Overture to Death ra-8

by Ngaio Marsh

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Frightened Lady

  i

  “— Let me remind you, gentlemen,” said the coroner, looking severely at Mr. Prosser, “that you are not concerned with theories. It is your duty to decide how this unfortunate lady met with her death. If you find you are able to do so, you must then make up your minds whether you are to return a verdict of accident, suicide or murder. If you are unable to arrive at this second decision, you must say so. Now, there is no difficulty in describing the manner of death. On Friday afternoon a small boy, after the manner of small boys, set an ingenious booby-trap. At some time before Saturday night, someone interfered with this comparatively harmless piece of mechanism. A Colt automatic was substituted for a water-pistol. You have heard that this automatic, the property of Mr. Jocelyn Jernigham, was in a room which is accessible from outside all day and every day. You have heard that it was common knowledge that the weapon was kept loaded in this room. You realise, I am sure, that on Saturday it would have been possible for anybody to enter the room through the french window and take the automatic. You have listened to a lucid description of the mechanism of this death-trap. You have examined the Colt automatic. You have been told that at 6.30 Miss Gladys Wright used the left-hand pedal of the piano, and that nothing untoward occurred. You have heard her say that from 6.30 until the moment of the catastrophe the front of the hall was occupied by herself, her fellow-helpers and, as they arrived, the audience. You have been shown photographs of the piano as it was at 6.30. The open top was covered in bunting which was secured to the sides by drawing-pins. On top of the piano and standing on the bunting, which stretched over the turned-back lid, were six pot plants. You realise that up to within fifteen minutes of the tragedy, every member of the company of performers, and every person in the audience, believed that it was Miss Prentice who was to play the overture. You may therefore have formed the opinion that Miss Prentice, and not Miss Campanula, was the intended victim. This need not affect your decision and, as a coroner’s jury, does not actually concern you. If you agree that at eight o’clock Miss Campanula pressed the left-hand or soft pedal and was killed by a charge from the automatic and that somebody had put the automatic in the piano with felonious intent, in short with intent to murder, and if you consider there is no evidence to show who this person was — why, then, gentlemen, you may return a verdict to this effect.”

  “O upright beak!” said Alleyn as Mr. Prosser and the jury retired. “O admirable and economic coroner! Slap, bang, and away they go. Slap, bang, and here they are again.”

  They had indeed only gone into a huddle in the doorway, and returned looking rather as if they had all washed their faces in rectitude.

  “Yes, Mr. Prosser?”

  “We are all agreed, sir.”

  “Yes?”

  “We return a verdict of murder,” said Mr. Prosser, looking as if he feared he hadn’t got it quite as it ought to be, “against person or persons unknown.”

  “Thank you. The only possible conclusion, gentlemen.”

  “I should like to add,” said the smallest juryman, suddenly, “that I think them water-pistols ought to be put down by law.”

  ii

  Immediately after the inquest, Fox and Ford left for Duck Cottage. Alleyn’s hand was on the door of Nigel’s car, when he heard his name called. He turned and found himself face to face with Mrs. Ross.

  “Mr. Alleyn — I’m so sorry to bother you, but may I come and see you? I’ve remembered something that I think you ought to know.”

  “Certainly,” said Alleyn. “Now, if it suits you.”

  “You’re staying at the Jernigham Arms, aren’t you? May I come there in ten minutes?”

  “Yes, of course. I shall drive straight there.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  Alleyn replaced his hat and climbed into the car.

  “Now, what the devil?” he wondered. “It’s fallen out rather well, as it happens. Fox will have a longer session with the pretty housemaid.”

  Nigel came out and drove him to the inn. Alleyn asked Mrs. Peach if he could use the back parlour as an office for an hour. Mrs. Peach was volubly agreeable.

  Nigel was told to take himself off.

  “Why should I? Who are you going to see?”

  “Mrs. Ross”

  “Why can’t I be there?”

  “Because I think she’ll speak more freely if she sees me alone.”

  “Well, let me sit in the next room with the slide a crack open.”

  Alleyn looked thoughtfully at him.

  “Very well,” he said, “you may do that. Take notes. It can’t be used in evidence, but it may be handy. Wait a second. You’ve got your camera?”

  “Yes.”

  “See if you can get a shot of her as she comes in. Careful about it. Get there quickly. She’ll arrive in a second.”

  Nigel was only just in time. In five minutes the pot-boy announced Mrs. Ross, who came in looking much more like the Ritz than the Jernigham Arms.

  “It is nice of you to see me,” she said. “Ever since I remembered it, I’ve been so worried about this thing. I felt very bold, accosting you outside the hall of justice or whatever it was. You must be rushed off your feet.”

  “It’s my job to listen,” said Alleyn.

  “May I sit down?”

  “Please. I think this is the most comfortable chair.”

  She sat down with a pretty air of intimacy. She drew off her gloves, rummaged in her bag for her cigarettes, and then accepted one of his. Alleyn remained standing.

  “You know,” said Mrs. Ross, ‘“you’re not a bit my idea of a detective.”

  “No?”

  “Not a bit. That enormous man who drives about with you looks much more the thing done at the Yard.”

  “Perhaps you would rather see Inspector Fox?”

  “No, I’d much rather see you. Don’t snub me.”

  “I’m sorry if I seemed to do that. What is it you would like to tell me?”

  She leant forward. Her manner lost its flippancy and took on an air of practical concern, but it also managed to suggest that she knew he would understand and sympathize with her motive in coming to him.

  “You’ll think I was such a fool not to remember it before,” she said; “but the whole thing’s been rather a shock. I suppose I simply had a blank moment or something. Not that I had any affection for the poor old thing; but, for all that, it was rather a shock.”

  “I’m sure it was.”

  “When you came to see me yesterday I had a ghastly headache and could hardly think. Did you ask me if I went out on Friday night?”

  “Yes. You told me you were at home.”

  “I thought I did. Honestly, I don’t know what I could have been thinking about. I was at home practically all the evening, but I went out for about half an hour. I drove from here to post a letter. I quite forgot.”

  “That’s not very serious.”

  “I’m extremely relieved to hear you say so,” she said, and laughed. “I was afraid you’d be angry with me.”

  She had a comical trick of over-emphasis, as if she parodied her own conversation. She drew out the word angry, making a grimace over it and opening her eyes very wide.

  “Is that the whole story?” asked Alleyn.

  “No, it’s not,” she said flatly. “The thing is, on my way down I came by Church Lane, past the hall. Church Lane goes on over the hills, you know, and comes out close to my cottage.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, there was a light in one of the dressing-rooms.”

  “What time was this?”

  “It was eleven when I got back. Say about twenty to eleven. No, a little earlier.”

  “Which dressing-room was it, do you know?”

  “Yes. I’ve worked it out. It was too far away to be either of the women’s rooms, and anyway they’ve got blinds. Miss Prentice, who is a very pure woman, thought it wasn’t quite nice for us not to have blinds
. The one Billy Templett uses has its window on the far side. It must have been the squire’s. Mr. Jernigham’s. But the funny thing about it was that it only flashed on for a few seconds and then went out again.”

  “Are you quite sure it wasn’t the reflection of your headlights?”

  “Absolutely positive. It was much too far to my right, and anyway it wasn’t a bit like that. The glass is that thick stuff. No, a yellow square just popped up and popped out again.”

  “I see.”

  “It may not be anything at all, but it was on my conscience, so I thought I’d own up, and come clean and all that. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. It might have been Dinah Copeland messing about over there, or any old thing; but as every moment after Friday seems important — ”

  “It’s much better to let the police know of anything you remember that may have even the smallest significance,” said Alleyn.

  “I hoped you’d say that. Mr. Alleyn, I’m so terribly worried, and you’re so human and unofficial, I wonder if I dare ask you something rather awkward.”

  Alleyn’s manner could scarcely have been more formal as he replied: “I am here as a policeman, you know.”

  “Yes, I know. Well, when in doubt, ask a policeman.” She grinned charmingly. “No, but honestly I’m in a horrid — awful muddle. It’s about Billy Templett. I’m sure you’ve already heard all the local gossip, and you’ll have found out for yourself that the charming people in this aristocratic part of the world have got minds like sinks and worse. No doubt they’ve told you all the local lies about Billy Templett and me. Well, we are great friends. He’s the only soul in the entire district with an idea beyond hunting and other people’s business, and we’ve got a lot in common. Of course, as a doctor, he’s not supposed to look on women as anything but sets of insides and collections of complaints. I never dreamt it might actually do his practice no good if he saw rather more of me than old Mrs. Cain and the oldest inhabitant. Oh, dear, this is difficult. May I have another cigarette, please?”

  Alleyn gave her another cigarette.

  “I may as well choke it out before I lose my nerve altogether. Do you suspect Billy of this beastly crime?”

  “As the case stands,” said Alleyn, “it appears to be quite impossible that Dr. Templett should have had any hand in it.”

  “Is that true?” she asked, and her voice was as sharp as a knife.

  “It is a very serious offence for a policeman to set traps or deliberately mislead his witnesses.”

  “I’m sorry. I know that. It was just the relief. You remember that letter you showed me yesterday? The anonymous letter?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was written to me.”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew I hadn’t taken you in. You are a clever beast, aren’t you?” She laughed again. Alleyn wondered how many people had told her she laughed like a gamine and whether she ever forgot it.

  “Do you want to amend your statement about the letter?” he asked.

  “Yes, please. I want to explain. I showed the letter to Billy and we discussed it and decided to take no notice. When you showed it to me I supposed you’d picked it up somewhere in the hall, and as I knew it had nothing to do with this murder, and I wanted to protect poor old Billy, I said I didn’t know anything about it. And then he came in and I thought he’d take his cue from me and — well, it went wrong.”

  “Yes,” said Alleyn, “it went very wrong.”

  “Mr. Alleyn, what did he tell you last evening when he went away with you? Was he — was he angry with me? He didn’t realise I’d tried to help him, did he?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “He might have known! It’s one of those hideous things that turn into a muddle.”

  “I’m afraid your explanation has gone equally astray.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that you knew where Dr. Templett put the letter and that it is very unlikely we picked it up in the hall. I mean that yesterday you spoke instinctively and with the object of getting out of an awkward position. You have since remembered that there is a fingerprint system, so you come to me with a story of altruistic motives. When I told you Dr. Templett is not, on the evidence we have, a likely suspect you regretted that you had shown your hand. I think I know a frightened woman when I see one, and yesterday you were very frightened, Mrs. Ross.”

  She had let her cigarette burn down to her fingers. Her hand jerked and she dropped the butt on the floor. He picked it up and threw it in the fire.

  “You’re wrong,” she said. “I did it for him.” Alleyn made no answer.

  She said, “I thought she’d written it. The murdered woman. And I thought old Prentice was going to play.”

  “Dr. Templett didn’t tell you on Saturday morning that it would be a physical impossibility for Miss Prentice to play?”

  “We didn’t discuss it. Billy didn’t do it and neither did I. We didn’t get to the place till nearly eight o’clock.”

  “You arrived soon after 7.30,” Alleyn corrected her.

  “Well, anyway, it was too late to do anything to the piano. The hall was packed. We were never alone.”

  “Mrs. Ross, when I asked you yesterday about the episode of the window, why did you not tell me you saw someone dodge down behind the sill?”

  She seemed startled but not particularly alarmed at this. She looked at him, as he thought, speculatingly, as though she deliberately weighed his question and pondered the answer. At last she said:

  “I suppose Billy told you that. It was only an impression, through the thick glass. The window was only open about two inches.”

  “I suggest that you were alarmed at the idea of an eavesdropper. I suggest that you noticed this shadow at the window only after you had been for some little time on the stage with Dr. Templett, and that enough had taken place in that time for you to be seriously compromised. I suggest that you told Dr. Templett to shut the window and that you lowered the curtain to ensure privacy.”

  She tilted her head to one side and looked at him under her lashes.

  “You really ought to join the Women’s Circle. They’d adore that story at a tea-party.”

  “I shall work,” said Alleyn, “on the theory that you said nothing more to Dr. Templett of this shadowy impression, as you did not wish to alarm him, but that it was not too shadowy or too fleeting for you to recognise the watcher at the window.”

  That shot did go home. Her whole face seemed to sharpen and she made a quick involuntary movement of her hands. She waited for a moment, and he knew that she was mustering her nerves. Then in one swift movement she was on her feet, close to him, her hands on his coat.

  “You don’t believe I’d do anything like that, do you? You’re not such a fool. I don’t even understand how it worked, and I’ve never been able to tie a knot in my life. Mr. Alleyn? Please?”

  “If you are innocent you’re in no danger.”

  “Do you promise that?”

  “Certainly.”

  Before he could move she dropped her head against him and clung to his coat. She murmured broken phrases. Her hair was scented. He felt her uneven breathing.

  “No, no,” he said, “this won’t do.”

  “I’m sorry — you’ve frightened me. Don’t be nervous, I’m not trying to seduce you. I’m only rather shaken. I’ll be all right in a moment.”

  “You’re all right now,” said Alleyn. He took her wrists and held her away from him. “That’s better.”

  She stood before him with her head bent down. She achieved a look of helpless captivity. Her whole posture seemed to proclaim her subjection. When she raised her face it wore a gamine grin.

  “You’re either made of dough,” she said, “or else you’re afraid I’ll compromise you. Poor Mr. Alleyn.”

  “You would have been wiser to call on Mr. Jernigham,” said Alleyn. “He’s Acting Chief Constable, you know.”

  iii

  When she had been gone so
me minutes, Nigel looked cautiously into the back parlour.

  “Hell knows no fury,” he said.

  “An intensely embarrassing lady,” said Alleyn. “Did you get a shot of her?”

  “Yes. Ought to be all right. I got her as she came in.”

  “Let me have the film or plate, or whatever it is.”

  “Do explain all this, Alleyn.”

  “It’s as plain as daylight. She’s got a genius for self-preservation. When I showed her the anonymous letter she was hell-bent on keeping out of suspicion, and on the spur of the moment denied all knowledge of it. She’d do her best for Templett up to a point, but a charge of homicide is definitely beyond that point. Yesterday she let him down with a thud. Now she’s regretting it. I think she’s probably as much in love with him as she could be with anybody. She’s read a popular book on criminal investigation. She remembered that she’d handled the letter and realised we’d find her prints. So she hatched up this story. Now she knows we’re not after Templett she’ll try to get him back. But she’s a sensible woman, and she wouldn’t hang for him.”

  “I wonder if he’ll believe her,” said Nigel.

  “Probably,” said Alleyn. “If she gets a chance to see him alone.”

  Fox came in.

  “I’ve seen Mrs. Ross’s maid, sir. There’s nothing much, except that Mrs. Ross did go out on Friday night. It was the maid’s night off, but her boy had a cold and it was raining, so she stayed in. She only mentioned this to Mrs. Ross this morning.”

  “And Mrs. Ross mentioned it to me in case the maid got in first.”

  “Is that a fact, sir?”

  “It is, Brer Fox. You shall hear of our interview.” Fox listened solemnly to the account of the interview.

  “Well,” he said, “she’s come off worst in that bout, sir. What’ll she do now?”

  “I think she’d like to have a shot at old Jernigham.