Zen there was Murder

by H. R. F. Keating

  ‘Shut up, Gerry,’ said Flaveen. ‘You’re kidding.’

  Bolstered confidence. A blush began spreading over her peach thick skin.

  ‘You’ll see when he gets you in his chair,’ Gerry said. ‘It’s a funny feeling. Not really painful, just sort of nasty.’

  ‘Stop it, Gerry.’

  The arm twisted too far.

  ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of,’ Miss Rohan said. ‘It’s only having a conversation. Mr Manvers, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.’

  ‘Not a hope,’ said Gerry.

  He grinned.

  ‘Mr Utamaro, may I come to see you next?’ said Miss Rohan.

  Squared shoulders.

  ‘Certainly,’ said Mr Utamaro.

  He ushered her towards the house.

  Flaveen plumped down on the bench at the edge of the lawn, her skirt, a wide blue one today, fanning out round her. Mr Applecheek walked up to the trunk of the tree and peered up into the cool depths of its branches. Gerry flipped his cigarette into a flower bed.

  Mr Utamaro walked beside and a little behind Miss Rohan up the broad staircase of the house, along the corridor, past the double doors of the meditation hall – its bookshelves with the clumps of neglected volumes – and into the little room with the high ornamented ceiling and the faded wallpaper with the tight bunches of roses.

  The two chairs were as they had been when he and Gerry had hurried out to fetch help for Honor in the tree. Mr Utamaro pointed to the one nearer the door.

  ‘Please be seated,’ he said.

  Miss Rohan sat down. The right hand smoothing the worn tweed skirt as she sat, an unconscious gesture. Taught and never forgotten.

  ‘I am sorry you missed the lecture on arranging flowers,’ Mr Utamaro said when he had taken his seat opposite her. ‘Partly because when Major Francis gets back he will ask me why my lecture was not fully attended, but mostly because I think it would have interested you.’

  The gap between them. Three feet of bare floor.

  ‘I was very sorry to miss it,’ said Miss Rohan. ‘It sounded as if it would have been most interesting. But I had such a wretched headache I knew I ought to lie down until it passed off.’

  ‘You are often ill?’

  ‘No,’ Miss Rohan said, ‘I’m really very robust. I couldn’t keep on unless I was.’

  Mr Utamaro leant forward abruptly, shooting his bullet head towards her. A compressed spring.

  ‘Miss Rohan, why have you left off your ring?’

  ‘My ring.’

  She looked down at her hand. The reddened skin, the spare flesh. And where the snake ring had been earlier in the morning a dull red line round the finger. Ineffaceable.

  She blushed. Then sat up straighter in the old kitchen chair.

  ‘I decided not to wear it,’ she said.

  ‘And until today you had worn it for years.’

  Not a question, a statement.

  Miss Rohan hesitated an instant.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I have always worn it. But I decided to leave it off. I didn’t think anybody would notice, though as a matter of fact Father Applecheek noticed it. He has all the kindliness of the old school of clergy, don’t you think?’

  ‘Miss Rohan, why did you leave the ring off?’

  ‘I –’

  Miss Rohan stopped. She stood up.

  ‘I don’t think we can usefully discuss my personal affairs,’ she said.

  Mr Utamaro stayed sitting down. The scratches on the varnish of his chair.

  ‘Take your place again,’ he said.

  A moment of stillness. The scrubbed boards of the little room, the high ornamented ceiling. The empty fireplace. The curtainless window. Mr Utamaro’s straw mat neat in its corner, beside it the black lacquered papier-mâché box. Frugality.

  Miss Rohan sat down.

  ‘When you told me about the ring I caught you by surprise,’ said Mr Utamaro. ‘It is sometimes the only way.’

  Miss Rohan swallowed.

  ‘I certainly didn’t mean to tell all that story. And in front of that girl too.’

  ‘There were once two monks who were under a vow not even to look at women,’ Mr Utamaro said.

  The dreamy sing-song story-telling voice.

  ‘One day they came to a stream and at the edge there was a pretty girl unable to get over. The first monk went up to her and without a word picked her up and forded the stream with her on his shoulders. At the far side he put her down and went on with his journey. The second monk at first would have nothing to do with him, but after a while he caught him up and asked him why, in spite of his vow, he had helped the girl across the stream. “What,” said the first monk, “are you still carrying that girl?.”‘

  Miss Rohan sat silent for a moment.

  ‘I suppose I do attach too much importance to what people are,’ she said. ‘But I was brought up to notice the differences between people and I continue to do so, even in these democratic days.’

  ‘Miss Rohan, why are you afraid of looking at yourself?’

  ‘Looking at myself? I don’t think I can be said to be afraid of that. My father used to say to us children that we should “see ourselves as others see us” and I think I can say that I do that. I have faults, I fail in my duties sometimes, but I think I can say that I recognize the fact, and endeavour to amend it.’

  ‘When we lift a stone in a fine monument,’ said Mr Utamaro, ‘under it we see insects crawling.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t see – ‘

  ‘The insects are there because the stones of the monument are there. The one depends on the other.’

  ‘Mr Utamaro, I’m afraid I don’t at all see why you have to speak about anything so unpleasant.’

  ‘Miss Rohan, did you steal the sword?’

  Dead silence.

  Miss Rohan slowly got up.

  ‘I always had my doubts about whether I should have come here,’ she said.

  She turned and opened the door.

  ‘You haven’t answered my question,’ said Mr Utamaro.

  Unbudging.

  Miss Rohan turned to face him.

  ‘I come of stock which regards stealing as impossible,’ she said.

  ‘And you did not steal all the same?’

  ‘I have given you my word.’

  ‘But did you steal the sword?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good.’

  Mr Utamaro got up and bowed. Miss Rohan closed the door.

  *

  ‘Oh, what a liar is this Mr Gerry,’ said the dark girl.

  ‘He is no worse than others,’ said the blonde one.

  ‘No worse. He says he belongs to a tree climbing club and he will not climb the cedar to rescue his wife.’

  ‘That is a lie, if you like. But he is not the only one here to tell lies.’

  ‘The others may tell lies, but at least they are not cowards,’ said the dark one.

  ‘Mr Gerry may be afraid of climbing trees, but at least he is gay.’

  ‘He is too gay. Straight away after the tree climbing he passed me in the corridor and gave me a pinch.’

  ‘Oh, oh. A pinch. You are so lucky. Where was it?’

  ‘I shall not say.’

  A flounce.

  *

  Flaveen screamed.

  Jumped up from the stone seat, warmed now by pale spring sunshine, her mouth a round O, and screamed.

  ‘Did I startle you?’ said Mr Utamaro.

  Standing beside her, the sunlight making the black kimono appear blacker, smiling and bowing slightly from the waist.

  ‘I only asked if you were ready to come and have a talk with me,’ he said.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I was miles away, really I was. I heard a voice say “Are you ready to come?” and I looked up and I saw a black figure. I thought it was – I don’t know what I thought.’

  ‘Your mind is full of thoughts of terror,’ said Mr Utamaro.

  He took Flaveen by the arm and walked h
er across the smooth turf of the lawn towards the house door.

  ‘I wonder why,’ he said. ‘You expect the sanzen interview to be held in a torture chamber. You see Death standing at your elbow. It is all most mysterious. And yet, you know, you are wise to think of death sometimes.’

  ‘Death?’ said Flaveen. ‘You give me the shivers. I don’t usually go around thinking of things like that, you know. I can’t imagine what came over me just now.’

  ‘No, we have yet to find that out.’

  They went into the house. The heavy front door standing open. The sudden dark of the hall after the clear sunlight.

  Alasdair Stuart was standing looking at the notice-board with its yellowing scraps of paper.

  ‘Is it time I put up some more notices, Mr Stuart?’ said Mr Utamaro.

  ‘Eh?’

  Alasdair spun round.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Major Francis asked me to keep everybody posted all the time – that was the phrase he used – but I am afraid it has got neglected, already.’

  ‘No, I was just glancing at the board, just glancing at it,’ Alasdair said. ‘I wasn’t really reading the notices.’

  ‘Oh, Alasdair,’ said Flaveen. ‘I didn’t get a chance to say this when you got down from the tree, but I wanted to. I think you were wonderful, really I do. The way you just went right up to the top.’

  ‘The top of what, Miss Mills?’

  Reversal.

  ‘The tree,’ said Flaveen. ‘The tree on the lawn, the one Hon – Mrs Manvers went up.’

  ‘There was nothing particularly wonderful in that,’ said Alasdair.

  He turned and left them. Feet heavy on the stairs.

  ‘Well,’ said Flaveen when he was out of sight, ‘what did I do?’

  ‘That is the wrong question,’ said Mr Utamaro.

  ‘The wrong question? ‘

  ‘The question is: what has Mr Stuart done?’

  ‘Done? I don’t quite understand.’

  ‘No? Well, perhaps you will. But we must get along.’

  They began to climb the stairs.

  But Flaveen was not to face her sanzen yet.

  As they got to the first turn Miss Rohan’s voice came up from behind them. Agitated, urgent.

  ‘Mr Utamaro, Mr Utamaro.’

  Mr Utamaro turned and looked down the stairs at her.

  She looked put out. A few hairs out of place in her usually relentlessly neat coiffure. Her hands clasping and unclasping.

  ‘Oh, Mr Utamaro, I must tell you at once. Something terrible’s happened.’

  ‘Terrible?’

  Mr Utamaro hurried down the stairs.

  ‘Yes,’ Miss Rohan said, ‘it’s – it’s-’

  Suppressed tears.

  ‘Come,’ said Mr Utamaro, ‘you must tell me.’

  ‘It’s my ring,’ said Miss Rohan. ‘Mr Utamaro, it has completely vanished.’

  Chapter 9

  ‘Vanished?’ said Mr Utamaro. ‘That is impossible.’

  ‘But – but I tell you it has vanished,’ Miss Rohan said.

  Tears in her eyes now.

  ‘A large emerald and a small quantity of gold do not vanish,’ Mr Utamaro said. ‘The most that can happen to them is that for some reason or other we no longer see them.’

  Miss Rohan sat down on the bottom stair and put her face in her hands.

  The bowed back.

  ‘Not that now,’ she said. ‘Not logic chopping.’

  Mr Utamaro put a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘It is not logic chopping,’ he said.

  No trace of harshness in his voice.

  ‘We have just to remember at all times, in moments of joy and in moments of despair, that we are capable of deceiving ourselves. That if we are not constantly on our guard, especially at a height of stress, we trick ourselves into thinking things which are not so. Then we plunge deeper into the tangles of our own making.’

  ‘Don’t worry about him,’ Flaveen said. ‘He can’t help talking that way. What he means is: you may have thought the ring has vanished when it’s still there. But even if it has been taken I –’

  ‘But I looked,’ Miss Rohan burst out. ‘It can’t still be there.’

  ‘It may be there as Miss Mills has suggested,’ said Mr Utamaro. ‘Though that is not quite what I was saying.’

  He grinned at Flaveen.

  ‘What I was saying was that the ring cannot have vanished. It is somewhere, though perhaps not where Miss Rohan left it. It is important to remember that. Because it means that it can be found. There is no need to despair.’

  Miss Rohan stood up.

  ‘You’re perfectly right, of course,’ she said. ‘It was foolish of me.’

  She took out a handkerchief and blew her nose.

  The scent of eau-de-Cologne.

  ‘Where did you leave your ring anyhow?’ said Flaveen.

  ‘In my mackintosh in the little cloakroom by the front door,’ Miss Rohan said. ‘I didn’t like to leave it in my room. There was nowhere I could lock it up, and one never knows with servants.’

  ‘So you thought you would hide it?’ said Mr Utamaro. ‘Major Francis asked me to announce that valuables could be put under lock and key in his office. But I never thought about it till this moment.’

  ‘I did hide it,’ Miss Rohan said. ‘I put it in a place where no one would think of looking for anything. I thought it would have been perfectly safe.’

  An unsteadiness in the voice again.

  ‘Did you look in both pockets of your mac just now?’ said Flaveen. ‘It’s ever so easy to make a mistake like that.’

  ‘Naturally I thought of that,’ Miss Rohan said.

  Asperity overcoming hysteria.

  ‘You will have to take my word for it that I made an absolutely thorough search. I am unaccustomed to being slipshod.’

  ‘Why did you go to the coat just now?’ said Mr Utamaro.

  ‘I had come in from the garden,’ Miss Rohan said. ‘And I thought about the coat. I went to it just to check. I put my hand in the pocket to feel the ring. And I found it had gone.’

  ‘So you knew which pocket it was in and went directly to the place?’ Mr Utamaro said.

  ‘Yes. The right hand pocket has a little place for tickets inside it. I had put the ring in there.’

  ‘Then I think Miss Mills is right. You had better go and look once more. Your first search was conducted under the impression the ring had gone. You had convinced yourself of that before you began to feel in the other pockets. You were not willing to find it. You should look with a clear mind.’

  Miss Rohan sighed.

  Impatience.

  ‘Very well,’ she said, ‘if you wish it I will go through the pockets again,’

  She marched away.

  ‘Stop,’ said Mr Utamaro.

  She turned. The word of command.

  ‘You are determined not to find it,’ he said.

  ‘Determined? But the ring is precious to me. Why should I be determined not to find it?’

  ‘Because you have not yet disabused yourself of the notion that it has been taken by someone,’ said Mr Utamaro. ‘Empty your mind of such thoughts, and if it is there you will find it.’

  Miss Rohan looked at him steadily. Then she said:

  ‘Yes, I think I will be able to find it now. It may be there.’

  Mr Utamaro and Flaveen standing on the bottom stair watched her go. Mr Utamaro looked at Flaveen.

  ‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘I want a word with you.’

  Rapidly he led her up the stairs and along the corridor. The swish of his kimono.

  He ushered her briskly into his own room and shut the door.

  ‘Sit down,’he said.

  He took the other chair before Flaveen had sat in hers.

  ‘Now,’ he said, ‘what do you know about this ring?’

  ‘The ring?’

  ‘Yes, the ring. Hurry up, we have no time to waste. Miss Rohan will be looking for me
in a moment.’

  ‘Then you don’t really think it’s in her coat all the time?’

  ‘How can I know? But if it isn’t someone has taken it.’

  ‘It may have dropped through a hole in the pocket. She may have forgotten she put it somewhere else all the time.’

  ‘She will think of looking now.’

  ‘All right, and if she doesn’t find it I suppose someone has pinched it, so what?’

  ‘So you must tell me at once what you know about it.’

  ‘Why should you think I know anything about it?’

  ‘Because you were going to tell Miss Rohan just now on the stairs that, if the ring had gone, you thought you knew where it was.’

  Flaveen looked at him. Wide eyes.

  ‘But I didn’t say anything.’

  ‘Your words were “But even if it has been taken I – ” and then you were interrupted,’ said Mr Utamaro. ‘If you had had time to think you would not have spoken, and so you have already convinced yourself you said nothing. But what is put before my ears I hear. It was to your credit that you were going to speak. You were distressed by the spectacle of Miss Rohan on the verge of tears. She is not a woman to cry easily. So you began to tell her that the ring could be got back. Only she interrupted you, and gave you time for second thoughts.’

  ‘All right,’ said Flaveen, ‘you’ve caught me out. But I haven’t done anything to be ashamed of. I haven’t stolen the ring, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t thinking that,’ Mr Utamaro said. ‘I was watching you when Miss Rohan told us about the disappearance, and I don’t think you did steal it. But that is by no means the end of the affair. You have still something to tell –’

  Hurried footsteps tapping on the bare boards of the corridor. A sharp knocking at the door.

  ‘Too late,’ said Mr Utamaro.

  He got up and in four quick strides was at the door. He opened it. Miss Rohan was standing outside.

  ‘It really has gone,’ she said. ‘I looked all over the coat. I looked on the floor of the cloakroom. I asked myself carefully if I could have put it somewhere else without realizing it. But I know I didn’t. Mr Utamaro, what shall I do? First the sword and now this. Something terrible is going to happen if we don’t do something.’

  ‘What shall we do?’ asked Mr Utamaro.

  He beckoned Flaveen out of the little room.