The Open House (22 page)

‘And they succeeded?’

‘They did, up to a point – and, although their investigation proved a fiasco, they might have got clean away had they not been a bit shaken and run into a tree.’

‘A fiasco? The incriminating documents weren’t there?’

‘They weren’t there. Probably they had never been there. Possibly Adrian had dropped the notion of political revenge, and destroyed them long ago. What was there was a certificate of marriage. I’ve never seen it, and I suppose that now I never shall. But I can give you the names, the date, and the church. The officiating clergyman was a Mr Templeman. You see, Mrs Anglebury – not that she has any title to be called that – can be much more precisely communicative at moments than her unfortunate condition of mind would suggest.’

‘In fact the lad we call David Anglebury is the legitimate son…?’

‘Precisely. It was an obscure possibility to be reckoned with from early on. Indeed, you may recall my putting it to you. The marriage between his mother and Adrian Snodgrass was perfectly valid. But the lady quickly proved so dotty that Adrian lost his nerve, and got clear of her by telling her a perfectly ghastly lie. It seems incredible that he got away with it. But the whole thing had been a secret and runaway affair, which presumably made the deception feasible.
She
believed
him
. Then, later, nobody much bothered to believe
her
. Much later still, Adrian met his son, and liked him. His conscience got to work – only it wasn’t a conscience of a particularly expeditious order.’

‘It would by no means have been necessary that he should produce that scrap of paper from the safe in order to prove the validity of the marriage and to effect the legitimation of his son.’

‘Perfectly true. But he wanted to do the thing in style. Or even, you might say, with a touch of theatre. The Snodgrasses (as Basil-Leonidas had the effrontery to tell me about himself) have a theatrical streak to them. But now I come, Vicar, to a fantastic turn in the affair. Adrian is dead: successfully killed by the bogus butler, and his body disposed according to plan. But our South American friends are still hanging on grimly – and Beddoes Snodgrass actually encounters or glimpses them. Coming after the jar of
my
appearance, it was almost too much for the old rascal. He could only call weakly for Leonidas – in other words for Basil, who was undoubtedly the initiating and controlling intelligence all through. The South Americans, I say, hang on grimly, and blow the safe. They see at once that the only document it contains is totally without significance for them. So they simply chuck it away, and bolt.’

‘
Chuck it away?
’

‘Yes. And one of our two native worthies – Beddoes or Basil – finds it. That was the bizarre circumstance that beat me. They realized that, if their whole elaborate course of criminality was not to be in vain, David Snodgrass must follow his father Adrian Snodgrass rapidly into the grave.’

‘But if they had simply destroyed the marriage certificate…’

‘No good at all. The discovery that David was legitimate, and heir to the estate, was a thoroughly shattering one. They knew, after all, that their evil star had brought me to Ledward. They knew I would hear about Mrs Anglebury’s supposed delusions regarding a false marriage. And they knew that, having stumbled upon a mysterious crime, I wouldn’t let so dubious a piece of past history go uninvestigated. Even if the poor woman hadn’t come out with date and place as she did, a little organized police investigation would have got at the records. Ledward was as good as David’s – unless David went.’

‘They might have been disposed to feel that you ought to go too.’

‘That’s true. But before going off on that final chase I scribbled three words – just three – for the excellent Inspector Stride. They might have puzzled him for a minute or two. But finally they’d have taken him right to the end of the road.’

‘Three
words?’

‘
Basil was Leonidas
.’

‘A succinct communication, indeed. But about a most complicated affair! From what would you be inclined to say that it all
began
?’

‘From the open house – the rather fantastic birthday compact which must once have been simply a light-hearted affair between Adrian Snodgrass and an uncle who didn’t like him nearly so much as he imagined. It was the legendary tryst that brought David’s mother here – and the lad himself after her. It was the same legendary tryst that must have set Basil’s mind working. He would see that any reasonable police force would positively expect burglary, missing Claudes and so on under such conditions – and would take an enraged householder shot by panic-stricken crooks as something entirely in order. He worked from that.’

‘He was, in fact, a brilliant crook himself.’

‘Oh, dear me – no!’ The tone in which Appleby said this was almost shocked. ‘The idea of a butler who couldn’t be caught for the very good reason that he didn’t exist, and who moreover had an unbreakable alibi because he was in the presence of witnesses when what would be taken to have been the fatal shot was heard: all that was ingenious enough, I agree. But Coxing and Boxing between two identities – at least intermittently – over a substantial period of time had nothing to commend it except the degree of virtuosity required. And his noises off – all that fun with tape-recorders and time-switches – was just a shade at random, as I’ve said. The woman’s scream puzzled me, by the way. Why should he feed in that? But of course that was
real
: a
viva-voce
interpolation, so to speak, by our crazy lady.’

‘You mentioned the Claude. Do you think it will have come to harm?’

‘Almost certainly not. I have no doubt that Basil-Leonidas simply made off with it, and the rest of the supposed spoils, when I so trustingly instructed him to drive away and find a doctor. My guess is that the Campagna with Banditti will be safely in Stride’s keeping by sundown.’

‘We cross this foot-bridge,’ Dr Absolon said presently, ‘and it is the gate of my back-garden that is in front of us. You must excuse the state of the lawns. The leaves have begun to fall rather fast, you know, and I have been tardy in sweeping them up. Naturally I don’t keep a gardener. But one or two of the pensioners among my parishioners are very good. They give me a hand from time to time, and with no thought of pay.’

‘You must let me do the same, while waiting to hear about my confounded car.’ Appleby paused, as his companion had done, to view the vicarage now before them. It was a house of very modest dimensions.

‘I am extremely fortunate in my quarters,’ Absolon said. ‘Thatch is always picturesque. But it is also an admirable insulating agent. And that saves fuel.’ He was silent, and then glanced at Appleby as if a fresh thought had struck him. ‘I hope that Ledward, and the substantial wealth behind it, will not be too much for our young man. It need not necessarily be a blessing, I fear. And it is not as if he had been brought up to expectations of anything of the kind.’

‘David Snodgrass will keep his head, I’d say. Or at least recover it quickly, even if it goes a little astray for a time.’

‘He could, of course, do much good in the parish.’ The vicar had moved forward again. Perhaps it was being on his own ground, Appleby thought, that was prompting him to these very proper professional reflections. ‘It would be pleasant to feel that blessing might eventually come from these sad, and largely evil, events. But have you considered, my dear Sir John, their sober irony? It was a very wicked deed on Adrian Snodgrass’ part that set all this in train years ago. But it was an eventual good impulse, an impulse to repent and make amends, that directly brought about his death.’

‘Very true. But we must not be too hard even on his original course of conduct. The act of perfidy towards the distraught woman he had rashly run away with and married was of course abominable. But he must quite quickly have come to judge it too late for repentance. For Charles Anglebury appeared, a respectable seeming-marriage took place, and Adrian’s child had a father. Within a few months of his sin – for it was a sin – he may have felt that telling the truth could produce only misery and scandal. I have some sympathy with Adrian. But Beddoes and Basil are another matter.’

‘Not wholly another matter. They must come together in our prayers. May God have mercy on their souls, all three.’ Dr Absolon had opened a door, and now stood aside for Appleby to pass. ‘I wonder,’ he said, ‘whether Mrs Gathercoal might be persuaded to give my housekeeper the receipt for that potted char?’

John Appleby first appears in
Death at the President’s Lodging
, by which time he has risen to the rank of Inspector in the police force. A cerebral detective, with ready wit, charm and good manners, he rose from humble origins to being educated at ‘St Anthony’s College’, Oxford, prior to joining the police as an ordinary constable.

Having decided to take early retirement just after World War II, he nonetheless continued his police career at a later stage and is subsequently appointed an Assistant Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police at Scotland Yard, where his crime solving talents are put to good use, despite the lofty administrative position. Final retirement from the police force (as Commissioner and Sir John Appleby) does not, however, diminish Appleby’s taste for solving crime and he continues to be active,
Appleby and the Ospreys
marking his final appearance in the late 1980’s.

In
Appleby’s End
he meets Judith Raven, whom he marries and who has an involvement in many subsequent cases, as does their son Bobby and other members of his family.

These titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels