‘A rococo embellishment which, again, is entirely in keeping with Remnant’s histrionic nature,’ said Payne. ‘No one will see Quin actually enter the Remnant estate. If something goes wrong, Quin will emerge and be greeted as the grisly Grimaud, with which Lord Remnant has already been threatened. The whole thing will then be laughed off as a joke.’
‘But nothing goes wrong-’
‘No. Quin is smuggled into the house. He hides in Lord Remnant’s dressing room. Later in the evening he makes his appearance in the drawing room, disguised as Gonzago. Meanwhile-’
‘Meanwhile Lord Remnant has his revolver ready,’ said Antonia. ‘He has fixed a silencer to it. The guards have been given the evening off. Stephan is the only one lurking outside the house, but he is already under the influence of some drug.’
‘Lord Remnant stands on the terrace beside the french windows. He takes aim through the gap in the curtains. He pulls the trigger. He is a good shot. The bullet gets Quin in the back of the head. Lord Remnant wipes the gun clean of fingerprints, drops it and quickly re-enters the house through a side door.’
‘He sneaks up to his dressing room-’
‘He conceals himself in the bathroom. It was his laugh that Basil Hunter heard later on. Lord Remnant seems to have suddenly found the whole thing irresistibly comical.’
‘How much does Clarissa know?’ Antonia asked after a pause.
‘I think she knows about the switch but no more. Lord Remnant tells her he is planning a prank. He enrols her assistance. He must have done. Without her he can’t do it. He doesn’t tell her that he intends to kill Quin of course. Nor that he plans to assume Quin’s identity. I am sure she knows nothing about his real plan.’
‘He wants her to think it was her son who did the shooting…’
‘Yes. Lord R. knows that it would help his cause if his wife were to be emotionally involved… Well, Dr Sylvester-Sale discovers the hole in the dead man’s skull. There seems to be little doubt in everybody’s mind that it was Stephan who committed the murder. They had seen him lurking outside the window disguised as Bottom.’
‘And of course they remember the incident in Lord Remnant’s study when Stephan tried to shoot his stepfather with that very same gun,’ said Antonia.
‘Clarissa is convinced Stephan is the culprit. She doesn’t want her son to be arrested and interrogated by the police.’
‘Perhaps there are drugs in the house. Perhaps she takes drugs too? No, she doesn’t want the police inside the house, conducting an investigation. She decides on concealment. But she must talk to her husband first. You said that she went upstairs immediately after the murder?’
‘That’s what Sylvester-Sale told me, yes.’ Payne held up his pipe. ‘Well, I believe she went to see her husband and tell him what had happened. She needed to know what they should do next. After all, the whole thing had been Lord Remnant’s idea.’
‘It was quite an extraordinary situation…’
‘You can say that again. Everybody believes the dead man is Lord Remnant. Only Clarissa knows that it is Peter Quin. I can imagine her whispering frantically. Do we tell them that the dead man is not you? Well, the answer of course is, No, we don’t. We let them continue believing it is me.’
‘He pretends he has thought of something?’
Payne cleared his throat theatrically. ‘I’ve got an idea. It isn’t as outlandish as you may think, Clarissa. Let everybody continue thinking I am dead. You see, no one knows Quin’s been here. I specifically asked him to keep mum about it. I will take Quin’s place.’
‘What do you mean, Roderick? Have you gone mad?’ Antonia asked.
‘Pas du tout. This is my chance to cheat death. Don’t you see?’
‘What about the death certificate?’
‘Your medico chums will have to fix that. Have Quin cremated, not buried. No chance of complications that way.’
‘It won’t work!’
‘Of course it will work, Clarissa. Lord Remnant is no more. He has passed into Higher Service. He was Gently Translated. He Fell Asleep. I want everybody on this bloody island to know that. Then there’ll be no more death threats and so on. Let the whole bloody world believe I am no more. Natural causes, don’t forget. That will also be the way out for Stephan. Stephan doesn’t need to come into the picture at all.’
Payne resumed his normal voice. ‘Well, that’s what she did. She let the world know her husband died of a heart attack… So you think Clarissa speaks in a breathless Marilyn Monroe voice?’
Antonia shrugged. ‘That’s how it came out.’
‘Damned attractive. Is it possible for you to speak in that voice always?’
‘Do you really want me to? Wouldn’t it drive you mad, eventually? It’s interesting that neither Dr Sylvester-Sale nor Basil Hunter realized the dead man was not their host… I mean they took him to his room, didn’t they?’
‘Well, Peter Quin was grotesquely made up. People always look different when they die anyhow – they shrink – the mouth goes slack – the nose gets sharper – the eyes glaze over… Besides, they were working under tremendous pressure, remember.’
‘They knew very well they shouldn’t be moving the body…’
‘They knew there could be big trouble. They must have been anxious, frightened. People’s faculties simply cease to operate at times of extreme tension. The whole thing must have seemed to them unreal – the most awful of nightmares.’
‘Where is Lord Remnant now, do you think?’ Antonia asked.
‘I have an idea that he might be at Remnant Castle. No other reason for Clarissa to dismiss all her servants, is there? She’s been expecting him to turn up. Well, my love, it seems we have been investigating the wrong murder. It is Peter Quin who is dead. Lord Remnant is the killer and he has now taken refuge at his country seat. I think we should go to Remnant Castle.’ Payne glanced at his watch. ‘Make sure we are right… What do you say?’
‘Shouldn’t we call the police?’
‘No, not yet. I suggest we put our theory to the test first,’ said Major Payne. ‘At the moment it is only a theory. I would hate to be made to look a fool – wouldn’t you?’
32
Clarissa sat huddled beside an inscrutable bronze Buddha, speaking haltingly into the phone. She was a little calmer now.
‘It was awful… He came into my bedroom. He was wearing black wings. He ordered me to undress… He came at me with the steadiness of a travelling bullet.’
‘My poor child!’
‘I managed to hit him on the head with the bedside lamp – I ran out. It would have been comical if it hadn’t been so – so terrifying! All right. I know what I did was very wrong. I don’t mind you knowing, Aunt Hortense. I promised God I’d be nice to you if only He would help me. And He did! He helped me escape Roderick’s clutches. I didn’t mean to tell you, I never meant to tell anyone, but there you are. I don’t know what to do!’
‘You must call the police! At once!’
‘No! I can’t get the police involved because of my own involvement in the affair. Don’t you see? What the papers will no doubt call the “despicable deadly deception”. Well, it’ll be nothing compared to the kind of trouble he may find himself in, though he doesn’t seem to care.’
‘What is it – drugs?’
Clarissa’s eyes shifted towards the black-lacquered cabinet and fixed on the colourful figures embossed on its surface. The nausea and the faintness were returning. The palanquin in which an important-looking mandarin lounged shifted forward, the parasol held above his servants in shallow straw hats acquired a thin luminous band around its edges. The parasol started to revolve, at first hesitatingly and then faster… and faster. And, as though that were not enough, she then saw the mandarin wink at her!