Authors: Anthony Horowitz
There was a long silence.
‘The conversation that you have described,’ Pünd muttered. ‘How close was it, do you think, to the reality? Were those exactly the words used by Sir Magnus?’
‘As best as I can remember, Mr Pünd.’
‘He did not, for example, greet you by name?’
‘He knew who I was, if that’s what you mean. But no. It was just that single word – “You!” – as if I’d crawled out from under some stone.’
‘What did you do next?’
‘What could I do? I went back to my car and drove off.’
‘The bicycle that you had seen. Was it still there?’
‘I can’t remember, to be honest. I didn’t look.’
‘So you left …’
‘I was angry. I’d driven a long way and I hadn’t expected to be dismissed out of hand. I got about ten or fifteen miles down the road and then – you know what? – I changed my mind. I was still thinking of Robert. I was still thinking of what was right. And who was bloody Magnus Pye to slam the door in my face? That man had been pushing me around since the day I’d met him and suddenly I’d had enough. I drove back to Pye Hall and this time I didn’t stop at the Lodge. I drove right up to the front door, got out and rang the bell again.’
‘You had been away for how long?’
‘Twenty minutes? Twenty-five? I didn’t look at my watch. I didn’t care about the time. I was just determined to have it out, only this time, Sir Magnus didn’t come to the door. I rang twice more. Nothing. So I opened the letter box and knelt down, meaning to shout at him. I was going to tell him he was a bloody coward and that he should come to the door.’ Blakiston broke off. ‘That was when I saw him. There was so much blood I couldn’t miss him. He was lying in the hallway right in front of my eyes. I didn’t realise then that his head had been lopped off. The body was facing away from me, thank God. But I knew at once that he was dead. There could be no doubt of it.
‘I was shocked. More than that. I was poleaxed. It was like I’d been punched in the face. I felt myself falling and I thought I was going to faint. Somehow, I managed to get back to my feet. I knew that someone had killed Sir Magnus in the last twenty minutes, in the time that I’d left and come back again. Perhaps they’d been with him when I’d knocked the first time. They could actually have been listening to me, inside the hallway. Maybe they waited until I’d gone and killed him then.’
Blakiston lit another cigarette. His hand was shaking.
‘I know what you’re going to ask, Mr Pünd. Why didn’t I go to the police? Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I was the last person to see him alive and at the same time I had every reason to want him dead. I’d lost my son and I blamed Sir Magnus. I’d lost my wife and she was working for him too. That man has been like the devil at the feast and if the police are looking for a suspect, they won’t need to look any further than me. I didn’t kill him but I knew straight away what they’d think and all I wanted to do was to get the hell out of there. I picked myself up and got back in the car and I drove away as fast as I could.
‘Another car arrived just as I passed through the gate. I didn’t see anything, just a pair of headlights. But I was afraid that whoever was driving would have got my number plate and reported me. Was that what happened?’
‘It was Lady Pye in the car,’ Pünd told him. ‘She had just returned from London.’
‘Well, I’m sorry I had to leave her to it. It must have been horrible for her. But all I wanted to do was get away. That was my only thought.’
‘Mr Blakiston, do you have any idea who may have been in the house with Sir Magnus Pye when you visited?’
‘How could I possibly know? I didn’t hear anyone. I didn’t see anyone.’
‘Could it have been a woman?’
‘Curiously, that was my thought. If he was having a secret assignation, or whatever you might want to call it, he might have behaved the same way.’
‘Are you aware that your son is amongst the suspects who are believed to have killed Sir Magnus?’
‘
Robert
? Why? That’s madness. He had no reason to kill him. In fact – I’ve told you – he always looked up to Sir Magnus. The two of them were thick as thieves.’
‘But he has precisely the same motivation as yourself. He could have held Sir Magnus responsible for the death of both his brother and his mother.’ Pünd raised a hand before Blakiston could answer. ‘I just find it puzzling that you did not come forward with the information that you have given me now. You say that you did not kill him and yet by remaining silent you have allowed the real killer to remain undetected. The matter of the bicycle, for example, is of great importance.’
‘Maybe I should have come forward,’ Blakiston replied. ‘But I knew it would go badly for me, like it always has. The truth of it is, I wish I’d never gone near the place. Sometimes you read books about houses that have a curse. I’ve always thought that was a lot of nonsense but I’d believe it about Pye Hall. It killed my wife and my child and if you tell the police what I’ve told you, I’ll probably end up being hanged.’ He smiled mirthlessly. ‘And then it will have killed me.’
Pünd barely spoke on the way back and James Fraser knew better than to interrupt his thoughts. He handled the Vauxhall expertly, pushing through the various gear changes and holding the middle of the road as the sun set and the shadows closed in on all sides. It was the only time he ever felt completely in control, when he was behind the wheel. They had taken the Aust ferry across the River Severn, sitting together in silence as the Welsh coast slipped away behind them. Fraser was hungry. He’d had nothing to eat since the morning. They sold sandwiches on the ferry but they were none too appetising and anyway, Pünd didn’t like food in the car.
They reached the other side and drove through the Gloucester countryside, the same route that Blakiston would have taken to see Sir Magnus Pye. Fraser hoped to be in Saxby-on-Avon by seven o’clock, in time for dinner.
Eventually, they reached Bath and began to follow the road that would bring them to Pye Hall, with the valley, now quite dark, stretching out on their left.
‘Gold!’ Pünd hadn’t spoken for so long that Fraser started, hearing his voice.
‘I’m sorry?’ he asked.
‘The fool’s gold concealed by Sir Magnus Pye. I am convinced that everything revolves around it.’
‘But fool’s gold isn’t worth anything.’
‘Not to you, James. Not to me. That is exactly the point.’
‘It killed Tom Blakiston. He tried to get it out of the lake.’
‘Ah yes. The lake, you know, has been a dark presence in this tale, as in the stories of King Arthur. The children played beside the lake. One of them died in the lake. And Sir Magnus’s silver, that too was concealed in the lake.’
‘You know, Pünd. You’re not making a lot of sense.’
‘I think of King Arthur and dragons and witches. In this story there was a witch and a dragon and a curse that could not be lifted …’
‘I take it you know who did it.’
‘I know everything, James. I had only to make the connections and it all became very clear. Sometimes, you know, it is not the physical clues that lead to the solution of the crime. The words spoken by the vicar at a funeral or a scrap of paper burned in a fire – they suggest one thing but then they lead to quite another. The room that is locked at the Lodge House. Why was it locked? We think we have the answer but a moment’s thought will assure us we are wrong. The letter addressed to Sir Magnus. We know who wrote it. We know why. But again, we are misled. We have to think. It is all conjecture but soon we see that there can be no other way.’
‘Did Matthew Blakiston help you?’
‘Matthew Blakiston told me everything I need to know. It was he who started all this.’
‘Really? What did he do?’
‘He killed his wife.’
Annoying, isn’t it?
I got to the end of the manuscript on Sunday afternoon and rang Charles Clover immediately. Charles is my boss, the CEO of Cloverleaf Books, publishers of the Atticus Pünd series. My call went straight to voicemail.
‘Charles?’ I said. ‘What happened to the last chapter? What exactly is the point of giving me a whodunnit to read when it doesn’t actually say who did it? Can you call me back?’
I went down to the kitchen. There were two empty bottles of white wine in the bedroom and tortilla crumbs on the duvet. I knew I’d been indoors too long but it was still cold and damp outside and I couldn’t be bothered to go out. There was nothing decent to drink in the house so I opened a bottle of raki that Andreas had brought back from his last trip to Crete, poured myself a glass and threw it back. It tasted like all foreign spirits do after they’ve passed through Heathrow. Wrong. I’d brought the manuscript down with me and I went through it again, trying to work out how much might be missing. The last section would have been called ‘A Secret Never to be Told’, which was certainly appropriate, given the circumstances. Since Pünd had announced that he’d already worked out the solution, it could only have had two or maybe three sections. Presumably, he would gather the suspects, tell them the truth, make an arrest, then go home and die. I knew that Alan Conway had wanted to end the series for a while but it had still come as an unpleasant surprise to find that he had done exactly that. The brain tumour struck me as a slightly unoriginal way to dispatch his main character but it was also unarguable, which I suppose is why he had chosen it. I have to admit that if I shed a tear, it was more for our future sales figures.
So who killed Sir Magnus Pye?
I had nothing better to do so I drew out a pad of paper and a pen and sat down in the kitchen with the typescript beside me. It even occurred to me that Charles might have done this on purpose, to test me. He’d be in the office when I got there on Monday – he was always the first to arrive – and he’d ask for the solution before he gave me the final pages. Charles does have a strange sense of humour. I’ve often seen him chuckling at jokes that nobody else in the room is aware that he’s made.
1. Neville Brent, the groundsman.
He’s the most obvious suspect. First of all, he dislikes Mary Blakiston and has just been fired by Sir Magnus Pye. He has a simple, clear-cut reason to do away with both of them. Also, he’s the only character in the book connected to all the deaths. He’s there at the house when Mary dies and he’s virtually the last person to see Sir Magnus alive. Supposedly, he goes straight to the Ferryman when he finishes work on the night of the death but Conway throws in a strange detail on page 77. Brent reaches the pub
twenty-five minutes later
. Why is he so specific about the time? It may be an extraneous detail and it may even be wrong – let’s not forget, we’re dealing with a first draft here. But I was under the impression that the Ferryman was only ten minutes away from Pye Hall and the extra fifteen minutes might have given Brent time to double back, to slip in through the back door while Sir Magnus was talking to Matthew Blakiston and to kill him immediately afterwards.
There’s something else about Brent. It’s almost certain that he’s a paedophile. ‘He was a solitary man, unmarried, definitely peculiar – a certain smell lingered in the air, the smell of a man living alone.’ The police find Boy Scout magazines on his bedroom floor and, quite casually, on page 144, we’re told that he was once caught spying on Scouts who were camping in Dingle Dell. These details leapt out at me because, by and large, there’s so little sex in the Atticus Pünd novels – although it’s worth remembering that the killer in
Gin & Cyanide
turns out to be gay (she poisons her lesbian partner). Did Brent have an unhealthy interest in the two boys, Tom and Robert Blakiston? It’s surely no coincidence that he is the one who ‘discovers’ Tom Blakiston when he has drowned in the lake. I even wonder about the deaths of his mother and father, supposedly in a motor accident. And finally, he was probably the one who killed the dog.
All of which said, it is the first law of whodunnits that the most likely suspect never turns out to be the killer. So I suppose that rules him out.
2. Robert Blakiston, the car mechanic
Robert is also linked to all three deaths. In his own way, he’s as weird as Brent. He has pale skin and an awkward haircut. He never got on with the other children at school, he was arrested in Bristol and, most pertinently, he has a difficult relationship with his mother that culminates with a public row in which he more or less threatens to kill her. I’m cheating here but, speaking as an editor, it would also be quite satisfying if Robert were the murderer as Joy Sanderling only goes to Pünd because she’s trying to protect him. I can easily imagine a last chapter in which her own hopes are destroyed when her fiancé is unmasked. That’s the solution I would have chosen.
However, there are two major problems with this theory. The first is that unless Joy Sanderling was lying, Robert couldn’t possibly have killed his mother because the two of them were in bed together at the time it occurred. It’s probably true that the pink motor scooter would have been noticed as it whizzed down to Pye Hall at nine o’clock in the morning (although it doesn’t seem to have stopped the killer from using the vicar’s squeaky bicycle at nine o’clock at night). More significantly though, and Pünd mentions this on at least one occasion, Robert doesn’t seem to have any motive for killing Sir Magnus who has only ever been kind to him. Could he have blamed Sir Magnus for the death of his younger brother when they were playing at the lake? He had, after all, supplied the fool’s gold that had caused the tragedy and Robert was the second person to arrive on the scene, plunging into the water to help drag his brother out. He must have been traumatised. Could he even have blamed him for the death of his mother?
Maybe Robert is my number one suspect after all and Brent my second. I don’t know.
3. Robin Osborne, the vicar
Alan Conway has a habit of playing a minor card at the end of the game. In
No Rest for the Wicked
, for example, Agnes Carmichael, who turns out to be the killer, hasn’t spoken a word – hardly surprising, as she’s a deaf mute. I don’t think Osborne kills Sir Magnus because of Dingle Dell. Nor do I think that he kills Mary Blakiston because of whatever it was that she found on his desk. But it’s certainly interesting that his bicycle has been used during the second crime. Could he really have been in the church all that time? And on page 98 Henrietta notices a bloodstain on her husband’s sleeve. This isn’t mentioned again but I’m sure that Conway would have got to it in the missing pages.