«Much later,» was all Saint Just said, as he was concentrating on something else entirely. «The electricity became disabled sometime during the night, correct?»
«Yes, but the generators kicked right in like clockwork,» Sir Rudy pointed out. «Until they got flooded. I sure want to know what idiot left those doors unlatched.»
«Our killer, I would say,» Saint Just said, knowing he now had everyone's attention once again. «Tabby? I promise to forget everything you say once you answer my questions, and please forgive me, but where were you and Mr. Lloyd, from the time you left the main saloon until you were asked to join everyone there once more?»
«Alex,» Tabby pleaded through clenched teeth. «Do we have to?»
«Ah, Tabby, honey, I think we do,» Maggie said, stepping in front of Saint Just. «Because I think I can see where Alex is going with this. I… well, I went to your room around noon and you weren't there, but it looked like maybe you had been there?»
«I'll pay you back for this some day,» Tabby said, stepping close to Maggie. «Yes, we were in my room all night. But then we went to Dennis's room around eleven or so in the morning because we'd run out of—well, just you never mind. He had some granola bars, too, because we were hungry. And we stayed there until someone told us to come downstairs, that the generators were out. There. Satisfied?»
«I don't know, I usually do all of this on paper before I write.» Maggie looked at Saint Just. «Are we satisfied?»
«Yes, I think we are.»
«Well, good for you,» Byrd Stockwell said. «Now tell us.»
Saint Just obliged. «Happily. I can verify that Sam Undercuffler was alive at nine o'clock yesterday morning. I understand that Miss Pertuccelli had requested that he investigate the premises, looking for possible locations to film outdoor scenes that, because of the flooding, would most probably be relocated inside the building.»
«You only use dialogue in movies, not all my scene setting,» Maggie offered. «Although there'd be some reworking needed to change the rooftop duel to one on the stairs. Then again, this was supposed to be made-for-TV, so you guys will probably just fake it all. Not that Sam and Joanne probably weren't faking it, giving Sam a reason to disappear for a while.»
«You know, Hollywood does make some quality films, Maggie,» Arnaud said, obviously smarting. «Although I will agree that sometimes we cut a few corners. I know you writers think you are more important, but, as Lloyd Kaufman said so well, 'It's up to us to produce better-quality movies.' «
Maggie shook her head. «Kaufman? I don't know who that is.»
And yet again, Evan came to the rescue. «Lloyd Kaufman produced that classic American movie Stuff Stephanie in the Incinerator . No lie.»
Everyone laughed, and for a moment, the tension eased.
«Where was I?» Maggie asked. «Oh, sorry, Alex. I was jumping ahead, wasn't I? Go on. I see where you're going. Bless you, Bernie.»
«Thanks,» Bernie said after her loud sneeze, then blew her nose. «This had better be worth pneumonia, Alex. Come on, show us the secret passage.»
«First things first,» Saint Just told her. «You will all please remember that what I'm about to say is conjecture only and I've no real proof. However, I believe that Mr. Undercuffler, a known criminal—»
«Whoa! Back up, Sherlock,» Maggie said. «A known criminal? I thought we were just guessing that he was part of it. Is that what Steve told you? Sam was an actual criminal?»
«Yes, indeed, although possibly reformed. But, following your example, I am getting ahead of myself, aren't I? We'll step back in time a moment and consider Miss Pertuccelli, shall we?»
«Why?» Nikki asked, blowing on another recently filed nail. «She's dead. They're both dead. Can we go downstairs now? What do we care about secret passages?»
«I want to see the secret passage first,» Sir Rudy protested. «I paid for it.»
Saint Just, always accommodating, proceeded to drop to one knee and run his hand down the side of the mantelpiece until he felt the slight indentation, then pushed.
As before, the opening appeared, this time to oooh's and aaah's and one heartfelt «And it's all mine!»
«I think it best that we don't further disturb anything inside the passageway until the constable has been,» Saint Just told them, shutting the panel once more. «Fingerprints, that sort of thing. But I will tell you all my theory.»
«Our theory,» Maggie added. «I give you credit.»
«Our theory,» Saint Just concurred. «It is our theory that Miss Pertuccelli was aware of Mr. Undercuffler's dubious background and, either by plan or happenstance, enlisted him in her hunt for the missing jewels, the jewels allegedly hidden somewhere in Medwine Manor by the late and reportedly lingering Uncle Willis.»
Maggie shrugged. «Okay, so I didn't know about his record until now, but I was right about her hiring Sam as a partner in crime.»
«Possibly. Probably.»
Sir Rudy clapped his hands. «The stolen jewelry, of course! That's where Uncle Willis hid it all. They found it? I'd always hoped, but they really found it? A fortune in jewels?» He dropped his hands to his sides. «Oh. That's not good. Because they're gone again, aren't they?»
Maggie nodded her agreement. «Right. But let's get back to Sam because he's our first victim and the murders are more important than the jewelry.»
«Says you, missy,» Sir Rudy grumbled, looking crestfallen.
Maggie pushed on. «Instead of sending Sam looking around for places to shoot the movie, Joanne was really sending Sam off to look for the jewels. Except she already had a pretty good idea where they were, and I don't think we understand that part yet. Do we, Alex?»
«A detail that will fall into place in time,» Saint Just told her. «For the nonce, we'll concentrate on Sam, as you call him, and Joanne. Joanne sent Sam off, the hiding place for the jewels was discovered, and the jewels recovered, all via this room and the secret passage. At which point there may have been a general falling-out or a planned severing of an uneasy partnership.»
«She killed him and left him in the attic room, maybe even dragged him up there,» Maggie clarified for their very attentive audience. «Sam didn't hang himself or get himself hanged. We told you it was murder, but I don't think we told you how we knew. He was strangled with Joanne's stopwatch cord and not hung up until hours later. That can be proved by the marks on Sam's neck, but we won't go into the how of that right now, either. We found the stopwatch behind a bureau up in the attic room right above us. We're figuring he died maybe an hour after I last saw him.»
«But then there was a problem, as is often the case with impulsive acts,» Saint Just said, taking up the story, pleased as he could be at how he and Maggie seemed to so neatly dovetail each other. «It would seem that Tabby and you, Mr. Lloyd, had decided to adjourn to this room, with the first murder committed and Sam's body still in the attic above you. And, quite possibly, the jewels were still there as well. You had to be removed from the room. Thus the open doors to flood the generators.»
«Why not just climb the stairs to the attics, Saint Just?» Sterling asked.
«A good question, but I believe I have the answer. The dust. Once the murder was done, the murderer or murderers had time to think, to come up with a plan. Footprints in the considerable dust would leave a trail showing that more than one person had climbed those stairs and walked those attics, both coming and going—that one person being the supposedly suicidal Sam Undercuffler, who could not possibly have made two tracks of footprints if he was dead by his own hand.»
«They could have just swept the attic and gotten rid of the whole dust problem,» Maggie said.
«True, but we've had more time to consider alternative possibilities. The murderers did not. They were, as you would say, winging it. To continue, the lack of footprints in the dust also would delay anyone's curiosity in searching for the writer in this particular attic of this very large pile, at least long enough for the murderers to make good their escape.»