Agatha Christie - They Do It With Mirrors

by Murder

  'I could say that Mrs Serrocold was - because I was watching her. She was sitting quite close to the study door, and she never moved from her seat. It surprised me, you know, that she was able to remain so calm.' 'And the others?' 'Miss Bellever went out - but I think - I am almost sure - that that was after the shot. Mrs Strete? I really don't know. She was sitting behind me, you see. Gina was over by the far window. I think she remained there the whole time but of course I cannot be sure. Stephen was at the piano. He stopped playing when the quarrel began to get heated ' 'We mustn't be misled by the time you heard the shot,' said Inspector Curry. 'That's a trick that's been done before now, you know. Fake up a shot so as to fix the time of a crime, and fix it wrong. If Miss Bellever had cooked up something of that kind (far fetched - but you never know) then she'd leave as she did, openly, after the shot was heard. No, we can't go by the shot. The limits are between when Christian Gulbrandsen left the Hall to the moment when Miss Believer found him dead, and we can only eliminate those people who were known not to have had opportunity. That gives us Lewis Serrocold and young Edgar Lawson in the study, and Mrs Serrocold in the Hall. It's very unfortunate, of course, that Gulbrandsen should be shot on the same evening that this schemozzle happened between Serrocold and this young Lawson.' 'Just unfortunate, you think?' murmured Miss Marple.

  'Oh? What do you think?' 'It occurred to me,' murmured Miss Marple, 'that it might have been contrived.' 'So that's your idea?' 'Well, everybody seems to think it very odd that Edgar Lawson should quite suddenly have a relapse, so to speak.

  He'd got this curious complex, or whatever the term is, about his unknown father. Winston Churchill and Viscount Montgomery - all quite likely in his state of mind. Just any famous man he happened to think of. But suppose somebody puts it into his head that it's Lewis Serrocold who is really his father, that it's Lewis Serrocold who has been persecuting him - that he ought by rights to be the Crown Prince as it were of Stonygates.

  In his weak mental state he'll accept the idea - work himself up into a frenzy, and sooner or later will make the kind of scene he did make. And what a wonderful cover that will be! Everybody will have their attention fixed on the dangerous situation that is developing'- especially if somebody has thoughtfully supplied him with a revolver.'

  'Hm, yes. Walter Hudd's revolver.'

  'Oh yes,' said Miss Marple, 'I'd thought of that. But you know, Walter is uncommunicative and he's certainly sullen and ungracious, but I don't really think he's stupid.'

  'So you don't think it's Walter?'

  'I think everybody would be very relieved if it was Walter. That sounds very unkind, but it's because he is an outsider.'

  'What about his wife?' asked Inspector Curry. 'Would she be relieved?'

  Miss Marple did not answer. She was thinking of Gina and Stephen Restarick standing together as she had seen them on her first day. And she thought of the way Alex Restarick's eyes had gone straight to Gina as he had entered the Hall last night. What was Gina's own attitude?

  II Two hours later Inspector Curry tilted back his chair, stretched himself and sighed.

  'Well,' he said, 'we've cleared a good deal of ground.' Sergeant Lake agreed.

  'The servants are out,' he said. 'They were together all through the critical period - those that sleep here. The ones that don't live in had gone home.'

  Curry nodded. He was suffering from mental fatigue.

  He had interviewed physio-therapists, members of the teaching staff, and what he called to himself the 'two young lags,' whose turn it had been to dine with the family that night. All their stories dovetailed and checked. He could write them off. Their activities and habits were communal. Them were no lonely souls among them. Which was useful for the purposes of alibis.

  Curry had kept Dr Maverick, who was, as far as he could judge, the chief person in charge of the Institute, to the end.

  'But we'll have him in now, Lake.' So the young doctor bustled in, neat and spruce and rather inhuman looking behind his pincenez.

  Maverick confirmed the statements of his staff, and agreed with Curry's findings. There had been no slackness, no loophole in the College impregnability. Christian Gulbrandsen's death could not be laid to the account of the 'young patients,' as Curry almost called them, so hypnotized had he become by the fervent medical atmosphere.

  'But patients are exactly what they are, Inspector,' said Dr Maverick with a little smile.

  It was a superior smile, and Inspector Curry would not have been human if he had not resented it just a little.

  He said professionally: 'Now as regards your own movements, Dr Maverick?

  Can you give me an account of them?' 'Certainly. I have jotted them down for you with approximate times.' Dr Maverick had left the Great Hall at fifteen minutes after nine, with Mr Lacy and Dr Baumgarten. They had gone to Dr Baumgarten's rooms, where they had all three remained discussing certain courses of treatment until Miss Believer had come hurrying in and asked Dr Maverick to go to the Great Hall. That was at approximately half-past nine. He had gone at once to the Hall and had found Edgar Lawson in a state of collapse.

  Inspector Curry stirred a little.

  'Just a minute, Dr Maverick. Is this young man, in your opinion, definitely a mental case?'

  Dr Maverick smiled the superior smile again.

  'We are all mental cases, Inspector Curry.'

  Tomfool answer, thought the Inspector. He knew quite well he wasn't a mental case, whatever Dr Maverick might be!

  'Is he responsible for his actions? He knows what he is doing, I suppose?'

  'Perfectly.'

  'Then when he fired that revolver at Mr Serrocold it was definitely attempted murder.'

  'No, no, Inspector Curry. Nothing of that kind.' 'Come now, Dr Maverick. I've seen the two bullet holes in the wall. They must have gone dangerously near to Mr Serrocold's head.'

  'Perhaps. But Lawson had no intention of killing Mr Serrocold or even of wounding him. He is very fond of Mr Serrocold.'

  'It seems a curious way of showing it.'

  Dr Maverick smiled again. Inspector Curry found that smile very trying.

  'Everything one does is intentional. Every time you, Inspector, forget a name or a face it is because, uncons-ciously, you wish to forget it.'

  Inspector Curry looked unbelieving.

  'Every time you make a slip of the tongue, that slip has a meaning. Edgar Lawson was standing a few feet away from Mr Serrocold. He could easily have shot him dead.

  Instead, he missed him. Why did he miss him? Because he wanted to miss him. It is as simple as that. Mr Serrocold was never in any danger - and Mr Serrocold himself was quite aware of that fact. He understood Edgar's gesture for exactly what it was - a gesture of defiance and resentment against a universe that has denied him the simple necessities of a child's life security and affection.' 'I think I'd like to see this young man.' 'Certainly if you wish. His outburst last night has had a cathartic effect. There is a great improvement today.

  Mr Serrocold will be very pleased.' Inspector Curry stared hard at him, but Dr Maverick was serious as always.

  Curry sighed.

  'Do you have any arsenic?' he asked.

  'Arsenic?' The question took Dr Maverick by surprise.

  It was clearly unexpected. 'What a very curious question.

  Why arsenic?' 'Just answer the question, please.' 'No, I have no arsenic of any kind in my possession.' 'But you have some drugs?' 'Oh certainly. Sedatives. Morphia - the barbiturates.

  The usual things.' 'Do you attend Mrs Serrocold?' 'No. Dr Gunter of Market Kimble is the family physician. I hold a medical degree, of course, but I practise purely as a psychiatrist.' 'I see. Well, thank you very much, Dr Maverick.' As Dr Maverick went out, Inspector Curry murmured to Lake that psychiatrists gave him a pain in the neck.

  'We'll get on to the family now,' he said. 'I'll see young Walter Hudd first.' Walter Hudd's attitude was cautious. He seemed to be studying the police officer with a slightly wary express
ion.

  But he was quite cooperative.

  There was a good deal of defective wiring in Stony-gates - the whole electric system was very old-fashioned.

  They wouldn't stand for a system like that in the States.

  'It was installed, I believe, by the late Mr Gulbrandsen when electric light was a novelty,' said Inspector Curry with a faint smile.' 'I'll say so! Sweet old feudal English and never been brought up to date.' The fuse which controlled most of the lights in the Great Hall had gone, and he had gone out to the fuse-box to see about it. In due course he got it repaired and came back.

  'How long were you away?' 'Why that I couldn't say for sure. The fuse-box is in an awkward place. I had to get steps and a candle. I was maybe ten minutes - perhaps a quarter of an hour.' 'Did you hear a shot?' 'Why no, I didn't hear anything like that. There are double doors through to the kitchen quarters and one of them is lined with a kind of felt.' 'I see. And when you came back into the Hall, what did you see?' 'They were all crowded round the door into Mr Serrocold's study. Mrs Strete said that Mr Serrocold had been shot - but actually that wasn't so. Mr Serrocold was quite all right. The boob had missed him.' 'You recognized the revolver?' 'Sure I recognized it! It was mine.' 'When did you see it last?' 'Two or three days ago.' 'Where did you keep it?'

  'In the drawer in my room.' 'Who knew that you kept it there?' 'I wouldn't know who knows what in this house.' 'What do you mean by that, Mr Hudd?' 'Aw, they're all nuts?

  'When you came into the Hall, was everybody else there?' 'What d'you mean by everybody?' 'The same people who were there when you went to repair the fuse.' 'Gina was there... and the old lady with white hair and Miss Bellever... I didn't notice particularly - but I should say so.' 'Mr Gulbrandsen arrived quite unexpectedly the day before yesterday, did he not?' 'I guess so. It wasn't his usual routine, I understand.' 'Did anyone seem upset by his arrival?' Walter Hudd took a moment or two before he answered: 'Why no, I wouldn't say so.' Once more there was a touch of caution in his manner.

  'Have you any idea why he came?' 'Their precious Gulbrandsen Trust I suppose. The whole set-up here is crazy.' 'You have these "set-ups" as you call it, in the States.' 'It's one thing to endow a scheme, and another to give it the personal touch as they do here. I had enough of psychiatrists in the Army. This place is stiff with them.

  Teaching young thugs to make raffia baskets and carve pipe-racks. Kids' games! It's sissy?

  Inspector Curry did not comment on this criticism.

  Possibly he agreed with it.

  He said, eying Walter carefully:

  'So you have no idea who could have killed Mr Gulbrandsen?' 'One of the bright boys from the College practising his technique, I'd say.' 'No, Mr Hudd, that's out. The College, in spite of its carefully produced atmosphere of freedom, is none the less a place of detention and is run on those lines. Nobody can run in and out of it after dark and commit murders.' 'I wouldn't put it past them! Well - if you want to fix it nearer home, I'd say your best bet was Alex Restarick.' 'Why do you say that?' 'He had the opportunity. He drove up through the grounds alone in his car.' 'And why should he kill Christian Gulbrandsen?' Walter shrugged his shoulders.

  'I'm a stranger. I don't know the family setups.

  Maybe the old boy had heard something about Alex and was going to spill the beans to the Serrocolds.' 'With what results?' 'They might cut off the dough. He can use dough uses a good deal of it by all accounts.' 'You mean - in theatrical enterprises?' 'That's what he calls it?' 'Do you suggest it was otherwise?' Again Walter Hudd shrugged his shoulders.

  'I wouldn't know,' he said.

  CHAPTER 13

  Alex Restarick was voluble. He also gestured with his hands.

  'I know, I know! I'm the ideal suspect. I drive down here alone and on the way to the house, I get a creative fit, I can't expect you to understand. How should you?' 'I might,' Curry put in drily, but Alex Restarick swept on.

  'It's just one of those things! They come upon you there's no knowing when or how. An effect - an idea and everything else goes to the winds! I'm producing Limehouse Nights next month. Suddenly - last night - the set-up was wonderful... The perfect lighting. Fog -and the headlights cutting through the fog and being thrown back - and reflecting dimly a tall pile of buildings.

  Everything helped! The shots - the running footsteps and the chug-chugging of the electric power engine could have been a launch on the Thames. And I thought - that's it - but what am I going to use to get just these effects? - and ' Inspector Curry broke in.

  'You heard shots? Where?' 'Out of the fog, Inspector.' Alex waved his hands in the air - plump well-kept hands. 'Out of the fog. That was the wonderful part about it.' 'It didn't occur to you that anything was wrong?' 'Wrong? Why should it?' 'Are shots such a usual occurrence?'

  'Ah, I knew you wou!dn't understand! The shots fitted into the scene I was creating. I wanted shots. Danger opium - crazy business. What did I care what they were really? Backfires from a lorry on the road? A poacher after rabbits?' 'They snare rabbits mostly round here.' Alex swept on: 'A child letting off fireworks? I didn't even think about them as - shots. I was in Limehouse - or rather at the back of the stalls - looking at Limehouse.' 'How many shots?' 'I don't know,' said Alex petulantly. 'Two or three.

  Two close together, I do remember that.' Inspector Curry nodded.

  'And the sound of running footsteps, I think you said?

  Where were they?' 'They came to me out of the fog. Somewhere near the house.' Inspector Curry said gently: 'That would suggest that the murderer of Christian Gulbrandsen came from outside.' 'Of course. Why not? You don't really suggest, do you, that he came from inside the house?' Still very gently Inspector Curry said: 'We have to think of everything.' 'I suppose so,' said Alex Restarick generously. 'What a soul-destroying job yours must be, Inspector! The details, the times and places, the pettifogging pettiness of it. And in the end - what good is it all? Does.it bring the wretched Christian Gulbrandsen back to life?' 'There's quite a satisfaction in getting your man, Mr Restarick.' 'The Wild Western touch!'

  'Did you know Mr Gulbrandsen well?' 'Not well enough to murder him, Inspector. I had met him, off and on, since I lived here as a boy. He made brief appearances from time to time. One of our captains of industry. The type does not interest me. He has quite a collection, I believe, of Thorwaldsen's statuary -' Alex shuddered. 'That speaks for itself, does it not? My God, these rich men!' Inspector Curry eyed him meditatively. Then he said: 'Do you take any interest in poisons, Mr Restarick?' 'In poisons? My dear man, he was surely not poisoned first and shot afterwards. That would be too madly detective story.' 'He was not poisoned. But you haven't answered my question.' 'Poison has a certain appeal... It has not the crudeness of the revolver bullet or the blunt weapon. I have no special knowledge of the subject, if that is what you me an. ' 'Have you ever had arsenic in your possession?' 'In sandwiches - after the show? The idea has its allurements. You don't know Rose Glidon? These actresses who think they have a name! No I have never thought of arsenic. One extracts it from weed killer or flypapers, I believe.' 'How often are you down here, Mr Restarick?' 'It varies, Inspector. Sometimes not for several weeks.

  But I try to get down for weekends whenever I can. I always regard Stonygates as my true home.' 'Mrs Serrocold has encouraged you to do so?' 'What I owe Mrs Serrocold can ney. er be repaid.

  Sympathy, understanding, affection ' 'And quite a lot of solid cash as well, I believe?'

  Alex looked faintly disgusted.

  'She treats me as a son, and she has belief in my work.' 'Has she ever spoken to you about her will?' 'Certainly. But may I ask what is the point of all these questions, Inspector? There is nothing wrong with Mrs Serroc01d.'

  'There had better not be,' said Inspector Curry grimly.

  'Now what can you possibly mean by that?'

  'If you don't know, so much the better,' said Inspector Curry. 'And if you do - I'm warning you.'

  When Alex had gone Sergeant Lake said: 'Pretty
bogus, would you say?' Curry shook his head.

  'Difficult to say. He may have genuine creative talent.

  He may just like living soft and talking big. One doesn't know. Heard running footsteps, did he? I'd be prepared to bet he made that up.'

  'For any particular reason?'

  'Definitely for a particular reason. We haven't come to it yet, but we will.'

  'After all, sir, one of those smart lads may have got out of the College buildings unbeknownst. Probably a few cat burglars amongst them, and if so -'

  'That's what we're meant to think. Very convenient.