Affairs of Death
Page 20
It seemed that in the main, my thinking had been along the right lines. Duffy had followed a parallel course but he had foreseen the greatest difficulty in proving Juliet’s guilt; that was why he had let it be thought that the case was closed with Scanlon’s death. It had been, after all, more or less of a family affair, and people had been keeping a close guard on their tongues; he had hoped that the release from strain would cause a relaxation of that guard. He had kept a watch on all of us but most particularly on Juliet; she and I had foxed him, however, by taking to the sea, though a watcher with field-glasses had reported on our movements by radio from the cliffs. Thus it was that a fast motor-boat had been able to take Juliet’s craft in tow as soon as she had worked her way out of the forest of seaweed. Even now I cannot say whether I am glad or sorry.
One small point that emerged concerned the magnifying glass. Barney had been finding difficulty in reading very small or indistinct writing, but he refused to wear spectacles. One day when he collected at the Myleses’ cottage a letter from Juliet he had borrowed a glass to enable him to read it. He was on his way back from a trout stream and absent-mindedly put the magnifying glass in his lunch-basket when he had finished with it. This had occurred only a few days before Juliet’s and my arrival in Rossderg, and Mrs. Kealey had repacked the glass on the next occasion when the basket was used, the fatal hay-making, and it was in the basket that Juliet had seen it when she went to fetch Stella’s bikini. When I thought of what had followed that find I almost wished that Juliet could hang. Duffy, however, thought that she might get away with a plea of “unsound mind.”
“She’s as sane as I am,” he said, “but she’s a woman — and she’s young.”
That had been earlier in the conversation; now Marr and Duffy were getting up to go. I was not really sorry, because I was expecting another visitor.
“Tell me, Duffy,” I said, “why did you choose the most conspicuous man in Ireland to shadow Juliet?”
“Oh, the mustard-yellow suit. It’s obvious. You can’t shadow inconspicuously in deserted country. The next best thing is to choose someone whom nobody will believe is a shadow.”
Marr laughed. “I’m off to see the rushes of to-day’s shooting,” he said. “I hope you’ll be free for my next Western, Standish — not as the villain though. I see you rather as the hero. How’s your boy?”
“Fine — according to latest dispatches.”
“You’re lucky. New life — new hope.”
Duffy had been looking out of the window. “There’s a most attractive fair young woman getting out of a car with GB plates,” he reported. “She’s coming in here. Time we were on our way.” On his way to the door he smiled down at me. “The day you got here you fell on your head,” he observed. “It may be that before you leave us you’re going to land on your feet.”
I did not have so very long to wait to hear the sound of Grace’s footsteps in the corridor.
THE END
About the Author
‘Mr. Nigel Fitzgerald is a shamrock-green ever-reliable, and I should feel a distinct sense of loss if I were deprived of his cunning Irish puzzles.’ — Julian Symons