The Affair of the Thirty-Nine Cufflinks (16 page)

'I tend to doubt that one could so rapidly contract it via a third person, not herself showing symptoms, my lady. May I suggest you may have strained it yesterday during your full-throated rendering of
She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain
?'

'You heard that?'

'Yes, my lady, I happened to be on the terrace outside at the time - I had occasion to go out to speak to MacDonald about some flowers - and the library window was open.'

She gave him a quizzical look. 'I see. Very convenient. It was a dying wish of Great Aunt Florence, by the way.'

'I surmised something of that nature.'

'Is there anything that happens in Alderley that you don't know about, Merry?'

'I do my best to avoid that state of affairs, my lady. In the interests of the Family.'

'So, perhaps you know who murdered Mrs Saunders?'

'Unfortunately I do not. However, apropos of that, there was one rather unusual incident this morning, which might be of interest to you if you are concerning yourself with the elucidation of the mystery.'

'You bet. Tell me.' Gerry was all ears.

He explained about the locked door of the telephone room and how he had deduced that the telephone had recently been used.

'Well done, Merry!' she said when he'd finished. 'You're obviously a natural detective. I can see I'm going to have to get you to help me on this case. After all, Bunter, Lord Peter Wimsey's man, often assists him in his investigations.'

'I am slightly acquainted with Mr Bunter, my lady; an admirable man, but I fear I do not share either his ability at or enthusiasm for ratiocination and criminology.'

'Where's your spirit of adventure?'

'I have none, your ladyship.'

He went out. Gerry pondered. Why should one of the guests not want it known they had made a phone call? After all, most of them would be likely to have people they would need to notify of their delayed return. So why try to conceal the fact?

The Earl and Countess were the next down, followed at few-minute intervals by the guests. If the atmosphere at dinner the previous evening had been strained, the tension this morning was almost palpable, with no one in the mood for talking.

At about twenty-five past ten, the ambulance, which was to convey Clara's body to the mortuary, arrived. There was some discussion as to whether Dorothy should be awakened to witness the departure, but in the end it was decided it would be better if she were not. Everyone else gathered in the great hall and there was a solemn silence as the stretcher was carried downstairs and outside. Only Miss Mackenzie showed any sign of emotion, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, but Gerry suspected this was a matter of form for her, rather than genuine feeling.

After this, nobody seemed quite to know what to do. People wandered from room to room, sitting down, flicking through magazines or books or just staring into space. Others went outside and mooched round, looking at the flower beds or just staring up at the house. It was as though everyone had retreated into a private world. Gerry had planned to engage each of them in turn in conversation and question them so subtly that they would not even realise that they were being interrogated; but their attitudes made this impossible. It was as if the spectre of the return of Wilkins hung like the sword of Damocles over the entire household, she said to herself, enjoying the mixed metaphor.

At last, at about ten forty, a police car rolled up the drive and stopped in front of the house. Wilkins and Leather alighted. Merryweather admitted them and showed them into the morning-room, where the family were waiting.

'Good morning, your lordship, your ladyship, your ladyship,' Wilkins began, sounding rather liked a cracked gramophone record. He looked more cheerful this morning. 'First of all, let me apologise for being late, but there were many things to attend to. Now, while Mr Merryweather is here, could you tell me who it was who served the deceased lady refreshments in her room last night? It seems she must have been the last person, apart from the murderer, to see Mrs Saunders alive.'

'It was the maid Janet, Chief Inspector,' Merryweather said.

'I'd like Sergeant Leather to have a word with her, if that is agreeable to you, my lady.'

'Of course,' said the Countess. 'I trust she is in no way a suspect, Mr Wilkins.'

'Oh, by no means, your ladyship. And it is highly unlikely she will be able to tell us anything useful, but we have to go through the form. And perhaps afterwards the Sergeant could briefly speak to the other servants, just on the off-chance that one of them heard or saw something.'

'Arrange that, will you, please, Merryweather?'

'Yes, my lady. And will you be requiring coffee?'

'Well, I for one only finished breakfast about twenty minutes ago,' said the Earl. 'And I imagine you'll be wanting to make a start straight away with your investigations, eh, Wilkins?'

'Actually, my lord, a cup of coffee would be most welcome.'

'Oh, then, of course. I suppose we'll all have some. Help to get us back to the normal timetable, I suppose, at least.'

Merryweather and Leather went out. 'Better take the weight off your feet, Wilkins,' said the Earl.

'Thank you, my lord.' He sat down in a deep leather easy chair and gave a sigh.

'Tell me,' Gerry said, 'why do you rule out any of the servants being involved?'

'I asked Mr Merryweather when I arrived whether any of them were new, and he said no, that they'd all been with you for at least three or four years, many much longer. They're all local people. I just cannot imagine one of them suddenly deciding to murder one of your guests. In fact, I have never come across a country house case in which any of the servants was guilty. It's true that some years ago there did seem to be a spate of cases all over the country, and in the United States, too, I believe, in which the butler turned out to be the villain, but that trend is long past.'

'Oh, talking of butlers, Merryweather was telling me he did a piece of detection this morning.' She narrated the story of the locked door.

Wilkins nodded. 'Interesting,' he said, not sounding remotely interested.

'Why would somebody do that, do you suppose?'

'Someone having a private conversation and didn't want to be interrupted, I imagine. Probably didn't hear somebody trying the door, finished their call and went back up to their room via the back staircase.'

'Oh,' Gerry said, feeling rather crushed. 'Is that all?'

Just then William, the footman, entered with the coffee. When they were all sipping from steaming cups, Wilkins said: 'Oh, by the way, my lord, you may be interested to know that there were thirty-nine of your cufflinks in the room.'

'Good lord, never knew I had that many. Still, quite an evocative number, what?'

'Ah yes, your lordship is doubtless referring to the Church of England's Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion.'

The Earl looked a little awkward. 'No, actually, I was thinking of
The Thirty-nine Steps
. You know, John Buchan.'

'Oh, of course. I'm afraid I read very little crime fiction or thrillers.'

'Too much of a busman's holiday?' Gerry asked.

'That's about it, Lady Geraldine.'

'So, what do you like to read?'

Wilkins leaned back. 'Well, I have very catholic tastes, but if I had to choose one author, I suppose it would be Dostoevsky - even though his perhaps greatest work is called
Crime and Punishment
.'

Gerry looked impressed. 'Golly. I'm afraid I've never read anything of his.'

'Oh, you should, Lady Geraldine. Amazing man: such insight, such power. I've read everything he wrote, I believe.'

'In translation, I suppose?' she said dryly, feeling a little irritated.

Wilkins smiled. 'I'm afraid so. I do try it in the original from time to time, but every other page I come across a word I don't know and have to stop and look it up, which does slow you down.'

They all stared at him in amazement. The Earl said: 'You read Russian?'

'Not very well, my lord.'

'So you speak it, too, then?'

'After a fashion. Enough to get by.'

' 'Pon my soul. You show me up. I only speak a little French.'

'I certainly found French easier to master,' Wilkins said.

'Well, I must say, you're full of surprises, Wilkins.' Lord Burford took out his pocket watch and glanced at it meaningfully. 'Expect you'll be wanting to get on with your enquiries.'

'I'm in no hurry, my lord.'

'Oh, I was just thinkin' the guests will be gettin' a bit anxious.'

'That's just it, Daddy, don't you see?' Gerry said. 'Mr Wilkins is deliberately keeping them waiting, simply to get them nervous.'

'Oh.' Lord Burford's jaw dropped a little. 'I see. Is that really it, Wilkins?'

'I'm afraid Lady Geraldine is wise to me, my lord. The longer you keep people waiting, the more on edge they get, and the more on edge they are, the more likely they are to slip up, let something out they didn't mean to.'

'But they may not all have anything
to
let slip out.'

'Oh, my lord . . .' Wilkins shook his head reproachfully.

'Everyone's got something to hide, isn't that so, Mr Wilkins?' Gerry said.

'Almost invariably, Lady Geraldine. And there is something I want to ask you.'

'Oh dear. I'm petrified now.'

'No cause to be. It's just that from what his lordship was telling me last night, you were with Miss Dorothy for an hour before the discovery of the body.'

'More than an hour.'

'And she didn't leave you even for five minutes?'

'Not for five seconds. I know what you're getting at, but it's out of the question. Mummy came down from talking to Clara. Dorothy was there then and she remained in the drawing-room until we heard the crash and rushed up to see what it was. I was at her shoulder the moment she first saw the body. She's absolutely in the clear. Anybody else might have killed Clara: Mummy, Daddy—'

'Really, Geraldine!' This from the Countess.

'She's right, my dear,' said the Earl.

Gerry continued. 'Even Merryweather might have gone against the trend and done it. Dorothy definitely didn't. Of course, I realise you can't take my word for that.'

'Oh, I think I can, Lady Geraldine.'

'But she and I might have conspired to do the murder together. After all, Clara did at first claim to know some appalling secret about
everybody
in the room. Perhaps I held her down, while Dorry killed her.'

'Oh no.'

'Why not?'

'Two against one? Wouldn't be sporting.'

'Ah yes, the code of the Burfords.' Gerry leaned back and lit a cigarette. 'So, tell me, how would I murder someone?'

Wilkins considered. 'With a gun: quick, clean and totally unambiguous. Probably in front of a number of witnesses. And not at Alderley, unless it was absolutely unavoidable.'

'Yes, I think you're right. Though not even in Westshire. I wouldn't want to be in your jurisdiction.'

'I appreciate that, Lady Geraldine.'

He turned to the Countess. 'Now, your ladyship, I wonder if you could kindly tell me just what was said between you and Mrs Saunders when you visited her in her room?'

Lady Burford thought for a moment, and, without adding any significant details, gave a slightly fuller account of the scene than the one she had given to Dorothy the previous evening.

'Thank you, your ladyship,' Wilkins said, when she had finished. 'And did you get the impression that she'd been speaking the truth when she claimed to know discreditable secrets about all the other beneficiaries?'

'I really wouldn't like to say, Mr Wilkins. She sounded convincing and she did make a point of finding out things about people.' She shot a meaningful glance at the Earl.

He gave a sigh. 'Yes, you'll have to know, Wilkins, that for some years Clara had been supplementing her income in a rather unsavoury fashion.' He briefly explained about Clara's dealings with newspapers.

Wilkins nodded thoughtfully. 'I see. Yes, quite unpleasant. Apart from that, I take it there is nothing any of you can tell me that might throw some light on this affair?'

The Earl shook his head. The Countess said: 'I honestly don't think so. And naturally I have thought about it a great deal last night and this morning.'

'Lady Geraldine?'

'You don't know how I'd love to say yes, Mr Wilkins.'

'Now, there's just one more thing.' He reached into his inside pocket and brought out a somewhat grubby-looking piece of paper. 'I've still got the little sketch map I made at the time of the egg cosy affair, showing which bedrooms were occupied by each person. The next time I rubbed out the names and filled the new ones in. Now I've rubbed those out, and I would be grateful if you could fill them in with the present names.' He held it out.

'You do it, my dear,' said Lord Burford.

'Certainly.' She took it. 'Does someone have a pencil?'

Wilkins handed her one and she started to write.

'It's a very rough plan,' Wilkins said. 'I'm sure the proportions are wrong and I haven't bothered with all the windows, and so on. But it's adequate for my purpose.'

Lady Burford finished writing and handed it and the pencil back. Wilkins perused the plan. 'Might I ask if there is any sort of order of precedence, as it were, in the allocation of rooms on occasions such as this?'

'Not really. Normally we will put members of the same family in adjoining rooms, but I decided to abandon the tradition in the case of Mrs Saunders and her stepdaughters - a small symbolic act. The only other factor is that as it is slightly more convenient to be near the centre, we tend to put the older people there, and the younger ones towards the ends of the corridors. I made an exception this time in the case of Agatha and Dorothy. It somehow seemed more fitting that, as principal mourners, they should be closer to the centre.'

Wilkins nodded. 'I see, though, that Mr Gregory Carstairs was given a room half way along the east corridor.'

The Countess gave a sigh. 'There was a slight problem. Mr Carstairs and Mr Timothy Saunders are not on good terms, so it was thought advisable to keep them as far apart as possible. Originally, in order to be more even-handed and not to give rise to suspicions of favouritism, I had intended to put Timothy in a corresponding room in the west corridor - the first one on the right, beyond the bathroom - with Miss Penelope in the room beyond, and Miss Agatha in the slightly larger corner bedroom, next to our suite. But when Miss Agatha did not turn up, it seemed rather absurd to leave that room empty, and I told the footman to put Timothy in there. That left the room originally allocated to him empty. I could have moved Miss Penelope into it. But I decided to leave her opposite Miss Simmons, as it occurred to me that two young women, spending a night in a room towards the end of a long corridor in a house which has recently acquired a somewhat notorious reputation, might both feel slightly more comfortable knowing that the room directly opposite was occupied.' The Countess looked rather pleased with herself for this involved explanation.