Watson's Choice (24 page)

‘Well, here’s one paper we can ignore because it’s got nothing on it at all, and that’s Celia’s mamma’s. Celia herself has four correct answers, but then she’s put down the bicycle of the
Solitary Cyclist
and drawn a little picture of the dancing men. Toby and Brenda Dance don’t seem to have troubled at all. They’ve got the same three answers in a different order, but only the
Blue Carbuncle
goose is correct. They’ve added the whaling harpoon from
Black Peter
and the bust of Napoleon from the
Six Napoleons
’

‘I think the couple went to ground for a heart-to-heart talk in one of the rooms which was originally open to the hunt,’ said Mrs Bradley.

‘Oh, yes, that’s right,’ agreed Laura. ‘I remember overhearing a scrap of their conversation. I suppose they shut themselves away to discuss the divorce. Here’s Mrs Mildren’s paper. Only one thing on it –
paper-chains
. What on earth do you suppose she meant by that?’

‘I do not suppose she meant anything by it. I do not imagine that she is a devotee of Sherlock Holmes.’

‘Mildren himself has put down two correct answers and added
Slipper with tobacco
. That didn’t count because the things had to be connected with the actual cases, not just with Holmes himself. His writing looks all right, though. I suppose he did it before he got sozzled.’

‘He was not drunk that night, child. He simply slipped out after he was supposed to be in bed, and procured the dog. A good thing it was not you to go in that terrible fog.’

‘Yes, I know about the dog, but – oh, well, if you say so. Here’s Gavin’s paper – nine correct answers according to my own. I’m glad I beat him. Oh, here’s Grimston’s. He’s got seven right, but he also has put in the bicycle (I didn’t see one!) and the harpoon. Then he’s put down the dish-cover from the
Naval Treaty
. That would have been all right – it comes in the
Memoirs
– but I suppose it wasn’t included.’

‘There would be one in the kitchen, no doubt, but that had been placed out of bounds,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘Only a person who lived in the house would have thought of it, perhaps. That leaves us only one more list, as Sir Bohun, Mr Bell, and I did not join in.’

‘Yes. It’s Linda Campbell’s. She only got two right, and she’s left it at that. I shouldn’t think Sir B. was frightfully impressed. Wouldn’t she be expected to have studied the book of words? After all, the whole collection is in the house. She’d only to stretch out a hand.’

‘Very true. Perhaps she’s not a devotee, any more than poor Mrs Godley.’

‘I don’t suppose she was,’ agreed Laura. ‘I don’t think she was a devotee of Sir B., either. She was simply after his money. You know, if she’d lived, I think he would have slung her out in the end. I don’t believe he’d have married her.’

‘She was no judge of character,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘That fact was her undoing.’

‘Where do you suppose she got to when she told that ridiculous yarn about being kidnapped?’

‘I am sure she was with a young man.’

‘But the one you saw her with at the
Queen
–’

‘That was not the one.’

‘Well, then, don’t you think this man might have been the killer?’

‘I am certain of it, child.’

‘Yes, I see. But there’s no proof, and we don’t even know what he looks like. I say!’ Laura broke off and gazed with earnest excitement at her employer. ‘The disguised man who hired the dog and kept it at the ghost station! That’s the man for our money!’

‘Yes, of course it is.’

‘Then it all adds up! They’ve been off on this toot together, he’s sick of the
liaison
or he’s afraid his wife might find out, or Linda was a bit too rapacious, or she had begun to blackmail him, so he gets her to meet him at this lonely station and does for her. How’s that for a reconstruction?’

‘Almost complete,’ said Mrs Bradley. At this moment there came an interruption. Celestine, Mrs Bradley’s maid, announced:

‘A gentleman, although one asks oneself a question. He is in the consulting-room,
Madame
. Whether
Madame
is at home?’

‘His name?’

‘He will not give it. He comes in answer to an advertisement in the newspaper and is of a gravity profound,
Madame
. I have removed the silver cigarette case and the picture by Picasso from the room, and have locked all the drawers in the writing-table. I do not trust him. What a type ferocious! One says
un apache
.’

‘
Splendid!
’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘Who knows? You may be entertaining a murderer unawares!’

‘
Madame
amuses herself!’ Celestine opened the door of the consulting-room. Mrs Bradley walked in to confront, as she had expected, Linda Campbell’s companion who had met her at the
Queen of the Circus
.

He stood up, his black Homburg hat in his hands. He was thin-faced, and now looked cadaverous. His eyes were sunk in his head as though he lacked sleep, and his nostrils were pinched as though he had been ill.

‘Doctor Bradley?’ he asked. She nodded.

‘Please sit down, Mr –’

‘Wendon. Gally Wendon. I’m Linda Campbell’s half-brother. I’ve been in hospital. Supposed to be in there still, but when I saw your advertisement in the paper I decided I’d better come along.’

‘Which hospital?’

‘Carnwell Cottage Hospital. How is Linda? Is she all right?’

‘I am afraid not, Mr Wendon. Please prepare yourself for a shock.’

‘Not
dead?
You don’t mean she did it after all? She was always threatening to, but I never believed it would come to anything. I can’t really think … Are you sure?’

‘I am sure she is dead, but she did not take her own life, if that is what you intended to convey.’

‘Thank heaven for that! It was an accident, then. That’s bad enough, in all conscience. How did it happen?’

‘It was no accident, I am afraid. Your half-sister, Mr Wendon, has been murdered. (Laura, dear child, get some brandy.) I have advertised for you in the hope that you can throw some light on what appears to be a very dark business. Please take your time. When you are ready, perhaps you will feel able to answer one or two of my questions.’

Wendon made two mouthfuls of the brandy, and then nodded.

‘I would have come forward before this,’ he said, ‘but the fact is
that
I had a pretty bad spill, had concussion, and didn’t see a paper until yesterday.’

‘I saw you at the
Queen of the Circus
road-house with Miss Campbell at the end of November.’

‘Yes, I met her there by appointment. She wanted money. We were discussing ways and means.’

‘Was she not in receipt of a salary from Sir Bohun Chantrey?’

‘Yes, but she was extravagant. I’ve got her out of more than one mess in my time. As it happened, just before Christmas I’m never very flush – I’m a partner in a small turf commission agency – so it wasn’t easy for me to see my way to helping her. Still, it wanted some thinking about. The little idiot had been borrowing off the Sheenies – her note of hand alone; no security required; that sort of thing – and when she couldn’t keep up the interest – God knows what she proposed to do about the sum she’d actually borrowed – trouble was threatened. Well, she’d set her cap at Sir Bohun and was all out to hook him, if she was telling the truth (which, all too often, she wasn’t), and, once married to him, all her troubles about money would vanish into thin air. That’s what she said. Well, I’ve always been a fool about Linda, so, after we’d talked matters over, I said I could raise enough to keep the sharks at bay, but after that she’d have to fend for herself because I wouldn’t be in a position to raise any more.’

‘And did she get the money from you?’

‘That’s the devil of it – no. I rode to the
Queen of the Circus
on my motor-bike, and, on the way back, swerving to avoid a skidding cyclist on the Cordon by-pass, I lost control, hit a tree and collected a knock on the head that laid me out cold. I haven’t been allowed a book or a paper, and, as my name is different, nobody connected me with Linda, I suppose. In fact, I don’t see how they could.’

‘Which hospital did you say you were in, Mr Wendon?’

‘Carnwell Cottage. You can check with them there. I take it you are connected with the police. You’ll find I was not in a position to be – involved in Linda’s death. Do you mind telling me what happened? I can’t say I feel a tremendous amount of shock, or of grief, either. I’m pretty soft, I think, but she was always the hell of a nuisance, and rather embarrassing, too. Always after some bloke, and most of ’em couldn’t stand her after a bit. She was the gold-digger type, you know. I shouldn’t be surprised if, for once, she had picked the wrong sort of mug.’

From what she had seen of Linda Campbell, Mrs Bradley could well believe all that he was saying. She gave the cadaverous half-brother a succinct account of the discovery of Linda’s body and of the nature of her death, speaking gently, quietly, and with exact truth, whilst he sipped more brandy which had been brought to him.

‘She died instantaneously,’ she concluded. ‘I am a doctor, and I saw the body. She could have felt nothing. The weapon went right through her heart and came out just clear of the spinal cord.’

‘The man was right-handed, then, and must have been powerful beyond the ordinary. I’ve seen that done by a six-foot Jock with a bayonet. Was it a bayonet he used?’

‘The weapon has not been identified yet by the police.’

‘Poor Linda! Still, she had it coming to her. Nobody could play the fool as she did and expect to get away with it in the end.’

‘You cannot, from your knowledge of her, name anyone of her acquaintance who was likely to have reacted in such a way when he heard of her engagement to Sir Bohun?’

‘I haven’t a clue. And if I had’ – his thin face hardened and his emaciated cheek grew flushed – ‘I wouldn’t give the chap away.’

‘My hat!’ said Gavin, when Mrs Bradley reported the interview to him a couple of days later. ‘If you hadn’t checked that he most certainly
was
in hospital at the time of the murder, I wouldn’t put it past him to have done the job himself! Fancy having to act as a bottomless purse to a little such-and-such like her!’

‘I have been to see his partner as well,’ said Mrs Bradley. ‘The last lot of money came out of the firm’s account, and the partner, a man named Neville, was becoming tired of helping to subsidize Linda’s extravagances.’

‘You don’t think that
he
–?’

‘No, no. The case is perfectly clear. The only trouble is that at present we can’t prove it. How are you getting on at your end?’

‘We’re not. Some practical joker is still sending Sir Bohun Chantrey some Sherlock Holmes things by post, though. Bell keeps guard all day and waylays the postman. Sir Bohun fools about with the stuff all day long. He’s very childish, isn’t he?’

‘What does the stalwart Manoel think of all this?’

‘He scorns it. He keeps asking when we can let him go home, but neither Collins nor I is at all keen to part with him at present.
I
think he listens at doors when we’re talking or interviewing people, and yesterday he reminded me that he had taken the part of Doctor Watson at the Sherlock Holmes party and would be interested to see me at work. I’ve promised him that he shall do so to-morrow. I intend to have another go at him. Sir Bohun and he have gone bail for one another. They were fooling about with a bull-fighter’s sword at the time of Linda Campbell’s death, and that sword could have been the weapon. I’m not at all sure that they weren’t in it together, you know.’

‘Still, while they both tell the same tale, you can’t touch either of them,’ said Laura.

‘I know. Of course, Manoel is a very tough nut. He’s probably frightened Sir Bohun into this alibi business. We know Manoel wanted to get rid of Linda Campbell. Anyway, I shall try to get some sense out of him to-morrow.’

He cautioned Lupez before he questioned him.

‘I have to warn you,’ he said, ‘that what you tell me now will be taken down and may be used in evidence. You are a foreigner, and may not understand the implication of what I say. I am cautioning you that if what I suspect is true, you may be called upon to stand your trial. You have no need to answer my questions unless you wish, but if you decide to do so you’re fully entitled to have a lawyer present to look after your interests. Do you understand?’

‘Perfectly,’ Manoel replied. ‘You are very good. I do not think I need a lawyer. Where is your evidence for all this? You cannot even prove that the
espada
was the weapon to kill Linda Campbell. Did you try it in the wound to see whether it fitted?’

He smiled sardonically, as cool and as unafraid as Gavin felt sure he always was in the bull-ring.

‘All right,’ Gavin said. ‘Have it your own way.’

‘It is sometimes well,’ said Manoel, ‘to remember that the great Watson also had his moments. Me, I make a close study of Watson since I play his part. Not a stupid man. Brave, generous-of-heart, alert, of much vigour, a good shot, a good friend – no, I do not call him stupid, nor myself, either.’

‘What’s all this in aid of?’ enquired Gavin. ‘If you’re trying to tell me something, out with it. Don’t beat about the bush.’

‘To beat the bush,’ retorted Manoel with a slight smile, ‘is perhaps to make a little bird fly out of it. May I remind you, also,
please,
of a saying you have in England that a chain is only as strong as its weakest link?’

‘Yes?’ said Gavin, his eyes narrowing.

‘If I were you, Chief Detective-Inspector, I would put much pressure, such as the police understand well how to apply, upon little Miss Celia Godley. I choose to believe that she has something to hide, but I assure you it is nothing to do with me! You see, if you could cause her to say
why
she fed the dog at the station –’

‘How do
you
know she fed the dog at the station?’ demanded Gavin.

‘One hears much if one takes trouble and exercises caution,’ replied the bull-fighter. ‘Well, it is my hint to you, Mr Sherlock Holmes, and it is your good friend Watson who speaks.’