‘The charge will be more serious than that, doctor. It will be one of murder.’
Macready bounced to his feet, his eyes staring wildly.
‘Have you gone mad, Littlejohn?’
‘No. I know now how and why you killed Jourin. You can sit down and I’ll tell you. As for you Miss. … What was your surname before you married Jourin?’
Grace actually smiled again. The silly, feline, infantile smile Littlejohn was getting used to. She felt secure and didn’t much care about anyone else.
‘Grace Starr, if you’re interested. Why?’
‘I’ve just learned you aren’t the doctor’s sister.’
‘Who told you that rubbish?’
It was the doctor’s turn to start asking questions again.
‘Your old friend the registrar of births in Perth. You never had a sister. William Wallace Macready, I arrest you on charge of the murder of Etienne Jourin. …’
And he cautioned him. The doctor took it aggressively.
‘Prove it! You can’t. You’ve not a scrap of proof. I deny everything.’
Littlejohn was slowly filling his pipe. Then he lit it before he went on. He had to do something to counteract the persistent smell of incense and Grace’s scent. She took one of her Russian cigarettes and asked Cromwell for a light. He snapped his lighter and gave her one. She was a cool customer.
‘Your downfall, doctor, wasn’t due to thinking you’d killed a child with your car, although that might have been responsible for mixing Barnes in your felonies. It was due to your falling in love with a woman much younger than yourself and with very extravagant tastes and who, I’ve no doubt, judging from her affair with Jourin, was not above introducing a bit of competition now and then. Please don’t interrupt. You’ll have your chance to tell your side of the story later. You were married already and kept your mistress elsewhere until your wife died. Then you brought her to live with you as your sister.’
Grace couldn’t control herself.
‘How clever of you! How did you find it all out? I had to come to live as Will’s sister. You see, I was married already to a man who wouldn’t divorce me. On religious grounds. Can you imagine it? To live as anything else than Will’s sister would have upset his patients, wouldn’t it?’
Macready was sitting on the couch now, his long legs stretched before him, his hands in his trousers pockets, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.
‘Be quiet, Grace. One would think we were proud of it all.’
He didn’t even remove his cigarette to speak to her.
‘I hadn’t thought of checking the relationship between the two of you. One almost takes for granted a brother and sister. But tonight, your wild assault on Barnes, doctor, wasn’t due to the child on the bicycle. That had ceased to matter long ago, hadn’t it? It was due to the lecherous way Barnes was eyeing Miss … or is it Mrs. Starr. …’
‘Mrs. Starr, to be correct.’
‘Thank you, Mrs. Starr. Barnes couldn’t take his eyes from Mrs. Starr and it annoyed you, doctor. I fancy Barnes had already made unpleasant approaches in her direction. It would appear that the doctor resents it. His rage was much more passionate and intense than that of a brother, who would probably have told Barnes where he got off or else just calmly socked him on the jaw. Instead, the doctor wanted to kill him. … An unpleasant man, Mr. Sammy Barnes.’
‘Have it your own way, Littlejohn. It isn’t getting you any nearer to my guilt for Jourin’s murder. All this talk is just by-play to get me to incriminate myself. It won’t do any good if you chatter all night.’
‘You must have found it hard work making ends meet with Mrs. Starr’s extravagances on a general practitioner’s income. …’
‘That is my business. It is no concern of yours. And kindly keep Mrs. Starr out of this.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t, and you’ll both have to listen. When Jourin turned up, your problem was solved. You entered into a very profitable partnership, gave up your practice, and moved here, where you could carry on your work in peace. Gradually, after a bit of experience and a spell or two in gaol for Jourin, you began to do big business. Unfortunately, Jourin met and later fell in love with Mrs. Starr.’
The doctor didn’t speak. He gave Grace a sidelong, accusing look and sank his head on his chest again.
‘They ended-up with a rendez-vous at Sens and went off to Cannes together. You quickly followed and brought her back. They told you they’d been married. I don’t know whether or not the mayor of some place performed the ceremony for them. …’
Grace interposed decisively.
‘He did. The mayor of Auxerre.’
‘Had your other husband died meanwhile?’
‘Yes. Two years ago. Will and I didn’t bother. We’d lived as brother and sister for so long, that further formalities seemed superfluous. That’s so, isn’t it, Will?’
Macready simply lit another cigarette and ignored her.
‘It’s very ironical, Mrs. Starr, but Jourin was suffering from the complaint you yourself had borne for so long. He had a wife, a good catholic girl, in Sens. She’s now a widow. So, your marriage wasn’t valid.’
‘It doesn’t matter now, does it?’
‘Not at all. But it made all the difference to Jourin’s reaction to the doctor’s arrival in Cannes. He allowed him to take you home with him, because he knew you weren’t his wife, although, no doubt, he was in love with you. He also knew that to quarrel with the doctor over a mere love affair would be foolish. They’d arranged a robbery involving a quarter of a million pounds and to break up the partnership would ruin it all and good-bye to the du Pan diamonds.’
‘Where did you learn all this?’
‘The local people at Sens didn’t let your comings and goings pass unnoticed. Unluckily, the police there didn’t know that Jourin was in town until it was too late, otherwise, they would have had him behind bars. The staff at the Carlton, too, were interested in you all. …’
Macready turned on Grace again.
‘Between you, you and Jourin and your little affair seem to have made a real mess of the last job. All this is the result of your promiscuousness. …’
Grace gave him a disgusted look.
‘Affair, did you say, Will? I thought we were married, if Etienne didn’t.’
‘Don’t rub it in. I know. But you have proof of how much Jourin loved you. He let his so-called wife return with her former lover rather than miss the du Pan coup …’
Littlejohn intervened.
‘You can settle that later. What we’re concerned with is Jourin’s death. His coups, as you call them, were all ingeniously executed whilst he was running an orchestra at the houses he’d chosen to plunder. The final effort, the best of all, was the du Pan diamonds. Once safely landed and disposed of, the stones would have set the pair of you up for life.’
The doctor and Grace were silent. They were almost holding their breath now, like a parient whose body a doctor is searching for a wound or sore spot and knows that his fingers will, sooner or later, discover it and bring the inevitable pain.
‘You had, between you, to keep your hold on Jourin till the gems were safely over here. You, doctor, laid greater store on getting the diamonds than you did in keeping Mrs. Starr. Perhaps when you rushed to France to bring her back, you were afraid they were going to cut you out of the du Pan arrangement.’
The doctor showed no emotion. He wasn’t taking the bait this time. He remained silent. The pair of them were now sitting speechless, like a couple of dummies.
‘Let’s get it over, then. Mrs. Starr left you and ran away with Jourin. You waited for your revenge until the robbery was successful, the jewels were here and safely in your hands, and then you killed Jourin.’
‘I didn’t. You’re making a mistake. The first I saw of him on this visit, was in Barnes’s garage, mortally wounded. That’s true, and you won’t shake me. He was due to meet me here. He never came. That’s the truth.’
‘Per
haps it is.’
Grace’s body stiffened and she gave Littlejohn a malevolent stare.
‘You’re letting him talk you out of your accusation. Guilt’s written all over him. Of course he killed Jourin.’
Here it was! Sooner or later, Littlejohn knew the partnership between the pair of them would crack. The strain was beginning to tell. Grace was talking in her slow, cold, drawling voice.
‘Before he was murdered, Jourin called here with the diamonds. He and Macready went up to the workshop with them, presumably to examine them, for they weren’t there long. I heard them leave the house. I think they’d decided not to work on the stones at all, but try to dispose of them intact for much more. They were going to see Barnes about it. Macready stabbed Jourin on the way, took the stones, and hid them. You’re not saying you believe his sorry lies, are you?’
Macready might have been expected to fling himself upon his faithless mistress and try to throttle her, like a scene in a television play. But he didn’t. He just sat there, smoking one cigarette after another, ready to take what came.
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought you were.’
All the myth about arrested development, culture, placidity, was gone. Grace Starr was revealing herself as a cunning, vulgar woman. The strain was bringing her true nature from under the mask.
‘What did you do with the diamonds, Mrs. Starr?’
The stupid, feline look was back again.
‘What are you talking about, Mr. Littlejohn?’
‘Please don’t try the simple-simon act with me any more. That’s over now. You are a very clever woman and all the façade of stupidity is just too silly for words. You’d grown tired of the doctor. Forgive me, Macready, but you know it’s true. She was hankering after other things than you and July Street. Her interest in you revived, perhaps, when you joined forces with Jourin. She saw great possibilities in jewel robberies. But Jourin proved as interesting to her as the job itself as time passed. He could never resist a pretty woman. Mrs. Starr was more than that. She was clever …’
‘Thank you. I’m glad you think so. The rest of your tale is just fiction. But go on. It’s interesting.’
‘You found yourself a new lover, Mrs. Starr, and I don’t suppose the Sens rendez-vous was the first. But you made a mistake. You wanted to possess Jourin, body and soul. After all, there were younger women who might attract him. You were stupid enough to want to collaborate in the robberies. You persuaded him to include you in the band on the night of the du Pan coup. You were to be the pianist and he gave you a programme of music to practise in readiness. You, a classical musician, started to rehearse jazz and beat music for the great event. …’
Grace flushed and dug her nails in the palms of her hands.
‘That’s a complete lie. I must compliment you on your imagination, Superintendent. It is most dramatic, and untrue.’
Littlejohn turned to Cromwell.
‘Shall we refresh Mrs. Starr’s imagination, Cromwell? Turn on your tape-recorder.’
To the amazement of Macready and Grace, the sergeant unwrapped his brown-paper parcel and started to give them a round of music.
Paris, Ma Tristesse.
The first few notes produced a frenzy in Grace Starr. Had Cromwell not intervened and restrained her, she would have flung the contraption through the window.
‘Careful, Mrs. Starr. That belongs to Miss Mayoh next door. She heard you practising, ready to become one of Les Existentialistes.’
‘You’ve even been low enough to believe the gossip of the local teddy-girls, have you?’
‘She was very polite and helpful. Quite a musician, too. You were ready to take-on the job of pianist in the burglars’ jazz band, but Jourin had already booked one. After all, he was an artist and wanted no interference, even from you. His latest mistress was given the job instead. And to keep you away until it was all over, he gave you the wrong date, Mrs. Starr. You booked a ’plane seat for Paris for several days after the event Jourin said was to take place this week. Instead, he arrived here ahead of schedule and said it was done, and produced the diamonds. You knew then how much he really trusted you. Did he tell you about his new pianist, too? Or, did the sight of the diamonds as he dangled them before you, make you wish to own them yourself? You quarrelled and stabbed him. …’
Grace Starr brushed it all aside with a wave of the hand.
‘You can’t prove a thing. I didn’t see Jourin that night. The first I knew was when Macready was called out to attend to him and came back and told me he was dying. I tell you, Jourin called here to see Macready, who killed him out of jealousy at a time when it paid him best to do so. The time when the du Pan necklace was in Jourin’s pocket.’
Macready stirred himself. Sat upright and gave Grace a look of reproach.
‘I didn’t think you’d go as far as that, Grace. I don’t know whether or not you killed Jourin, but I hardly expected you to try to incriminate me. I didn’t kill him. My only surmise now is, that you did and are trying to transfer the blame to my shoulders. …’
He removed his cigarette and turned to Littlejohn.
‘Superintendent. … I was once a happy G.P. in this district. I’d a good wife and a good practice. One night I was at the circus, one of the artists fell down some stairs and broke her arm. They asked if there was a doctor in the house. I was foolish enough to volunteer. The victim was Grace, who’d run away from her husband with a violinist. Fiddlers seem to attract Grace, always. Jourin, you’ll remember, played the fiddle, too. Grace was in a trio of comic violinists. Two men, including her lover, did a kind of turn which Grock did immeasurably better, and she played the piano. She was dressed in tights. …’
‘No need to be offensive about it. I looked very well. You ought to know.’
‘I do know. Somehow she got in my blood. She looked to need someone to look after her. She’s always been a specialist in that kind of act. Even now, she can wring my heart with it. The helpless waif! I told her the circus wasn’t the place for a girl like her. … It cost me my wife, who somehow got to know about it and never spoke to me again, although we lived under the same roof for years after. I couldn’t concentrate on my job. I let a lot of people die, when a bit more attention would have probably saved them. I couldn’t afford it, either. My moral strength and will had gone when Jourin arrived to renew old friendship, offered me a share in his adventures, and we formed a partnership.’
He made a tired gesture and lit another cigarette.
‘Grace and Jourin met. They were of a kind. Insatiable. Jourin and she were soon having an affair. I made up my mind to end it all. I decided to kill Jourin after the du Pan robbery, take the proceeds, and get away from her for good. I never saw Jourin until he was dying. He didn’t turn up here, as he usually did. Instead, Sammy Barnes sent to ask if I’d do something for a wounded man they’d picked up in the forecourt of the garage. I went. It was Jourin. Barnes had known who he was, but behaved as though Jourin were a stranger. You know the rest. We put him in Peeples’ place after Barnes had packed the family off. This is such an inquisitive street that we had to be careful. To account for the sudden exodus of the Peeples lot, we said the children had better have whooping-cough. I gave Peeples a record I’d once made of the spasms of coughing for clinical teaching purposes. I’d great hopes in my profession … once. …’
Grace Starr was on her feet, angry and determined.
‘He said I was the one who did the pathetic stuff. Instead, he’s the one who’s turning on the tears. He’s a ruthless, cold-blooded man. I know. I’ve lived with him all this time. He’s trying to put you off the track. He’s the man who killed Jourin and don’t you let him persuade you out of it.’
Littlejohn didn’t seem to hear her. He addressed the doctor.
‘Have you seen the du Pan diamonds since Jourin’s death?’
‘No. They weren’t on him when I saw him. I searched him. You see, I had an idea I migh
t still …’
‘I see. Cromwell, please bring in Sammy Barnes.’
The sergeant, completely bewildered by the turn of events and the endless debate which had been going on, was glad of a change. He made a speedy exit and returned with Sammy.
Barnes was deflated. He’d had time to brood on the situation in which he’d landed himself and now he didn’t know what had been said about him by Macready and Grace in his absence. He looked from one to the other of them.
‘Well? How much longer am I to be illegally detained?’
It was like whistling to keep up his courage.
‘Just one question, Barnes. …’
‘Not so much of your Barnes, Super. I’m not in quod yet, you know.’
‘One question, Mister Barnes, then. You’re very fond of Miss Macready?’
Barnes would have blushed had he been that sort. She was already giving him the helpless look. He had, it was true, made great but fruitless efforts to curry her favour. He was in the habit of regularly sending her presents of pineapples and bananas, because she had once described them as exotic and reminding her of far-away places.
‘We’re all fond of Miss Grace in these parts. Why?’
‘You, in particular, would do anything for her?’
‘Yes. We all would.’
Barnes wasn’t going to wear his heart on his sleeve. He covered himself by including, presumably, the rest of his crew.
‘The question I want to ask is this: where did you pick up Jourin’s body the night you carried it to your garage and dumped it in the forecourt?’
Grace would have rushed to Barnes, presumably either to strike or embrace him. Anything to keep his mouth shut. Cromwell intercepted her and pushed her away.
‘Don’t tell him, Sammy. Don’t say a word. They’re trying to pin this on you and me.’
Barnes looked like a bewildered schoolboy, all his self-assurance gone, torn between saving himself and protecting poor Grace who suffered from arrested development.
‘Now, Mister Barnes, you’d better tell me the truth. If not, you run the risk of being charged as an accessory. Where did you pick up the body?’
Death Before Breakfast Page 17