of the earth without Sophias holding out a helping hand, there will be a good deal of ill-natured talk that will not be pleasant for Sophia.
What does public opinion matter? asked Cle mency scornfully.
We know it doesnt to you, Clemency, said Edith de Haviland sharply, but Sophia lives in this world. Shes a girl with good brains and a good heart, and Ive no doubt that Aristide was quite right in his selection of her to hold the family fortunesthough to pass over your two sons in their lifetime seems odd to our English ideasbut I think it would be very unfortunate if it got about that she behaved greedily over thisand had let Roger crash without trying to help him.