“You saw him take the witch costume?” Vickery asked.

  Again a shake of the head. “I saw him put it back.”

  “Did you ask him what he was doing with it?”

  “At the time, I made a joke of it, told him they’d shoot him for using theatre costumes for his own act.”

  “You thought he’d worn it as part of his night-club act?”

  “What else would I think? You know how he used to dress up at that club, singing A Little of What You Fancy and All the Nice Girls Love a Sailor and what have you. I just thought he’d dressed up as a witch for something. I didn’t know at the time what had happened to poor Margot.”

  “But you found out later.”

  “We heard about the accident, but it was a couple of days before we knew what had actually happened. At first I didn’t make the connection, why would I? They just said the horse had been spooked by a mad old woman.”

  “Why did you become suspicious?”

  “Artie just wasn’t himself, he seemed really down in the dumps. He’d been arrested a few weeks before, and that upset him, but that all seemed to blow over. He got a slap on the wrist, or whatever, and he cheered up for a while. But then he got to really moping around, and I said to him, Whatever’s the matter, dear? But he didn’t want to talk about it. 

  “I thought perhaps it was romantic troubles, so I didn’t push him, thought it would pass. But then I noticed he was being a bit shifty, and he looked pale and unwell. He seemed especially upset whenever Margot’s name was mentioned, like he couldn’t bear to hear about her. That’s when I remembered the witch’s costume.”

  “Did you ask him about it?”

  “I mentioned it, just the once. I said, Artie, that night when I saw you back stage with that frock, the one from the Scottish play... Well, I thought he was going to drop down and die at my feet. Never seen anyone so pale, he was like a half-glass of milk. And shaking. I said, Whatever’s the matter, love? And he just made me promise, never to mention the dress or anything. And I didn’t.”

  “You never asked him why he’d worn the dress? Or if he’d gone off to the country to spook Margot McCrae’s horse?”

  “I didn’t dare. You never saw how sick it made him look when I mentioned it that one time. But I started to put two and two together. I knew Artie would never have done anything to harm Margot, he had no reason to. Someone must have put him up to it. And I’m sure he never thought she’d get really hurt by it, I’m sure she was just meant to fall off the horse and sprain her ankle or something. He wouldn’t have done it otherwise. That’s why he was so sickened by what he’d done, I reckon.”

  “And when you put two and two together?”

  “Did I say that Artie had been arrested?”

  “You did.”

  “Police picked him up for, well, for being Artie. If we aren’t too blatant, they usually turn a blind eye, but Artie thought the rules didn’t apply to him, silly boy. They kept him locked up all night, threatened to have him up in front of a magistrate, and he was worried what his poor old mum would think, having her only son in prison. But anyway, I found out that Leo Fulbright sorted it all out for him, provided him with an alibi, said he’d pay for a good solicitor, or whatever was necessary, so the police just gave Artie a slap on the wrist and that was the end of it. Or so you’d hope.”

  “It wasn’t the end of it?”

  “I don’t think it was. I think Fulbright told Artie he wanted something in return. I think he wanted Margot out of the way. So he had Artie dress up and go out to the country and jump up in front of her horse. He could have been kicked in the head and killed, but I don’t suppose Fulbright cared about that.” 

  “This is just nonsense. You can’t believe—?” Fulbright could hardly contain his temper.

  “What I believe doesn’t concern us at this point,” Vickery said. “Mr. Bannister believed you were behind Margot’s accident, and so he sent you an anonymous letter.”

  “It wasn’t right, what he made Artie do. Threatening to tell the police the truth if he didn’t do it. And then poor Margot, what it had done to her—” Bannister was moved almost to tears by this point. “I had to do something. I couldn’t go to the police, of course. And Margot wasn’t well enough to deal with it. I got an old typewriter out of the props cupboard, and I typed out the letter.”

  “What did you think it would achieve?” Vickery asked.

  “I wanted Leo to realise that his secret was known, that someone knew what he’d done. I hoped this would make him do the right thing, admit to Margot what he’d done, and seek her forgiveness,” Bannister said. “They belong together those two. I just wanted to make it right again. Make him see that he was making a mistake chasing after that slip of a girl.”

  “What did Fulbright do after you sent the first letter?”

  “Absolutely nothing! He kept it hidden, burnt it for all I know, and pretended he’d never received it. I couldn’t believe it.”

  “I thought it was from some crackpot. It was nonsense!” Fulbright said.

  “I typed a second letter, made sure I left it somewhere public, so other people would be around when he found it. He couldn’t ignore it then.” There was a note of triumph in Bannister’s voice.

  “But even that didn’t produce the desired effect,” Vickery said. “You sent a third letter, then a fourth.”

  “I wasn’t going to let him get away with it,” Bannister said. “I wasn’t about to back off, even when he hired you, Mr. Vickery, to find out who was sending them.”

  “If Mr. Bannister is telling us the truth, he may just have provided us with Margot McCrae’s motive for murdering both Eleanor Trenton and Artie Delancey,” Inspector Debney said.

  “I didn’t!” Bannister seemed horrified.

  “Margot wanted Miss Trenton out of the way because of the bitter rivalry between them, and she wanted Artie dead because he was responsible for her accident, and for the death of her favourite horse,” Debney said.

  “No, wait,” Bannister said. “Margot didn’t do it. I did!”

  “You want us to believe that you are the murderer?” Vickery asked.

  “I did it,” Bannister insisted. “Margot had nothing to do with it. I couldn’t bear to see her career end, just because Leo was besotted with that woman. She was making him act like a fool. I had to put a stop to it, anyway I could.

  “And when I learned what Artie had done to Margot, I couldn’t let that go unpunished, I had to deal with him as well. Please forgive me, Margot, and don’t worry about me: I’m an old man, I’m at the end of my life. I’m just sorry I won’t get to see you up on that silver screen. You will be fabulous!”

   

  Chapter 22

  “No, no, that really won’t do at all,” Vickery said. “Mr. Bannister is not guilty of murder. He has confessed only in order to protect Margot McCrae. But there was really no need.”

  “Dickie, darling, it really is sweet of you to take the blame for me. But I didn’t do it. Perhaps I should have, but—” Margot shrugged. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  “You didn’t do it? Oh, Margot, I’m so sorry, I never meant to suggest that you were guilty. I only wanted to—”

  “Protect me, I know. But I wouldn’t have wasted my time murdering that sparrow-legged little chorus girl,” Margot said. “If I was going to murder someone, it would have been my husband.”

  “I love you too, my dear,” Fulbright said, teeth gritted.

  “Margot had no reason to want Eleanor Trenton dead,” Vickery said.

  “But the motion picture. Guinevere. And Eleanor stealing her husband,” Sir Geoffrey protested.

  “Your niece was no match for me,” Margot said. “You of all people should know that, Geoffrey. Leo never leaves me. He may stray from the path occasionally, but he’s never really off the leash. And as for poor little Eleanor being an actress, well, perhaps we’ll never know now. But she certainly wasn’t ready to be Guinevere. I’ve seen the footage, and at the very least she would need to be dubbed so the audience could hear her.”

  “You’ve seen it?” Fulbright asked.

  “Who do you think took the film, darling? I had to see it before the rest of them did. I needed to know whether she was going to be a serious rival.”

  “She could never rival you, Margot,” Bannister said. “It was a huge mistake casting her instead of you.”

  “I agree,” Margot said.

  “As do I,” said Fulbright. “I’m sorry, Geoffrey, but your niece would never have finished the film. Perhaps it is better that she left us without knowing that her dream was going to end. I’d already asked Margot to replace her, before Eleanor was—”

  “I don’t believe this,” Sir Geoffrey said. “You two are in this together somehow. You both—”

  “No, they didn’t,” Vickery said. “Margot had no reason to kill Eleanor Trenton: she had already defeated her in every way that mattered. Leo and Margot are not murderers, either separately or collectively. And the only thing Mr. Bannister is guilty of is sending the poison pen letters.”

  “What an old fool I am,” Bannister said, shaking his head.  

  “You didn’t tell Artie Delancey you were sending the letters, did you?” Vickery asked.

  “I didn’t tell anyone. Artie would have tried to stop me,” Bannister said.

  “He would probably have told you the truth,” Vickery said. “That would have stopped you, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Leo Fulbright didn’t blackmail Artie. He didn’t make him dress up in the witch costume, because Artie wasn’t the one who wore it.”

  “But I saw him—”

  “You saw him return the costume. He did that to protect someone else. The person who did wear it.”

  “Then the letters—”

  “You sent them to the wrong person,” Vickery said.

  Bannister seemed to deflate as he accepted this. “What have I done?”

  “Bloody old fool!” Fulbright said.

  “Mr. Bannister acted from the best of motives,” Vickery said. “He felt his friend was being misused. And he was devoted to Margot McCrae, he was distraught over the ‘accident’ that appeared to have ended her career. I think we might forgive him his actions this once.”

  “Dear Dickie,” Margot said.

  “Well, that’s the mystery of the poison pen letters solved,” Linette said, in an attempt to brighten the mood.

  “Except for the fact that they were sent to the wrong person,” Garvin said. “Who should they have gone to, Mr. Vickery?”

  “Yes, who caused mummy’s accident if it wasn’t Artie?” Linette asked. “Do you know?”

  “I do,” Vickery said. “The person who attempted to kill your mother is the person who did kill Eleanor Trenton.”

  “If Leo and Margot are innocent, that leaves only one more suspect,” Bannister said.

  “Veronica Fulbright,” Inspector Dabney said, to prove that he was keeping up with things.

  “My sister did not kill Eleanor Trenton,” Leo Fulbright said.

  “Thank you, Leo,” Veronica said.

  “Aunt Veronica is the only one left who was out of the room when the murder took place,” Linette said.

  “We stated that there appeared to be three potential suspects,” Vickery said, “and, as you say, Veronica Fulbright is the last of these. But I believe there is a fourth suspect who should be added to the list: George Starling.”

  “George?” Veronica tried to sound surprised, but the flush of her cheeks gave away her guilt.

  “He is close enough to be included as a suspect,” Vickery said, “both physically and metaphorically.”

  “He’s here?” Fulbright breathed.

  Veronica refused to acknowledge her brother’s question, and looked instead towards Vickery.

  “He’s staying at the inn in the village,” she said. “He came down with me on the train. I’ve been meeting with him for a couple of months. At first I wasn’t sure I wanted to see him again, I thought it might be too painful. For me. And for him. I thought I might have changed too much for him to still—” She looked down at the drawing room carpet, but when she looked up there could be no doubt how well her reunion with George had gone. “I don’t know why, but he does—”

  “I think you underestimate yourself, Miss Fulbright,” Vickery said.

  “Yes, we should never underestimate my dear sister,” Fulbright said. “Not when we know what she’s capable of.”

  “Mr. Fulbright is referring to the fact that his sister once made an attempt upon his life with a bow and arrow, and as a result he had her committed to a private sanatorium,” Vickery said.

  Veronica Fulbright’s face had drained of colour, though whether she was acutely embarrassed or angry beyond words it was impossible to tell. It took a visible effort on her part to overcome her feelings.

  “You don’t really think George played any part in Eleanor Trenton’s death, do you, Mr. Vickery?” Veronica asked. “I’m sure he isn’t the type. I know he threatened to kill my brother when he found out what had happened to me, but...”

  “But everyone has wanted to kill Leo at some point,” Margot said.

  “But few of us have actually tried to,” Veronica said.

  “Yes, there is that to take into account,” Vickery said. “Leo Fulbright took from you the person that you truly loved, and did the same to George. Perhaps one or both of you decided to do the same in return, taking Eleanor Trenton from him.”

  “Leo didn’t love Eleanor,” Veronica said. “She was just another one of his—what did Margot call them?—dalliances. He never genuinely cared for her. If I had really wanted to take away the only person Leo Fulbright ever truly loved, I’d have taken that sword to—”

  “Me?” Margot suggested.

  “Leo Fulbright,” Veronica said.

  Margot frowned, then laughed out loud. “She’s right, you know.”

  “Discounting the revenge motive, then, we must consider whether Veronica Fulbright hoped to benefit financially as a result of Eleanor Trenton’s death,” Inspector Debney said.

  “How could I?” Veronica asked.

  “Having had you declared mentally incompetent, Leo Fulbright seized control of your father’s estate: his half and your half. And then he set about using that money to fund a motion picture starring his latest ‘dalliance.’ You must have found that particularly galling. He was frittering your money away on a vanity project. Didn’t that make you angry?” Vickery asked.

  “Yes, it did,” Veronica said.

  “Angry enough to resort to desperate measures? To murder Eleanor Trenton to stop your money flooding into ‘Fulbright’s Folly’?”

  “Fulbright’s Folly?” Fulbright said.

  “It’s what people are calling your picture, dear,” Margot said brightly.

  “If I had thought of killing someone for money, my brother would have been the first choice,” Veronica said. “With him out of the way, I could gain control of the whole estate. Margot might have challenged me for his half, but it would still be a better bet than trying to stop the film by topping the leading lady.”

  “There seems to be nothing wrong with your reasoning, Miss Fulbright,” Vickery said.

  “Haven’t heard that in a long time!” Veronica grinned.

  “Again you underestimate yourself: out of habit, I suppose. Hasn’t the solicitor you have consulted confirmed that he believes you mentally competent? And provided you with a reference to a doctor who will be able to determine that fact to the satisfaction of a judge?”

  “More mind-reading tricks?” Veronica asked, apparently concerned that her secrets were known. “Or lucky guesses?”

  “Neither,” Vickery said. “I sent Mr. Malloy to have a pint with George at the inn in the village. He confirmed what I had already surmised.”

  “He didn’t tell me.”

  “I asked him not to. I hope you will forgive him: we persuaded him that it would be in your interests to wait until I could disclose the facts to your best advantage.”

  “It was you that talked him out of coming up here and confronting Leo?” Veronica said to Malloy.

  “I helped George talk himself out of it,” Malloy said.

  “He was never fully persuaded that an attempt to appeal to Leo Fulbright’s better nature would succeed,” Vickery said. “When we presented an alternative, I think he was rather relieved.”

  “I warned him to stay away,” Fulbright said. 

  Margot put her hand on his arm, quieting him.

  “Let her have this, Leo.”

  “But the—”

  “It’s too late. Geoffrey’s money is gone, it’s never going to happen. Even with Veronica’s half of the estate, it wouldn’t be enough.”

  “Then what do we do?”

  “We finish Arthur and Guinevere, and on the back of that, well... I’ve heard that California has a lovely climate. Getting away from the damp and the cold will do my back wonders, I am sure.”

  “Hollywood, Margot?”

  “Hollywood, Leo!”

  “Veronica Fulbright has an alibi for the night of Eleanor Trenton’s murder,” Inspector Debney said. “My officers have taken statements at the inn. Witnesses confirm that she arrived at the inn a little before ten o’clock, and that she was there until closing time. Then as George Starling’s guest, she stayed for the traditional public house ‘lock-in’ that we in the constabulary admit to knowing nothing about. She did not leave the inn until after one o’clock, and Mr. Starling walked with her back up to the keep.” 

  Veronica Fulbright sat back and smiled. Perhaps because she found herself proved innocent of murder, or perhaps because she no longer had to keep her reunion with George Starling a secret.

  “You seem to have exonerated all of your main suspects, Vickery.” Fulbright sounded less than impressed.

  “We do rather, don’t we,” Vickery said. “That is because none of them were guilty.”

  “But Leo, Margot, and Veronica were the only people who were out of the room at the time of the murder. You said so yourself,” Bannister said.

 

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