"But that brings us right back to square one," said Cooper slowly. "Whoever killed her knew her very well and, if we jettison the four who knew her best, then we're left with-" he pressed his fingers to his eyes in deep concentration, "Mr. and Mrs. Spede, Mr. and Mrs. Marriott, and James Gillespie."
"You can do better than that, Cooper," said Jack impatiently. "The Spedes are simple souls who could never have dreamt up the Lear symbolism in a million years; Paul and Jane Marriott have avoided Mathilda like the plague for years so probably couldn't have found their way around her house, let alone known where she kept the Stanley knife; and, as far as I understand it, if what Duggan told Sarah is true, rather than trying to delay the processing of the will, James Gillespie is doing the exact opposite and pressing for the controversy to be settled so that he can lay claim to the clocks."
"But there isn't anyone else."
"There is, and I proved it this morning." He hammered his fist on the table. "It's Ruth's involvement that should have alerted you. Someone knew she was in the house that day and could therefore figure as a suspect. You've been chasing around in circles since you found out about it, but Sarah says you only learnt she was there because you received an anonymous letter. So who sent it?" He slammed his palm on the table at Cooper's blank expression. "Who tried to rescue Joanna this morning?"
Violet Orloff opened her front door and stared at the piece of polythene-encased paper that Detective Sergeant Cooper was holding in front of him. He turned it round to read it aloud. " 'Ruth Lascelles was in Cedar House the day Mrs. Gillespie died. She stole some earrings. Joanna knows she took them. Joanna Lascelles is a prostitute in London. Ask her what she spends her money on. Ask her why she tried to kill her daughter. Ask her why Mrs. Gillespie thought she was mad.' Would we be right in assuming you wrote this, Mrs. Orloff?" he enquired in his friendly way.
"Duncan did, but we were only trying to help," she said breathily, looking from him to the tall figure of Charlie Jones behind him, the collar of whose thick sheepskin jacket was pulled up about his comfortably sad face. She took heart from their mutual lack of hostility. "I know we probably ought to have come in person, but it's so difficult." She gestured vaguely in the direction of the other part of the house. "We are neighbours, after all, and Duncan does so hate unpleasantness." She smiled tentatively. "But when a murder's been committed-I mean, one can't expect the police to solve it if people who know things stay quiet. It seemed more tactful, somehow, not to get involved personally. You do understand, don't you?"
"Perfectly," said Charlie with an encouraging smile, "and we're very grateful to you for the trouble you took."
"That's all right then. I told Duncan it was important."
"Didn't he agree with you?"
She glanced cautiously over her shoulder, then pulled the door to behind her. "I wouldn't put it quite like that," she said. "He's grown so lazy since we came here, won't stir himself, won't have his routines upset, can't bear what he calls aggravations. He says he's earned a peaceful retirement and doesn't want it upset by lots of bother. He's very unfit, of course, which doesn't help, but I can't help feeling that it isn't good to be so"-she struggled for the right word-"unenterprising."
"Mrs. Gillespie's death must have been a shock then, what with the police tramping about the house, and Mrs. Lascelles and her daughter coming back."
"He hasn't enjoyed it," she admitted, "but he did see there was nothing we could do about it. Don't get so het up, he told me. A little patience and it will all blow over."
"Still, it must be very unsettling," said Cooper, "worrying about what's going to happen to Cedar House now that Mrs. Gillespie's dead. Presumably it will be sold, but you won't have any control over who it's sold to."
"That's just what I said. Duncan would go mad with noisy children next door." She lowered her voice. "I know one shouldn't take pleasure in other people's misfortune, but I can't deny it's a relief to have Joanna and Dr. Blakeney at loggerheads over the will. They're going to court about it, you know, and as Duncan said, that sort of thing takes years."
"And in the meantime the house will stand empty?"
"Well, exactly."
"So it's definite that Mrs. Lascelles intends to contest the will?"
"Oh, yes."
"She told you that?"
She looked guilty again. "I heard her and the doctor talking in the drawing-room. I don't make a habit of listening, not as a general rule, but..." She left the rest of the sentence unsaid.
"You've been worried and you needed to know what's going on," suggested Charlie helpfully.
"Well, exactly," she said again. "Someone has to take an interest. If it's left to Duncan, we'll only know what sort of neighbours we've got when they're living next to us."
"Like Mrs. Gillespie, you mean. I suppose you knew a lot about her one way and another."
Violet's mouth pinched disapprovingly. "Not through choice. I don't think she ever realized just how piercing her voice was. Very strident, you know, and she was so convinced that her opinions mattered. 1 never really listened, to tell you the truth, but Duncan found her amusing from time to time, particularly when she was being rude on the telephone, which she was, often. She took people to task about the most trivial things and she thought they couldn't hear her, you know, unless she shouted. She was a very silly woman."
Charlie nodded, as if in agreement. "Then I'm surprised you didn't hear anything the night she died. She must have spoken to her murderer, surely?"
Violet's face flushed a dull red. "She didn't, you know. Duncan never heard a sound."
He pretended not to notice her embarrassment. "And what about you, Mrs. Orloff? Did you hear anything?"
"Oh, dear," she wailed, "it's not as though it's a crime though you'd think it was the way Duncan carries on. I have a tot or two of whisky of an evening, really nothing very much. Duncan's a teetotaller and doesn't approve, but as I always say, where's the harm in it? Mathilda's done it for years-it's unnatural not to, she always said-and she drank far more than I do." She dropped her voice again. "It's not as though I'm an alcoholic."
"Good lord no," said Charlie effusively, picking up the loaded speech patterns. "If I didn't drink enough to send myself to sleep every night, I'd be a nervous wreck come the morning."
"Well, exactly," came the repetitive refrain. "But I do nod off in front of the television, and, of course, I did the night Mathilda died. Hardly surprising really since I spent the day in Poole with my sister, and I find that very tiring now. You see, I'm not as young as I used to be, and I won't deny I've been worrying ever since, did Mathilda call for help? Duncan swears she didn't but, you know, he's so anti getting involved in anything that he'd have persuaded himself it was just Mathilda being irritating."
"Any idea what time you nodded off?" asked Cooper, showing more interest in the state of his shoes than in her answer.
"Very early," she said in a whisper. "We'd just finished supper and sat down to watch Blind Date, and the next thing I knew Duncan was shaking me and telling me I was snoring and it was annoying him because it was spoiling Match of the Day. Goodness, but I was tired. I went to bed and slept like a log till the morning, and I can't help feeling that if I'd only stayed awake, I might have been able to do something for poor Mathilda."