Freddie walked up silently behind Evangeline. At the sight of him, Bessie’s lugubrious expression changed to a smile. “Oh, hello, Mr. Simpson, so good of you to come.” She held out her hand.
Freddie took it awkwardly, surprised at the warm greeting.
“And here, right beside me, is my dear child Minerva. Who is also very grateful, I’m sure, that you have come to pay your respects.”
Freddie’s confusion increased as he noticed a blush begin to suffuse Minerva’s face. She smiled sheepishly, but the young man interpreted the smile as a grimace of pain. “Are you all right?” he asked the girl with some concern. “You look as if you’re about to be sick.”
Evangeline, rapidly preempting the social encounter about to unfold, grabbed Freddie by the arm and steered him toward the coffin. “Perhaps we ought to say our last farewell to the deceased.”
Freddie, with a backward look in Minerva’s direction, complied. “What a strange girl,” he said under his breath to Evangeline.
“You really have no idea!” she countered as the two came to stand before Euphemia’s coffin. Evangeline was struck by the composed look on Euphemia’s face. She looked very much at peace. Not at all as she must have appeared just prior to her death. Evangeline said a brief prayer on Euphemia’s behalf to the universal deity she favored. She glanced briefly at Freddie who appeared to be praying as well. No doubt to some Presbyterian Jehovah with a full white beard and lightning bolts, she thought to herself.
As Evangeline turned away from the casket, her attention was caught by a couple advancing up the aisle in their direction. It was Serafina, accompanied by Theophilus Creech. The latter gave more the impression of gliding up the aisle rather than walking. Freddie had just turned away from the coffin when he was confronted by the wraithlike manifestation of Mr. Creech standing directly in front of him. He gave an involuntary yip of fright when he saw the small egg-shaped man who seemed to have emerged out of nowhere.
“Hello, Mr. Simpson.” Theophilus shook hands with great civility and only a slightly amused smile. “I hope you’ve been well since our last meeting.”
“Y... y... yes.” Freddie managed to stammer a reply. “Very well, thank you.”
Evangeline noticed several pairs of eyes in the crowd narrow as Serafina walked up to the next of kin. A rumbling whisper had gone up in the background as gossips told their neighbors of the medium’s involvement in the demise of the dearly departed. To her credit, Bessie stood up to greet Serafina cordially, thereby silencing any speculation about how to treat the medium in future.
Serafina took Bessie’s hands in both her own. “I am most sorry for your loss, madame.”
“No, my dear. It is I who should be sorry for the disgraceful way you have been treated by certain members of the Allworthy family.” She made the statement loudly enough to be heard in the back row.
Theophilus took Serafina’s arm and escorted her to the casket to say her farewells. Evangeline nodded briefly in greeting and made way for the couple. She and Freddie took seats at the back of the funeral parlor and shortly after they were seated, a minister entered to begin prayers for the deceased. After the brief service, everyone in the room queued up to return to their carriages for the trip to the cemetery.
Blinking in the sunlight as she emerged from the building, Evangeline scanned the line of waiting carriages for Jack. She finally located him sitting patiently in the barouche, halfway down the block in the place assigned by the funeral director. He had taken the precaution of putting the top down since the day promised to be a warm one. The couple walked up to their vehicle, and Freddie helped his friend climb in. They waited what seemed an eternity for the procession to start moving.
“Did you notice that strange girl, Engie?” Freddie seemed bemused.
“What strange girl, Freddie?”
“The ugly one.”
To this comment, Evangeline made an eloquent rebuke of silence.
Freddie caught himself. “Oh sorry. Minerva, I mean. She kept turning around and batting her eyes at me all through prayers.”
“Maybe she had a cinder in her eye.” Evangeline attempted to maintain a tone of innocence.
“Cinder, nothing. She was making eyes at me. Look, there she is. She’s just coming out of the funeral home. And look what she’s doing now. She’s staring right at me and smiling! Why on earth do you suppose she’d do a thing like that?”
Evangeline knew full well the reason for Minerva’s enthusiasm, but she didn’t wish to apprise Freddie of the fact that he was going to be the main course at her next dinner party. “Freddie, you fancy every woman under the age of sixty is in love with you.”
“I certainly do not!”
“Well, whatever the case, you appear to be saved.” Evangeline gestured toward the lead carriage, where she could see Roland helping his cousin-by-marriage into the vehicle and kissing her hand as he took a seat beside her. Minerva recoiled nervously at his touch.
“Roland!” Freddie spat out the word. “Where did he come from? I didn’t see him inside.”
“I saw him arrive just as prayers ended. Today you can regard him as prayers answered. He’s bound to keep Minerva’s attentions all to himself, now that she promises to be worth a great fortune.”
“If that’s the case, I pity him.” Freddie’s voice held a note of heartfelt sincerity.
With a jolt the carriage began moving. Since speed was not a desirable goal in most processions, and in funeral processions in particular, the couple could anticipate a lengthy ride before arriving at the cemetery, a mere eight blocks away.
“Freddie, I’ve been thinking...”
“About what, old girl?”
“I had it all wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“Martin didn’t actually kill anyone.” She sighed.
Freddie laughed. “Don’t tell me you believed his farewell note.”
“It wasn’t the note that convinced me. It was all the little details that could be interpreted quite differently in light of what Martin said about himself. He said I gave him too much credit for courage in the follow-through. What if, all along, his principle crime was that he failed to follow through?”
“I’d say three dead bodies, four counting himself, is a pretty impressive record for somebody who never followed through.”
Evangeline barely heard him. She continued to think aloud. “All along I was searching for a remorseless villain when I should have been searching for a coward instead.”
Freddie glanced at the trees along the sidewalk as the carriage inched past them at a snail’s pace. “Well, I’ve got nothing but time on my hands. A captive audience, so to speak. Enlighten me!”
Evangeline nodded and commenced. “First, there’s the problem of Nora’s death. I was convinced that Martin had pushed her over the guard rail in a fit of spite because the portrait was meant as a gift for Roland. But there might be another way to look at things. Perhaps Nora and Martin were on good terms. The date on picture indicates it was a gift. What if it was meant for Martin, not Roland? An attempt to reassure the uncle of her affection in spite of the nephew. We can be fairly certain that Martin never knew about the faulty railing. Neither did Nora. As fate would have it, they chose the most dangerous place possible for their tryst. They must have been leaning against the railing when it gave way and Nora fell into the river.”
“With Martin standing above, watching her splash about helplessly. That must have placed him on the horns of a dilemma,” Freddie observed.
“Exactly,” his friend concurred. “Martin had always been concerned about his reputation above all else. He couldn’t afford to be discovered with Nora under questionable circumstances. Euphemia controlled the family fortune. If she found out that he went about rescuing damsels in distress in the late hours of the evening, she might ask certain questions that would expose the true nature of his relationship with Nora.”
Freddie whistled through his teeth. “She could have di
vorced him and left him penniless.”
Evangeline continued. “When the critical moment arrived, I believe Martin weighed his wealth and reputation against Nora’s life and found her coming up short in the balance. He hesitated at the wrong moment. He didn’t follow through, so to speak, in saving Nora but let her drown instead. Remorse must have afflicted him almost immediately afterward because he threw away her picture. If he was already haunted by guilt at his own weakness, he certainly didn’t want to be reproached by her image or the words ‘remember me always.’”
Freddie added to the theory. “And I suppose that’s where Bayne came in. He must have been somewhere nearby. Seen it happen and followed Martin home, picking up the picture along the way.”
Evangeline inclined her head solemnly. “And since Bayne had possession of the picture and could easily say that Martin pushed Nora in, whether that was true or not, Martin had no choice but to accept his terms.”
The funeral procession came to a stop at a busy intersection until cross-traffic could be forced to a halt out of temporary respect for the dead.
Freddie groaned at the delay. “Next, I suppose Martin had to try to kill Euphemia in order to keep her from asking questions about Bayne’s presence. The fact that he was out of the house when it actually happened must be his lack of follow-through.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“You don’t?” The young man stared at his friend in surprise.
“I don’t believe Euphemia was the intended victim that day.”
“Then who?”
“Bayne was.”
“Bayne! I never considered that possibility!” Freddie exclaimed.
“He had to be. The pieces of the puzzle don’t make sense any other way.”
Freddie turned sideways to face his companion. His attention completely captured for the moment.
“If Martin was planning to kill Euphemia, why on earth would he leave the house and go for a walk? It was hardly a convincing alibi, especially since he wasn’t seen by anyone along the way. More importantly, it was far too chancy to leave a poisoned glass sitting on the sideboard in the dining room hoping his wife would wander in and drink it. Serafina told me Euphemia didn’t serve cordials at teatime. It was simply an accident that Roland saw the glass sitting there and got the idea of bringing the sherry in as a gesture to appease his aunt. This made the situation even more complex after Roland poured the second glass. Martin would have had to be a better clairvoyant than Serafina to predict which glass his wife would drink from. Serafina might as easily have been the victim if the poisoned glass had been handed to her instead of Euphemia—”
Freddie cut in. “But you’re forgetting about the other possibility.”
“What might that be?”
“That Roland actually killed his aunt. He wasn’t in her good graces, after all. He was in the perfect position to know who would drink the poison since he handed the glass to Euphemia.”
Evangeline stopped to ponder the suggestion a moment. “No, I don’t think so. His motive wasn’t strong enough. He had an alibi for the night of Nora’s death. If he didn’t kill Nora, then he had nothing to fear from his aunt and no real reason to kill her.”
“Oh, I suppose not,” Freddie admitted grudgingly, “but I’d still like to see him hang for something!”
“Well, another crime perhaps.”
“Then what’s your theory about what really happened the day Euphemia died?” Freddie continued to monitor their progress. The entire procession had dragged its way across the intersection at last. Four more blocks to go.
Evangeline opened her parasol. The day was becoming increasingly warm and black was hardly the best color to wear. She continued her narrative. “I’m convinced Martin intended to poison Bayne. He invited him out to the country villa on the pretext of a friendly visit. He had already reassured Euphemia that he was going to get rid of his new vice president. Little did she suspect the measures he was prepared to take to accomplish that. He could easily have poisoned Bayne while the two sat talking in the library. Martin would have been the only witness to Bayne’s convulsions and could have rinsed out the poisoned glass before calling for help. He might have explained Bayne’s collapse as due to natural causes without any mention of poison at all. Martin could say that Bayne had been complaining of poor health. There was no medical history on Bayne that could contradict Martin’s claim. It would have been unlikely for a doctor to test for poison as a cause of death unless poison was suspected in the first place.”
Freddie raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that Martin failed to follow through again?”
Evangeline’s attention was temporarily diverted by a butterfly that fluttered through the carriage in search of hollyhocks. “Quite. Martin failed to follow through. Apparently, after he filled the sherry glass with poison, he lost his nerve and ran out of the house in a panic. The maid said he looked ill when he left. He may have intended to go for a walk to get a grip on himself, but by the time he returned to finish the job, Euphemia was already dead. I kept asking myself why he bungled the poison evidence so badly. There’s only one explanation. He never anticipated the event that actually transpired. He had already thought through an explanation for the circumstances of Bayne’s death. He was completely unprepared to explain Euphemia’s. Since I had hinted at his motive for killing his wife in front of the sheriff, thereby making him a suspect, Martin would have needed an accomplice to point the finger at someone else.”
“What a perfect irony.” Freddie laughed sardonically. “He makes his intended victim the accomplice in the murder of his wife!”
“Yes. But he could hardly tell Bayne what really happened, so the ultimate irony was that he had to say he’d planned to kill his wife all along to prevent Bayne from becoming suspicious.”
“And that, in turn, would have given Bayne more reason to blackmail him.”
“Exactly. He was just digging a deeper grave for himself. Martin forged the letter from Euphemia himself, but he had to rely on Bayne to get the additional cyanide from the company supply. It was too risky for him to go back to the factory and get it himself. But he didn’t count on Bayne’s mistake. It was the luckiest stroke for us.”
Freddie eyed the head of the procession. The trees at the cemetery gate loomed into view off in the distance. “Which brings us to death number three. I think it’s going to be pretty hard for you to claim that he didn’t follow through on that one.”
“Ah, but I can.” Evangeline smiled.
With an amused look, Freddie tilted his head to the side. “I’m listening.”
“In elucidating this mystery, I must give credit where it’s due.”
“Since when?” Freddie countered impishly.
Giving her friend a look of long-suffering forbearance, Evangeline pressed onward. “You said something the night of Bayne’s death that started me thinking. Why would Martin go to all the trouble to stage a murder to look like an accident and then disappear, leaving it to look like murder? I concluded that something must have gone wrong along the way. I’m convinced that Martin planned to murder Bayne but couldn’t finish loosening the railing in time. Bayne must have arrived before he was expected and Martin probably panicked. Bayne may have said something to upset him further, and he must have backed into the railing and went over the side himself.”
“Now just wait a minute. It was Bayne’s body that was found on the shop floor, not Martin’s.”
“Yes, and if you allow me to continue, I’ll tell you why.”
The young man rolled his eyes and remained still.
“It was the position of the body that aroused my suspicions. As we both noticed, the railing was bent back as if someone had been clinging to it before falling. If that someone had fallen from that position, he would have landed on his back, not on his face.”
Freddie’s face registered amazement. “Ye gods! Engie, you’re right. I never thought of that.”
Eva
ngeline nodded. “What must have happened is that Martin went over the railing and somehow managed to keep hold of it. The railing bent backward and he still clung to it. Bayne crouched down to help him up, but he must not have seen that Martin had loosened the railing on purpose or he wouldn’t have assisted him. It’s also unlikely that Martin had tried to push Bayne and missed, because Bayne wouldn’t have come to his rescue in that case either.”
Freddie sat forward excitedly. “Of course! That makes perfect sense! Bayne thought Martin’s fall was an accident. He didn’t want to lose the source of his ill-gotten gains so he probably reached over to offer Martin a hand.”
Evangeline adjusted her parasol to shield her eyes as the sun grew more intense. She picked up the thread of Freddie’s narration. “Martin may have panicked and clung to Bayne, throwing him off balance. If Bayne had been drinking before he arrived, as is most likely, he probably lost his balance and went over the side, landing as we found him, on his face. Martin was able to climb to safety, in the meantime.”
Freddie shook his head in disbelief. “Well, what do you know. Martin ended up killing Bayne accidentally.”
“Yes, I think so. If he had wanted to kill him with certainty, since Bayne outweighed him, he would have gripped Bayne’s hand with both of his own and let go of the railing. But he couldn’t do that, as they would both have died. Instead Martin saw Bayne fall and, as he always did at any critical moment, he panicked and ran. Once again he didn’t follow through. Though by the bye, his assertion that he never murdered anyone is making too fine a point of it. He certainly tried a number of times. He just never actually succeeded.”
The carriage came to a halt, waiting its turn while the procession filed slowly through the cemetery gate.
Evangeline looked off into the distance contemplatively. “I overestimated Martin all along. His principal crime was that, in critical moments, he always lost his nerve and did nothing at all. By his own admission, he didn’t follow through.” She laughed mirthlessly. “You know, I gave him far too much credit. Credit for guile in plotting crimes which he never committed. And credit for the nerve to carry them out which he never possessed.”
Shrouded In Thought (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 2) Page 30