Barbara Cleverly - Strange Images of Death

‘Her ploy seems to be successful. A cooling-off ensues. Perhaps certain threats regarding testamentary dispositions were made? At any rate the two lovers are, from now on, left casting hard glances at each other across the table. Estelle, broken-hearted, flirts rather desperately with the other men to rekindle his interest but only makes things worse by doing so. Jane monitors the success of her tactics by becoming close to Estelle. The girl begins to trust her-Jane, after all, has some skill in drawing people out-and, with no one else to confide in, Estelle tells her new friend more than is wise.

‘Meanwhile Jane is establishing her position in this little society. How often I’ve heard it since I arrived-“Oh, you’d better ask Jane … Jane will know … That’s Jane’s preserve-tell her.” You asserted your authority,’ said Joe, turning at last to confront her directly, ‘in the dormitory in the matter of Cecily and her schoolgirl activities. And the snake it was that died. By your hand. Or your instruction. The under-forester’s evidence is yet to be heard. I dare say you had no more bad feeling for the creature than you had for Estelle. Its death was necessary and its body useful to you. It established your precedence. Dorm prefect first, school captain next, add a dash of matron. All very useful but what you really wanted was the châtelaine’s keys. You wanted Guy de Pacy and you wanted Silmont.

‘And then your ambition suffered a kick in the teeth. Estelle discovered that she was pregnant. She seems to have been quite clear that de Pacy was the father. Who knows? She went to tell him. What can have been his reaction? You could probably tell us, Jane, because I suspect he unwittingly asked your advice. You probably heard Estelle’s version of events after lights out? Whatever you said-it doesn’t appear to have damped down the incandescent reaction. I was here that evening Estelle had her rendezvous with Guy. I believe she was genuinely in love. I’m guessing that he was fond of her. I’m further guessing that, in the flood of feeling that came with the notion that he was to be a father, he was telling the truth when he said he proposed marriage to her that night and she accepted him.’

Jane’s face had grown pale and her mouth was set in a tight line as he pressed on.

‘One or other of them confided in you the next morning. And you sprang into action. You decided to kill two birds with one stone. If you removed Estelle, there yet remained the obstacle of the lord. You were alarmed to note his stretches of normality between the fits of madness and pain. Wills may be altered at such times. And you knew from your father’s experience that patients can linger for inconveniently long periods. You were aware of Guy’s hatred for his cousin and his impatience to take the reins. The lord’s own behaviour presented you with an irresistible opportunity.

‘In a fit of moon-fuelled rage last Friday evening he had cleared the table tomb of its stone cargo. Anyone making serious enquiries would come rapidly to the conclusion that he was guilty of the vandalism and if the conclusion was not being arrived at rapidly enough, there you were, ready to whisper gravely of psychological disturbance and fearful disease. Ready to deliver up his cloak with a cigar end conveniently in the pocket to intrigue any bumbling bobbies. If, subsequently, a flesh-and-blood offering appeared in the same spot, the inference would be clear. The maniac had struck again. And that, I’m sure, is what you were expecting. Both crimes would be laid at the door of the mad lord. He would be arrested, executed or locked up in an asylum for the insane for the rest of his days. Two lives for the price of taking one.

‘But how to persuade Estelle to make a victim of herself? Nothing easier. She is happy once more and in high good spirits. Her sense of fun leads her to agree to playing a silly joke on Cecily. “Imagine the scene-when she gets back home and Daddy has the film developed! What a souvenir! What a laugh!” You borrow the camera and arrange to meet Estelle at the chapel. But you gild the lily. You plan to have a fall-back position if things go wrong. The lord is to take the blame but he is a man with influence. You can’t be perfectly certain that he won’t come up with some defence you hadn’t anticipated. So Cecily is a reserve suspect.

‘A wise precaution, it must have seemed! Things did go wrong for you at first. It was your bad luck to find the crime being investigated by two competing detectives, one, at least, the star in his force’s firmament. But worse-the lord was inconveniently and unexpectedly away from the scene at the moment of the murder. And then the diligent police discover for themselves the contents of Cecily’s camera. You had decided these officers, since you’d been landed with them, could be of great use to you. A little nudge here, a dig of the spur there, and you’d have them moving wherever you wanted them to go. You didn’t have much respect for their detective abilities but you feared the possibilities of the new forensic sciences and took precautions. Fingerprints were …’ He paused and went on, ‘ mostly … rubbed away. Pity. It is fingerprints we rely on for a conviction. More reliable than a confession, we find in England. Were you aware-I think you must have been-that a single print is enough to clinch a case? Juries adore them! They take the weight of responsibility from their shoulders. A scientifically arrived at conclusion is always more acceptable than a moral judgement to twelve good men and true. Circumstantial evidence, deduction, are as nothing compared with the cold scientific condemnation of a single print.’

He broke off tantalizingly, leaving Jane Makepeace to wonder exactly where she had carelessly left a print.

‘The trousers you wore for their convenience in scrambling about in the moat were-just in case-stashed away amongst Estelle’s skirts, ready to be packed off and sent abroad unremarked. But …’ Deep in thought, Joe strolled to the window and flung it open, fanning his face.

Jacquemin reached down and produced the black trousers. He handed them to Joe. Jane’s eyes followed them but still she did not break her silence.

Joe now faced playing his two last cards.

‘You slid down a south-facing slope to get the incriminating shots you wanted. Leaving fragments of earth and plant matter on the fabric. These have been studied under the microscope in the laboratory and identified.’

‘Oh, really! I’ve heard enough! One: those are not my trousers. And two: Cecily who owns them is always crawling around in the undergrowth. Ask her where she’s been lately.’

‘I can tell you exactly where the trousers went on their last outing. There’s a tiny Provençal plant growing on the south side of the moat where we found boot scrapes. It is very rare. Thymus pseudolanuginosus. Are you familiar with it? It is vestiges of this plant that we were able to comb from your trousers,’ he lied convincingly.

Jane Makepeace was convinced. But unimpressed. ‘I think you cannot have heard me clearly. Those are Cecily’s trousers. She wears the uncouth garments all the time. You must have noticed.’

Such was her bored confidence that Joe was silent for a moment. He picked up the trousers, examining them once again. He looked up to see Dorcas mouthing a number at him, and went straight back on the attack. ‘Miss Somerset’s waist size is a generous thirty inches, I’m told. These are twenty-four inches. Exactly the same as yours. In any case, not difficult-merely time-consuming-to check sales receipts from Harrods.’

A slight flicker of emotion across her face told him that she understood the seriousness of her position but she still refused him the satisfaction of a comment.