Death on Allhallowe’en (22 page)

‘Brandt persuaded Drummer to scare the wits out of Horseman by a shot from a sporting gun fired in the dark, which would narrowly miss him.

‘This was to be Horseman's last warning. Earlier, as you know, Garries had hung upside down a crucifix which Horseman had given to the church as a sign that his, Horseman's, days were numbered. This piece of occultism had not worked because Horseman gave it no more significance than a childish anonymous letter, and knowing who was ultimately responsible refused to be intimidated. But a warning shot was another matter. It would tell Horseman plainly that if he did not hand over the recording and leave the area he might expect the worst. Charlie's intervention spoiled the effect of the shot, but in any case Horseman was an obstinate and a distrustful man. As you yourself heard he refused to tell us why he was being threatened. When he realised that the shot had peppered the tiles of Murrain's house he regarded it as another empty threat. He under-rated the people he was up against.

‘The plan was now to shoot Horseman as he made his midnight announcement on Allhallowe'en. Drummer was to be the stool-pigeon. He accepted the cost of his cowboy costume because he believe it would help Poley Grant's story, and accepted the loan of a six-shooter to stick in its holster, partly with the same object and partly because he liked firearms and fancied himself as a cowboy. But he did not know a shot had been fired from it shortly before it was handed over. He was to meet Poley Grant in the gallery of the hall sharp at midnight to receive a present for his help. If he had done so he would certainly have been accused of murder. It is doubtful whether the evidence of the ballistics expert would have saved him.
Fortunately he had seen Grant's departure and stayed in the body of the hall till after the shot, and there were plenty of witnesses to prove that he hadn't fired it. This was almost the only flaw in the scheme to frame Drummer.'

‘What a filthy business!' said John. ‘But you say the police found Brandt or Grant or whatever he called himself?'

‘Yes. For another reason. Part of his job was to go through Horseman's possessions and find the recording. I do not know what would have happened to Mavis Horseman if she had stayed in the house that night, but as you remember Margaret Lark brought her back to the rectory. Grant did what he was paid for, and, though he failed to find the recording, he took away all Horseman's papers, including the book on which he was working, in his car. It was for this burglary that the police arrested Brandt. He had left some fingerprints, and in any case it was the sort of job the police are most expert at.

‘Brandt was useful in another way. Staying at Girdlestone, he was not far from Margate and could run over there on the morning of Allhallowe'en and send a telegram to me which was calculated to keep me away from the dance. This was so clumsy that I attribute the idea not to Matchlow, but to Murrain. He knew, via Lucy Smith and Margaret Lark, about the Sticks and gave Brandt the words of the telegram to send. Fortunately I found the Sticks soon enough to return here in time for the dance.

‘Margaret Lark and Lucy Smith, by the way, were not activated by malice, but were natural gossipers, and when skilfully questioned by those interested gave all the information wanted from them.

‘We can pass over Alice Murrain with her wax and needles. The will to kill was certainly there, but unless you wish to believe in her claim to supernatural powers she had not the means.'

‘But who
did
kill Connor Horseman?' said John impatiently. ‘And how?'

'George Garries, of course. By shooting him through the heart.'

‘But…'

‘When I was leaving the hall after the murder I noticed a rather peculiar thing. It did not register fully at the time, but when I came to think about it I began to ask why. The band was in a hurry to leave and I noted that George Garries, the trumpeter and leader, had not waited to put his instrument into its case, but carried both. Why? Although he was in a hurry now, he had had plenty of time while others were leaving the hall. Why should a man carry a trumpet
and
a case when he could put one into the other? Answer, because the case was already full.

‘What I hoped the police would find in the Bottomless Pit was the contents of the case. George Garries had told Billy Trotter and me that his father had taken the car and he had had to walk home—past that disused well. What more convenient way of disposing of it? I took a chance on this and I was right. At the bottom of the well was found a trumpet, and cunningly inserted in its metal was a .38 revolver. When the band stood up at midnight to play the national anthem it was this trumpet which George had pointed at Horseman, and on the first note the stop he pressed with his finger connected with the trigger.'

John Stainer thought about this for a long time, then said, ‘I'm not doubting you, Carolus. But there are one or two questions I would like to ask. When I left for home, a little before midnight, the band sat facing the audience. Horseman's lectern was to their right, and if I remember correctly slightly to their rear. How could George have shot Horseman from there?'

‘It was
God Save the Queen
they were about to play, so that they were all on their feet. And because of Horseman's ridiculous trick of tapping with a baton they had turned towards him. It was on the first note of the national anthem, that is on the word God, that George pulled the trigger.'

'But how could he have achieved such perfect aim with the instrument you describe?'

‘You've forgotten the chalk drawings. Pentagrams and that. What appeared to be part of the black magic in the case was an exact indication of the aim he should take. Horseman would be standing to attention, square at his lectern. The drawings enabled George to point his instrument precisely. And the other questions?'

‘How did he get hold of the thing? It would need an expert to make it.'

‘There was one—at hand. Albert Gunning may not have realised the lethal purpose of it. He probably believed George, and George probably said that it was to fire a blank cartridge to ruin Horseman's speech. I was told more than once what a brilliantly clever metalworker Albert was and he certainly gave proof of it. Besides, he had a violent prejudice against Horseman. He believed he was in some way responsible for Cyril's death.'

‘Why were you so anxious for the police to arrest George at the cinema?'

‘I did not want another shot fired at me, for one thing. I don't think George would have missed again. I was pretty sure it was he who had fired the night before because it was a rifle—the one which William later used to commit suicide probably. The Canadians were careless with arms, but I didn't think there could be more than one rifle in the district. But there was another reason. George was one of those men who, while appearing solid and manly, have highly emotional characters. The sight, the really appalling sight, of the father to whom he was devoted, for whose sake he had committed his crime, might easily have driven him to the same recourse. I think that a murderer should be brought to trial.'

‘You know, Carolus, you give the impression that you think Connor Horseman was in some way to blame for his own death.'

‘I do.'

‘For not telling you that first night what he feared?'

'No. For not going to the police at once when he heard the recording. He knew that Cyril Gunning had died from the effects of that night and he had no right to suppress evidence for his own ends. It would have put a stop to all that horrible business for good and sent Xavier Matchlow to a well-deserved prison sentence for manslaughter.'

‘Yes. I see that. It would have made a frightful scandal here, but…'

‘Scandals are not always frightful. Sometimes they clear the air.'

‘Yes. Quite a scandal must have been created in Jerusalem two thousand years ago.'

Carolus nodded and a few moments later went up to bed. Next day he thanked John and Mrs Lark for their hospitality and left for home. He never returned to Clibburn.

*
Or reader! L.B.