The Santa Klaus Murder (6 page)

So on that afternoon of Christmas Day, when he said he was going into the study, I at once thought he had the engagement in mind, but to make sure I just said that I supposed it was not necessary to remind him of the call he was expecting, and he said that was all right. Those were the last words I ever spoke to Sir Osmond, and his last words to me, as he went into the study, were: “Thank you, Grace. It's a pleasure to me to know there is someone I can always rely on.”

Sir Osmond then called to Mr. Witcombe, who was still waiting in the library, as Santa Klaus, to follow him into the study, to have his instructions, I suppose, about giving out the presents in the servants' hall. It had been arranged that he was to do this in his Santa Klaus dress and Sir Osmond was very particular that it should be done just so, with a special remark of a jocular nature to each one of them. We all knew that Mr. Witcombe didn't relish this part of the business, because of course the servants all knew who he was and he probably felt a bit silly.

When Sir Osmond went into the study with Mr. Witcombe, there was only Bingham there in the library, seeing to the lights, and me, and I don't suppose anyone else knew exactly where Sir Osmond was or when he went into the study. I began tidying up the papers and string, but Harry, who was still busy with his electrical business, came and swept everything up into a corner and told me not to bother with the mess now, when I ought to be enjoying the party. So I went and joined the others in the hall and went round to look at the children's presents.

Santa Klaus, that is to say Mr. Witcombe, came out of the study not long afterwards and crossed the hall and went out by the door at the back, under the left-hand branch of the staircase; soon he came back again into the hall, from the dining-room, I think—on the right-hand side—holding a lot of crackers in his arms. He went up to Kit, who was kneeling on the floor over his train, and held out a cracker for him to pull. The cracker went off with a big bang, which attracted the attention of the other children, who came running up, and Santa Klaus divided his armful amongst them and they ran around pulling them with us who were in the hall and making a tremendous noise. Santa Klaus went into the library, I suppose to pick up the presents for the servants' hall.

It was some time later when we saw Santa Klaus come into the hall again, through the door from the back passage. He came to the bottom of the big staircase and waved his empty sack to show that he'd given away all the presents, and called out something to the children about saying good-bye soon, until next Christmas. Then he went into the library. We weren't quite sure what was to happen next and I think everyone was waiting to see. I knew the original idea was for him to report to Sir Osmond, who would come into the hall and gather us all together to see Santa Klaus off from the front door. He had evidently gone into the study through the library, which happened to be the nearest door to him. Now that there had been this private letter to Sir Osmond about the appointment I didn't know whether the plan might be altered or what we were supposed to do, so I kept a look-out to be ready.

Then I heard a rattling of the handle of the study door, like someone trying to get out and not being able to turn it. I ran up to the door and tried it, but it was locked and the key wasn't on the outside. I called out that the key must be inside, as was to be expected, but in a moment Santa Klaus appeared from the library, shutting the door carefully behind him. He looked round quickly and came up to Mrs. Wynford, who was standing near me, as we had been talking together. We saw that he had a sort of ghastly look, though with the false eyebrows and beard and his cheeks rouged, it was difficult to see what he really looked like until he came quite close. There seemed to be two expressions; this ghastly one looking through the jolly Santa Klaus one.

He said very quietly to Mrs. Wynford: “Get the children away somewhere. There's been an accident. Do you know where George is?”

She gave a sort of gasp and put her hand to her mouth and looked towards the study and at him again, and didn't seem able to say a word.

He just nodded and said: “Yes: Sir Osmond. I think he's shot himself.” He held her by the arm as he said it, as if to warn her not to scream and to hold her in case she fainted. But she seemed to get control of herself.

She said: “I must go to him—a doctor—Grace had better telephone.”

Mr. Witcombe said quickly, before I could run to the study, where the telephone was, “Hilda! I'm afraid it's no good; you can't do anything. Don't go into the study; wait for George. Miss Portisham, will you see that someone looks after the children.”

I knew from his manner as well as from what he said that it was very serious and I felt dreadfully frightened, but I knew we mustn't have a scene and get all the children screaming. But he looked so awful in the Santa Klaus dress and make-up and his staring eyes that I wanted to laugh, even when I felt frightened and trembling and almost crying at the same time. I managed to tell him that I thought Mr. George Melbury was in the drawing-room; I'd noticed him go in there a little earlier. Mrs. Wynford stood, looking about her, very pale, but she seemed able to look after herself. Then I caught sight of Nurse Poole and was going to ask her to see to the children, when it occurred to me that there might be some feeling if I gave orders to her. But I saw Mrs. Stickland, and thankful that it was her, who is always so quiet, and not the Hon. Mrs. George Melbury, I went and told her what Mr. Witcombe had said.

I don't know exactly what happened after that, but everything was awfully quiet. Even the children were quiet, for a wonder, and Mrs. Stickland and the nurses got them all away without much fuss. I was still thinking that I ought to telephone, so I went into the library, remembering that the study door was locked, and as I went in I saw Mrs. Wynford at the study door, which was closed. Mr. Witcombe, still dressed up, which seemed so dreadful, but I think he had forgotten about it, came hurrying up just as Mrs. Wynford opened the door and he followed her into the study, and I went in behind him.

We were surprised—at least, I was—to see Lady Evershot standing in the study with her back to the window that looks out at the side of the house. She was standing a little to one side and behind the chair in which Sir Osmond usually sat at his table in the corner, when he was writing, and I could just see that Sir Osmond was in the chair, not sitting up but dropped over one arm of the chair, with his head below the table. Lady Evershot looked very white and I could see her hands were trembling.

Mrs. Wynford ran forward, round Sir Osmond's table, taking no notice of her sister; she stood there, looking down at her father, drawing in her breath and seeming to go all stiff, with her hands spread out.

Mr. George Melbury came in quickly and said, “Wait, Hilda!” He went up to her and put his hand on her arm, as if to hold her back, while Mr. Witcombe said: “You can't do anything.” She pulled herself away and took a step nearer to her father. Mr. Witcombe said again, “It's no good, Mrs. Wynford. We ought not to touch anything.” Then he turned to me and asked me to ring up the doctor.

I went across to the little table in the other corner, where the telephone stood, and sat down and everything seemed to swim and my hands trembled so that I could hardly dial the number, though I knew it well enough. As I was waiting for the number I heard Mrs. Wynford say in a queer, high voice, “Where are Jenny and Carol?”

I think Mr. Witcombe took her and Lady Evershot out of the room, and Mr. George came over to me and when he heard by what I said that Doctor Tarrant was coming at once, he asked me if I knew the number of Colonel Halstock, who was a neighbour of Sir Osmond's and the Chief Constable of the county. I gave him the number and he sat down and began to dial it. I didn't know whether to go away, so I waited. I walked a little back from the telephone table to where I could see Sir Osmond better. He lay all sort of collapsed sideways in his chair, leaning over towards the wall, and I could see a dark hole in the side of his forehead and a trickle of blood, and a long pistol lay on the table in front of him. It made me feel quite awful. I was afraid to touch him; he looked so dead; but it seemed dreadful to leave him like that.

Then I heard voices in the library and in came Miss Jennifer, and went straight up to Sir Osmond's table and stood there and said in a low voice: “Oh!” Very long drawn out it was. And then she just said: “How frightful!”

She stood there a moment or so and then she walked up to the table and picked up the pistol. Mr. George was speaking through the telephone, with his back to her, but he had noticed her come in and now I suppose he heard the noise of her picking up the pistol and he said, very sharply, “You mustn't touch anything, Jennifer!” Then he went on speaking into the telephone.

I didn't like to do or say anything. Miss Jennifer seemed to take no notice of her brother, but she held the pistol for a moment and then put it down again very carefully and stood there looking at the table and everything on it. Then she turned and saw me.

“I don't know what I ought to do!” she said, but almost as if she were speaking to herself.

Mr. George had just finished telephoning and he got up and said, “Really Jenny, you mustn't touch anything in the room. It's no good staying here, you know.”

He looked towards me, as if wanting me to do something. I was very frightened and as if rooted to the ground, especially because I thought Miss Jenny was really half off her head with the shock. She looked white as a ghost. I went up to her and persuaded her out of the study and into the library.

There sat Mrs. Wynford, still with that frozen look, as if she didn't know what was going on round her. Lady Evershot was standing with her back against the window, just in the same position she had stood in the study, and she was gripping the window ledge with her hands and looking as if she might faint. Then Sir David came in at the library door and looked all round the room rather wildly and saw his wife and went and stood near her, but she took no notice of him at all.

The others came in one by one. Mrs. Stickland was very quiet, but she was crying. Mr. Stickland followed her in and they went and sat down together. Mr. Witcombe, who seemed to have been finding them all and telling them, came in holding Sir Osmond's sister by the arm and half supporting her. She was sobbing and calling out, very loudly, it seemed:

“Look after the others! Where is George? He ought to be looking after his poor wife and sisters. Oh dear, oh dear! How can such a thing have happened? I always said these Christmas gatherings were not wise; but of course, no one would listen. Oh dear, oh dear!” She sat down and went on crying and calling out, “Oh dear! Oh dear!” over and over again.

Mr. George's wife followed them in and she was talking too, rather wildly, I thought, and saying, “At such a time, too! Oh, it's dreadful, dreadful! Do you think the children will be all right? We must
do
something. To-day of all days! Just when we were doing our best! It's frightful!”

No one took much notice of her, except that Mr. Witcombe, after he had put Miss Melbury into a chair, went up to her and tried to quiet her. He had taken off his Santa Klaus dress, and the beard and false eyebrows, but the rouge was still on his face. I suppose no one liked to tell him about it.

The door opened suddenly and Miss Carol sort of burst in and then stopped and said: “Oh! Where's mother? What's the matter?” There was a sort of shocked silence and then she saw her mother signing to her and went and sat beside her, talking to her in a low voice.

Then Mr. Cheriton came in and he also seemed as if he had rushed to the library in a hurry, which of course was only natural. He looked round anxiously till he saw Miss Jennifer, who looked towards him as though she were relieved that he had come, and he went up to her and began to talk to her.

Just then Mrs. Stickland came up to me and asked me to go and see that tea was served to the children and nurses in the day nursery and to give a message to nurse about putting them to bed. I was rather glad to have something to do and to get away. I couldn't get used to the idea that Sir Osmond was dead and I was very uncomfortable in the library, not knowing whether I should stay, because I might be needed over some business, but feeling that they didn't want me there. In fact, it seemed as if each one of them didn't want some of the others there. As each one came in, someone would look up at them as if somehow that made it all worse. It was like a group of people having a private conversation, which makes them feel awkward when someone walks in upon them suddenly. I suppose it was the awful shock and no one quite understanding what had really happened.

Chapter Six

Review of the Situation

by Col. Halstock, Chief Constable of Haulmshire

Certainly the most difficult and painful situation I have ever found myself involved in! My old friend, Sir Osmond Melbury, found shot in his study on Christmas Day. Evidence seems to point to someone in the household as the criminal, and the large party gathered there consists almost entirely of members of his family, whom I have known from their childhood.

Here and now (11.40 p.m. on Christmas Day—just returned from Flaxmere) I will record my personal impressions, as well as the bare facts.

Facts which seem to be generally agreed upon:

After Christmas-tree business Sir Osmond went to his study at about 3.30. Miss Portisham and Bingham, the chauffeur, last saw him in the library at this time. Mr. Witcombe, impersonating Santa Klaus, followed him into the study and was there instructed by him concerning distribution of presents in servants' hall. Sir Osmond said he would be in his study until tea time (4.30) and was expecting a telephone call. Mr. Witcombe was to report to him there when he had finished his Santa Klaus job. (Only Mr. Witcombe's evidence for this conversation.)

Rest of the party were for the next half-hour scattered about hall and drawing-room. Miss Portisham and Hilda Wynford say they were in the hall all the time and confirm each other's evidence on this point pretty well, declaring that they were talking to each other after the first five or ten minutes. No one seems sure of having seen any of the others during the whole of this half-hour.

George Melbury's wife, Patricia, was talking to Eleanor Stickland in the drawing-room and then went into the hall to quieten two of the children who were quarrelling. Eleanor followed her into the hall when she heard the crackers being pulled, as she thought her daughter would be frightened. Edith Evershot says she was in the drawing-room all the time. Miss Melbury went upstairs at some point to fetch her knitting. Jennifer says she was “all over the place,” chiefly playing with the children in the hall. Carol Wynford says the same. So much for the women.

Of the men, George Melbury, David Evershot and Gordon Stickland say they were in the drawing-room most of the time. George went into the hall once to see what was going on, he says, because he was on the look-out for some summons to them all from his father “to see Santa Klaus off the premises.” He returned to the drawing-room. Gordon Stickland says he sat in the drawing-room all the time, working out a crossword puzzle, and didn't particularly notice who else came and went. David Evershot says he looked into the hall when the cracker-pulling began, to see what was up, and then, because of the noise and smell, felt he must get some fresh air, so he went out of the front door and took a breather up and down the drive in front of the house, returning after about five minutes.

Philip Cheriton says he was moving about, chiefly talking to Jennifer and Carol, who both agree that they were talking to him “practically all the time,” but they struck me as rather vague about this. In short, it seems impossible to be sure of anyone's exact movements during that half-hour.

No one admits seeing anyone enter the study after Oliver Witcombe left Sir Osmond there, until Witcombe returned and found him dead. Clearly he was shot after Witcombe left.
Evidence for this
: Miss Portisham, who remained in the library when Witcombe followed Sir Osmond into the study, testifies that the door was left open and she heard their voices in conversation until she went into the hall. Bingham, who was also in the library for some time, agrees that the door was left open. Witcombe knew they were there and can hardly have known when they left, so we can wipe out the possibility that he followed Sir Osmond into the study to murder him.

Witcombe left the study by the door leading into the hall. But the study can be entered from the library and there is a door between the library and dining-room—in fact a route by which you can get from the passage behind the hall to the study without entering the hall or, providing the library door is shut, being seen from it.

The next visitor to the study, as far as anyone admits, was Oliver Witcombe again, acting on Sir Osmond's instructions, he says, to report when he had distributed the presents in the servants' hall. He entered library from hall (seen by several) and so into study. About 4 p.m. Found Sir Osmond seated at his writing table, shot in side of head; dead. Pistol on table before him.

Witcombe says he felt Sir Osmond's heart but otherwise touched nothing. Attempted to open door into hall but found it locked. (Door certainly locked when I arrived and key not yet found.) Came round into hall through library, locking study door behind him, lest the children might run in. Spoke to Hilda Wynford and Miss Portisham, found George Melbury in drawing-room and spoke to him, and returned to library. As he entered he saw Miss Portisham there and Mrs. Wynford, the latter just opening the study door. He followed her in and they found Lady Evershot already there. George Melbury came into the study soon after them.

At George's request, Miss Portisham telephoned to Doctor Tarrant. (He says she sounded very upset; the gist of her message was that Sir Osmond had shot himself.) George himself telephoned to me. (By my own observation it was 4.12 when I reached the telephone. There was a little delay in getting hold of me, and the line was not clear; I couldn't make out at first what George was saying. George remained in the study until Doctor Tarrant arrived at 4.27. Jennifer Melbury came into the study while he was telephoning. He seems to have cleared them all out when he had finished telephoning to me and he remained there alone. I was there at 4.46. The police and police surgeon (notified by me) arrived soon after. The only people who seem to have been alone in the study with the corpse, after Witcombe gave the alarm, were, first Edith Evershot, and then George.

The gist of the doctors' report is that Sir Osmond was shot at close range—a foot or two, probably—in the
left
side of the head, almost certainly by the weapon found on the table in front of him. One bullet had been fired from it. The bullet which killed Sir Osmond, extracted from his head by the doctors, fits the weapon. Doctors consider it quite impossible that Sir Osmond could have shot himself. He was not left-handed (my own knowledge, as well as evidence of members of the family). The weapon was not held with barrel pressed against head—the almost inevitable position in cases of suicide, and one which would be clearly shown by scorching. The weapon had not been dropped on floor, though Sir Osmond's arms hung down over sides of chair, but had been replaced on table. As we found it, it lay across the table in front of him, with the butt nearest to the right hand side of the table as one stood facing the body. (But see notes
re
Jennifer.) Oliver Witcombe says he noticed the revolver when first he saw the body, but did not particularly notice its position.

The weapon is identified by George positively as a .22 target pistol belonging to Sir Osmond and usually kept in the gun room. Nobody remembers seeing it lately, either in the gun room, the study, or elsewhere. Ammunition could have been obtained from the gun room. Gun room was generally locked but key hung on hook, above children's reach, in passage near gun room door (at back of hall). This seems to have been common knowledge.

No signs of disorder in the study or of a violent quarrel, or of robbery as motive. George, Miss Portisham, and others, testify that nothing was displaced or missing, so far as a hasty survey could show.

Soon after Sir Osmond entered the study there was a good deal of cracker-pulling in the hall. A pistol-shot might easily have been unnoticed; doors and walls are thick. No one admits hearing a shot. There was probably also a good deal of general noise in the hall from children playing, toy train, etc. In fact no one admits hearing any noise at all from the study—raised voices, or anything of that sort.

Impressions of members of the house party
.

Must face the obvious fact that nearly every member of the party probably had something to gain by Sir Osmond's death, although just how much is not clear until we see the will.

George Melbury
showed natural state of distress and shock. Nothing unusual. Seems to have taken correct course of action, except for allowing other members of the family to go in and out of the study and behave rather oddly after the tragedy had been discovered.

Jennifer Melbury
may stand to gain more than her sisters, because Sir Osmond's death removes the obstacle to her marriage with Philip Cheriton, and probably provides her with the income which will make this possible without hardship.

Says she happened to enter the library (after the tragedy was discovered), saw Oliver Witcombe and others there and learnt that her father was shot. Went at once into study. George was telephoning. (His call to me.)

In the midst of this telephone conversation I heard part of a remark addressed by George to her: . . . “You mustn't . . . Jennifer.” When I asked George about this, he said he couldn't see Jennifer from where he was sitting, but heard a “sort of jarring noise,” thought she had bumped against Sir Osmond's table, and therefore warned her not to touch anything. Jennifer, when questioned, was very distressed; said she hardly knew what she was doing; it was such a shock seeing her father like that. Thinks she did touch the pistol—“Just because it was a strange thing there; I couldn't connect it with anything at the moment.” Doesn't remember exactly how it was lying, or if she changed its position.

Jennifer's evidence is undeniably vague and confused, but she is obviously suffering from shock.

Miss Portisham
probably stands to gain nothing comparable with her loss of a good position. Appears very distressed; also very frightened (natural, I think, in her position, with some members of the family not very well disposed towards her). Her evidence is very clear. She followed George and Hilda into the study, having been asked to telephone to the doctor, and she left the study with Jennifer.

Hilda Wynford
says that on hearing news from Witcombe, her first thought was to go to her father. Knew the study door into hall was locked, as she had been standing near it when Witcombe tried it from inside. So went through library into study. On opening study door, found her sister Edith there. Left, after a few minutes, with Witcombe.

Obviously very distressed; seems stunned; but clear in her statements.

Carol Wynford
says that Parkins, the manservant, told her that “there had been an accident in the study” and then she realized that everyone else had gone into the library and she followed them. Doesn't know how it was that no one else had told her or that she didn't notice that anything was amiss, but there was a general atmosphere all the afternoon of “what's going to happen next” in connection with the Santa Klaus affair, which she says she was rather bored with. Blasé younger generation attitude! She struck me as knowing a little more than she was ready to give away.

Patricia Melbury
, the fluffy type. Heard the news in the hall and “hardly knows who told her” and didn't seem to think I had any right to ask. Very upset and incoherent.

Edith Evershot
says she was told that something had happened in the study and she went through the library into the study, unlocking the door (locked by Witcombe behind him).
N.B.
According to other evidence, she shut the door again behind her. Says that on seeing her father she was too shocked to do anything at all, and that Hilda and others came in almost at once.

Is in a highly nervous state and struck me as frightened of something.

Sir David Evershot
—curious character; restless and jumpy; unhelpful. Snarled at me: “I tell you I know nothing; haven't been into the study at all to-day. I was outside on the drive—my usual confounded luck—just before it happened, but I don't know anything.”

Eleanor Stickland
, always a placid sort of woman and now in a state of subdued grief. Learnt news from Miss Portisham in hall; gave orders to nurse to keep children out of the way and helped shepherd them from the hall before she went into the library.

Gordon Stickland
; suave, detached; answered questions clearly. Suggested possibility of entry to study from outside the house (but shutters were all closed and hooked on inside).

Miss Mildred Melbury
probably stands to gain nothing by her brother's death. Almost hysterical and unable to give any clear evidence, but Witcombe states that he found her in drawing-room, that she broke down on hearing the news, and he took her into the library to join the others. She seems to take the curious view that she always said no good would come of these family gatherings at Christmas; but gave no clear idea of what misfortune she had expected, or why.

Oliver Witcombe
seems to be the one member of the party who has nothing whatever to gain by Sir Osmond's death and something to lose. I should say he never had much chance with Jennifer and now has not an earthly. But he never struck me as a very ardent suitor—though that may be merely modern manners. I think he is not very popular with the rest of the family.

No doubt he had opportunity, more than most of the others, so far as can be seen. His Santa Klaus rig-out would make it easy to conceal the pistol. He hardly had opportunity to get it when he went to dress up, as Philip Cheriton went with him, and it is highly unlikely that those two would plot anything together. But after Witcombe left Sir Osmond in the study his movements are not clear. Some discrepancy between his own statement and those of others. (
Clear this up
.) Apparently he went out through hall and by door into passage at back, but came back again through dining-room with crackers. (He could easily have gone into gun room on the way and got pistol.) He left hall again by door into library—presumably to go through dining-room to back premises—but it would have been a simple move to go from library into study, where he knew Sir Osmond was, shoot him, lock door into hall to prevent premature discovery of crime, return through library and dining-room to servants' hall.