Murder Post-Dated

by Anne Morice

  “I’d like to make it clear,” I said, accepting my tea, which was very weak and served in a fragile little cup, so designed as to ensure that it would instantly become tepid as well, “that I’ve no wish to probe into the circumstances of Rosamund’s death, or even discuss it, if you’d rather not, but sometimes people can be over-tactful, don’t you find? They are so determined not to intrude that they shy off the subject altogether and you’re not allowed to talk about it, even if you want to.”

  Her hand trembled as she put her cup down and tears flooded her pale, protuberant blue eyes.

  “You know, it’s extraordinary you should say that. You must be the first person to understand what I’ve been through during these past two weeks. Even my daughters change the subject when I mention it. As though they found it not so much sad and shocking as downright embarrassing.”

  “Yes, I can understand that.”

  “Can you really? Personally, I find their attitude quite incomprehensible. I don’t mean that I want to talk about it all the time, but naturally one thinks of very little else and it seems so unnatural to try and hide it away and pretend it hasn’t happened. Some of my friends are even worse. They make me feel like a pariah, as though I was the one who had committed some unmentionable crime.”

  “They’re so afraid of saying the wrong thing that they daren’t risk saying anything at all.”

  “Well, I call that selfish and unkind. They ought to consider my feelings a bit more. Even the wrong thing would be preferable to being ostracised. You’ll hardly believe this, but the other day a woman I’ve known for years literally crossed over to the other side of the road when she saw me coming. She pretended to be looking in a shop window, but I know it was really to avoid me. I expect you think I’m exaggerating, but I assure you I’m not and I’m really grateful for the chance to unburden myself. I was a bit knocked off my perch when you suggested coming, but I’m glad now that you did. It was very kind and thoughtful of you.”

  It was a pleasure to hear this for several reasons, not least in that I saw it as partially excusing the trick I had played on her and, seizing the chance to keep the unburdening rolling along, I said:

  “Well, I expect that being Rosamund’s friend and not yours makes it easier for me to be detached, as well as sympathetic. I might not have behaved any better than the people you’ve been talking about, if something terrible like this had happened to you, but at least I’d have known how she felt. There was a great bond between you two, wasn’t there? You were more like sisters than cousins, I believe?”

  “Yes, that used to be so. I was a few years older than her, but we were inseparable when we were young and even our marriages didn’t seem to interfere with that. We still saw a lot of each other, on our own and sometimes the four of us together, and we used to talk endlessly on the telephone. Somehow or other, things hadn’t been quite the same for the past year or two. No quarrel, but just a gradual falling off.”

  “Yes, that’s the impression I had and I wondered about it. I thought there might have been some coolness on your side, but it seems I was wrong. What do you suppose can have made her turn against you?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t put it as strongly as that. We were still outwardly the same whenever we did meet, it was just that the meetings became so much more spaced out. It was always I who rang up and suggested one and she invariably had some reason why she couldn’t manage it. I can’t remember how or when it all started, I just suddenly woke up one morning and realised that I hadn’t heard from her for over three months.”

  “But you couldn’t think of any reason?”

  “None at all. Looking back on it, I think the first signs of a change in her attitude must have coincided with their selling the house in Sussex and moving to Oxfordshire. I suppose I just assumed that she was completely taken up with that and everything would get back to normal once she and James had settled in. It never did, though.”

  “I don’t know about you, Mrs. Ferguson, but to me that makes it all the more puzzling. I’d have thought being separated from all her old friends would have made her more dependent on you, not less.”

  “It is strange, isn’t it? You met James, of course?”

  “Yes, I did, several times.”

  “At first, I tried to make excuses for her by telling myself that he was to blame, but I don’t think I believed it, even then. Why should he suddenly take it into his head to drive a wedge between us, after all these years? It’s true that I never much cared for him and, whether he murdered my poor Rosamund or not, I do think he often treated her abominably. But I was careful not to criticise him openly.”

  “So there must have been some other reason?”

  “There must, and now I shall never know what it was or what I was supposed to have done to annoy her. It worries me a lot. Of course, knowing wouldn’t alter anything, but not knowing does somehow make it worse. I wonder if you can understand?”

  “Yes, I can, but I think it’s a mistake to put all the blame on yourself.”

  “That’s the way I’m made, I’m afraid. I’ve had some hard knocks in my life, nothing to compare with this, naturally, but they seemed bad enough at the time and with each one I’ve felt that, in some way I can’t account for, I must have brought it on myself.”

  “Well, since this is the worst thing that’s ever happened, or is ever likely to happen, it might be the time to shake yourself out of that attitude. Much as I liked her, it sounds to me as though it was Rosamund who was at fault and that you should stop reproaching yourself.”

  “It would be some comfort to believe that, but I must have done something wrong, to make her wish to avoid me.”

  “Not necessarily. I should say it was more likely that she had done something which she believed would annoy or offend you.”

  “Oh no, I can’t think of anything which would do that, I really can’t.”

  “Not if she was having an affair with some man she had good reason to believe you wouldn’t approve of?”

  “I might not have approved, but I would never have condemned her for it. For one thing, James was often unfaithful to her and she knew it. I think she excused it on the grounds that having no children gave him the right to be more irresponsible as a husband. I admit it did once cross my mind that there might have been some tit for tat going on, but I soon dismissed that idea.”

  “Why?”

  “Mainly, I think, because of my husband’s reaction when I suggested it to him. You may have heard that he and I are separated now, but in those days . . . Well, I suppose it was at about the same time as things started to go wrong between me and Alan, which made me feel more cut off than ever. I needed so badly to talk to Rosamund and put my side of it to her. Anyway, to get back to what I was saying, I forget what arguments Alan used, but they were very convincing. He and I may have become incompatible in other ways, but I had great respect for his judgement and I still have. He is able to see things more clearly than I do.”

  “Well, since you’ve ruled out that possibility, let’s try to think of some other reasons she might have had for her behaviour.”

  “But I promise you I can’t think of anything, Miss Crichton. Can you?”

  “No. That is . . . unless . . . you’ll probably tell me I’m all at sea here, but I suppose it couldn’t have anything to do with her plan to adopt a child?”

  “Oh, she told you about that, did she?”

  “There was some mention of it and it occurred to me that she’d discussed it with you and you’d been against it. If she’d intended to go ahead anyway, and ignore your advice, she might have chosen to keep away, rather than get into arguments about it.”

  “Oh, no, no, there wouldn’t have been any arguments from me. I was all for it.”

  “Oh, I see! So that’s out too, then?”

  “The arguments had all been the other way round. My only complaint was that she’d left it so late.”

  “I suppose she put it off, so long as there was a chance
that she would have a child of her own?”

  “Oh, but didn’t she tell you . . . ? Well no, it obviously wasn’t the sort of thing one would discuss with anyone outside the family, but the truth is that she never intended to have any children. It was quite deliberate and she made it clear to James before they married. I don’t think it bothered him, one way or the other.”

  “Was she frightened of childbirth?”

  “No, nothing like that, but when she was very young she suffered from the most crippling asthma. She grew out of it eventually, but it made life a misery for her throughout her childhood and when she was sixteen she very nearly died. That was partly what made us so close. I could recognise the symptoms when an attack was coming on and I used to try and protect her and help her through them. Just watching her was agony and when she was still in her teens she swore that, whatever happened, she would never risk passing it on to a child of her own.”

  “But the attacks had ceased by the time she married?”

  “Pretty well, but that didn’t alter her determination never to have a child. Let me give you some more tea?”

  “No thanks, I think it’s time I went home. I’m sorry I haven’t been much help.”

  “Oh, don’t say that! It’s been a relief just having someone to talk to and I feel better for it. I hope we can meet again, when this dreadful business is over.”

  “I hope so too and I’ll send you some tickets for my next play, touching wood that there’ll be one.”

  “How kind! Is it likely to be soon?”

  I was on the point of explaining that immediate plans included the probability of sixteen weeks in Los Angeles, but recollected myself in time and, by way of reply, held up both hands, with fingers crossed.

  “I have found another link,” I announced to Toby, who was spending the night with us at Beacon Square, “maybe one and a half.”

  He had been induced to make one of his rare visits to London by the need to turn an honest penny and had spent the afternoon in conference with his agent and a West End manager, who was showing stirrings of interest in the current, half completed T. Crichton comedy.

  “Keep it up and you will soon have a whole chain. Whose neck do you propose to use it as a noose for?”

  “I haven’t got to that stage yet, nor even made up my mind whether, after all, there are two separate chains, which don’t join at any point. All the same, I feel I am piecing something together. How would it be if I were to try it out on you?”

  “It would be all right, I suppose, but I should warn you that I am not at my most alert. It has been an exhausting session.”

  “And I should warn you that I am about to demolish your theory that Andrea spent her lost weekend with James at the cottage.”

  “You have evidence to prove that she was elsewhere?”

  “Not exactly, no. Only to indicate that she was not in Wales.”

  “That may do just as well. I’ll let you know when I’ve heard it.”

  “There are two factors which, in my opinion, rule it out. The first, which has been with us from the beginning, is that if she and James had planned an adventure of that sort, it could not have been a last minute arrangement. They would have worked out the moves in advance and, knowing her father as she does, the first requirement would have been to set up a convincing alibi for him. She would need someone to rely on to back her up in whatever lies she had told him about where and with whom she would be staying. The Hebrideans were ideally suited for this role. In the event of Gregory getting steamed up about his baby girl, as indeed he did, they had only to say that she was fine, but unfortunately had twisted her ankle while tramping over the glens and was unable to get to the telephone. However, as we know, they did nothing of the kind.”

  “Perhaps, when it came to the point, they betrayed her? Didn’t want to take the responsibility?”

  “Oh, come on, Toby, that’s pretty feeble. She’s twenty-six, not sixteen. Their only responsibility would have been a couple of lies on their conscience and most people can tolerate that, if they’re doing it for a friend.”

  “Nevertheless, I hope you have something a shade more weighty than that for your demolition?”

  “I shall now tell you,” I said, “of a conversation which I had with our heroine on her sickbed yesterday evening,” and, having done so, added:

  “So far as I am concerned, that is enough to show that the pretence of amnesia was not put on to disguise her failure to account for her movements. It was the other way round. Her failure to account for her movements was the build-up to convince people that she had lost her memory.”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Of course there is. It must mean that she either saw, heard, or did something connected with the fire, which she now wishes to forget.”

  “And in the meantime James continues to languish in gaol. I don’t see what you have to be so cocky about.”

  “I expected you to take that attitude and I admit you have cause, but the point is that we are clearing the decks. Now that we can safely assume that he and Andrea did not spend that weekend together, we have at least removed one complication.”

  “Which is bad news for you, because the more complications you remove, the more certainly you’re left with the bare bones of the case against him.”

  “You could be right and, if so, I’ll have to give up and admit that I was taken in by flattery and all those other things you accused me of, but I’m not ready to do that yet. You remember my telling you that I had also found half a link? Well, this afternoon I had tea with a woman called Isobel Ferguson, who is Rosamund McGrath’s cousin, and she had some interesting facts to relate concerning her ex-husband. It is hard to believe that he could have had any hand in setting fire to Mrs. Laycock’s bedroom, but it does begin to look as though he knows rather more about the life, and possibly death of Rosamund McGrath than he has seen fit to disclose. And that is what matters to us, is it not?”

  “Speak for yourself! I cannot honestly say that it matters to me. What interesting facts?” Toby asked, contradicting himself in the same breath.

  “One was that he refused to entertain the idea that she had a lover. Isobel could not remember what argument he had used, only that they were very convincing and, because she has become conditioned to regarding his opinions as divinely inspired, she accepted this one, without question. However, I do not.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I ask you, Toby, how could any man make a judgement of that kind about any woman? Those very convincing arguments become even more absurd in the light of another comment he made about Rosamund, which was that she was attractive. As a matter of fact, he regretted having said that when I reminded him of it later, but I know he meant it at the time. So why the hell shouldn’t she have had a lover? James knew she had and claims that she made no secret of it.”

  “Oh, I expect this Ferguson was bored to tears by his wife going on about it and simply wanted to shut her up.”

  “Maybe, but that wasn’t the only way he betrayed himself. When James was arrested Alan told me that, much as he deplored it, he was unable to see any alternative to his being guilty. Then a few days later, to settle another argument, he calmly announces that James was very much in love with Rosamund. Well, funny way of showing it, is all I can say. You know, Toby, I am beginning to believe that shutting me in the loft wasn’t just absent-mindedness. I was making him nervous with all my questions and he had this subconscious desire to shut me up, in the abstract sense. So, when the chance came, he did it literally.”

  “I can sympathise with him there, but I agree that he should not have let his subconscious run away with him. So what’s his game and what is he nervous about?”

  “Well, let’s say, for example, that he killed Rosamund and would like someone else to take the blame for it.”

  “I suppose, in his shoes, we all would, but it’s a biggish jump, isn’t it?”

  “Not if we accept the premise that he was her lover.”


  “And are we ready to accept it?”

  “Why not? He seems to fit all the requirements.”

  “Simply by virtue of saying one day that she couldn’t have had one and the next that he found her attractive? It is damning, I agree, but not conclusive, surely?”

  “Oh, he has tangled himself up in more ways than that. Like all inarticulate people, when he turns garrulous he doesn’t know where to stop. For instance, when James was arrested and Alan started trying to convince me of his guilt, he assured me that there was no truth in the rumour about Rosamund’s infidelities, which had been going around after her disappearance. That struck me as odd at the time because how could he have known about them, except from the inside? He hadn’t been back to Sowerley then and they certainly hadn’t been passed on to him by Isobel. That was his first mistake and he made another when I kept nagging him about James’s motive. He suggested that it was linked with her inability to have children. Well, that was a falsification, to start with, as I now know, but he went further. He piled on a few more bricks by quoting from his own experience.”

  “What was that?”

  “Asking Isobel for a divorce, so that he could marry someone else, which she refused to grant him. He described how this had created a certain amount of bitterness and resentment, which in different circumstances, i.e., childlessness, might conceivably have turned his own thoughts to murder. So far, so good, but instead of leaving it there he had to go on and tell us to within a month or two when this happened, and that’s what I meant about not knowing where to stop.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it coincided almost exactly with Rosamund’s abortive attempt to leave James. So, if Alan had been the man she was leaving him for, wouldn’t that explain everything? She and Alan have decided to run away and, as the first step along this path, Rosamund packs her bags and moves out, leaving a note to James to say that she will not be returning. However, the second step is never taken because Isobel refuses to co-operate. Faced with this impasse, they adjust accordingly. Alan is now the one to move out, whereas Rosamund goes back to James, but this is not the end of it. They have reverted to their former positions, but with the difference that they now have the privacy and opportunity to meet and carry on their affair whenever she can find an excuse to spend a few days away from home. What do you think of the story, so far?”