The Riddle at Gipsy's Mile (An Angela Marchmont Mystery 4) (33 page)

I hid my feelings, naturally, and met her with reserved politeness, since too effusive a greeting woul
d have looked suspicious, and she could hardly expect me to be overjoyed at her existence. We sat down to tea, and she immediately handed me some documents which, she said, ought to allay any uncertainty I might have had as to the legitimacy of her claims.
One of them was a marriage certificate, which immediately proved beyond all doubt that she had been telling the truth in that respect, at least. The other was her son
’
s birth certificate, which appeared to show the correct date, given the short time she
a
nd my son had spent together
—
although, of course, with that type of person nothing can be taken for granted. Still, her claim was a strong one, as was that of her son.

I confess my heart sank at that moment, at the thought of the task which lay before me.
Had she been telling lies I might have sent her about her business and given no further thought to the matter, but this could not so easily be got over. I should wish you to understand, Mrs. Marchmont, that I am not an evil woman, and that I feel the same
distaste for wickedness as anyone might be supposed to do. Nonetheless, I felt myself forced to act given what was at stake. If I failed to do so, then Blakeney Park would eventually pass into the hands of this boy, a usurper, and there would be nothing w
e
could do about it
—
even supposing Gilbert and Lucy produced a son of their own, as I had long hoped.

And so I acted. I invited her to stay to dinner, and said that she was most welcome to stay the night, as I had already mentioned
—
although, for the purpose
s of discretion I had arranged for comfortable accommodation to be prepared for her in a cottage in the grounds. She quite understood, she said, and was perfectly happy to do as I thought best.

We ate in my private apartment, rather than in the dining-room
, and maintained all appearances of being on polite and friendly terms. I must say that she kept it up very well, and never for a second gave the slightest hint that she was anything other than a devoted mother who wished only the best for her son. I knew
better, of course, and it only strengthened my determination to resolve the problem as soon as possible.

I had, before her arrival, provided myself with a small amount of arsenic from the stores we keep around the place as a matter of course, taking care t
hat nobody should notice that any of it had gone missing. Our first course was soup, and I was tempted to put the arsenic in that, but I resisted since I did not want her to be taken ill before I had had the chance to get her out of the house. She therefo
r
e enjoyed her dinner in unadulterated form, and I waited for my opportunity. At last, she asked if she might be shown to her accommodation as she was rather tired. I acquiesced, but urged her to take a cup of hot chocolate with me before she went, and she
agreed. The chocolate arrived and I put the arsenic into it under the pretence of adding some sugar. Nothing could have been easier. She drank it greedily, and then I escorted her myself out of the house and to the cottage
—
since it was a fine night, and I
should like a little fresh air, I said. I then went to bed, with the intention of returning the next day. I knew nobody would pass near the place, and was certain that everything had gone according to plan, and so I slept well, confident that I had resolv
e
d the matter to everyone
’
s satisfaction.

Of course, I was wrong. The next morning I returned to the cottage, expecting to find a dead body to be disposed of. Instead, I discovered to my great consternation that Lily was no longer there, although the arseni
c had evidently taken effect, to judge by the state of the room. I am not often moved to fright, Mrs. Marchmont, but you will no doubt appreciate the agitation of my mind on this particular occasion. For a few minutes, indeed, I had no idea how to act. I
s
oon gathered my faculties, however, and set out to look for her. I assumed that in the throes of her illness she had attempted to fetch help, and thought it likely that I should find her collapsed in the grounds somewhere. I searched for some time but cou
l
d find no trace of her, and eventually decided that I had better return to the house, lest my uncharacteristic activity draw notice and suspicion.

That was the Thursday morning. At that time, I had no idea that Gilbert had returned unexpectedly the night b
efore and was even then weeping over the girl
’
s body, believing, in his muddle-headed way, that he had killed her himself. I went inside and sat in dreadful apprehension, waiting for the inevitable moment when a servant would come and tell me that the bod
y
of a woman had been found in the Park
—
or, worse still, that she had been found alive and had somehow been able to accuse me. The moment never came, however, and I began to breathe more easily. I even began to hope that she had escaped Blakeney altogether
and had died elsewhere. Later that evening, Gilbert came in and said only that he was back early as he had finished his business sooner than he expected. I assumed he had just returned at that moment, and was relieved that he had not been there to witness
the incident. As a matter of fact, of course, he had returned the day before without telling me and had been the one to find her.

You know the rest. On the Friday you rather inconveniently stumbled upon the body that my son and Miles Harrison had so though
tfully hidden, and set in train the series of events which led to Gilbert
’
s being arrested for the murder of his wife. I do not blame you for this, naturally. You were only doing your duty, and under any other circumstances I should applaud it. In this in
s
tance, however
—
well, there is nothing to be said. What is done is done, and it is useless to wish things otherwise.

Now to business. I saw, when you came to visit me the other day, that you suspected the truth about what had happened. You also had the good
sense not to say anything
—
realizing, I suppose, that I should never dream of allowing my son to be hanged for murder in my stead and that a full confession on my part would be a more efficient way of going about things. I do not wish to go to the gallows
either, of course, but in my case the matter is more easily resolved, since I am already weak and have to hand a bottle of medicine which can easily be taken in overdose if necessary
—
although a cold feeling has begun to creep through my body lately which
t
ells me that it will probably not be needed. If the police require proof, they will find it in the closet nearest to my bed, where I have hidden the remains of the arsenic, together with the little bag in which Lily carried her night-things and personal e
f
fects. It is of leather, and ought to be easy to test for finger-prints, which will show that my son never touched it. I should like to state quite clearly that he had nothing whatsoever to do with Lily
’
s death
—
indeed, I imagine it will come as quite a sh
o
ck to him to discover that his own mother is a murderer. I understand he is likely to be prosecuted for tampering with the body, but that cannot be helped. I am sure that Lucy will arrange an admirable defence for him, and that any sentence will be a ligh
t
one.

I told you, Mrs. Marchmont, that I was prepared to remove myself from Blakeney Park in order to secure its future and that of my son, and now you will see that I spoke only the truth. I have instructed my maid to send this letter to you after my deat
h, and am placing the utmost faith in you to do what is right and ensure that Gilbert is released as soon as possible. There will, no doubt, be many legal matters to settle
—
not least the question of what is to become of the boy who, it now appears, is the
legitimate heir to the estate. Since the problem is unlikely to be got over, perhaps the best thing will be for Gilbert and Lucy to take him in after they are married, since I understand he is presently very poor and neglected. He will certainly need to b
e
educated in the ways of Blakeney before he can be trusted to run the place. However, that will be for them to decide.

It has taken me several days to write this letter, and I feel myself growing weak now, so I shall finish here. I am leaving this whole bu
siness in your hands, Mrs. Marchmont: since you were, in a manner of speaking, the person who began the thing, I think it only fair that you be the one to end it. If you feel inclined to judge me harshly, please remember that throughout all this my only t
h
ought has been to protect the Blakeney estate and to ensure the happiness and comfort of my son. Can any mother truly say that they would not do the same?

I trust that everything has now been explained to your satisfaction and that of the police, and remai
n,

Yours sincerely,

A. Blakeney

‘
Then you never believed that Gil did it?
’
said Freddy Pilkington-Soames, as he prodded at an oyster with his fork and then regarded it, frowning.

‘
I wouldn
’
t say that, exactly,
’
said Angela,
‘
but the fact of
the arsenic did rather point in another direction, since it required a certain amount of planning. I could easily imagine that Gil might have strangled Lita or hit her over the head in a moment of panic, but the poison didn
’
t seem to fit his character at
all. Once he was arrested, though, I had the feeling that the real murderer would confess.
’

Freddy decided he did not like the look of the first oyster and picked up another one.

‘
Did you find the evidence, as she said?
’
he asked Inspector Jameson.
‘
You ca
n tell us, can
’
t you, now that the whole thing is over and done with? Old Bickerstaffe has been simply dying for me to get the low-down from you, but you
’
ve been as silent as the grave. Surely, now that Gilbert has been sent on his way with a rap over the
knuckles, you can speak up and tell all? Do have pity, inspector
—
my reputation as the new boy wonder of Fleet Street is at stake, especially since the
—
er
—
little disagreement at Marguerite
’
s exhibition.
’

‘
I suppose there
’
s no harm in telling you now,
’
said
Jameson.
‘
Yes, we found Lita
’
s bag in the cupboard as she said, together with Lady Alice
’
s letter to her. She had brought it with her, as instructed. We also found Lita
’
s letters to Lady Alice hidden away in a writing-desk, which confirm the whole thing.
’

‘
Then there is no suggestion that Gil had anything at all to do with it?
’

‘
None that we can find. He appears to have been caught up in it completely unwittingly
—
although, of course, that
’
s no excuse for what he did. The Littlechurch police are still planni
ng to prosecute him and Mr. Harrison for preventing the lawful and decent burial of a body.
’

‘
It was very foolish of him,
’
said Angela,
‘
but it
’
s difficult not to feel some sympathy towards him. He must have suffered torments, believing that he had killed
Lita.
’

‘
It serves him right for ignoring her letters,
’
said Freddy severely.
‘
That
’
s a rotter
’
s trick. He married the woman and she was his responsibility. He ought to have faced up to it like a man. You
’
re too soft-hearted, Angela. By the way, how did Gil
take the news of his mother
’
s crime, inspector? It must have hit him pretty hard.
’

‘
I
’
m not sure he quite took it in,
’
said Jameson.
‘
Not after everything else that had happened. The whole experience has completely shaken him up. Lucy is looking after him
now, though, and I
’
ve no doubt is doing it with admirable competence.
’

‘
Oh, by the way,
’
said Angela,
‘
did you know that they
’
ve decided to bring the wedding forward? It
’
s to be at Christmas now.
’

‘
No,
’
said Jameson.
‘
I can
’
t say I
’
m surprised, though. No
w that Lady Alice has gone, young Blakeney has no doubt decided that he needs Lucy to take care of him and the estate.
’

‘
Rot,
’
said Freddy.
‘
I
’
ll bet it
’
s all Lucy
’
s doing. She wants to pin him down and make it all legal before he runs off and marries anot
her chorus-girl then forgets about it.
’

‘
I imagine she
’
ll be keeping a close eye on him from now on,
’
agreed the inspector.
‘
She
’
s an odd one, Lucy Syms. I don
’
t mind confessing that I find her a puzzle in many ways.
’

‘
Do you think she was shocked to disco
ver that the whole thing was Lady Alice
’
s doing?
’
said Freddy.

‘
I imagine so,
’
said Jameson.

Angela said nothing. She had her own ideas about exactly how much Lucy had known of the plan to kill Lita de Marquez, but there was no proof and it seemed useless
to bring it all up again. Lady Alice had taken all the blame upon herself and the affair was considered closed. Nonetheless, Angela could not help but remember the first time she had seen Lucy, sitting there on Castana by the side of the road on that mist
y
afternoon. What was she doing out in the fog? Had she perhaps been looking for something
—
or someone? Lita had gone missing from the cottage in the Park and it was a matter of urgency to find out what had happened to her. Despite their mutual dislike, had
Lady Alice taken Lucy into her confidence, knowing that Lucy would do anything to save Gil and the estate? Angela supposed they would never know.

‘
I see the Copernicus Club has reopened,
’
said Freddy.
‘
I don
’
t expect Johnny Chang is feeling particularly we
ll-disposed towards you chaps
—
although I suppose he ought to be relieved that you didn
’
t hang him.
’

‘
Yes,
’
said Jameson.
‘
As a matter of fact, I was thinking of having a quiet word with the powers that be at the licensing office about issuing a later licen
ce for the club.
’

‘
I shouldn
’
t if I were you,
’
said Freddy.
‘
If you do that, then the place will lose all its cachet. Why, the only reason most people go is for the thrill of being raided by the police. Mrs. Chang and young Johnny know that very well, and
I
’
m pretty sure they wouldn
’
t thank you.
’

‘
But Mrs. Chang is in prison. She can
’
t possibly have planned that.
’

‘
It
’
s a hazard of the job, I assure you,
’
said Freddy.

‘
How odd,
’
said Inspector Jameson, as though the idea had never struck him before.

‘
Oh yes,
’
said Freddy.
‘
You wouldn
’
t want the place to become unfashionable and go out of business, would you? Not now that all the staff have got their jobs back.
’

‘
I suppose not,
’
said the inspector.

‘
Well, then, there you have it,
’
said Freddy.
‘
I say, w
hy don
’
t you go there one night yourself? It
’
s rather good fun. They have an awfully good orchestra. You could take Angela
—
you
’
re more her age than I am.
’

‘
Thank you,
’
said Angela dryly.

‘
I shall
—
er
—
think about it,
’
said Jameson,
‘
although I
’
m not
entirely
sure the superintendent would approve.
’

Freddy looked at his watch.

‘
I
’
d better go,
’
he said.
‘
Mr. Rowbotham is speaking in Brixton this afternoon, and I have it on good authority that trouble is expected from a group known as the Young Bolshevists. They
are planning to let off fireworks and smoke-bombs, apparently. I should hate to miss that.
’

‘
Freddy,
’
said Angela suspiciously, and he had the grace to blush.

‘
It
’
s nothing to do with me, I promise,
’
he said hurriedly.
‘
As a matter of fact, it was all thou
ght up by my friend St. John, who seems to have become rather
—
er
—
militant lately. I don
’
t suppose the Labour Party will select him as a candidate after this. Still, it ought to be worth seeing, don
’
t you think?
’

He saluted them and sauntered off.

‘
Will the
re really be fireworks and smoke-bombs?
’
said Jameson in some concern.

‘
One never knows with Freddy,
’
she replied,
‘
but I shouldn
’
t be a bit surprised.
’

It was late in November when Angela returned to Littlechurch. Vassily had been released from prison and
Marguerite was making a second attempt to stage her exhibition, this time without interference. When Angela arrived at the crowded church hall a little later than she had planned, she found the young Russian striking a dramatic attitude next to his work
a
nd holding forth to Mrs. Henderson, the vicar
’
s wife, on the state of modern art and the exceptional talents of his hostess. He was in no way chastened by his spell in gaol, which he dismissed as a mere inconvenience; he was much more upset at the destruc
t
ion of his statue by that criminal Freddy, or Teddy, or whatever his name was. It was a good thing, he said darkly, that the young man had not dared to show himself this time: otherwise he, Vassily, might have been forced to act.

‘
Fortunately, I have been
able to mend statue,
’
he said, indicating the last in the
Eternity of the Damned
series, which to Angela
’
s eye looked as good as new,
‘
and for that, I shall not kill him. But he had better keep away in future.
’

He waved expressively, and Angela started sli
ghtly as she noticed on his wrist something that she recognized immediately.

‘
I rather like your watch,
’
she said. He glanced at it complacently.

‘
Thank you,
’
he said.
‘
It is present from Mrs. Harrison. She is very kind lady. I owe to her everything.
’

He b
lew an extravagant kiss towards Marguerite, who preened a little. Angela suppressed a laugh.

‘
I
’
m
so
glad you decided to come, darling,
’
said Marguerite to Angela.
‘
Cynthia tried to invite herself, you know, but I still haven
’
t forgiven her for that horrid
piece she wrote after the last exhibition, so I said she couldn
’
t come. She was terribly contrite, so I suppose I shall forgive her eventually, but I couldn
’
t bear the thought of something going wrong again and her giving me that malicious look, as she d
i
d last time, then running off to twist the knife in her silly society column.
’