“They are the only ones who were absent at midnight,” Vickery conceded. “But other people were in and out of the room before that.”

  “But we know that the murder occurred just after midnight,” Bannister said. “We all heard the scream. And we saw Eleanor at the top of the stairs before Teddy did his mock Hamlet.”

  “That would certainly appear to be the case,” Inspector Debney said, with a rather unattractive smirk. He seemed pleased to know something that the others did not. “I can assure you that the murderer is in this room, but it is not one of the three people we all suspected initially.”

  The guests all eyed each other nervously again.

  “But how?” Bannister asked.

  “Before we explain how, I should like to explore why,” Vickery said.

  “You have worked out who did it, haven’t you, Mr. Vickery?” Linette said.

  “I have a solution to the problem,” Vickery said. “A version of what really happened that fits all of the facts: I should like to present it to everyone, so that we might test it for flaws.”

  “Why do you have to turn it into a bloody game?” Fulbright said. “Just tell us and be done with it.”

  “Do you not remember your school days, Mr. Fulbright? Always we must show our workings out. We must demonstrate the steps which lead to our solution. We must be sure of those steps in our own minds.”

  “I think you should do it properly, Mr. Vickery, like they do in the novels,” Linette said.

  “Thank you my dear.”

  “He has to take each of us in turn,” Linette explained. “Show how we might have done it, and why, and then explain why we are innocent. All of us except the murderer, who did do it.”

  “I shall do my best to uphold that tradition,” Vickery said with a little bow.

  “Humph!” Fulbright said, and muttered something under his breath about a waste of bloody time.

  “If none of those three did it, who did?” Sir Geoffrey demanded. “Who else could have had a reason for wanting Eleanor dead?”

  “In these situations, we seem to find that everyone has a motive, Sir Geoffrey. The trick lies in finding out who was sufficiently motivated to act on theirs,” Vickery said.

  “I can assure you that I had no motive,” Sir Geoffrey said. “I could never have hurt her, she was my niece. I loved her.”

  “Yes, I believe you did. Though I suspect your actions towards her might not always have been in her best interest,” Vickery said.

  “What are you implying?”

  “You said Eleanor reminded you of her mother, your sister?”

  “Yes, very much so. It was—sometimes it was difficult to remember that they weren’t—that—”

  “You and your sister were very close?” Vickery asked.

  “As children, yes, we were. After she married that—after she married, we were less close. Her husband did not—wouldn’t—”

  “You saw little of your niece when she was a child?”

  “I attended her christening, then I did not see her for many years. She was almost grown when I saw her next. A woman.”

  “Eleanor lost both of her parents?”

  “Her father left when she was fifteen, just after Timothy was born. I don’t know where he went. I imagine that he drank himself to death, though that may just be wishful thinking. Her mother passed away. An accident.”

  “You became her guardian?”

  “Eleanor and Timothy’s, yes,” Sir Geoffrey said. “I was her godparent, it is what I was supposed to do. I have no family of my own—” Sir Geoffrey glanced sideways, not quite looking at Margot McCrae.

  “You intended that your estate should pass to your god-children?” 

  “Yes,” Sir Geoffrey said. “It was to be divided equally.”

  “Now Timothy is your sole heir?”

  “Yes, I suppose so. I haven’t thought about that. We haven’t even had a funeral yet...”

  “Eleanor’s relationship with her father was a difficult one?”

  “Difficult is one word for it. He didn’t appreciate what a beautiful child he had. Or what a beautiful wife. He didn’t know how to treat them.”

  “Your brother-in-law was a violent man?”

  “I believe that... yes, he was. Towards my sister. And towards Eleanor too, I think.”

  “How did that make you feel?”

  “What sort of question is that? I didn’t know. Didn’t find out until after he had left them.”

  “Your sister was happier without her husband?”

  “She should have been. But I don’t believe she was. She loved him. He was the father of her children, no matter what else he did to her. She thought she needed him. Perhaps she even thought that she deserved him. I can’t explain it.”

  “Sometimes people are drawn to partners who are not suitable for them. They escape one unpleasant relationship, only to enter another equally unwise,” Vickery said.

  “I think that was true of my sister.”

  “And of Eleanor?”

  “We either become the opposite of our parents, or we become them, isn’t that what they say?” Sir Geoffrey said.

  “You said Eleanor was like her mother.”

  “In more than just looks, yes.”

  “She sought out men like her father?”

  Sir Geoffrey glanced towards Kimball and then Fulbright. “I would say so, yes.”

  “Strong men with violent tempers?”

  “I say!” Kimball protested.

  “What the—?” Fulbright said.

  “She deserved better. Someone who really cared for her. I tried to show her that, but—” Sir Geoffrey shrugged.

  “But she pushed you away?”

  Sir Geoffrey’s voice was a whisper: “Yes.”

  Vickery let Sir Geoffrey stare at the carpet in silence, knowing he would speak again in his own time.

  “I would have done anything for her,” Sir Geoffrey said. “She knew that. This motion picture thing—”

  “She would come to you and tell you what she wanted?” Vickery asked.

  “She could wrap me round her little finger.”

  “And when she had what she wanted, she would turn her back on you again?”

  “No—yes, I suppose so.”

  “How did you feel when you realised she had manipulated you to get what she wanted?”

  “That was just how she was.”

  “Did it make you angry?”

  “No, Mr. Vickery. It made me unhappy. If I had been another sort of man, someone who needs power over others, then I’m sure it would have done. But I am not. I never laid a hand on her. I did not—”

  “—kill your niece. I know that,” Vickery said. “But I needed to show why I believed you to be innocent.”

  Sir Geoffrey looked at him and, after a moment, nodded.

  “Sir Geoffrey had no motive for killing his niece,” Inspector Debney said. “But others in this room did.”

  “There are really only four possible motives for murder,” Vickery said. “The first is personal gain, usually for money, but sometimes for prestige, to gain a position of power or some other form of recognition. Secondly there is revenge, to punish someone for a wrong suffered, either by the murderer themselves, or someone the murderer cares about. Thirdly comes love, the crime passionnel as the little Belgian might put it: to remove an obstacle to love. Or, returning to the theme of revenge, to ‘punish’ someone for a love betrayed or a love unrequited. And finally we have the murder motivated by fear, committed in order to protect oneself: from a fear of exposure, perhaps, or a fear of being harmed, even killed, oneself.”

  “Let’s return to our examination of potential suspects, shall we?” Inspector Debney said. “What about Mr. Kimball, the jilted lover?”

  “Me?” Kimball seemed shocked at the suggestion. “I couldn’t have killed Eleanor.”

  “Let’s leave aside whether you could have murdered her, and explore whether you might have wanted to,” Inspector Debney said, with just a hint of malice.

  “Did Mr. Kimball have any of these motivations? Had he a reason to kill Miss Trenton?” Vickery asked.

  “I would have thought his motivation was bloody obvious,” Fulbright said. “Eleanor had just broken off her relationship with him, made him look like a damned fool.”

  “Leo!” Margot admonished.

  “No, it’s true, she had ended it,” Kimball conceded. “But she didn’t make me look like a fool: I did that myself.”

  “But she did rather rub your nose in it,” Bannister said. “Parading around on Fulbright’s arm this weekend.”

  “It was nothing worse than I deserved,” Kimball said. “I have to take responsibility for the consequences of my own actions.”

  “That’s easy enough to say,” Fulbright said. “But I still say that it gives you ample reason for wanting her dead.”

  “Rather than throwing around accusations, I think we should restrict ourselves to examining the facts,” Vickery said. “We have established that Mr. Kimball did have a motive, a desire for revenge on the woman who jilted him. And so now we must move on and establish whether he also had the opportunity to murder her. We must test his alibi.”

  “Let’s see how the worm thinks he can wriggle out of it,” Fulbright said.

  “The death of Eleanor Trenton occurred at a few minutes after midnight,” Vickery said. “How have we determined this fact?”

  “The scream,” Linette said, “and we all heard her fall into the water.”

  “And the time?” Vickery asked.

  “The clock on the main staircase had just chimed midnight,  it had just interrupted—” Garvin broke off.

  “Interrupted what, Mr. Garvin?” Vickery asked.

  “Mr. Kimball,” Garvin said. “He was standing on the first landing near the clock, using it as a stage. He was—”

  “He was doing his impression of daddy,” Linette said. “Reading that ridiculous poem.”

  “Then we all agree that Mr. Kimball was standing on the stairs as the clock struck midnight?”

  “Yes, he cursed the clock for interrupting him,” Garvin said.

  “And in the silence that followed the striking of the clock, we heard the scream and the sound of something falling into the water?” Vickery said.

  This was answered by nodding from most of those present.

  “If Mr. Kimball was standing on the stairs in front of us,” Vickery said. “Could he also have been outside murdering Eleanor Trenton?”

  “No,” Linette said.

  There was quiet in the room as everyone considered this.

  “Mr. Kimball had the motive but not, it appears, the opportunity,” Inspector Debney said.

  “What about an accomplice?” Fulbright suggested. “While he was on the stairs making an ass of himself pretending to be me, he could have had someone outside murdering Eleanor.”

  “But who?” Bannister asked. “We’ve already excluded all the people who were out of the room at the time.”

  “Oh,” Fulbright said.

  Oliver Garvin and Linnie Fulbright exchanged nervous glances.

  “Did you do it?” Garvin whispered.

  “No! Did you?” Linnie said.

  “No!”

  “But we are the only two left,” Linnie whispered.

  “What about Timothy?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, he’s a child!”

  “Er, Mr. Vickery,” Garvin said. “I’m afraid something might have gone wrong with your investigation—”

  “Oh?”

  “You see, me and—Linnie and I are the only ones left, and we didn’t murder Eleanor Trenton.”

  “Or Artie,” Linnie quickly clarified.

  “You didn’t?” Vickery asked.

  “No, sir,” Garvin said.

  “Explain,” Vickery challenged him.

   

  Chapter 23

  “Explain?” Oliver Garvin seemed stumped.

  “Yes, tell us why it couldn’t possibly have been you and Linette that murdered our two victims,” Vickery said. “Please bear in mind that it is not enough that you each provide an alibi for the other: as a couple, no one is going to believe you. You could have plotted the whole thing together. Take all the time you need.”

  “Er—well—” Garvin floundered.

  “Means, motive, and opportunity,” Linette prompted.

  “I know, thank you, I was just getting my thoughts in order.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Means,” Garvin said. “The murder weapon.”

  “Excalibur,” Linette added.

  “Are you going to keep interrupting?”

  “I’m helping, it’s my neck in the noose as well, you know.”

  “All right, but don’t keep putting me off my stride.”

  “Sorry, dear.”

  “Excalibur,” Garvin said. “It was in that prop stone thing: I didn’t know how to get it out.”

  “I did!” Linette said brightly.

  “Not helping.”

  “We have to tell the truth!”

  “We had access to the means,” Garvin reluctantly admitted.

  “Opportunity, then,” Linette said, “access to the victim. Or victims.”

  “We were both here,” Garvin said, “for the party on Friday night, and for the dinner on Saturday evening. I was supposed to be gone, Mr. Fulbright threw me out on Saturday afternoon, after he hit me with that rifle.”

  “Musket,” Linette said. “What? We need to be accurate.”

  “After Mr. Fulbright hit me over the head with the musket,” Garvin said pointedly. “But I had to stay because Mr. Kimball took an axe to Mabel.”

  “His car,” Linette said.

  “My car,” Garvin said. “Like everyone else, we had the opportunity to murder Miss Trenton.”

  “And Mr. Delancey,” Linette said. Garvin glowered at her. “Motive, then!” She said.

  “We don’t have one,” Garvin said.

  “We must have, everyone else did.”

  “We had a motive to kill your father,” Garvin said, “more than one.”

  “But he’s not dead, is he?” Linette said.

  “Live in hope,” Garvin muttered.

  “Perhaps we killed Eleanor because we wanted to hurt my father,” Linette suggested. “Because he was an obstacle to our happiness.”

  “But like your aunt said, the only person Leo Fulbright cares about is Leo Fulbright.”

  “We didn’t know that then,” Linette said.

  “Oh, I knew,” Garvin said.

  “What about a financial motive, then?”

  “Again, a reason to murder your father, but how would we profit from Eleanor Trenton’s death?”

  “Father was spending my inheritance on that stupid motion picture that Eleanor’s acting was ruining. Not meaning to speak ill of the dead, but she was a little wooden.”

  “A little? If she’d been any more wooden, your father would have splinters in his—er—lips.”

  “But like Aunt Veronica said, if we were going to murder for money, we would have been better off killing my father.”

  “Actually, if your father’s almost broke, we’d have been better off killing your mother.”

  “Ollie!”

  “I was just saying.”

  “I could never kill my mother,” Linette protested. “Or my father,” she quickly added.

  “Where is this getting us?” Garvin asked.

  “Ever-deeper water,” Linette said. “Even I’m beginning to wonder if we didn’t murder them.”

  “Perhaps it’s time we wrapped this up,” Garvin said. He glanced towards Vickery, who nodded encouragingly and smiled. “We didn’t kill them. “There’s no evidence that we did. We don’t really have a motive. And we’re sorry that they are dead.”

  Linette applauded him silently, smiling.

  “You seem to have eliminated all of the suspects, Vickery,” Fulbright said. “Not much of an investigation. I hope the Inspector can make a better fist of it.”

  “Perhaps Benjamin still has a trick up his sleeve,” Margot suggested hopefully.

  “Not really,” Vickery said. “I fear that there is something important that I have overlooked. Some important question I have failed to ask.”

  “You did solve the mystery of the poison pen letters,” Linette said, by way of consolation.

  “Except—” Garvin began, but was stopped by Linette elbowing in the ribs.

  “Except what, my boy?” Vickery said.

  “You said Mr. Fulbright played no part in staging his wife’s accident, and therefore Mr. Bannister had sent his letters to the wrong person.”

  “I said that,” Vickery acknowledged.

  “Then who should he have sent the letters to?” Garvin asked.

  “Did I not say?” Vickery asked. “Margot’s accident was caused by Ted Kimball. It was he who dressed up in the witch costume and leaped out to startle the horse. Artie Delancey found out about it, and to protect Kimball, who was his friend, Artie offered to return the offending costume to the theatre. That is why Mr. Bannister saw Artie returning the costume.”

  Everyone was staring at Kimball. He shifted uncomfortably.

  “You have no proof,” he said. “You’re guessing.”

  “Teddy?” Margot said. “Why?”

  “Did you not have a brief ‘dalliance’ with Mr. Kimball at some point?” He asked Margot.

  “That is not exactly a secret, Benjamin. It lasted all of a week. I was angry with Leo, I don’t even remember why. I wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. I didn’t find it particularly satisfactory.”

  “Do you believe that Mr. Kimball was aware that he was merely functioning as ‘medicine’?” Vickery asked.

  “Of course he did. Didn’t you?” She looked to Kimball for confirmation. He didn’t seem able to provide it. “Teddy?”

  “But that was years ago,” Fulbright said. “Bloody long time to bear a grudge and do nothing about it. Why wait six years?”

  “When you met Eleanor Trenton, were you aware that she and Mr. Kimball were courting?” Vickery asked.

  “I don’t—that is—”

  “Of course he knew,” Margot said, “that was why he pursued her. Teddy had cuckolded him, and Leo wanted his revenge. You can just imagine the conversation, can’t you? Why are you wasting your time with that drunken loser, come and play the queen in my new motion picture.”

 

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