R Raichev - Murder at the Villa Byzantine

Antonia nodded. ‘Yes. She saw his photo and heard church bells… Her gaze became remote… Her eyes seemed to fix themselves on some distant and perhaps glorious horizon. Suddenly – suddenly she looked years younger, almost girl-like… I noticed the change, yet I convinced myself I’d imagined it…’

‘She became obsessed with Vane from the word go. Perhaps it had been waiting to happen, that sort of thing. That would explain why she went on visiting him after Stella’s death. The condition is known as “old maid’s psychosis”. Winifred is an old maid. It all fits in. I want to kick myself!’

‘We have been looking at the case the wrong end up. Literally. Not MM for Moon Markoff, but WW for Winifred Willard. Winifred is Miss Hope.’

‘Stella only met the two sisters once, at that ghastly party at Kinderhook. When she bumped into “Miss Hope” at the Villa Byzantine, she thought that it was Melisande she was seeing. The reason for her mistake is obvious,’ Payne went on reflectively. ‘There is a resemblance between the two sisters. Melisande is the actress. One expects women who are actresses to dress up. Melisande’s sitting room was full of framed photos showing her in various theatrical parts. It was a natural enough mistake to make in the circumstances.’

‘There was a photo hanging on the loo wall at Kinderhook,’ Antonia said. ‘Did you see it? Of Melisande as Miss Prism or some such preposterous pedagogue-like figure in pince-nez.’

‘Of course! Stella probably saw it too!’

‘It might have been that very same photo that gave Winifred the idea for her disguise in the first place.’

‘There is of course a strong psychological factor that is central to the confusion,’ said Payne. ‘Stella had been feeling guilty. She knew Melisande was distraught when Morland jilted her. She was nervous of Melisande – afraid of her.’

‘It never occurred to her she might have made a mistake?’

‘No. Why should she think it was Winifred who’d dressed up as Miss Hope? It made little sense. After she moved in with Morland, Stella became paranoid. She believed Melisande was out to get her in some way. Well, she did die a violent death – but it was the wrong sister who delivered the blow.’

‘What reason would Winifred have had for wanting to kill Stella?’

‘Winifred starts her delusional romance with Vane. She has succeeded in passing herself off as “Miss Hope”, former royal nanny to Prince Cyril’s bastard baby. Everything seems to be going well – till the day Stella turns up at the Villa Byzantine. Winifred and Stella exchange a couple of words. Stella gives every indication of having recognized her. Stella stares at her, then asks Vane questions about Miss Hope’s age and so on. Vane mentions the fact to Winifred – you see?’

‘Winifred fears the game is up?’

‘Yes! She has no idea Stella has taken her for Melisande. Winifred believes that sooner or later Stella will tell Vane who she really is. She knows that a revelation like that will put paid to her “romance”. Something needs to be done about it. She needs to act fast. Stella has to be silenced. What’s the matter?’

‘The sword, Hugh. The samurai sword. Call me unimaginative, but I can’t see Winifred brandishing a sword. And why kill her in Tancred Vane’s drawing room? Tancred Vane is the love of Winifred’s life! To be with him is her dearest wish. She wouldn’t dream of causing him any upset. The very last thing she would want to do is desecrate his drawing room. You said his drawing room was a work of art. Think about it!’

There was a pause.

‘Perhaps that particular killing method was chosen with good reason… Perhaps the murder is not as irrational and grotesque as it looks, rather it was a mixture of planning and impulse, brutal, yet clever and ingenious.’ Payne drew a thoughtful forefinger across his jaw. ‘Winifred intended to throw suspicion on Stella’s daughter. A sword is the kind of weapon Moon would employ. Winifred had heard Moon eulogize the bloody delights of an electronic game called Hammers of Hell. Maybe that’s what gave her the idea?’

‘Maybe it was.’

‘You don’t seem too convinced. Incidentally, why did you undertake that trip to Earls Court today?’

‘I will tell you only if there is a follow-up. I expect a follow-up-’

‘Won’t you at least give me a hint what it’s about?’

‘That bill from the Corrida Hotel. For champagne and so on. You said it wasn’t yours. Well, I deduced it was James Morland’s. He must have dropped it when he visited you here.’

Payne stared. ‘You’re right. Good lord – yes. He did drop some papers the day he came – he wanted to show me the opera tickets. Hello – what’s up? No, don’t tell me. First things first. Let’s go to Kinderhook and talk to Miss Hope.’

The Rise and Fall of the British Nanny

It was only a short walk under the full moon – that patron of lovers and plotters, Major Payne murmured.

Kinderhook had the dignified and somewhat forbidding air of a cathedral. There was a patriarchal solemnity about it.

‘Will Winifred unwind all the wiles she wound?’

‘Don’t you ever get tired of spouting bons mots?’

‘I find it helps release the tension… This is actually a paraphrase of something Francis Thompson wrote in “The Mistress of Vision”.’

‘Are you tense?’

‘I believe I am.’ He patted his pocket, making Antonia wonder whether he had taken his old army revolver with him after all.

‘You don’t think she will try to hold us hostage or anything like that, do you?’

Winifred Willard’s part of the house was dark. They saw light only in Melisande’s windows. Perhaps the two sisters were together? That would complicate matters. Payne thought he had no other option but to ring Melisande’s front door bell.

The door opened almost at once and Winifred Willard stood on the threshold. She might have been waiting for them. The hall light was on and her ash-blonde chignon gleamed. She looked radiant, happy, years younger. Her cheeks were a little flushed. Her eyes were bright.

She was clad in a high-collared silk dress in dove grey that reached below her knees, four strings of pearls, each row separated by diamond buckles on either side of her neck, and pearl earrings. Her shoes were red, shiny, with silver buckles, the only vaguely eccentric touch about her get-up – it put Antonia incongruously in mind of Dorothy. Innocence and witchery? Perhaps not that incongruous after all.

‘Hugh! Antonia! What a lovely surprise!’ Winifred clapped her hands. ‘Would you like to come in?’ She opened the door wide.

Whatever Antonia had anticipated, it wasn’t such a spontaneous display of hospitality. Payne too was puzzled. Divided psyche, he thought. Or could it be a trap?

They went in.

‘Poor Melisande is laid low. That’s why I am here, playing the nurse. Melisande appears to have had a nervous breakdown of sorts.’

‘Oh, I am so sorry,’ Antonia said.

‘She will be fine. She’s had nervous breakdowns before. I must say it completely ruined my plans for the evening. My sister never seems to tire of imposing her temperamental vagaries and physical needs on me – even when she is prostrate and unconscious!’ Winifred laughed. ‘I am not as callous as I sound! Dr Olwyn gave her an injection. She is asleep at the moment, so you can’t see her.’

‘As a matter of fact we wanted to see you,’ Payne said.

‘Did you? How perfectly splendid. I was just having coffee. I am experimenting with a new blend. Would you like to join me? I’d be terribly interested in your opinion. I must say this is a most welcome diversion. I’d resigned myself to a solitary vigil. I am reading the latest Anita Brookner. Another masterly study of well-bred desolation,’ Winifred prattled on. ‘Isn’t it odd how some authors never vary? She must be getting on. Her outlook has remained remarkably unchanged-’