by J. R. Ellis
He opened the files and quickly read through the forensic reports on the murder weapons.
‘Well, have a look at these – I’ll forward them to you. They make very interesting reading. In fact, I think they confirm another of our suspicions.’
Steph was going through the files when Jeffries arrived.
‘Yes, sir, we’ve found them. You were right.’ He proceeded to tell Oldroyd about his earlier conversation with the private detective.
Oldroyd beamed. ‘Good Lord, we are making great strides today! Well done, everybody.’ He sat back in his chair. ‘Just a few more things to clear up and then it’s time we brought all this to a conclusion. I’ve got an idea about how to end it on a triumphant note.’
‘What do you mean, sir?’
‘Call all the family and friends back to the Hall and say we’ve got some important announcements. This is what we’re going to do . . .’
There was a gleam in his eye that Steph knew meant he was planning some mischief or other.
It was a sultry, overcast day threatening rain as the Carstairs family and friends travelled again to Redmire Hall just as they had on the day of the murder. This time they knew they were coming to learn The Truth. But what exactly would that be? And what was going to happen when they got there?
As the various cars headed towards the Hall, there was little conversation between the tense occupants.
Dominic Carstairs grumbled all the way from York as he sat frowning behind the wheel of the Mercedes. ‘I don’t know what that chief inspector thinks he’s playing at. This is highly irregular.’
‘I’m sure he knows what he’s doing,’ said Mary. ‘I think he’s very good.’
‘Do you? Well, if he knows who’s guilty then why not just arrest them?’
‘Who knows? Anyway, what are you getting so jumpy about?’
‘Me? I’m not jumpy, I’m just . . . Watch what you’re doing!’ he shouted to a car that had cut in front of him.
‘I’m actually quite looking forward to it. I want to know how it was done as well as who’s behind it. I think everyone should feel the same, if their conscience is clear.’
‘What on earth do you mean by that?’
‘Draw your own conclusions, darling,’ she said, and glanced at him archly.
Antonia and Douglas drove slowly along the beautiful winding roads of Lower Wensleydale.
‘At last we’ll get to the bottom of this dreadful business,’ said Douglas.
‘Yes, but what will we find? I’ve just got this awful feeling that there’s a lot more ugly stuff to come out.’
‘What sort of stuff?’
‘I don’t know. But why are we being called back to the Hall? I think there might be some terrible things that detective wants to tell us and he thinks it’s better if we’re all together.’
‘That’s very dark and mysterious. You mean like skeletons in the cupboard?’
‘Maybe. I just think there’s a lot more to it than we’ve been told so far. After all, three people have been murdered. There’s been something sinister at work.’
‘Has there? Well, you seem to know a lot about it.’
She turned to him. ‘Douglas? Whatever do you mean?’
‘Only joking, darling.’
Poppy sulked her way north from London, driven by the newly subordinated Tristram in the powerful little Mini.
‘We could just do without all this again,’ she moaned. ‘I’ve got too much to do. I need to start looking for some new equipment. This time I’m really going to make it in photography.’
‘Not to worry; that’ll wait – and while we’re up here I can’t be tempted by the gambling dens.’
‘Very funny.’ She sighed. ‘Oh God! I don’t want to go back there again to see where Daddy was murdered!’
‘You’ve seemed quite OK about it recently.’
‘About what?’
‘About Daddy dying and all that.’
‘Tristram!’
He laughed. ‘You seem quite happy now you’ve got your hands on his money.’
‘What! How dare you? If you weren’t driving I’d punch you.’
‘Steady on; I’m only joking. I’m sure he’d be pleased, anyway, to see his daughter set herself up using his money, even though you didn’t get all you wanted when he was alive.’
She started to hit him on the shoulder.
‘Hey! Steady on, I’ll crash!’
‘You’re a pig! It’s completely different now and I’m going to show people that I can make a go of things.’
‘Good, I’m glad to hear it. Anyway, it’s not just about your father. Two other people got murdered so we owe it to them to cooperate with the police.’
‘Yes, well, if you want my opinion, I think the police think that you did it.’
‘Why would they think that?’
‘Because you argued with him about borrowing to pay your debts and you also knew that I would inherit money from him.’
‘I see. Well, what’s it like to be driven by a murderer?’
‘Get lost!’
‘What’s it like to have sex with a murderer?’
‘Tris!’ She punched him lightly on the shoulder again. ‘You’re just the pits!’
After this they were quiet for a while and then suddenly she said, ‘You didn’t do them, did you, Tris?’
‘What?’
‘The murders. You and your accomplices could have organised it all. I wonder who helped you? Who did the dirty work?’
‘I beg your—’
‘Only joking! Got you!’
‘Very funny.’
Alex and James decided to travel first class on the train to Leeds and take a taxi to Redmire.
They were comfortably established in their wide seats with a generous table as the train pulled out of King’s Cross. Alex fiddled with her phone and James read a copy of the Times. A waiter brought them complimentary drinks.
‘This is much more relaxing,’ remarked James. ‘I couldn’t have faced the M1 again so soon after we’ve just driven up there and back, even in the MG.’
‘I agree. I’ve always loved train travel. Talking of which, are you still going to treat me to a trip on the Orient Express to Venice?’
‘Yes, some day, when business has picked up a bit.’
‘Well, we’re enduring “Murder at the Manor” so we should be well prepared for Murder on the Orient Express.’
‘Very funny. And thinking of Christie’s famous novel, I wonder if the chief inspector thinks we all did it? You know, we planned and executed it together – the whole family. There are so many motives around among us I wouldn’t be surprised.’
‘Well, he’d be wrong, wouldn’t he? At least as far as I’m concerned.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I don’t think the police regard me as a serious suspect, but you: falling out over the business; refusing you money; your partner’s former lover . . . There’s plenty to go on there – and that’s without your blackmailing and the knowledge that he was probably worth more to you dead than alive.’
‘Good Lord, you’re still thinking about that?’
‘Just a little.’ She smiled mischievously.
‘Those motives came up when they interviewed me, apart from the blackmailing, so there’s nothing new there. What about you, darling? The rejected lover. “Hell hath no fury”, remember.’
‘Yes. Maybe they think you and I did it together – with help, of course.’
He laughed again. ‘What an idea! You little devil.’
James took up the newspaper again as they sped past Stevenage and Alex returned to her phone.
Alistair walked across to his grandmother’s flat and found her sitting on the patio. Her face lit up when she saw him.
‘Ah, Alistair, come here; it’s so good to see you.’
He leaned over and kissed her. ‘How are you, Granny?’
‘I’m very well today, thank you. It’s very hot and humid, is
n’t it? Sit down.’
‘Yes, it is.’ He sat on a chair beside her. ‘I can’t stay long, Granny. I’ve come to tell you that the police want to speak to us all again, and this time together. Chief Inspector Oldroyd wants us to meet by that room, you know, the one used in the trick.’
‘Oh, that one.’
‘Yes, but I’m sure if I asked them they would allow you to stay here. I think it’s going to be stressful and dramatic, as it were. I assume he’s going to tell us about that trick business and who killed Father and the others. I don’t know why he’s doing it like this but there must be a reason.’
‘I see. Of course I’m going to be there. I want to hear it all. I want to know everything.’
Alistair was a little taken aback. ‘Are you sure, Granny? It’s going to be awfully grisly, finding out who the murderer is. I can hardly bear to think about it. I could come and tell you everything later.’
‘But what if it’s you?’
‘Granny!’
She chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, dear; just my little joke. You have to admit, though, you did have a lot to gain from your father’s death.’
‘You sound like the police looking for motives.’
She leaned over to whisper to him in a way that made him draw back. ‘I could tell the police everything they already know about all the suspects and more. People think I’m too old to notice things but I’m not.’
‘Very well. If you’re sure you want to come I’ll be across later to help you over.’
She ignored this. ‘I believe that there’s always justice in the end, however long it takes.’
‘Quite. Bye for now.’
Alistair got up from his chair and left. It had been a very disconcerting encounter.
It was late in the afternoon when people started to arrive. The sky had been darkening all day and the air was hot and sticky.
Alistair was at the main door to welcome them. Douglas and Antonia were the first to arrive, looking grave but stoical. ‘Hello, Mummy. Douglas.’
‘Hello, darling. How is everyone? Are Caroline and Emily OK? Remember they’ve lost their grandfather. I know they never saw much of him, but still . . .’
‘Don’t worry, Mummy. Katherine’s doing a wonderful job with them. I’m very busy, as I’m sure you understand.’
‘I don’t doubt it; she’s a wonderful mother.’
‘Any idea what’s going on, old boy?’ asked Douglas affably.
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Never mind, eh? We’ll find out soon enough.’
Dominic slammed the door of the Mercedes and walked up to the door tight-lipped and grim. Mary followed behind, looked at Alistair and raised her eyes.
‘Do you know what this is all about, Alistair?’ asked Dominic.
‘I don’t, Uncle.’
‘Well, it’s completely unacceptable and I shall make it clear that . . .’ He disappeared through the door.
‘How are you, darling? Just ignore him. He thinks the world should be run for his own convenience.’
‘I think we all do at times, Auntie,’ said Alistair as he gave Mary a hug.
A taxi drew up and Alex and James got out. Alex looked up at the imposing frontage of the Hall while James paid the driver.
‘Welcome back again,’ said Alistair.
‘Nice to see you, Alistair, but we must stop meeting in circumstances like this.’
‘I know.’
‘How are you doing with the new responsibilities?’ asked James. ‘I take it you’ve reopened properly.’
‘Yes, but only just. Richard Wilkins and I had a deal of persuading to do to get the police to agree.’
‘That’s great. Just keep at it. I’m sure you’ll be a better businessman than your father.’
‘James! Now’s not the time to bring that up,’ said Alex.
‘It’s OK, don’t worry. We all know my father was not famous for his business acumen. I’m pretty sure I’ll do better. We’re all meeting just in there.’ He pointed at the door.
Poppy and Tristram were the last to arrive. The sporty Mini roared up the drive and the occupants strode stylishly up to the door.
Alistair, sensing Poppy’s mood, moved in pre-emptively. ‘Before you say anything, Poppy: I can’t tell you what all this is about. Everyone’s asking me the same questions but I don’t know any more than you.’
‘Fine. It’s a bloody waste of time, I can tell you that.’ She flounced in followed by Tristram, who winked at Alistair. Before he joined them all, Alistair looked up at the sky, which was now menacingly black in the distance. Clearly there was soon going to be an almighty thunderstorm.
Inside, everyone gathered in the entrance hall. There was no sign of the police.
‘Can you tell us anything, then, Alistair?’ asked James.
Alistair shrugged his shoulders. ‘Not much. The chief inspector asked me to inform you that he wants us all to gather in that lobby by the locked room at six o’clock and “everything will be revealed”. Those were his exact words.’
‘Not that bloody room again!’ said James. ‘He’s not going to perform that trick, is he?’
‘If he does,’ growled Dominic, ‘I hope he disappears and fails to reappear. It’ll serve him right.’
‘Well, I think it sounds rather fun,’ said Mary. ‘I like that chief inspector; he’s got a fine mind and a sense of drama – much better than some boring procedural type who does everything by the book.’
‘Fun! This is a serious business, Mary!’ exclaimed Dominic.
‘And I’m sure he’s got some serious answers. I’m looking forward to hearing them.’
‘There must be some reason why he’s chosen to do it like this,’ observed Douglas.
‘I certainly can’t think of one,’ replied Dominic sharply.
‘There’s no point arguing about it,’ said Antonia. ‘He’s the police officer in charge and we’ve no choice other than to do what he says.’
‘I agree with Antonia,’ said James. ‘However strange we think it is, we’ll just have to go along with it.’
That statement had a feeling of finality about it and everyone, however reluctantly, seemed to accept it. Everything went quiet as the group dispersed, looking for ways to pass the time before six o’clock.
Nine
Oldroyd stood once again in front of the door to the locked room and faced his tense and perplexed audience.
Comfortable furniture had been brought in and assembled in a half-circle. Oldroyd had insisted that this denouement took place by the locked room. He knew he was really stretching the rules of how to conduct an investigation, but the wonderful opportunity to indulge his sense of drama was irresistible and the literary resonances were exquisite. All the family including the dowager were assembled before him. He had put his tuxedo on and was revelling in the chance to play a part so reminiscent of one of his fictional heroes. Outside, there was the first rumble of thunder.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he announced portentously, ‘this case has been one of most intriguing in which I have ever been involved.’
This was too much for Dominic Carstairs. ‘What on earth do you think you’re playing at, Chief Inspector? Who the bloody hell do you think you are? Hercule Poirot? Where’s your little moustache and your Belgian accent? I’m going to put in a formal complaint about you, make no mistake. I’m absolutely—’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Uncle, be quiet!’ said Alistair. ‘Let the man do his job. If this is how he wants to explain everything, then why not? At least he’s solved the case and we’ll know who murdered Father, Harry Robinson and Ian Barden, and how it was done. I’ve just about had enough of the agony of not knowing and I’m sure everybody else feels the same.’
Dominic was surprised at Alistair’s assertiveness. This new Lord Redmire was clearly taking control as the head of the family. He realised everyone was looking at him and his cantankerousness subsided into a grumbling mutter.
‘At the beginning of thi
s affair,’ said Oldroyd, looking pointedly at Dominic, ‘I was exposed on television without being consulted, so I hope you will not begrudge me the right to present my findings in a similarly dramatic and public manner.’
No one felt able to make any further objections as Oldroyd, after his little prologue, embarked upon the main act of his performance. Steph turned on the spotlights that illuminated the door area, and turned off the other lights.
‘There were, of course, two mysteries in the first murder. Who killed Lord Redmire? And how did this illusion work? It was clear from the outset that the two were linked, that whoever the murderers were, they’d discovered the perplexing secret of this famous locked-room trick and most likely told Lord Redmire about it. We discounted the idea that Redmire knew the secret of the trick all along because it was unlikely that he would not have used it to his advantage earlier. No: someone came to him quite recently with the knowledge of how his father’s illusion worked – the secret that had remained hidden for so long. This information may not in itself have meant much to Lord Redmire, but when it was suggested to him that this was an enormous opportunity in terms of money-making publicity, his interest was immediately aroused.
‘Of course, he didn’t know that these people, whoever they were, had seen the potential of this trick to commit an extraordinary murder, one in which the corpse was left for all to see, but in which the act of murder and the murderer were rendered invisible, concealed within the illusion. And the whole thing was more audacious because it was carried out before a live television audience. Nevertheless, you may be thinking, as did we, that it was quite a risky and unnecessarily complicated way of killing someone. However, there was a particular motive for doing it this way, which I will come to later.’
‘Get on with it,’ muttered Dominic to himself.
‘The financial potential of the illusion, in terms of the publicity and consequent stimulation to tourism, blinded Lord Redmire – a man in constant and serious debt and in need of money to satisfy his gambling addiction – to any sign of danger; and anyway he had no reason to suspect that these people were planning his death. So, in a somewhat macabre manner, he became an unwitting accomplice in his own murder and its concealment by keeping the identity of his killers a secret. He had to do this because they had a practical part to play in this performance and the decision would have been taken early on that it was much safer if this secret remained between them. Just as Vivian Carstairs, in his time, had made sure that the number of people who knew anything about the illusion was small. Conspiracies work best with small numbers of people, which is why I find some of the outlandish ones around, such as the faked moon landings, ridiculous. And we suspect it was for this same reason that, after the trick, Harry Robinson was killed. Robinson was the only person who we knew from the beginning must have been involved in this plot in some way, because his murder was most likely the result of the other plotters wanting to limit the number of people who knew the truth of what had happened.