“So what it all boils down to is that everybody in the cast except the two women has a watertight alibi, but only if the murder was committed during the interval. If it was committed before the interval…”
“It wasn’t committed during the interval, Laura. The police have taken dozens of statements—everybody backstage has been interviewed, even the Tots—and, but for Falstaff himself, there isn’t one single, solitary person, man, woman or child, who was alone for an instant during the interval except under the usual, unavoidable circumstances—and even then there was a queue, the Town Hall facilities being limited. There’s no doubt whatever that Falstaff was killed either before the interval or else he was spirited away—which doesn’t seem likely—and was killed when the show was over and everybody had gone home.”
“Do the police still suspect Gordon and Spey?”
“As we think it was done before the interval, yes, but, of course, Spey is out of the picture, in one sense, now that he’s dead. Remains Gordon. The only other solution…”
“Is that an outsider saw Spey and Gordon nip over to the pub as soon as they had carted Falstaff off the stage…”
“And got in by the side door, stabbed Falstaff and plonked the body and then the basket in the Thames. Yes. The only snag there is the Yale lock, unless the murderer had already concealed himself on the premises or had a key to the side door.”
“Yes, of course. But what did he stab him with?—not that it requires much thinking out.”
“Exactly. What did he stab him with? And, as you suggest, there’s an obvious answer. Two real swords must have been borrowed and only one accounted for. The murderer did the borrowing and hung on to the extra sword. Our lads have been to Squire’s Acre and interviewed the Colonel and his lady and also the nephew who lives with them at the Hall, and have closely inspected their armoury. The answer’s a lemon, so you’d better see what Kitty can dredge up. Instruct her to put her subconscious mind to work. It’s possible that something may come to the surface. Motive is what we’re after.”
“Right. Well, now, what about Henry VIII? Anything—any pointer there?”
“Well, the police have had a go at his wife, poor woman. What with spending weeks nursing a sick mother and now the shock of Spey’s death, she’s in a pretty poor way. She is certain her husband had no enemies. She thinks he was killed by a madman and has asked the police to keep a watch on her house. She’s ran down, grief-stricken and terrified. I’m sure she’s got nothing helpful to tell us, so I’ve suggested that we ship her back to her mother’s house. She’ll feel safer there, and the old lady seems to have recovered from her illness, so I’m sure it’s the best thing to do. The doctor wouldn’t hear of our showing her Spey’s body, so, as it was quite easy to get it identified by three independent witnesses, we conceded the point, and I’m jolly glad we were able to.”
“Is there any indication of where the murder and the decapitation of Spey took place?” Dame Beatrice enquired.
“Nothing at all, so far, except in the negative sense that neither took place in the ducal back-lane where the body was found. The neighbours think they heard Spey go out on that Friday night, but he often did while his wife was away, so they thought nothing of it and didn’t even notice the time.”
“So they would not be able to tell you whether he was carrying a suitcase,” said Dame Beatrice.
“A suitcase? Oh, you mean for the fancy dress outfit he had on when he was killed.”
“Yes. It might have occasioned no surprise to passers-by to see a protagonist strolling about in period costume on the night of the pageant, but, on a normal Friday evening, the spectacle of Henry VIII striding along Brayne high street would have occasioned remark, one would suppose.”
“You’re right. The point about the suitcase is a good one. I’ll put the lads on to it. I wish the neighbours would pin down the time for us, though.”
“I doubt very much whether they did hear him go out on that particular evening.”
“You mean that, in view of the fact that the charwoman’s note was still open on the kitchen table when Gordon and Kitty’s nephew went into the house, the inference is that Spey went straight off somewhere after school and did not enter his house on the Friday evening at all?”
“It seems to me quite possible.”
“So it does to me, but that means he must have taken the Henry VIII outfit with him to school on the Friday morning. The school has scarcely come into the enquiry as yet. We’d better have a detective go round and interview the headmistress, unless—no, I’ll tell you what! I wonder whether you and Laura would undertake that bit of investigation for us? A couple of women visitors in and around a school invite no speculation or comment, whereas a couple of Brayne policeman, even in mufti, would almost invariably be noticed. Could you do that for us, do you think?”
“Certainly,” Dame Beatrice agreed. “All we shall establish is that Spey had a suitcase with him when he arrived at school in the morning.”
“In the morning? Oh, yes, of course, it was one of his days for having sandwiches at the pub. You might be able to find out whether he accounted for the suitcase in any way.”
“He would give a simple and obvious reason for taking it to school.”
“Going to spend the week-end with his wife and her mother. Yes. Hm! That won’t get us much farther.”
“Why wouldn’t he have said he was going to have his photograph taken in the Henry VIII costume?” demanded Laura.
“He’d have been hooted out of the Staff-room, I should think,” her husband replied.
“That’s a pity, because, if he’d come clean about the photograph, he might also have said where he was going to have it taken.”
“True. Oh, well, if you and Dame Beatrice are willing to have a go at the school, I’ll be very much obliged.”
There was nothing to be gained at the school except the information that Spey had had a suitcase with him when he turned up on the Friday morning. No questions had been asked by his colleagues about this, and no information had been volunteered by Spey. It was assumed by Gordon, in common with others, that Spey proposed to spend the week-end with his wife and her sick mother, and that this accounted for the suitcase. He repeated his former theory, however, that Spey had retained the Henry VIII costume in order to be photographed in it. On the following day Laura went along to see Kitty.
CHAPTER TEN
Mistress Ford and Mistress Page
“The Butts Common was frequently used for sports of this description.”
« ^ »
So that’s it, Dog, is it?” asked Kitty earnestly. They were just finishing lunch at Kitty’s Knightsbridge flat.
“So that’s it,” Laura agreed. “And now, old school friend and college chum, what about it?”
“What about what?”
“Who did in those two blighters, and why?”
“You shouldn’t call them blighters, Dog.”
“Oh, yes, I should. I’ve just been reading a book* about all this. The victim almost always contributes to his own death. It’s all rot to think that the victim is always innocent. Unless the killer is a madman, the victim is as guilty as the chap who killed him. Look at Neary and Howard.”
* A Calendar of Murder-Criminal Homicide in England since 1957 — Terence Morris and Louis Blom-Cooper.
“How can I, Dog? I didn’t know either of them.”
“Be yourself,” said Laura, sternly. “What was it about this Falstaff and this Henry VIII that should have made some person or persons (unknown) decide to murder them?”
“But, Dog, how on earth should I know?”