Patricia Wentworth - Vanishing Point

The Superintendent said,

“How did he manage?”

Her eyes looked past him, pleased like a cat with a bird.

“I went across the fields and let him know. He said she would be coming down to see his wife as soon as he went past to the Holly Tree. She was frightened of men, you know! Such a fool! He said he could slip out and catch her just before nine, when she would be going home. She always went at the same time because the old woman locked up then. He said no one would miss him if he slipped out for a minute or two like that. It’s no distance. So that is what he did.”

“He killed Miss Holiday?”

“Oh, no, he only stunned her. And we put her in one of the sheds at the back of the bungalow. You see, we couldn’t put her down the well until quite late in the night in case of there being anyone awake. It wouldn’t have done for Mrs. Selby to notice anything, or old Mrs. Maple.”

The Superintendent put his hand to his chin.

“Miss Crewe, you have been warned that what you say is being taken down and may be used in evidence. Am I to understand that you were present when Miss Holiday was first stunned and at some time later thrown into the well at the bottom of Mrs. Maple’s garden?”

Her glance flickered over him, dry and bright.

“Oh, yes-he couldn’t possibly have managed without me. There is a most convenient path across the fields which comes out at the stile in Vicarage Lane quite close to the Selbys’ bungalow. I can assure you the whole thing was extremely well organized. I spared no trouble. You must understand, Superintendent, that the controlling mind has been my own throughout. Selby has been useful, but he has always taken his orders from me. He is quite incapable of working out the intricate plans which have made our enterprise so successful. I must insist that you are clear on this point.”

“And Mr. Cunningham-what was his position?”

She said, “Oh, Henry!” Her hands gestured as if letting something fall. Her rings flashed under the light. Frank Abbott thought, “They’ll take them away, and she’ll mind like hell.”

An odd irrelevancy which came and went in between one breath and the next.

“Henry!” she said. “Why, he couldn’t plan anything if he tried! All he could do was to mount the stones in his specimens. And we never told him anything we could help. He liked doing the work, but the other side of it worried him. He really made some excellent models of caterpillars. Some of them are quite large, and he was very clever about packing them with diamonds. You can get quite a number of diamonds into one of those big caterpillars. He used some stuff like plasticine and painted them when they were dry. They were supposed to be used for instructional purposes abroad.”

Frank Abbott’s light sardonic gaze rested upon her.

“Very ingenious, Miss Crewe. The whole thing must have given you a great deal of thought. May I ask whether the disappearance of Maggie Bell was another instance of your ingenuity? I suppose she saw something she wasn’t meant to see at the Dower House, and when Henry Cunningham told you about it you took the matter in hand?”

Her brows drew together in a frown.

“What do you know about Maggie Bell?”

He leaned back in his chair, his pose negligent, his voice easy.

“Well, if you ask me what I think, I should say Henry was careless. Let me see-you had already got away with Lady Melbury’s necklace. You may have intended to get the stones out of the country a year ago, and then have decided to wait. Henry may have had some of them to pack into a specimen. At a guess, he probably left them lying about loose on his blotting-pad while he went out of his room, and when he came back, there was Maggie Bell looking at them.”

“She had no business in his study,” said Lydia Crewe severely. “She had been told she must never interrupt him when he was working. If people disregard orders they must take the consequences.”

“May I ask how you induced her to-er-take them? How did that clever planning brain of yours deal with what must have been quite a dangerous situation?”

“Naturally I saw at once that the matter was urgent. Maggie would not be likely to mention anything she had seen to her parents-very disagreeable people and interested in nothing except themselves and their ailments. But Maggie used to slip down to that cousin of hers who works for Mrs. Merridew, Florrie Hunt. Lucy Cunningham happened to mention that she was going there that evening. Lucy always mentions everything-a tiresome habit, but sometimes it is convenient. I told Selby to have his car ready and to pick me up. The Hunts’ house is the last in the village, and we drew up beyond it. I went back, and when Maggie came along I was waiting for her. I said I had a note for Mrs. Hunt, and she walked with me to the car to get it. Really a very stupid woman, though quite an efficient worker. I told her to get into the car, as there was something I wanted to explain about the note. When Selby had dealt with her, we disposed of the body and went home. There was really no risk about it at all. Selby posted two cards which I had prepared, and everyone thought she had just got bored with Hazel Green and gone off.”

“What did you do with the body?” said the Superintendent.

Lydia Crewe bridled-there was no other word for it. The effect was ghastly.

“Ah!” she said. “You never found out, did you? If you had found a body, people wouldn’t have believed she had run away, would they? So I took good care that the body should not be found!”

Frank Abbott raised his eyebrows and said,

“Well, we have only your word for it that she didn’t run away, haven’t we? All that clever plan of yours that you’ve been telling us about rather goes by the board without any evidence to back it up. Personally, I shan’t believe a word of it unless you can produce the body. If you really disposed of it as you say you did, then you will be able to tell us what you did with it, and when we have found it you can expect us to believe your story. At the moment I don’t feel particularly credulous.” She went on talking.

Miss Silver was quite ready when Craig called for her at a little after half-past nine. She wore the hat which had been her best for no more than two winters, a black felt with a bunch of pansies on the left-hand side. Frank Abbott has always maintained that during the years he has sat at her feet Maudie has only possessed two hats, labelled respectively Best and Second Best, but that periodically, like the Phoenix, they renew their youth and rise on stepping-stones of their dead selves to higher things-these being exemplified by new black or purple ribbons and fresh bunches of the more sober kind of flower. It is, of course, so far true that her hats are always of the same shape, and that they are always made of black felt or black straw, according to the season. The current hat carried a black ribbon edged with purple, and the stalks of the pansies were controlled by a small jet buckle. She had in readiness to put on the pair of grey suede gloves which Cecilia Voycey had sent her for Christmas. She considered them far too light to be practical, but for a wedding they would be most appropriate. From her composed and serene appearance nobody would have guessed that she had been up all night.

After a search of the study at the Dower House had disclosed the presence of the Melbury rubies the arrest of Henry Cunningham had, of course, been inevitable. Lucy Cunningham’s distress had been painful to witness, and it had not been possible to leave her until she had fallen into an uneasy sleep. Nicholas had been really helpful, and she had come away towards morning feeling that Lucy might safely be left in his care until Mrs. Merridew could relieve him.