G Malliet - Death at the Alma Mater

St. Just paused, turning to look about him. India sat nodding, eyes averted. When she raised her gaze, a look of complete understanding passed between her and her husband. She did not look at Augustus Cramb, as he was known to the U.S. Department of State, which had issued his passport. Hermione gave her walking stick a tentative thump. Geraldo's face held a sneer of truculent boredom. When would the subject turn to him?

Sir James nodded in St. Just's direction.

"This is all very well, but of course it has no bearing on what should be of most concern to you. I'll ask that you spare my wife, and me, any more public revelations along these lines. They are not pertinent."

"Very well," said St. Just. "Let's find a topic you all might find more pertinent. Let's see. When you were in the Fellows' Garden, Sir James, you were perfectly situated to see the rest of the group pass by overhead, going through the gallery walk. Your testimony can help us fine-tune our timetable. Would you mind walking through with me again what you saw on the night of the murder? Whom did you see pass by up there, and in what order?"

James, evidently exasperated but grateful for the change in subject, said, "Really, I've no idea. I was focused on Lexy, of course. A group of people went by, all of them in black robes, which makes it even harder to be sure. I really can't say, except that I do remember Hermione Jax going by; in fact I think she waved at me."

"That is correct," nodded Hermione.

"And Portia De'Ath-she's a Visiting Fellow here, as you know. I think she saw me, and I think she was one of the last out. Or maybe it was the Bursar who was last out… but I tell you, I didn't have my focus trained there. I was trying to reassure and calm Lexy."

"That's all right, Sir. Your recollection is quite good for our purposes. Now, after you saw the Bursar pass by, how long was it before you joined the others in the SCR?"

"Oh, less than a minute, I'm sure. Thirty seconds, perhaps. When I saw him I realized I might be unconscionably late. There was no persuading Lexy to join us. I knew from long experience it was best to leave her alone to get a grip on herself. So I left her-rather too abruptly for politeness, I'm afraid. But it seemed best."

"Quite sensible of you. Now, when you got to the SCR, who was there?"

"I've given this some more thought, you know. I can only say for certain that India, the Bursar, and Ms. De'Ath were there. The Master and the Reverend Otis, I'm quite certain." The Master lowered his head in acknowledgement. "Mrs. Dunning. I think that's all but again-"

"You can't be sure," St. Just finished for him. "Right, that's understood. Sir. Now… I suppose the only other question I have for you is this: How foolish did you feel standing there for five minutes or more, talking animatedly to an inflatable doll?"

The room had suddenly gone quite still. Only the muted noise of people shifting uncomfortably in their seats and the soft patter of a long-anticipated rain against the window disturbed the quiet. Finally, and again predictably, the silence was broken by Mrs. Dunning.

"I told you, Karl. There would be some sort of deviant sexual practice behind all of this. It's those boarding schools, you know. They are veritable breeding grounds of vice and corruption. I don't suppose they can help themselves, poor mites. Why, in the States, we would never ship our young-"

But even her husband, in his gentle way, seemed to have heard enough. "Do be quiet, Constance. That's not what he means at all. Is it, Inspector?"

"No, of course not. No, indeed it is not. The inflatable doll-shall we give her a name, Sir James? 'Alibi,' perhaps? Yes, well. Because this alibi doll was not in use for some irregular or perverted practice-at least, not in the usual sense of that term. Nor as part of an undergraduate prank, which kind of thing has gone on here for ages. 'She' was there as a placeholder for Lexy. Lexy, who had already been dead some long minutes. Lexy, whose mortal body already lay near the boathouse."

Sir James spluttered into speech. "You must be mad. Lexy and I had been divorced for years. All passion spent on my side, I assure you. Why, then, would I engage in such a preposterous performance as you are suggesting? In order to kill someone who meant nothing to me? You are mad, I say."

St. Just, whose eye seemed to be caught by something outside the window, did not reply immediately. When he turned, a look of the utmost exhaustion etched his handsome features. He said:

"She meant nothing to you, that is true. But what was new, what had changed, was that you finally meant nothing to her. She had at last outgrown her juvenile attachment to you. At last, she had dropped the torch she had carried for so long. Suddenly, she was no longer willing to do whatever you asked of her, in her desperate need to be loved and admired. Just as bad-for you-once her infatuation faded, she began taking a closer look at her financial affairs vis-a-vis you. More to the point, you took a closer look at those finances. The case had altered. And so she had to be killed."

James Bassett cast his eyes about the room, looking in vain for support. He only found wide-eyed incredulity. "You're mad," he repeated.

"At first I thought the fact you two were distant cousins played into this," said St. Just. "That there might be some family inheritance that could not be altered by the divorce. You know, some form of entailment, so common amongst the titled families. Or perhaps there was some stock you had held in common, once worthless, now worth millions. Her canny way with a portfolio-I thought that might have something to do with this. Perhaps you were jealous of what she'd done with her share? Perhaps there was an option due to expire and if she exercised that option, it could mean your ruin, because of some lingering loophole in the divorce papers?

"But no, we found nothing like that in going over your finances and legal filings, or hers. No business partnership in common, no lingering ties of family inheritance.

"Still, looking at the current situation from a different angle: Could it be that far from mooning about over James, as you were all used to seeing her do, Lexy had in fact chosen this weekend to finally dump him? She was moving on, and a lot of details she had been neglecting, she finally began paying attention to.

"Now, Sir James must have known this day would come, but in the past it hadn't mattered so much to him. It hadn't mattered at all, in fact. He had money; his wife had money. But one day he woke up to find his portfolio larded with one bad investment after another-as so many of us have done lately, albeit on a smaller scale, given the state of the economy. But in Sir James' case, these percentage losses amounted to enormous sums. So, the case had indeed altered. And about the same time, his wealthy ex-wife was cutting him loose-emotionally-at last."

St. Just turned to the topic of his speech.

"The tragedy, for you, Sir James, was that Lexy was over you. She was free of you. It was rather a final turn of the screw, wasn't it? Geraldo here was a fling, a symbol, if you like-she was at least trying to enjoy herself, choosing one of the world's best-known ladies' men to finally kick over the traces."

Geraldo acknowledged the compliment with a grave bow of his head. Even playboys, apparently, had standards of greatness.

"Well, that's a jolly interesting theory, Inspector," said Sir James. "I killed Lexy because I've had rather a bad run in the stock market? Who, as you say, has not watched their stocks plummet lately? You have no evidence of motive whatsoever. Really, what has this country come to?"

"I wonder that myself," said St. Just quietly, just a trace of menace in his voice. A wiser man would have paid attention to the menace.