Patricia Wentworth - The Case Is Closed

‘Where was Bertie Everton?’ said Hilary.

‘In Edinburgh. He went up by the night train.’

‘Then he was here the day before?’

‘Oh, yes -he went down to Putney and he saw James – dined with him as a matter of fact. But you can’t make anything out of that, except that obviously tomething was said or done which made James change his mind – and his will. He had always loathed Bertie, but something happened all in about an hour and a half to make him decide to leave him every penny he’d got. I was down for a thousand in the old will, and he even cut that out. Bertie’s brother Frank, who’d always had an allowance from him and can’t keep a job to save his life, he was cut out, too. Under the old will the allowance was to continue. He’s a bad hat and a rolling stone, but he was just as much James’ nephew as Bertie or Geoff, and James always meant to provide for him. He used to say he’d got a screw loose, but he didn’t loathe him like he loathed Bertie. Bertie was everything he detested – and he left him every penny.’

Hilary put her hands on the floor behind her and leaned on them.

‘Why did he detest him? What’s the matter with Bertie?’

Marion gave an odd, quick shrug.

‘Nothing. That’s what enraged James. He used to say that Bertie had never done a stroke of work in his life nor wanted to. He’s got some money, you know, and he just floats round gracefully, collecting china, playing the piano, dancing with all the girls, and being very agreeable to their mothers and aunts and grandmothers – you never see him speaking to a man. And when James heard he was embroidering chair-covers for a set of Louis Quinze chairs he’d picked up at a sale – well, Geoff and I honestly thought he was going to have a fit.’

‘ Marion, how do you know this Bertie creature was in Scotland when James – died?’

‘He went up by the night train. He was staying at the Caledonian Hotel in Edinburgh. He’d been there for some days when he came down to see James, no one knows why. Well, he saw him and he went back again. His waiter said he had breakfast and lunch in the hotel, and after lunch he made a complaint about the bell in his room being out of order, and at four o’clock he was worrying about a telephone call he was expecting.’ She lifted her hand and let it fall on the lid of the chest. “You see – he couldn’t have been at Putney. James was dead by a quarter past eight. Besides – Bertie – if you knew him – ’

‘I’m thinking about the other one,’ said Hilary- ‘Frank, the rolling-stone bad-lot one.’

‘It’s no good, I’m afraid,’ said Marion. ‘Frank was in Glasgow. He’s got the best alibi of anyone, because he was actually having his allowance paid over to him just before six o’clock. James paid it through a Glasgow solicitor weekly because Frank never could make any money last for more than a week whatever it was. He called to collect it just before six that day, and he didn’t leave the office till getting on for a quarter past six, so I’m afraid he couldn’t possibly have murdered James. It would have been so nice and simple if he had, but – he didn’t.’

‘Who did?’ said Hilary before she could stop to think.

Marion was standing still. At Hilary’s question she seemed to become something more than still. Where there is life there is breath, and where there is breath there is always some movement. Marion seemed to have stopped breathing. There was a long, frightening minute when it seemed to Hilary that she had stopped breathing. She stared at her with round, terrified eyes, and it came to her that Marion wasn’t sure -wasn’t sure about Geoff. She loved Geoff terribly, but she wasn’t sure that he hadn’t killed James Everton. That seemed so shocking to Hilary that she couldn’t think of anything to say or anything to do. She leaned back upon her hands and felt them go numb.

Marion ’s stillness broke. She turned suddenly, and suddenly all the self-control of that year of misery and iron broke, too. She said,

‘I don’t know -nobody knows – nobody will ever know. We shall just go on, and on, and on, and we shall never know. I’m twenty-five and Geoff is twenty-eight. Perhaps we shall have to go on for another fifty years. Fifty years.’ Her voice went down into some cold depth.

Hilary took her weight off her numb hands and scrambled up.

‘ Marion – darling – don’t! It’s not really for life – you know – they let them out.’

‘Twenty-five years,’ said Marion in a tormented voice. ‘Twenty-five years, and something off for good conduct. Say it’s twenty years – twenty years. You don’t know what one year has done to him. It would have been better if they had killed him at once. They’re killing him now, a little at a time, a little bit every day, and long before the twenty years are up he’ll be dead. There won’t be anything left that I knew or loved. There’ll be a body called Geoffrey Grey, because his body won’t die. He’s strong, and they say it’s a very healthy life, so his body won’t die. Only my Geoff is dying -now – now – whilst we’re talking.’

‘ Marion!’

Marion pushed her away.

‘You don’t know what it’s like. Every time I go I think, “Now I’m going to reach him, really reach him – I won’t let anything stop me reaching him this time. It doesn’t matter about the warder, it doesn’t matter about anything – we’ll be together again – that’s the only thing that matters.” But when I get there – ’ she made a gesture of despair- ‘we’re not together. I can’t get near him -I can’t touch him -they won’t let me touch him – they won’t let me kiss him. If I could put my arms round him I could call him back. He’s going away from me all the time – dying away from me – and I can’t do anything about it.’ She took hold of the back of the armchair and leaned on it, trembling. Think of him coming out after twenty years, quite dead! What can you do for a dead man? He’ll be quite dead by then. And what shall I be like? Perhaps I shall be dead, too.’

‘ Marion – Marion – please!’

Marion shuddered from head to foot.

‘No, it’s no good – is it? One just has got to go on. If my baby hadn’t died – ’ She stopped, straightened up, and put her hands over her face. ‘I shall never have children now. They’re killing Geoff, and they’ve killed my children. Oh, God – why, why did it happen? We were so happy!’

Hilary woke from something that wasn’t quite sleep, and heard the clock in the living-room strike twelve. She hadn’t meant to go to sleep until she was sure that Marion was asleep, and she felt rather despising towards herself because she had fallen into a doze. It felt rather like running away to go off into a dream and leave Marion awake and unhappy. But perhaps Marion was asleep.

She slipped out of bed and went barefoot into the bathroom. Marion ’s window and the bathroom window were side by side. If you hung on to the towel-rail with your left hand and leaned right out of the bathroom window, you could reach Marion’s window-sill with your right hand, and then if you craned your neck until it felt as if it was going to crack, you could get one ear just far enough into the room to hear whether Marion was asleep or not. Hilary had done it times without number and never been caught. The fall of the curtain hid her from the bed. She had listened a hundred times, and heard Marion sigh and heard her weep, and had not dared to go to her, but had stayed awake for company’s sake, and to think loving, pitiful thoughts of her and Geoff.

But tonight Marion slept. The faint, even sound of her breathing just stirred the stillness of the room.

Hilary drew back with the acrobatic twist which practice had made perfect. A light chill shiver of relief ran over her as she dived back into bed and snuggled the clothes up round her. Now she could go to sleep with a good conscience.