R. Raichev - The Murder Of Gonzago

‘They can.’

‘They’d have one’s details at the airport, I suppose… It’s all computers now, isn’t it? Then there are the stamps in one’s passport and so on. Unless one has used a false passport? Apparently an awful lot of people travel on false passports, I read somewhere.’

‘You would have been caught on CCTV cameras,’ Renée said a trifle wearily. ‘They are everywhere.’

‘Are they? Damn. No privacy these days. What if I’d changed my appearance?’

‘Gerard, this could be serious-’

‘I could have worn a false moustache… It’s the kind of thing that happens in detective stories… As a matter of fact, detective stories could be vehicles for all kinds of ideas, so perhaps I shouldn’t sneer at them,’ he went on in a meditative voice. ‘And nobody could stop me if I decided to write sentences like “His sleuthorial instincts were stimulated.” I mean I could experiment in all kinds of ways… Incidentally, did you tell anyone where and when you came across my cigar cutter?’

‘No. No one knows about it.’

‘I am glad.’ Suddenly he laughed. ‘So if I were to kill you now, the secret, as they say, would die with you!’

‘I feel so awful, I wouldn’t mind dying,’ Renée Glover whispered.

‘My memory’s getting worse. What is a meta -documentary once again, not that it matters the tiniest bit, but do remind me?’ Lady Grylls cupped her ear with her hand. ‘I see . You are so terribly clever, Hughie, they must have hated you in the army, or did you contrive to keep a low profile?’

‘I was clever enough not to let anyone suspect me of being clever at all. I believe I managed to blend in. Actually I was quite popular with my brother officers.’

‘Were you? You mean you drank to excess, gambled for high stakes and talked about women and horses in a knowledgeable if highly irresponsible fashion? I am so proud of you.’ Lady Grylls tapped the tape of the documentary. ‘It’s a real hoot, terribly funny. I am sure you will be amused. Is there any particular reason you are so keen on watching it?’

‘We are curious to see what Lord Remnant was like,’ Major Payne said. ‘In any murder case the character of the victim is of paramount importance. Murder is frequently – though by no means invariably – a direct consequence of something the victim has done.’

‘Roderick certainly managed to upset a great number of people and, from what I hear, he never quite knew when to stop. He called it “teasing”. He seemed to have lacked the wisdom to be afraid. Well, the Grenadin locals had been threatening to carve him up and set La Sorcière aflame, so perhaps it was one of the locals who killed him after all? A case of raw revenge, what do you think?’

‘You may be right, darling. Perhaps it was a case of raw revenge.’

Lady Grylls pushed her glasses up her nose. ‘You don’t sound too convinced. You think it’s too simple. I imagine it’s an addictive pursuit, the hunting down and ultimate unmasking of lethally inclined characters?’

‘It is addictive, yes.’

‘Who’s your favourite suspect, Hughie?’

‘I have no favourite suspect.’

‘Not the stepson, surely?’

‘The stepson seems to be the most obvious choice, but in a vague kind of way we are suspicious of Clarissa’s aunt. As it happens, she is also Clarissa’s mother. Well, Hortense Tilling is the only member of the house party, with the exception of Stephan, that is, who was not in the room at the time of the murder-’ Payne broke off. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Mr Quin! I’ve been meaning to tell you about Mr Quin! The mysterious Mr Quin! Goodness, my memory’s really bad these days. The Case of the Curious Codicil, that’s how I think of it.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘That would make a pretty decent title for a detective yarn. The Conundrum of the Curious Codicil . It’s got a ring to it. Antonia might like it, what do you think?’

‘It sounds like a short story title and you know Antonia doesn’t write short stories, only novels.’

‘How about The Mysterious Mr Quin ?’

‘I believe that’s already been used.’

‘Can’t it be used again?’

‘Not really, darling. What codicil and who or what is Mr Quin?’

‘There’s something peculiar about the whole business. I mean, leaving a fortune to a fella no one’s ever heard of. I knew there was something I needed to tell you, Hughie. You told me to keep my eyes and ears open for developments, didn’t you?’

‘I believe I did, darling, but perhaps you could try to present your facts in a slightly more linear fashion?’

‘The other curious fact is that Clarissa has dismissed all the servants and is at Remnant on her own. Bobo believes she’s gone bonkers. One of the Remnant maids is the sister of Bobo’s gardener, you see. That’s how he heard about it, from his gardener. The sister was terribly upset. They were given no notice. Clarissa just told them to go.’

‘Clarissa is at Remnant on her own?’

‘She is indeed. The mind boggles. Remnant is the size of a hippodrome, with high vaults, eccentrically hazardous staircases and endless corridors. A former abbey or something equally gruesome. For some reason Clarissa brings to mind the woman in the story who sits and waits for her demon lover.’

‘Who is Mr Quin?’ Something had started stirring in Major Payne’s deep well of unconscious cerebration. He believed he was already in possession of a certain significant fact. What was it? Then it came to him. The Damascus chest in the Fenwicks’ drawing room – the secret drawer – the letter from Marrakech signed ‘Q’ – Q for Quin?

‘Quin is the enigmatic legatee. The fellow to whom Roderick left a fortune in his will. No one knows who he is. I was on the blower, talking to Felicity, just before you came and she told me all about it. She is puzzled and angry. Gerard had never heard Quin’s name mentioned before, or so he says. Well, everybody seems to be puzzled. Only Clarissa, it appears, is not.’

Payne cocked an eyebrow. ‘Clarissa is not puzzled?’

‘No. At least, Gerard thought not. He was watching Clarissa while the will was being read, you see. She didn’t seem to turn a hair. Didn’t gasp. Didn’t look round in dismay. Asked no questions. She seemed terrified – but that’s a different thing altogether, isn’t it?’

‘Clarissa seemed terrified?’

‘Yes. That’s what Gerard said. He fancies himself as something of a writer, you know. He believes he has special insights into people’s emotional states and all that sort of rot. Writers do like to put on a lot of airs, don’t they?’

‘Antonia doesn’t.’

‘The chap’s full name is Peter Quin and he has been left a fortune in Lord Remnant’s will. Five million pounds sterling, Felicity says, which does seem an exorbitant amount to leave to a stranger, doesn’t it?’

‘It does,’ Payne agreed.

‘Though of course it’s nothing really, a trifling canapé amuse-gueule affair, considering Roderick was worth thirty million pounds, some such sum. Apparently Roderick used to boast about his wealth, so terribly vulgar, he behaved more like a baron than an earl. He said once that, if he felt like it, he could pay a great number of people to do nothing but paint his portrait for the rest of his life, even though he knew the value of the finished product would be negligible.’

‘Was any reason given for the Quin legacy?’

‘ For services rendered . It appears Quin had done Roderick some great favour.’