Who's the nigger in the woodpile? The G.I. husband?'
'That,' said Miss Marple, 'would be very convenient for everybody.' Inspector Curry smiled softly to himself.
'A G.I. pinched my best girl,' he said reminiscently. 'Naturally, I'm prejudiced. His manner doesn't help. Let's have the amateur point of view. Who's been secretly and systematically poisoning Mrs Serrocold?'
'Well,' said Miss Marple judicially, 'one is always inclined, human nature being what it is, to think of the husband. Or if it's the other way round, the wife. That's the first assumption, don't you think, in a poisoning case?'
'I agree with you every time,' said Inspector Curry.
'But really - in this case -' Miss Marple shook her head. 'No, frankly - I can not seriously consider Mr Serrocold. Because you see, Inspector, he really is devoted to his wife. Naturally he would make a parade of being so - but it isn't a parade. It's very quiet, but it's genuine. He loves his wife, and I'm quite certain that he wouldn't poison her.'
'To say nothing of the fact that he wouldn't have any motive for doing so. She's made over her money to him already.'
'Of course,' said Miss Marple primly, 'there are other reasons for a gentleman wanting his wife out of the way.
An attachment to a young woman, for instance. But I really don't see any signs of it in this case. Mr Serrocold does not act as though he had any romantic preoccupation. I'm really afraid,' she sounded quite regretful about it, 'we shall have to wash him out.'
'Regrettable, isn't it?' said the Inspector. He grinned. 'And anyway, he couldn't have killed Gulbrandsen. It seems to me that there's no doubt that the one thing hinges on the other. Whoever is poisoning Mrs Serrocold killed Gulbrandsen to prevent him spilling the beans.
What we've got to get at now is who had an opportunity to kill Gulbrandsen last night. And our prize suspect -there's no doubt about it - is young Walter Hudd. It was he who switched on a reading lamp which resulted in a fuse going, thereby giving him the opportunity to leave the Hall and go to the fuse box. The fuse box is in the kitchen passage which opens off from the main corridor.
It was during his absence from the Great Hall that the shot was heard. So that's suspect No. 1 perfectly placed for committing the crime.'
'And suspect No. 2?' asked Miss Marple.
'Suspect No. 2 is Alex Restarick, who was alone in his car between the lodge and the house and took too long getting there.'
'Anybody else?' Miss Marple leaned forward eagerly remembering to add: 'It's very kind of you to tell me all this.'
'It's not kindness,' said Inspector Curry. 'I've got to have your help. You put your finger on the spot when you said "Anybody else?" Because there I've got to depend on you. You were there, in the Hall last night, and you can tell me who left it…'
'Yes - yes, I ought to be able to tell you… But can I? You see - the circumstances '
'You mean that you were all listening to the argument going on behind the door of Mr Serrocold's study.'
Miss Marple nodded vehemently.
'Yes, you see we were all really very frightened. Mr Lawson looked - he really did - quite demented. Apart from Mrs Serrocold, who seemed quite unaffected, we all feared that he would do a mischief to Mr Serrocold. He was shouting, you know, and saying the most terrible things - we could hear them quite plainly - and what with that and with most of the lights being out - I didn't really notice anything else.'
'You mean that whilst that scene was going on, anybody could have slipped out of the Hall, gone along the corridor, shot Mr Gulbrandsen and slipped back again?'
'I think it would have been possible…'
'Could you say definitely that anybody was in the Great Hall the whole time?' Miss Marple considered.
'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 Bellever 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?
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 Bellever 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, unconsciously, 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 expression.
But he was quite cooperative.
There was a good deal of defective wiring in Stonygates - 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 wouldn'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?'
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