“No, hear me out, Inspector,” he continued. “In all puzzles, the best way to find a solution is to look for the unusual. On this occasion there were two unusual things. The first was that Mrs Mackenzie, a creature of habit, stepped aside from her weekly routine. Each Wednesday and Sunday she posted a letter to her daughter in Winnipeg. Last Saturday she posted an extra letter, or her Sunday one a day early. She must have had a reason.
“I called today on Mr Alec Mackenzie to find out if his sister had a birthday or anniversary, anything that could be the explanation. He could think of nothing to account for an additional letter. It therefore seemed probable that Mrs Mackenzie must have had some special news to tell her daughter.”
The Inspector had now given up trying to silence Patrick. Instead, he was listening with attention.
“Now we come to the second unusual event that happened,” Patrick said. “Mr Gerald Ludlow had recently got married. On Friday night he brought his wife to Pantons.”
He paused. Helen and Gerald, still close together, stood immobile.
“Letters normally take three or four days to reach Winnipeg from England,” Patrick said. “I thought that by today Mrs Mackenzie’s daughter might have received her mother’s letter, so, with the assistance of Mr Mackenzie here, I telephoned to her. The letter has arrived. Mrs Mackenzie and Mrs Helen Ludlow had met before.”
But before he had finished speaking, Helen had fainted.
VI
The ensuing pandemonium died down eventually. Helen recovered consciousness very quickly and was taken upstairs at once by her husband, with Phyllis in attendance. The remaining Ludlows sat about looking stunned, and when the sound of a door closing indicated that the retreating party could not overhear what passed below, Inspector Foster rounded on Patrick.
“You should have got in touch with me privately,” he said. “This alters everything.”
“I know,” said Patrick blandly. “That’s why I hurried down.”
The Inspector, making a huge effort, decided to swallow his pride. Time would be lost if he berated Patrick further, pointing out that the telephone service operated between London and Fennersham and making other such caustic comments on his actions.
“What did the letter say?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, Inspector, but I can’t tell you that,” said Patrick. “It was told to me in confidence. The letter only arrived this morning, and as you know, Winnipeg time is six hours behind ours. Hence part of the delay.” He looked at the Inspector consideringly. “Mrs Mackenzie’s daughter was naturally very upset by the letter, coming on top of the news of her mother’s death. I appreciate that I have upset your plans by turning up like this with such information, but you had to know.”
“Yes. Yes, I did.” The Inspector had been thinking rapidly. Patrick rather admired the way he adjusted so quickly to the new situation.
“Smithers, we must get back to the station,” he said.
“Yes, sir.” The Sergeant rose smartly, putting his biro into his breast pocket and closing his notebook.
“Mr Mackenzie, may I ask you to come with us?” the Inspector said. “We must get on to your sister, and I’m sure we’ll need your help.”
Alec Mackenzie mumbled some affirmative.
Patrick said a few words to him in a low voice, and gave him a brisk pat on the shoulder. Mackenzie managed a wan smile, and then went with the two policemen towards the door. Martin followed to see them off. When he came back his mother was standing in the middle of the room fluttering her hands in a helpless way.
“What does it mean?” she asked. Her voice was a wail.
Tim, in the background, leaned on the mantelpiece biting his nails. He paid no attention to anyone else, gazing down at his scuffed shoes in abstract concentration.
“There was some link between Helen and Mrs Mackenzie - in America? But Mrs Mackenzie came from Canada.” This was Derek, thinking aloud.
“You must hear about it from your brother, not from me,” said Patrick.
“Did he know?”
“I think you’ll find he did.”
Betty had given up. The immediate threat that one of her family might be arrested for something she knew they could never have done was gone. Meanwhile, near at hand, was Martin in distress. She put out an arm towards him.
“Tell me about Sandra, dear,” she said, and beckoned him into a corner.
Martin cast a wry glance in Patrick’s direction as he allowed himself to be led away. He had begun to fear, as time went on and Patrick did not appear, that the Rover must have failed him, but in fact his arrival was timed perfectly, giving the Inspector long enough to show his hand completely. It had been agreed between them that Martin must be punctual, and must pay great attention to all that was said in case there were points not clear to Patrick afterwards. Excitement had carried Martin through the evening, but now he felt an anti-climax. His mother must be told the worst, though; best get it over, and free his father for the tete-a-tete with Patrick that clearly loomed.
“What a kettle of fish,” Derek was saying. “I’d like a word, Dr Grant, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” Patrick glanced round the room. “Let’s go outside, shall we?”
They walked together out into the cobbled yard. The air was still full of the scent from the geraniums, and overhead a light showed in an upstairs window.
“You arrived just in time to stop Tim confusing the issue,” Derek said. “He’d just announced that he was at Pantons on Saturday night. I suppose you realised that I was too?”
“I thought you might have been,” said Patrick. As yet he had only surmised that Derek might be in trouble, and that chiefly because Betty was clearly so disturbed, yet could give no reason for her anxiety apart from her normal state of maternal fret.
“Tim’s in trouble, of course.”
“He is,” said Patrick grimly. “But not with the university.”
“I wouldn’t listen when he asked me for help,” said Derek. “I’ve got this crisis with my business. You’ll hear about it. But I should have made time for the boys. Martin’s in a mess too.”
“Martin, I think, will be able now to dig himself out,” said Patrick. “I’ll deal with Tim, if you like. On a short- term basis only. I can resolve the immediate difficulty and you can sort him out later. In the end he may profit from a narrow escape from real disaster. I’ll keep you posted.”
“He may have to leave Oxford,” Derek said. “I’m in a real mess. He’ll lose his allowance.”
“If things are as bad as that, his grant will be adjusted,” Patrick said calmly. “It won’t hurt him to go short.”
“You think Martin can manage? I can’t pay off his debts, I’ve too many of my own.”
“His wife has finally gone, so he can sell his assets,” Patrick said. “And he hasn’t got to pay for her. She was, I gather, expensive.”
“Poor boy.” Derek spoke sadly. “That must hurt. I never knew what he saw in her. She was pretty, if you like that type. Thin, you know, like a bird. They met winter-sporting, if you please, and married almost at once. Fancy trying to build a marriage on a fortnight’s ski-ing holiday.”
Patrick forbore to say that it had sometimes been achieved.
“He seems to have been rather unlucky,” he said aloud. He was accustomed to harder-hearted young men who would have seen through Sandra at once. From what Martin had told him, it seemed clear that Sandra had rebounded in his direction after an affair that went wrong; she had thought his prospects better than they were, and expected his grandmother to subsidise his perfectly adequate salary right from the start. When she learned that they might expect nothing from the old lady except upon her whim, and that they must meekly visit Pantons every Sunday into the bargain, she soon grew bored with Martin. Because of her job she had a vast number of acquaintances, many of whom admired her; it was not difficult for her to find an alternative.
“I don’t know which of us is in the worst pickle,” Der
ek said. “If you hadn’t arrived when you did, the Inspector would have made an arrest. I suppose the moment’s only been postponed.”
“I think you’ll find he’s been diverted,” Patrick said. “Now, shall we go back to the others?” He felt that there was a strong chance of Betty having induced an emotional scene with her sons; however, she was sitting calmly with them both, and they were deciding that Martin would return home with them for the night.
Phyllis came downstairs just after Derek and Patrick went back into the house. She said that Helen was resting, and Gerald was staying with her.
“I was telling Dr Grant that he came in the nick of time to prevent Inspector Foster charging someone,” Derek said to his sister. “I fancy the odds were evenly balanced between you and me.”
Phyllis still had the high colour in her cheeks. She gave Derek a wry smile.
“I think I was favourite, by a short head,” she said.
“Well, not any more,” said Derek flatly.
“No. Things are even worse now,” said Phyllis. She faced Patrick. “Inspector Foster will be back to arrest Helen as soon as he’s got in touch with Winnipeg.” A grim expression crossed her face.
“He won’t have much to go on,” Patrick said. “Besides, he won’t know whether to suspect Helen, or your brother Gerald. They both had the opportunity, and the motive was the same.”
“We’ll take it as read that there must be some shady event in Helen’s past that Mrs Mackenzie knew about,” said Derek. “Allowing for that, how could either she or Gerald have done this thing?”
Patrick said: “When I came here on Saturday evening, I arrived at eight-thirty. Just before that, your brother had been absent for some time, ostensibly fetching ice. He could have been up at Pantons, doping Mrs Mackenzie’s whisky. Everyone seemed to know that she always had a nightcap. He could have slipped up through the garden so as to avoid Mrs Medhurst and Cathy coming down, and also that would explain why I did not meet him. He could have used the back door and slipped up unseen, or if he did meet Mrs Mackenzie, he could pretend to be visiting his mother. Mrs Mackenzie herself would be busy in the kitchen then. It would have been easy for him to remove the bottle containing the drug from her room later, and to exchange the glass by her bed for another. We don’t know if it was checked for prints; probably not, since there was no trace of barbiturate in it, but a glass from the cupboard downstairs would be certain to carry Mrs Mackenzie’s prints since she would have put it away.”
He paused and looked at Phyllis.
“Your brother did come up to Pantons directly after you found the body?”
“Yes. He was with us in ten minutes,” Phyllis said. Her colour had faded now.
“It could have been a joint operation,” Patrick said. “Mrs Helen Ludlow went to fetch some money for my collecting box. She was gone for rather a long time. She could have slipped up to Pantons and put the pills in the whisky then, and her husband could have cleared up later.”
“Helen wouldn’t have known the way,” said Derek. “The house was strange to her. She wouldn’t have known where Mrs Mackenzie’s room was.”
“She and Gerald went up to see Mother on Friday night, after you’d gone home,” said Phyllis heavily. “She would have known. But I’m sure they had nothing to do with it, whatever you say, Dr Grant. I wish you hadn’t interfered. It would have been better if Inspector Foster had arrested me. He wouldn’t have been able to prove anything against me in the end; the whole thing is circumstantial. Now look what’s happening to Gerald and Helen.”
“People do strange things for love, Mrs Medhurst,” Patrick said. “You seem willing to be charged with a crime you did not commit in order to spare your brother. Might he not have been capable of carrying it out to protect the woman he loves?”
“But what from?” said Betty. “What had she done?”
“I think I’d better tell you,” Phyllis said. She looked at Patrick, but he gave her no help. “Yes,” she decided. “You’ll have to know. Then you’ll realise what we’re up against. But it must never be mentioned to anyone else, unless in the end it becomes public knowledge. Is that understood? Boys?”
Martin and Timothy nodded. Martin already knew what was coming, since he had been with Patrick and Alec Mackenzie during the long telephone conversation with Canada.
“I’m not certain of dates and places,” Phyllis said. “But briefly it was like this. Helen, as we know, was married before. She was moderately happy for a year or so. Then she had a baby - a little girl. After that, her husband changed; he seemed to turn against her, he resented the baby, and he started to drink a lot - he’d always been a heavy drinker, but Helen had hoped he’d change when they were married.”
“Many a foolish girl has been caught like that,” said Derek dryly. “Sorry, Phyl. Go on.”
“Her husband lost his job, on account of the drinking, and they moved around a bit, but he never kept any job for long, and Helen couldn’t go out to work because of the baby, who was delicate. Her husband thought there was nothing wrong with it, and that it was just Helen making a fuss, but the baby died. It had some heart trouble - they might have been able to put it right nowadays, this was all about ten years ago. Anyway, things got worse than ever after this, and Helen eventually left her husband. After a long time - some years - she met someone else, and they were going to get married. Helen got a divorce - it’s quite easy over there, and she didn’t have any trouble about that. But her husband found where she was living with this other man, in a lakeside hut somewhere in Ontario. The other man was a Canadian. Her husband turned up, and beat up this man. Helen was there when it happened. She said that by this time her husband was on drugs. She was involved in the fighting. Her husband got hit on the head and fell off the little jetty into the lake. As he was unconscious, he drowned. Helen went to gaol for manslaughter and that’s where she met Mrs Mackenzie.”
“What! In prison?” The gasp came from Betty.
Phyllis nodded.
“Mrs Mackenzie was in for stealing. She’d been working for some rich family and had been taking money that was left lying about, and jewellery. Her son Alec was very ill, and she needed it. There’s no welfare state over there.”
“Mrs Mack pinching the spoons! No, I can’t believe it,” Derek said.
“It’s true. She made Alec come over to England when she was sentenced. There were some relations over here, who helped him get started. She followed later. She’s been perfectly honest ever since, I’m certain,” said Phyllis. “It’s a bit of a shock, isn’t it? But it adds up. Canada’s a big place, but to start again Mrs Mack thought she’d better come home, and Helen went back to America.”
“What happened to the other man? Helen’s - er - the other man?” asked Martin. Young Mackenzie’s sister had not given them as clear an account as this on the telephone.
“He died as a result of the brawl. The police found Helen with a stick in her hand covered in blood and hair from her husband’s head. That was what finished it for her. The other man probably struck the fatal blow, but he was dead and couldn’t say so, and Helen was too shocked to be able to help herself. She said she didn’t care what happened, she simply wanted to die. She was lucky not to be charged with murder!”
“Murder!” The word, uttered on a sigh by Betty, shivered round the room.
“What a perfectly ghastly story,” Derek said. “Did Gerald know all this?”
“Yes, she told him right away, when he started to get serious about her. That was why she didn’t want to marry him. She says she brings bad luck to the people she loves,” said Phyllis. “It seems to be true.”
Patrick said: “Look, let’s all help ourselves to some of your brother’s whisky. I’m sure he won’t mind. And then we’ll just think about this quietly.” He crossed to the tray where Gerald had set out the bottles earlier, and began liberally handing out drinks all round. Martin helped him. Everyone was silent, stunned by what they had heard.
“Now then
,” said Patrick. “As I see it, your sister-in- law Helen Ludlow has had a most unlucky life so far, but she is not a proven murderer. She was involved in a violent situation which she did not provoke. The man she loved and the man she feared both died; neither could describe the fight. A good lawyer might have got her off any charge, but as Mrs Medhurst has said, she was beyond caring, and she went to prison. Years later, when she hopes that all this could be forgotten, she meets on the other side of the world a woman who can reveal her past. A chance in a million. Those are the facts.” He puffed away at his pipe.
“Mrs Mackenzie could have told Grandmother and ruined Helen’s chance of a new life,” said Martin slowly.
“Helen could also have ruined Mrs Mackenzie’s reputation,” Patrick said. “She might have lost her job.”
“That could account for suicide!” Phyllis snatched at this straw. “Mrs Mackenzie might have thought Helen’s position was the stronger one. She might have been afraid for Alec - the disgrace, if it got out. I presume he never knew what happened?”
“No. His sister is the elder. She saw to getting him off, over to England. They made out that Mrs Mackenzie had T.B. and had to go to a sanatorium. He heard the truth today for the first time.”
“Poor young man.” This was Betty.
Phyllis had no time to spare for pity outside the family.
“Gerald will be down soon,” she said. “We ought to go. We can’t discuss it here like this. I’m certain Helen is innocent, and if either she or Gerald is arrested I shall tell the Inspector I knew all about this business.”
“Ah, but when did you learn?” asked Patrick. “Just now, upstairs? Or earlier?”
“That’s my affair,” said Phyllis brusquely.
“You’ve always had a soft spot for Gerald, haven’t you, Phyl?” said Derek rather wistfully.
“There’s Cathy to be thought of, too,” said Betty. She seemed to have recovered some of her self-control.
“Yes. Quite right, my dear,” said Derek. He patted her shoulder absently. “You’d better know the worst,” he said. “We’re in real trouble with the business. Fifty thousand pounds of clients’ money has disappeared.”
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