The Black Diamond

by Joan Smith

“I wanted to let her family know, but any investigation was possibly of so much harm to my son, that in the end I took the easy, the wrong, way out. Wretched to let the family go on hoping, but then a sudden and unexpected announcement of her death would not have been easy either. And with Regina threatening to tell her version of the truth—that Bobby pushed her on purpose—if I reported the accident at all, I was at my wits’ end. Once I had gone along with it, there was nothing to do but buckle under and pay her to keep quiet. She didn’t want an autopsy, of course. I realize that now. It might have revealed this obscure poison, and been eventually traced back to her. She prevailed on my family pride too, to keep it hidden. A weakness on my part to have done it. But I cautioned you about the parapet, and that he could be violent, just in case.”

  “I suppose we should call the police.”

  “They’re coming here after Rupert is locked up. There are a few loose ends to be tied up. Between Martin and Rupert, we should get the whole story.”

  “I want to see Bobby, to make sure he’s all right. I wonder who pushed him last night. It wasn’t Regina.”

  “Then it had to be Martin, hadn’t it?”

  “He was too great a menace, once he started to learn to talk. I believe he saw Regina give the ring to Rosalie, and saw her thrown over the balcony. He drew some pictures to that effect. He couldn’t say it, he was too upset, but he drew it. Eventually he would have spoken.”

  “It was the attempt on his life that confused me so. I accepted finally that they had killed April, and once that was realized, I was not long in concluding they had done the same to Rosalie. That is likely why Bobby always withdrew from her—in sheer repulsion and fear—and why he went into such violent tantrums after Rosalie was gone too. Poor child, he has been through hell. So have you,” he added softly, with a gentle, concerned expression.

  “You did not escape untouched either.”

  “Far from it. I have been eaten by remorse. The marriage did not survive the honeymoon. It was one of those wretched mistakes, entered into too hastily, in a state of confused grief. Married in haste, and repented at leisure. Truer words were never spoken. I had given up any hope of a normal existence, till you came to us. You were so good for the child, which was some balm to me. I told myself that must be enough, just to have you here, near. I came to wonder in the end how long I could endure it. But it’s over now. Bobby is safe, and you’re safe. We’ll build a new life.”

  It was too early for passion. We sat together till the doctor and police came, talking, comforting each other.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  The worst was over, but there was still unpleasantness to come, a night to be got through somehow, then the police questions, and eventually the trial. And of course the funerals, three of them. When the doctor went above to see madame’s corpse, he found Martin slumped on the floor beside her, wearing the mourning ring. She knew its fatal secret, and used it to commit suicide. I think she could not live with the knowledge that in the end, Regina had betrayed even her, her one friend, ally, mother, slave in all but name.

  A few matters might have been explained more clearly had Martin lived to tell her story, but in the end we relied on Mr. Rupert, and of course the official records that were dug up. Regina had come to Palin Park hoping to borrow money from her cousin, April, to finance a search for diamonds, but was made so welcome she remained for a long visit. Just when she decided to murder Mrs. Palin and supplant her as the mistress of Palin Park was unclear. Mr. Rupert supplied the curare, pretending, in his official testimony, that he did not know what it was to be used for. He sent it to Regina from London, where he stayed while waiting for the loan that would see them all back in Brazil.

  When Regina married Mr. Palin, she was supposed to get money for Rupert to go alone to Brazil. When no money was forthcoming, he came to Widecombe to remind her of the arrangement. They met on the moors, at the hut where I found the curare. He gave her more of the stuff, which she tested on her parrot, and finding it effective, she used it to kill Rosalie, who was becoming intrigued and inquisitive on the subject of April’s death. She learned of curare from Mr. Rupert, who was not so discreet as a murderer could wish. She found the book outlining the tale of the mourning ring, and took it to madame to caution her against the possibility of her own death at the ring’s hands. It was too close for madame’s comfort. She arranged to kill Rosalie, and put about the story of a theft to account for the girl’s sudden dismissal.

  Bess was used as a handmaiden for madame, and when she became too bothersome, she too had to be dispensed with. I think it was using Bess to pack up Rosalie’s trunks that finished her. That, and her listening at keyholes, overhearing things. What she said to reveal to madame she was a threat we never really discovered. Mr. Rupert said he did not know. He only received instructions where to find her body, and to bury it.

  Bess was seen running away as madame and Martin returned that last day to Palin Park. They got her into their carriage somehow, by force or persuasion, and killed her, dumping the body behind the hedge for Rupert to dispose of. There were too many murders piling up on their heads. They decided to take what they could, money and jewelry, and run, going ultimately back to Brazil with their maps to try again for diamonds. I was the last nuisance, the last one to be rid of. Robert they counted on to be quiet because of Bobby, and his alleged part in it all. They thought Bobby would not be able to reveal what he had seen till they were safely out of the country.

  “That was when I first began to realize Rosalie was not killed in her fall from the parapet,” Robert explained, “when you described the manner in which Bobby disposed of the kitten. He was imitating what he had seen done to your sister. And if she was dead before the fall, then it sounded very much like murder. It’s hard to believe such wickedness can exist.”

  “I believe she was insane, Robert.”

  “It was a very self-advancing insanity, if that’s what it was. An unhealthy streak of acquisitiveness, a hoarding up of more things than could be used in a lifetime. An insecure past might have something to do with it: I do not believe it can account for the whole. But it is done—a chapter of my life I am not eager to reread. What do you think of giving Regina’s portrait to Monsieur Arouet? I don’t want it in the house.”

  “Some descendant a hundred years from now will want it. It is a beautiful painting. Put it in the attic.”

  “Up with the rest of the monsters—Darby and Joan. I should have known when she said her father shot that lion that was disintegrating from age that she was a liar.”

  “You men are easy to deceive,” I said. “You didn’t suspect me of anything but stupidity when I forgot to ask you the salary in London either.”

  “Next time, I’ll let you do the interviewing. We’ll go right after the new year. I expect your Aunt Harriet is anxious to get a look at the bluebeard you’re engaged to.”

  “Good gracious, she doesn’t know we’re engaged yet, Robert! It’s much too early. We’ll have to wait awhile.”

  “I guess I can wait, for a little while.”

  We waited six months. Aunt Harriet insisted on returning to Palin Park with us to lend a touch of propriety to the proceedings, and to see my new home. The time passed fairly pleasantly. She helped me redecorate Regina’s room to a more sober style, oversaw the trimming of the yews that blocked the light from the saloon, set up a conspiracy with Mrs. Steyne to keep informed how things progress here, as I am such a shocking deceiver in my reports to her.

  Mr. Rupert, alias Mr. Brown, got twenty years for being an accessory to murder, and the Arnheim mourning ring got presented to a museum. The mourning ring—that is an appropriate item to conclude with. When the flat diamond tablet was pushed down hard, a tiny needle came out of the inside of the ring, to pierce the skin of the finger. If curare was rubbed on the needle, it made a quick, lethal, cunning weapon. When wiped clean, or even when poisoned but used with caution, it was harmless. It might be worn a few times without having any il
l effect, but eventually the wearer was bound to jar the tablet and kill herself.

  The ring was described on the missing page from the book belonging to Mr. J. P. Brown. The fact that it was presently in the possession of the Palins, of Devon, England, was also mentioned. I expect it was the reading of that page that decided Regina to come to visit her cousin, for it revealed to her that they were wealthy. In a way, it was the beginning, the middle and the end of the affair, that mourning ring.

  Copyright © 1981 by Joan Smith

  Originally published by Fawcett Crest in July, 1981 (0449244245

  Electronically published in 2006 by Belgrave House

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228

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  This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.