What Happened at Hazelwood? (31 page)

‘And the vital letters were still in the safe. If she had reflected she would have realized that this was now of small importance, since nobody was now likely to misuse them in the way that her husband had threatened to do. She may have felt, however, that the subsequent discovery of documents of such a character might serve to bring suspicion upon her in regard to the tragedy. She therefore seized the first opportunity to remove them. But just how she managed it I cannot say.’

I nodded. ‘Mervyn and Willoughby went into the window embrasure to investigate. And there they fell to some sort of dispute which gave me my chance. I got the keys from the body, tiptoed across the room, opened the safe, and pitched its contents into the fire – including, I suppose, the papers about George and Sharks Bay. The flames leapt so high that I thought they would catch the attention of the lads behind the curtain. But they were quarrelling still. Suddenly my eye fell on those inexplicable boots which I had pitched into a corner. The sheer unaccountability of them scared me and I bundled them into the safe, locked it, and returned the keys. I was scarcely a moment too soon.

‘But I had now only one really substantial fear. Could it conceivably have been Christopher who had killed my husband? But as soon as my panic had gone down I realized that he would never do such a thing in that way. As I knew that Mr Deamer had been below I ought, I suppose, to have suspected him. But how could I guess at his motive, and that it was really myself that he had aimed at? Later I had fears about Timmy, chiefly because of things he had said to me early that morning. And when you seemed to make out a case against him I felt, just as Mr Deamer did, that the truth must be told.’

Inspector Cadover nodded soberly. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘And Sir Timothy must forgive me for forcing the issue in the way I did. It has been a perplexing affair, ladies and gentlemen, but the crime is now solved.’

‘Crime?’ Christopher stood up and walked to the fireplace. ‘May I ask to what crime you refer?’

The Inspector scratched his chin, and I could see that he was taken aback. ‘Well,’ he said cautiously, ‘it is very clear that more than one crime has been brought to light.’

‘Mr Deamer pitched that bronze head at what he conceived to be a demon in the phantasmal form of a woman. The result was an accidental death. Does that constitute a crime?’

‘The accident resulted from his being unlawfully on the premises. Therefore–’

‘But was he? He was virtually invited by Lady Simney or – as he supposed – by Miss Grace Simney, a person of standing in the household. Moreover’ – and Christopher faintly smiled – ‘he was here to guard the morality of his parish. He was engaged in the exercise of a proper pastoral care.

‘And with what other crimes are we confronted? Both George and Denzell Simney were criminals, but both are dead. Hippias Simney appears to have had some notion of blackmailing Bevis, or alternatively these two were considering entering into a conspiracy to defraud the rightful heir; but these things would be uncommonly hard to prove in court. There only remains Lady Simney, as I think we may continue to call her for the time.’

‘Quite so.’ Inspector Cadover looked exceedingly grim. ‘Her actions are indictable, without a doubt.’

‘But why?’ Timmy came forward and stood beside me. ‘She played a trick on Mr Deamer, and that trick had an altogether unforeseen result. She proposed to regain property of her own from her husband–’

‘By threat of violence.’

‘No doubt. But the thing never accomplished itself.’

‘That is of scarcely any significance. She stepped from that mantelpiece armed with a revolver, and her reason for arranging that there should be footprints on the terrace outside was her expectation that her husband might, despite her innocuous intentions, after all be killed.’

Christopher nodded. ‘There is a possible case, of course – and the coroner may find so. But what then? No jury on earth would convict Nicolette. Her story would gain their complete sympathy, and they would take the view that she was playing a mere intimate prank on her objectionable husband when poor Mr Deamer broke in and behaved like a lunatic.’

What Inspector Cadover replied to this I didn’t catch. For I had turned to Timmy. ‘Timmy,’ I whispered, ‘why weren’t you in your room? Was it–?’

Timmy flushed darkly and nodded. ‘I was going through the house and she dodged out of her room and looked at me. You can guess how she would.’

‘I certainly can.’

‘She – she hadn’t even anything much on. I just couldn’t help it, and it turned into a long petting party in her room. It wasn’t very nice.’

I looked at Joyleen; her alarm was abating and she was smoking a cigarette. ‘No doubt,’ I said, ‘you were upset by the departure of the housemaid you used to kiss. But in future, and particularly in your new character as a dashing young baronet, I should be inclined to give Joyleen a wide berth.’

I looked at the others. Inspector Cadover was glancing irresolutely first at myself and then at Mr Deamer; I could see that he was considering whether to arrest one or other of us, or both. Harold was shutting a notebook disconsolately – but catching my eye he gave me a cautious smile. I stood up to go to Christopher. And as I did so Hippias brushed past me and took Timmy by the lapel of his coat. ‘Now, look here,’ he said – and his tone was at once ingratiating and aggrieved – ‘about that bally low trick your father played us over Dismal Swamp…’

Published by House of Stratus

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