Watson's Choice (25 page)

Entirely master of the situation, he looked down at the cigar which he had been holding between ringed fingers, smiled as though something amused him and, at the same time, satisfied his vanity, put the cigar between his white teeth and began to walk out of the room.

‘Here, half a moment!’ cried Gavin. ‘Well, Mr Lupez?’ he added. The Spaniard, who was now lounging against the sideboard, looked down at the cigar he was holding, and then met Gavin’s eyes. He shrugged, took a puff at the cigar, and then smiled slightly.

‘
Now
,’ he said with unmistakable emphasis, ‘I have my hour.
Then
– I think someone else had his. It is true that the sword you speak of is an
espada
– the sword we use in the bull-fight. It is
not
true that the sword belongs to me or that I killed Linda, either with it or in some other manner. My father also has such a sword, and the police must believe, please, that he has used it when we imitate the bull-fight together.’

‘So you accuse Sir Bohun of murder, do you?’

Manoel glanced out of the window. As suddenly as a January freeze-up had begun, so, just as suddenly, a thaw had set in. What was more, a heavy rain had fallen. Water was streaming down every drainpipe, the terrace’s uneven flagstones held pools three inches deep, and the countryside for miles was a morass.

‘Love,’ said Manoel softly, ‘must be a powerful swimmer.’

‘Eh?’ said Gavin. ‘Oh, I see! I didn’t know Spaniards could quote from the Song of Songs.’

‘If the song is of love, why not?’ asked Manoel, in the same quiet,
friendly
tone. ‘But why do you question
me?
’ And, with a good-humoured air, Manoel seated himself in an armchair, and went on, ‘You should talk to Bell. He knows all that goes on in this house. And the parcels, he knows what comes in them.’

‘No, no. I should talk to you,’ responded Gavin. ‘Look, I’ll tell you the whole story, and you can correct me if I’m wrong. This is what I think happened. I think you came here with the intention of killing Sir Bohun Chantrey. How you proposed to do it I don’t know. You ended up by killing Linda Campbell, and your motive was pure greed. On your father’s death you thought you would gain a good deal of money. When you realized that if he married Linda Campbell and had children by her – legitimate children – your chance of inheriting anything from him might be gone, you decided that Linda must be eliminated.

‘The practical joke staged by some of the party on the Sherlock Holmes night gave you the chance you needed, particularly as, on that night, the dog they introduced as the
Hound of the Baskervilles
frightened everybody, and, as it turned out, Linda Campbell most of all, because, on her own admission, she was terrified of dogs.

‘Your plan was simple. You let Celia – the other possible beneficiary under Sir Bohun’s will – into the secret. It was to persuade Linda Campbell to visit the deserted railway station where the dog, which was still on daily hire to you, was kept, and, at a given signal, while you were holding Linda in conversation, to get Celia to unchain the dog. Then, on some pretext, you got Linda to walk into the waiting-room, knowing that as soon as she saw the dog and realized that he was loose, she would rush out again.

‘You shouted to her and she ran to you for protection, probably glancing over her shoulder to see whether the dog was following. The dog, of course,
was
following. You called, probably, “To me! Here!” But this was a signal to the dog, and not to Linda. Sword in hand, you waited. She, poor girl, thought that the sword was to protect her, but, instead, you spitted her on it as you intended. You made no mistake. A professional bull-fighter makes no mistake when it comes to “the moment of truth”. Now, what do you say to all that? – and, before you say anything, remember that I have cautioned you.’

Manoel studied the lighted end of his cigar.

‘I have nothing to say,’ he replied. ‘I cannot help it if the police are stupid.’

Gavin let him go, and sent for Mrs Dance.

‘Now, look here, Brenda –’ began Gavin sternly. Mrs Dance ogled him shamelessly. He was compelled to laugh.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘It’s all lies. I can’t give poor Toby an alibi, and I haven’t one for myself. Just as a matter of interest, I suppose you
don’t
suspect Toby?’

‘No, we don’t. Your friend Mr de Philippe has seen to that. Toby is definitely out, if it’s any comfort to you to know it.’

‘I did know it. I only wanted to see your face,’ explained Brenda sunnily. ‘You’re so handsome when you look stern, and I adore men who can frighten me.’

‘I’d do more than frighten you, if I had my way!’ retorted Gavin. Brenda Dance smiled sweetly.

‘Well, why don’t you?’ she enquired.

‘Laura wouldn’t like it,’ said Gavin, grinning. ‘Now, let’s get one thing clear.’

‘Laura might not like that, either.’

‘Shut up and listen. Did you, or did you not, think up that
Hound of the Baskervilles
stunt at Chantrey’s party?’

‘Yes, of course I did.’

‘Did you get Charles Mildren, the actor, to help you?’

‘Certainly – for a small consideration.’

‘Hard cash?’

‘Yes. Ten pounds.’

‘Did he fetch the dog while he was supposed to have been laid out cold on his bed?’

‘He did.’

‘My God! The man really
is
an actor. He deceived me
in toto
.’

‘I shouldn’t think that was such a terribly difficult thing to do,’ said Brenda, half-closing her eyes. ‘Why don’t you go and worry Toby? You say he’s out of it all, so it’s much fairer to go and badger
him
. I can see you think the dog had something to do with the murder, and as I’m still on your list of nasty suspects you ought not to question me unless you caution me first.’

‘As Toby’s far more likely to tell the truth than
you
are,’ said Gavin, ‘I’ll away to him at once. Behave yourself, if you can, until I return.’

‘To clap the handcuffs on me? I’m not one of those who come quietly!’

Gavin did go to see Toby, and obtained a story which not only bore the stamp of truth but fitted the known facts.

‘Yes,’ said Toby, ‘it can’t do any harm to tell you the tale, since Brenda has admitted to introducing the dog into the party, so, here goes, for what it’s worth, although I can’t see what the devil it’s got to do with the murder. The dog was Brenda’s own idea, but, naturally, she didn’t want that to appear for fear Chantrey should take it amiss and get annoyed. I was to approach young Celia Godley to find out whether she knew of a likely animal whose owners lived in the neighbourhood and would be prepared to join in the joke. I said I didn’t see how the stunt was to work –’

‘But how did Mildren come into it?’ asked Gavin, although he believed Brenda’s answer to this question.

‘To do the character of a drunk, you know. Brenda felt that if it was obvious that she’d left the revels directly the dog had been seen it would look pretty fishy, and she didn’t want to upset Chantrey by appearing to guy his party. So the only thing was to provide a stooge who wouldn’t be
expected
to be among the revellers, and, Mildren being a character actor, he was the obvious choice. She found he was not at all averse to being “sweetened” – personally I thought ten quid was a bit steep, but it wasn’t
my
money – so there it was. He slipped out at the appointed hour and fetched the dog. Apparently amused himself by putting on a thick German accent to disguise his own voice. He’s been on the radio, you see. He got the large hound, took him into the summer-house, which is electrically lighted, dabbed a bit of luminous paint on him, and introduced him on to the terrace at the proper time. The fog had Brenda worried, though.’

‘Afraid Mildren might get lost?’

‘No, afraid the dog wouldn’t get to the house in time. You see, it would never have done for Mildren to have appeared to be plastered
too
early in the evening, so what with the fog and so on, he probably had to cut it rather fine. I suppose you noticed it was Brenda who went to the french windows that night, although I believe Grimston actually let the dog in.’

‘Right. Thanks,’ said Gavin, and rang the bell to ask whether Celia Godley could spare him a few minutes.

‘Look,’ he said when she appeared, ‘I don’t suspect you of the murder, but tell me all about the dog.’

‘What dog?’ the girl enquired. Gavin smiled at her.

‘Look, Miss Godley,’ he said, ‘I want you to answer my questions without hedging. Will you?’

‘Why, of course!’ said Celia, putting on a baby-face.

‘Right. I know you told the Dances about that dog which turned up at the Sherlock Holmes party, but how did you come to know that it had been put in that waiting-room? I am speaking of about a fortnight before Miss Campbell was killed.’

Celia’s face changed. She looked scared.

‘If you think I know anything at all about Linda’s death –’ she began. Gavin interrupted her.

‘Never mind about protesting your innocence,’ he said curtly. ‘Just answer the question. Truthfully, if you don’t mind.’

‘But the dog had nothing to do with what happened to Linda!’

‘That is
my
business. Now, will you answer, or shall I take you along to the station and question you there?’

‘You can’t do that!’ wailed Celia, near to tears. ‘You’re just bullying me, Robert. You know you are.’

‘Be a sensible girl,’ said Gavin briskly. ‘Quite frankly, I don’t suspect you, but you must expect me to take a very dim view if you’re going to stall the minute I ask you a perfectly simple question, especially as you’ve already lied to us. Come on, now, be reasonable, do.’

‘All right, then. It was Brenda’s idea to have the dog at the party, but I don’t know whose idea it was to put it in the station waiting-room.’

‘How come that you went along and fed it there? The truth, please, this time. You
didn’t
see it from the train.’

‘I had a note.’

‘Yes?’

‘Somebody put a typed notice under my bedroom door, telling me that the dog would be in the waiting-room and giving me directions how to get there in a roundabout sort of way because, it said, the joke would be spoilt if anybody else found out the dog was there.’

‘That sounds like somebody who knew the countryside pretty well. Who was the note from? Did you recognize the writing?’

‘No, because it was typed and there wasn’t a signature.’

‘Didn’t you think it might be a practical joke to send you on a fool’s errand?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, the joke about the
Hound of the Baskervilles
had gone off rather well, and I just thought this was another one.’

‘By the same people? – or, rather, by the same person?’

‘No, I didn’t think Brenda would think it funny to use the dog again. She isn’t like that. I thought she had put an idea into somebody else’s head.’

‘Whose?’

‘I thought it might be Manoel’s,’ said Celia, unwillingly and after a pause.

‘Why?’

‘The note being typewritten. Foreigners don’t form their writing like English people, and I thought he’d typed it because his writing would give him away.’

‘And you were prepared to assist Mr Lupez by feeding the dog if he wanted you to?’

‘Yes, of course. We’re going to be married, I think.’

‘Really? I had no idea!’

‘He hasn’t, either, yet, but I admire him and I want to go to Spain and Mexico, and it would be a sensible plan if we could put our two legacies together when Boo dies, wouldn’t it?’

‘And that’s all you can tell me?’

‘Really and truly it is!’

‘Where’s the note?’

‘I burnt it. It said so.’

‘That’s helpful! Never mind. You couldn’t possibly have realized that it would ever be as important as this. Where can I find Sir Bohun? Have you any idea?’

‘I expect he’s in the library, and Manoel is with him, I think. They’ve become awfully thick lately. Manoel is taking such an interest in Sherlock Holmes, and in all those things that somebody keeps sending Boo, that he’s quite won Boo’s heart. I am more keen to marry him than ever. If I don’t, I may never get anything from Boo at all!’

Gavin grunted, and let her go.

‘O where hae ye been, Lord Rendal, my son?

O where hae ye been, my sweet pretty one?’

Old Ballad –
Lord Rendal

COLLINS WAS A
determined but not an obstinate man. He realized that, so far as discovering the identity of Linda Campbell’s murderer was concerned, he had come to a dead end. He found himself hoping that he might soon be taken off the case.

‘Nobody’s got an alibi,’ he confided to Mrs Bradley, ‘except Mr Dance and the servants. They can all alibi one another, and I’ve never, in any case, suspected any of them. Of course, there’s Sir Bohun Chantrey and Mr Lupez – but –
I
don’t know!’

‘Well,’ said Mrs Bradley, who, because she liked Collins and because she did not want the killer to remain undetected, had thrown out some strong hints, ‘you know what
I
think, and, in your own mind, I believe you agree that there is more than a possibility that I may be right. Why don’t you push your enquiries hard in that direction and see what happens?’

‘Because, as you said yourself, there’s no proof, ma’am, and there
is
such a thing as Judges’ Rules. Besides, with three suspects like Mr Lupez, Mr Grimston, and Sir Bohun himself still in the picture, there’s no picking out one more than another, so far as I can see. No, ma’am, I’ve talked matters over and I’ve thought matters over, and I only hope I can leave it to Mr Gavin. The job is much more in his line than it is in mine, and I dare say he’d like a free hand. As for me, there’s been some funny work in connexion with switching some lorries over at a place called Ponteston which I’d rather like to look into, and I can’t while I’m on this case. I’d much rather leave this job to Mr Gavin, and I dare say he’d like to be on his own to break it down.’

‘Well, the first thing, as I see it,’ said Gavin to Mrs Bradley when Collins had left, ‘is to break down a few more of these non-alibis.
Dash
it all, the rest of these people can’t
all
have lived only to themselves between three and five that afternoon! What’s the matter with them? Guilty little secrets or what? I’m going to tackle Brenda Dance again. I’m certain she didn’t do it, and I’m going to clear her once and for all, and send her home.’