There. On the bench. His back turned to her. His head forward as if he had fallen asleep.
She hesitated. Was it even a good idea to disturb him?
She approached on tiptoe to have a closer look and see if he was really dozing. She didn’t want to wake him and put him in a foul mood. She held her breath as she rounded the bench to peek at him from the front.
Her knees buckled. The face of the man sitting there was not devastated by illness, not sunken and sallow. It was round and fleshy and even still rosy, despite the blood trickling down his temple.
Patty raised her hands to her face and screamed.
* * *
Jasper stood and watched as the French worked to put the body on a stretcher and carry it away. The doctor who had rushed to the scene had established that Hugh Bryce-Rutherford’s head had been bashed in with a solid object. Something heavy, with an edge.
What the doctor hadn’t been able to tell him, and Jasper couldn’t quite figure out himself, was why Mr Bryce-Rutherford had been dressed in his uncle’s clothes.
“Someone got to him thinking it was Malcolm.”
Jasper turned his head to find Howard Jones standing beside him. His expression was worried, a frown hovering over his eyes. “The killer made a mistake. He thought he could kill Malcolm here, with nobody around to see him or intervene. It was clever but not clever enough. I wonder if he even noticed his mistake. If he hit from behind and then walked away…”
“He, Mr Jones?”
“You must be strong to do this. A woman couldn’t do it.”
Jasper clicked his tongue. “It’s easier when the victim is in a lower position. A strong woman could certainly do it. I’ve seen it in cases before.”
He studied Howard. “Why would Mr Bryce-Rutherford put on his uncle’s clothes? A rain coat? In this summer heat? It is almost like he dressed up to look like his uncle. On purpose.”
Howard stared at the busy policemen who were searching in the brush. “Are they looking for the murder weapon?”
Jasper didn’t reply. He repeated, “Why would Mr Bryce-Rutherford dress up like that? Did someone put him up to it?”
“I’d say the Cane woman. But she is in bed. How is she anyway?”
Jasper didn’t respond to that either. He said, “Were Mr Bryce-Rutherford and nurse Cane close then, Mr Jones?”
Howard shrugged. “I think I saw them speaking to one another once or twice and they looked quite comfortable together. Not like they had only just met. I wondered if… they had already known each other before they came out here.”
“I see. Do you have any evidence to support this idea?”
“None at all, and it was just a passing thought.” Howard straightened up. “You can’t ask him anymore.”
“No, but I can ask others. Like his wife. I suppose she knows.”
“Patty? She only married him a couple of months ago, right after they had met on some steamer coming from New York. I don’t think she knew a whole lot about him when she said I do. I doubt she knows much more now.”
“You sound like you didn’t approve of Mr Bryce-Rutherford marrying his wife.”
“It was none of my business really. I was merely surprised they knew each other so little and then married.”
“Yes, you did it quite differently. You knew your wife very well when you married.”
Jasper produced the photographs he was still carrying in his pocket and showed them to Howard.
He turned very pale. “Where did you get these?”
“I found them among the things of the first murder victim. Theodora Cummings.”
Howard swallowed. “So she did spy on us. I always suspected it, but I could never prove it.” He looked up at Jasper. “Does Malcolm know?”
“I have no idea if Miss Cummings showed these to him. In the past or recently. But I will ask him. I will have to ask him.”
Howard nodded. “I understand.” He shrank back as the body was carried past them.
Jasper noticed that Howard didn’t look at the dead man.
“Did you and the victim ever discuss the situation here? The will and all?”
“Uh, yes, as a matter of fact we did.” Howard ran his finger round his collar. “I caught Hugh one night cleaning his fingerprints off a putter we had used for the game of mini golf you saw us play. The first day you came upon us, with Kenneth.”
“He was cleaning off his fingerprints?” Jasper repeated, intrigued.
“Yes. He was worried the putter would be used to kill Malcolm and he would be blamed.”
“I see. But now he himself is dead. Did you suggest to him to impersonate his uncle?”
“Of course not. I don’t see how he could have pulled it off. He has far more hair and…”
“Well, with a coat and hat obviously,” Jasper said cynically. “Where were you in the past hour, Mr Jones?”
“I was walking on the beach. I wanted to get away for a while.”
“I see. So no one can vouch for you that you didn’t come out here and kill Mr Bryce-Rutherford?”
“Why would I kill him?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. Did you hate him? Did he know things about you?”
“Hugh was a fool who did no one any harm. He was silly. People wouldn’t bother to kill him.”
“But somebody just did. And I want to know who it was.”
Howard wet his lips. “I was on the beach,” he repeated. “And someone did see me. Kenneth was there too, playing with your dog. He waved at me from the distance.”
“I see.” Jasper didn’t comment on how convenient it was that Kenneth was now alibied as well. It wasn’t far though from the beach up the steps into the back of the garden where the murder had happened. Kenneth was strong enough to do it. And hadn’t Howard just said that nurse Cane had looked close with Hugh? Had Kenneth killed a supposed rival for the nurse’s affection?
Howard said, “I would appreciate it if you didn’t show the photographs to Malcolm. He is old, dying. Why burden him with it?”
“He has to know. Or I have to know, find out, who knew about this and why Miss Cummings brought them here. After all those years… It seems odd, doesn’t it? Did she know there would be a whole inheritance at stake? Did she want to make sure that Malcolm would be so mad he wouldn’t choose you or your wife as his heir?”
“He wouldn’t have left it all to Theodora either. He might call her Dodo and act like he was fond of her but he hated her. She always pried into his personal affairs. She knew what women he was seeing. Even those away from London. This dance girl in Vienna. And something about Brighton, I think? Ask him about that.”
Howard turned away. “I’ll go see how Cecily is. Another murder… Hard to believe.”
Jasper stood very still, feeling the breeze on his skin. He agreed with Howard that it wasn’t pleasant to confront a dying man with his ex-wife’s betrayal. Malcolm had once mentioned the end of his marriage to Cecily and told Jasper that he had hit her in an argument and she had then asked for the divorce, throwing herself into the arms of his business partner. Now it turned out that Cecily had been seeing Howard for a long time before Malcolm had ever hit her. Had she provoked him so he’d lose his temper and she could blame the divorce on that? Having talked to the pretty Cecily and sensed her evasiveness, it wasn’t impossible.
Jasper gritted his teeth. He hated to do this to a man whom he had come to consider a friend. Well, it couldn’t be avoided. He had to ask. And he had to hope that the answers he would be getting would be enlightening.
* * *
Malcolm studied the photos for a long time. He was taking in all of the details it seemed, or perhaps torturing himself by committing all the tenderness conveyed in those postures to his mind. Jasper wanted to take them away again, but refrained from it. The man had just heard his nephew was dead, bashed across the head brutally, while sitting outside looking quite like him. He had to be shocked.
Malcolm spoke at last. “So it had been going
on for a time. I feel like such a fool. I even thought…” The photos fell from his hands and rained down on the blanket he had put over his legs. He was not in bed this time but sitting up in his bedroom, in a chair with arm rests.
Jasper picked up the photos and said, “I’m sorry.”
Malcolm waved it off. “Don’t be. I should thank you. Or rather Dodo, I think. She solved a problem again, even after she died.” A thin smile formed round his lips. “She would have liked that.”
He took a deep breath. “You see, Jasper, I’ve always wondered… Cecily left me suddenly and quickly married Howard. Then Kenneth was born. I wasn’t sure… I thought…”
Jasper said softly, “You wondered if he was your son?”
“Yes. When I saw him arrive here, I was… confused and even excited. I wanted him to be my son. I wanted to leave it all to him.”
“Did you tell him? Does he know any…?” Jasper felt a burn inside. What if the boy had known? What if he had acted on his ideas of striking it rich?
Malcolm shook his head. “I haven’t told him anything. I’m sure he doesn’t know.”
Jasper’s mind raced. Kenneth had said nurse Cane had wanted to reveal a secret to him when they had been in the boat. A terrible secret which meant they could not be together. Had she suggested Kenneth was Malcolm’s son?
Had she put all kinds of thoughts into the boy’s head?
Malcolm said, “I realize now that Cecily was already seeing Howard long before we split. She must have been pregnant with his child. Yes, Kenneth is his, not mine.” He exhaled. “It’s a relief and still it hurts.”
“A relief, why?”
Malcolm gestured. “The boy has a nasty temper. I’m glad he didn’t get it from me.”
His eyes fixed themselves on Jasper. “Do you think I am a fool? I saw nurse Cane after she had been away in the morning. I also saw you bring in Kenneth. They had been out together. He fell into the water. I suppose she did as well. At least she was injured. Did he try to harm her?”
“I’m not sure.” Jasper gestured to stop Malcolm from protesting. “That’s not my official answer, but my genuine conviction. I’m not sure what happened when they were together in that boat. Kenneth might have hurt her. Or the boat just overturned and when she fell in, he wanted to save her and handled it wrong. It seems Theodora told him nurse Cane couldn’t swim.”
“Meddlesome Dodo.” Malcolm shook his head. He then said, still eyeing Jasper shrewdly, “You like the boy. You don’t want to accept he hurt the nurse.”
Jasper felt the blood rise into his cheeks. “I’m keeping an open mind.”
Malcolm hmm-ed. “How is nurse Cane anyway?”
Jasper said, “I got a call just before I came up to you. They looked at what was in her facial cream. It wasn’t poison. And it wasn’t acid either. The pain and the rash were caused by something from plants.”
“You mean, it wasn’t meant to hurt her, just scare her?”
“I think it was meant to make her believe she was poisoned while she was not. I am even wondering if she did it herself.”
“Herself?” Malcolm echoed in disbelief.
“Yes. She knew she would have no lasting damage. And now we view her as a target. Not as a suspect anymore.”
“Apparently you don’t see her as a target,” Malcolm said. He shook his head with a half smile. “The work in London corrupted you. You’ve developed an evil mind, thinking the worst of your fellow beings.”
“Said the man who orchestrated his own killing by making his heirs an offer they could not refuse.” Jasper sat back. “You have to stop now. Cancel this will plan. Two deaths are enough.”
“I agree. I will stop.”
Jasper had expected a discussion and blinked his eyes. “You will? Just like that?”
“Of course. It makes sense to stop.” Malcolm moved his hands across the blanket covering his legs. “The others have to stay here while you look into the deaths. If I continue, they will just believe they might also die. I don’t want…” He frowned hard. “I never considered that nurse Cane attacked herself. I believed someone had tried to hurt her. I was genuinely sorry for her. She takes good care of me.”
“I’m not saying she did it herself. It’s a possibility I must keep in mind. I can’t afford to consider anybody innocent and uninvolved.”
“Not even Kenneth?” Malcolm asked.
Jasper bit down hard. “Not even Kenneth,” he confirmed.
* * *
Patty sat in front of the dressing table. It was still as pretty as it had ever been with the inlaid ivory and yet, she didn’t really see it. She looked into her own eyes and tried to grasp that she was a widow now. She, a young woman of not even thirty, a widow. She had known when she married Hugh that it wouldn’t be for all of her life and that she would be on her own again, sooner or later. Rather sooner, she had thought after having met his mother and staying at the crumbling Cornish estate. But she had never imagined it to be quite this soon.
She reached up and touched the gem around her neck. Could she keep it? Would his family want it back? She had no idea if he had ever made a will. He had promised to her that he would sign it all to her, but knowing Hugh he had never acted on that promise. He had shied away from the topic of death, the idea of his own mortality.
She had to write to his mother, she supposed. But her mind wasn’t sharp enough to focus on one thing for long. Her thoughts flitted to and fro like birds driven by a storm.
Could it become known now? Would that former inspector dig in and find something? A link between her and Hugh’s past in America? Something to connect them before they had met aboard the SS Sunrise?
Would he investigate Hugh’s death as if the killer had meant to kill Hugh, putting her on the suspect list if only because she had been his wife and might stand to inherit?
Or would he believe Hugh had died because he had looked like Malcolm? Mistaken identity? After all, Theodora had also died. Two murders couldn’t be unrelated, right?
Patty pressed her hands to her temples. Her head was splitting with all these questions. She needed a drink. Or two.
She got up and left the bedroom. In the corridor she heard a clock strike below. Twelve. Midnight. She turned her head to look in the direction of the study. She thought she saw light under the door.
No, that wasn’t possible, was it? Malcolm had said over dinner that he was doubtful he wanted to continue changing the will. They had all looked at one another trying to work out what he meant. There was a will and someone’s name was on it. So if he stopped changing it, did that mean that one lucky person was now the heir? Whatever happened next?
Drawn like a moth to a candle flame, Patty walked over to the door. She opened it a crack and peeked in. At his desk Malcolm was writing. The lawyer was there and the butler and chauffeur. Just like it had been before. He was continuing. He had lied about stopping.
Why?
For Jasper’s sake?
She bet the former inspector had put pressure on him to stop.
But Malcolm wasn’t the sort of man who took advice. He did what he wanted.
Patty retreated and went downstairs to get the drink. Why not take the whole bottle? After all, she was a grieving widow now, drowning her pain in alcohol.
But as she stood there with the bottle in her hand, she remembered Hugh and his drinking and how she had hated him for that. How it was the cause of everything. Even of Hugh’s death.
With shaking fingers she put the bottle back in place and returned to her bedroom, walking fast, even half running. The shadows seemed to hold figures, grasping fingers reaching out to her. Voices whispering. This is not the end of it.
This is not the end.
* * *
“I think it’s completely irresponsible of her,” Cecily said, standing at the window.
“What?” Howard asked, glancing over the morning paper, while he reached for his breakfast coffee with his free hand.
“Taking the car o
ut. Her husband died the other day. And she’s going into the village. Probably to buy something.”
Howard said, “We all grieve in different ways.” It sounded like the cliché of all clichés even to his own ears, but Cecily just huffed and said nothing more.
Howard glanced up at Kenneth who was cutting up his bread into small pieces and not eating anything.
The door opened, and Anna Cane came in. Her face was still reddish and swollen in places but she looked quite normal and in control as she approached the table.
Kenneth stared at her. He gasped for breath. “Jasper said you were poisoned.”
“I’m fine.” She poured tea into a porcelain cup. “The facial cream was probably contaminated with something.”
“How can that happen?” Howard asked.
Cecily at the window said, “That silly girl can’t drive. She’s zigzagging already.”
Howard repeated to nurse Cane, “How can that happen?”
“I have no idea, but I feel quite the fool for screaming that I was poisoned. I saw the rash break out and I felt quite light in the head. Because of the recent murder and…” Nurse Cane wet her lips. “I guess I got carried away, imagining that I couldn’t breathe. I want to apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused.”
“Not at all,” Howard said. “I can understand you believed something was wrong. The murder shocked us all.”
“There has been another,” Kenneth said. He looked straight at nurse Cane. “Hugh is dead.”
Howard had believed nurse Cane knew this already, but when he saw all colour vanish from her face, he doubted it. He rose to his feet in a rush, reaching out for the teetering girl. The teacup in her hand crashed to the floor, spilling hot brown liquid across the carpet.
Kenneth rang for the butler.
Cecily at the window said, “What on earth is she doing?” She opened the window and leaned out to see better.
Howard was holding nurse Cane against him. Her sweet perfume and soft hair befuddled his brain. He could not think what to say to calm her down.
A Testament to Murder Page 15