by Bruce, Leo
“Night?” I questioned bravely.
“Well, quite late enough, it was. He works in a bank in Belstock and she’s manageress of a shop I’ll show you presently, so it’s ten to one they used to meet here every day. And she must have got to hear. I shouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t that Sonia told her, because she and Mrs Mallister got very thick towards the end. Oh, very thick, they got. Sonia was up in her room at all hours. Well, here we are at the bus stop and I don’t suppose you want to hear all this. Only you did ask whether things hadn’t changed since your friends were here and I had to tell you.”
“Of course I want to hear, Mrs Jerrison. It’s all most interesting. I wonder whether perhaps you’d have tea with me, if there’s somewhere nice? Then you can tell me all about it.”
“To tell you the truth, it’s a relief to, because my husband won’t talk about it, and there are times when I have to say something or bust with what’s going on, and there’s no one up there I feel like talking to about it. Yes, there’s a nice café on the front. The Sunnyside, it’s called. Not two minutes from here. What I was going to say is that Sonia very likely put a spoke in, hoping for something herself, I daresay, though, if so, she was disappointed. It turned out this last will was made before she got so thick with Mrs Mallister, else there might have been.”
“But, Mrs Jerrison,” I managed to interpolate, “Mrs Mallister died quite naturally …”
“If you call that natural,” conceded Mrs Jerrison. “It was her heart, they said, and the doctor gave a certificate straight away. Well, so it may have been her heart, but that’s not to say someone didn’t do something to help things on a little, is it? This is the Sunnyside. Nice, isn’t it? It’s kept by three ladies and they make ever such nice cakes and that. I mean there are heart attacks and heart attacks, aren’t there? And no one knew about this new will, from what I’ve been told.”
“Are you really suggesting that Mrs Mallister was murdered?”
“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that. Not in SQ many words. But I’d like to know what is going on in that house if something didn’t happen. I mean you can see for yourself the way they carry on. All looking at one another as though they didn’t know what to think. And the whispering and that. Poor Mrs Derosse is nearly out of her mind, that I do know. I was glad when I saw you yesterday because I could tell at once you weren’t the sort to get in a fluster about it. I make Jerrison lock our doors at night, that’s one thing. We’re nearly always the last up—neither of us liking to go to bed early. Still even then I lock the door. I wouldn’t stay if it wasn’t for his lungs. The doctors have told him, you know, and this place just suits him. But it’s not nice and I can’t help wondering what’s going to happen next.”
“If you seriously think someone caused Mrs Mallister’s death, you must have some idea who it was?”
“Well, it wasn’t Mr Mallister, that’s a sure thing, because he was in hospital at the time having an operation. Jerrison had only been to see him that afternoon and took him some books. More than two weeks he’d been there when it happened and he couldn’t come to the funeral or anything. It was another ten days before he was back. He didn’t seem to say much at the time, but lately he’s taken to talking about her whenever he gets a chance. I think he was fond of her in his way, only he’s quiet, you know.”
“Then who …?”
“Well, it might have been almost any of them, mightn’t it?”
“I can’t see why you should think so. Mrs Mallister was dangerously ill and her doctor found nothing questionable in her death.”
“It’s not that. It’s the way they carry on now. If there was nothing wrong, why do they all look as though they’ve seen a ghost? You hear little bits, too. There was a big row between those Natterleys and Sonia Reid the other night. I heard it myself. I was just passing the lounge at the time when I heard them. ‘All I can say is,’ I heard the Major pipe up, ‘all I can say is, if it’s a coincidence, it’s a very extraordinary one. And why did you have to go all the way to London for that?’ ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Sonia. ‘I happened to be in London and got them there. And I don’t see what on earth it’s got to do with you.’ ‘This affair is to do with all of us,’ said Mrs Natterley; ‘you don’t think we like being mixed up in it, do you?’ That’s all I heard, but it’s enough, isn’t it? And it’s like that all the time. My husband’s worried, I can see that, though I can’t get him to say much. He did tell me once that it got on his nerves the way they stopped talking whenever he came into a room.”
I poured the tea and it brought a pause in Mrs Jerrison’s fascinating narrative. But not a long pause.
“There’s another thing I don’t like,” she said, “though I never so much as gave it a thought before all this happened. There’s two of the bedrooms look out over the cliff. A sheer drop it is. I don’t know whether you’ve seen it?”
“Yes …”
“And both have got little balconies to them. If anyone was to fall from there it would be certain death, high tide or low.”
“You mean suicide?”
“I don’t know what I mean, but I don’t like it. Who’d be to say what it was if one of them went? Any more than with Mrs Mallister.”
“Who occupy those rooms?”
“One’s right at the top. They call it the room in the tower because it’s built above the other. It’s not really a tower, though it has a staircase of its own. That’s Sonia Reid’s. Under her is Mrs Derosse’s own room. Of course there’s something between Sonia and Steve Lawson. Well, there has been for a long while. We used to think they were going to get married at one time but, since this has happened, I don’t know. They seem to be arguing half the time. He’s supposed to be rich, but I often wonder. He doesn’t seem to do anything for a living and, as I said to my husband, you can’t go on like that. He talks about his racehorses and that, but you never see his name in the papers. He’s very often overdue in paying Mrs Derosse, I do know that. Of course it may not mean anything, but then again, it might.”
“He seemed a very ordinary young man to me.”
“Oh, they’re all ordinary enough, or so I thought till this happened. That’s what makes it so funny. I mean, if they don’t like it, why don’t they leave, instead of staying to watch one another?”
“Why should they, Mrs Jerrison? There has been nothing unpleasant like a police inquiry, has there?”
“No. I sometimes think it’s a pity there hasn’t; then we should know where we were, perhaps. The doctor saw Mrs Mallister …”
“The same night?”
“No. We didn’t know anything about it till the morning. Mrs Smithers, the gardener’s wife and one of my helps, took her in a cup of tea about nine o’clock and there she was. You could see she was dead before you got near her. The doctor was round in half an hour and the whole thing kept as quiet as possible. Well, it doesn’t do in a guest house, does it? There wasn’t even an inquest or anything. She was buried two days later and most of them went to the funeral though I wouldn’t say she was liked. She had a wicked tongue, you know. I always got on with her all right and I will say I’ve only got cause to be grateful, but she did say things about people.”
“I suppose she had a bell in her room? Or some way of calling if she needed attention in the night?”
“Certainly she had. Mrs Derosse had it fixed up as soon as Mr Mallister was going into hospital. It rang in Mrs Derosse’s room and she couldn’t help but hear it if it had been rung that night, but it wasn’t. Whatever happened must have been too sudden for that. Anyway, Dr Cuffley who had been attending her for a long time was quite satisfied. And he’s a good doctor, I will say that. I know when my husband was ill last winter …”
I was determined to keep her to the point.
“Yes. I’ve heard Dr Cuffley is good,” I said. “And he never had any doubts?”
“No one had any doubts at the time. It all came afterwards.”
“What started it? “I asked,
wondering precisely what ‘it’ might be.
“It’s hard to say. Partly when we heard about the will, I suppose. People started remembering things. Mrs De rosse told me herself she thought she heard something in the night and, when she got up to see what it was, she saw that Sonia nipping up to her room. About half past twelve that was, she thought. But I think what really caused more talk than anything was when Mr Mallister came out of hospital.”
“Really?”
“They didn’t trouble to conceal it, I mean.”
“Who?”
“Why, him and Esmée Welton. We’d always thought there was something but now they didn’t seem to care who knew. Quite brazen about it, they are. I mean, you’d think they’d have the decency, with her scarcely cold. But no. I’ve seen them myself. The bishop and Miss Grissell don’t like it. You can tell that. We know Miss Grissell’s a bit blunt and that, and comes out with what she thinks, but I’ve never heard her carry on as she did to Mrs Derosse about it. ‘Disgusting! ‘she said. ‘Nothing short of disgusting! ‘Mrs Derosse kept very cool. ‘I don’t consider it any business of mine,’ she said. That ought to have been enough but it wasn’t. Not for Miss Grissell.’ It is of mine,’ she said, very high and mighty. ‘I was Lydia’s oldest friend.’ And she marched out of the room. I wish she’d have said it to me. I’d have told her to mind her own business. I will own Mr Mallister and Esmée never trouble to hide anything, but I suppose they think they’ve a right to do as they please. After all, she did cut him out of her will. But they say the bishop and his sister look like furies at Mr Mallister. And at Esmée. I believe they think she had something to do with Mrs Mallister’s death.”
“And you don’t?”
“Think that? Well, I don’t know what to think. Something went on that night we don’t know about, and I do believe Mr Mallister and Esmée are quite silly about one another. I can’t see who else can have wanted Mrs Mallister out of the way. But whether they’d do anything like that or not, I can’t say. According to what I can hear, though, the bishop and his sister think so. In fact, Mrs Smithers, when she happened to be doing his room, did say she couldn’t help seeing a letter addressed to the Chief Constable. What else could that have been, I should like to know?”
“It could have been an invitation to dinner, couldn’t it?”
“Not from him. He’s never invited anyone to anything in his life, if you ask me. Mean? You couldn’t believe how mean he is. And his sister.”
There was a significant silence while Mrs Jerrison left time for this to sink in. I was enjoying myself and had no intention of hurrying away but I could not help wondering why Mrs Jerrison had come into Belstock, if she was prepared to spend the whole afternoon in the Sunnyside Cafe, appeasing my curiosity. This seemed to occur to her, too.
“Well, I was going to do some shopping,” she observed without moving, “but it must be late for that now. I’ve got to get back and do the dinner presently. Only, as I was saying, that Esmée isn’t the only one suspected. I do know that. Miss Godwin and Miss Grey have got their ideas, too. They wouldn’t say anything, mind you. They just believe in being civil with everyone, but keeping themselves to themselves—always have done ever since they came here. But Miss Godwin, that’s the taller of the two, came out with it to me when I was up in her room one day. She’s a bit more downright than the other. It’s Miss Grey who’s got the money, but you’d never know that. I happened to make a passing remark about Mrs Mallister’s death, not meaning anything really, when Miss Godwin turned round and said: ‘I don’t know anything about it and I don’t want to know.’ ‘Quite right, Miss Godwin,’ I said,’ nor do I, nor does my husband. It’s just that you hear so much talk. Miss Grissell was only saying …’ ‘Miss Grissell!’ says Miss Godwin, quite fuming she was. ‘I’d like to know what Miss Grissell was arguing about in Mrs Mallister’s room that night! ‘she said. It quite bowled me over. I could see the moment she’d said it she was sorry she’d let it slip out.”
“How did she know? “I asked.
“Search me. Their room’s next door but the walls are ever so thick. She wouldn’t say any more then and never has since. But I’ve seen the way she looks at the bishop and his sister as though she was sorry for them.”
“And do you think anyone in turn has suspicions of her or Miss Grey?”
“Of those two? No! Who could have? There couldn’t be any reason for them to be mixed up in it, could there? They go their own way and never mix much with the others. It isn’t as though they were friends of Mrs Mallister’s. They knew her when she first came here and after she was laid up they’d call on her once in a way, but that was all. It was just that one remark Miss Godwin passed to me.”
As we left the cafe I asked one more question. “What do you think, then, Mrs Jerrison—about the future, I mean? I ask because I came here to do some work and I’ve found myself so interested in all you’ve told me that I wonder how I’m going to get down to work at all. Do you think it will just die down and be forgotten in time?”
“No, I don’t,” said Mrs Jerrison promptly. “I think it’s all leading to something and will end in a bust-up. Don’t ask me how. Only I don’t believe you can have a lot of people living in a house like that, all watching the others and thinking and suspecting, without something happening. What it’ll be I don’t know, but it gives me the creeps when I think about it. I’m glad you’ve come, though, and I’ve got someone to talk to. If I notice anything else, I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you; I’ll do the same,” I promised.
4
AT dinner this evening there was a scene. We assembled as yesterday in the lounge. The drinks consumed at this hour are discreetly charged for by Jerrison, but that does not make the nightly occasion any less like that of a small provincial cocktail-party. For some time everything seemed normal. The bishop and Phiz had been playing golf and talked about it.
“Do you play golf? “I asked the Natterleys.
“Not here,” said the Major. “We don’t care much for the local club.”
When we went into dinner only Sonia Reid was missing and Steve Lawson and I seemed alone in noticing this.
“Where’s Sonia?” he asked of the gathering.
“I saw her come in,” said Miss Godwin. “She was a little later than usual. I expect she’ll be down in a minute.”
But she did not appear while we swallowed—the bishop rather vigorously—an excellent consommé. I suppose Mrs Jerrison must have made it earlier, for it showed no sign of hasty work; it was clear and brown, like a good sherry.
When Sonia at last came in I could see she was in a state of high emotion, though I could not decide at first whether it was anger or distress. She took her place, motioned impatiently to Jerrison that she wanted no consommé and turned to our hostess. “Mrs Derosse,” she
said in a ringing voice, “someone has been in my room.”
Mrs Derosse has a gift for looking quite blank when she likes. “Of course,” she said, “Mrs Smithers …”
“I don’t mean that. Mrs Smithers does it every morning and leaves it in perfect order. I don’t mean Mrs Smithers. Someone else has been there, since then.”
She kept her eyes on Mrs Derosse, but I had a feeling that her words were intended for someone else at the table, someone whose identity she knew or at least suspected. If she had taken one glance at anyone present she would have revealed this, but I could see she was taking care not to do so.
“Really, Sonia, are you sure?” said Mrs. Derosse rather feebly.
“Quite sure. You see I thought this might happen and took one or two precautions. There are things Mrs Smithers never touches—indeed I have given her instructions about them. They have been disturbed.”
“Is anything missing?” asked Mrs Derosse.
Sonia gave a very unpleasant laugh. “No,” she said. “The person who searched my room must have thought I was a nit-wit if he or she imagined for one moment that I would leave anything there.”
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Mrs Derosse became rather indignant. “No one has ever lost any property from a room here,” she said, “in the eight years we have been open.”
“I don’t mean that,” said Sonia. “I leave my bits and pieces about every day. This was a particular thing of value only to one person.”
She was talking for the benefit of that one person, I knew. I looked round the table and found most of the guests busily eating, though Miss Godwin looked boldly across at Sonia. It was Steve Lawson who broke the short but uncomfortable silence. “What do you mean, Sonia? A document of some kind?”
She rounded on him as though relieved at not having to continue staring at Mrs Derosse.
“Never mind what I mean,” she said angrily. Then she continued, but not quite so fixedly, towards Mrs Derosse.
“It’s not very pleasant to find one’s things disturbed,” she said. “Someone must have been in my room for quite a considerable time. Even a suitcase has been opened.”
“I’m very sorry, Sonia,” said Mrs Derosse, “but I’m quite sure it was not one of the staff.”
“I’m not saying it was,” said Sonia; “in fact I’m certain it wasn’t. But that only makes it worse, in a way. Does it mean we’ve got to have locks on our doors?”
The bishop obliged. “I remember once in Zanzibar …” Or was it Zululand, the Zambesi, Zomba or Zesfontein? “I remember a man finding that his luggage, which he had left most carefully fastened and sealed …” his story drew us into the comparative calm of Africa. I heard no more at that time of the search of Sonia’s room.
After dinner there was a surprise for me. I was approached by Mrs Natterley. “We wondered whether you would care to take coffee in our little sitting-room? “she said.
I accepted at once.
“We prefer it to the lounge. It is not cold enough for a fire yet but even in this weather we like having somewhere of our own we can retreat to.” She actually smiled and I thought again how pretty she could be.