“I do. I heard it. Before the storm blew up,” said Clive. “I was reading in bed by torchlight. It was about ten o’clock. It went on for some time and another one, further away, answered it.”
“In your opinion,” Curtis-Vane asked the deer-stalkers, “should we hear the recording—if there is one?”
Susan Bridgeman said, “I would rather it wasn’t played.’
“But why?”
“It — it would be — painful. He always announced his recordings. He gave the date and place and the scientific name. He did that before he set the thing up. To hear his voice — I — I couldn’t bear it.”
“You needn’t listen,” said her son brutally.
Solomon Gosse said, “If Susan feels like that about it, I don’t think we should play it.”
Wingfield said, “But I don’t see—” and stopped short. “All right, then,” he said. “You needn’t listen, Sue. You can go along to your tent, can’t you?” And to Curtis-Vane: “I’ll get the recorder.”
McHaffey said, “Point of order, Mr. Chairman. The equipment should be handled by a neutral agent.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Wingfield exclaimed.
“I reckon he’s right, though,” said Bob Johnson.
Curtis-Vane asked Susan Bridgeman, very formally, if she would prefer to leave them.
“No. I don’t know. If you must do it—” she said, and made no move.
“I don’t think we’ve any right to play it if you don’t want us to,” Solomon said.
“That,” said McHaffey pleasurably, “is a legal point. I should have to—”
“Mr. McHaffey,” said Curtis-Vane, “there’s nothing ‘legal’ about these proceedings. They are completely informal. If Mrs. Bridgeman does not wish us to play the record, we shall, of course, not play it.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Chairman,” said McHaffey, in high dudgeon. “That is your ruling. We shall draw our own conclusions. Personally, I consider Mrs. Bridgeman’s attitude surprising. However—”
“Oh!” she burst out. “Play it, play it, play it. Who cares! I don’t. Play it.”
So Bob Johnson fetched the tape recorder. He put it on the table. “It may have got damaged in the storm,” he said. “But it looks O.K. He’d rigged a bit of a waterproof shelter over it. Anyone familiar with the type?”
Dr. Mark said, “It’s a superb model. With that parabolic mike, it’d pick up a whisper at ten yards. More than I could ever afford, but I think I understand it.”
“Over to you, then, Doc.”
It was remarkable how the tension following Susan Bridgeman’s behaviour was relaxed by the male homage paid to a complicated mechanism. Even Clive, in his private fury, whatever it was, watched the opening up of the recorder. Wingfield leaned over the table to get a better view. Only Solomon remembered the woman and went to sit beside her. She paid no attention.
“The tape’s run out,” said Dr. Mark. “That looks promising. One moment; I’ll rewind it.”
There broke out the manic gibber of a reversed tape played at speed. This was followed by intervals punctuated with sharp dots of sound and another outburst of gibberish.
“Now,” said Dr. Mark.
And Caley Bridgeman’s voice, loud and pedantic, filled the tent.
“Ninox novaeseelandiae. Ruru. Commonly known as Morepork. Tenth January, 1977. Ten-twelve p.m. Beech bush. Parson’s Nose Range. Southern Alps. Regarded by the Maori people as a harbinger of death.”
A pause. The tape slipped quietly from one spool to the other.
“More-pork!”
Startling and clear as if the owl called from the ridgepole, the second note a minor step up from the first. Then a distant answer. The call and answer were repeated at irregular intervals and then ceased. The listeners waited for perhaps half a minute and then stirred.
“Very successful,” said Dr. Mark. “Lovely sound.”
“But are you sure? Darling, you swear you’re sure?”
It was Susan Bridgeman. They turned, startled, to look at her. She had got to her feet. Her teeth were closed over the knuckles of her right hand. “No!” she whispered. “No, no.”
Solomon Gosse lunged across the table, but the tape was out of his reach and his own voice mocked him.
“Of course I’m sure, my darling. It’s foolproof. He’ll go down with the b-b-b-bridge.”
A Telescript
“Crown Court” was a popular British television series produced by Granada Television Limited. The program presented civil and criminal cases, with members of the audience chosen to act as the jury. Each script therefore gives brief alternate endings. Evil Liver was announced as “the first television play by distinguished crime thriller writer Dame Ngaio Marsh.” It was recorded at the Granada studios in Manchester on July 23, 1975, and broadcast exactly a month later. It lasted an hour and fifteen minutes, including commercial breaks. Among its cast were William Mervyn as the Judge, Jonathan Elsom as the Prosecution Counsel, William Simons as the Defense Counsel, David Waller as Major Ecclestone, and Joan Hickson as Miss Freebody. Joan Hickson would later become famous for her role as Miss Marple in the British series which was broadcast in the United States on the Public Broadcasting System program Mystery and on the Arts and Entertainment cable network.
Although in line with the format of “Crown Court” the script of Evil Liver does not state who was guilty, Ngaio Marsh included clues which, I believe, point toward her solution. At the end of the play, I’ll rejoin you to discuss the various possibilities.
We gratefully acknowledge Granada Television Limited for giving permission to print Evil Liver.
D. G. G.
Cast of Evil Liver:
Mr. Justice Campbell
The Prosecution Counsel, Marcus Golding, QC
The Defense Counsel, Martin O’Connor
Mary Freebody
Major Basil Ecclestone
Dr. Stephen Swale
Thomas Tidwell
Barbara Ecclestone
Dr. Ernest Smithson
Gwendoline Miggs
Wardress
Clerk of Court
Court Usher
Jury Foreman
Court Reporter
Court Reporter: The case you are about to see is fictional. But the jury is made up of members of the public, who will assess the evidence and deliver their own verdict at the end of the program.
(Major Ecclestone is called by the Prosecution Counsel. He takes the witness stand and takes the oath.)
Court Reporter: On March 28th of this year, Miss Mary Freebody’s cat was savaged and killed by Bang, an Alsatian dog belonging to her next-door neighbor, Major Basil Ecclestone. A week later, or the 4th April, meat ordered by the Ecclestones was delivered to the outside safe of their house. That evening Major Ecclestone took from the safe some liver for his dog. The dog ate a portion of the liver, was instantly thrown into violent convulsions, and died. The contents of its stomach were analyzed and found to contain a massive amount of cyanide-of-potassium. A tin of wasp exterminator containing a high proportion of cyanide was found in Miss Freebody’s shrubbery, half empty. The Major made to the police an accusation of attempted murder against Miss Freebody maintaining that she had had the intention of killing not only his dog but himself. A police investigation has led to her being charged, and she now stands trial at the Crown Court in Fulchester.