Маргарет Миллар - The Murder of Miranda

“People like Iris who are getting deaf often use the trick of playing loud background music so that other people will have to shout above it. Most irritating. An ordinary conversation turns into a shouting match.”

“Do you remember what the weather was like?”

“It’s always pretty much the same at that time of year, warm, sunny, rather monotonous.”

“Were the windows open in your sister’s room?”

“Yes, I distinctly recall sitting beside one to get away from the music. Never cared much for Mozart, same damn thing over and over. He probably started too young, should have been booted out to play cricket like the rest of the boys.”

“Can you give me the gist of the conversation you had with your sister, Mr. Van Eyck?”

“She was in the process of drawing up a new will and she wanted to warn me not to expect anything, since I already had an adequate income. I objected to the idea of being cut off without a penny — the principle of the thing, her own flesh and blood and all that — so she said very well, she would leave me a penny. Iris had a rather crude sense of humor.”

“Did she tell you anything else about the will?”

“Its main purpose was to set up trusts for the two girls so they’d be well provided for during their lifetime but unable to throw money around. The capital would eventually go to various institutions and foundations.”

“What did she intend to leave to Admiral Young, her husband?”

“The house.”

“Just the house?”

“Probably its contents, too.”

“No cash, stocks, bonds?”

“He has a sizable pension. Iris thought anything more would simply make him a target for some predatory woman.”

“Did she mention anyone in particular?”

“She didn’t have to. Cooper never got much chance to meet other women, predatory or not, and Miranda was right there in the house all the time. I said, ‘Cooper’s too old for Miranda.’ And she said, ‘He’s also going to be too poor.’”

“Let’s recapitulate for a minute, Mr. Van Eyck. This discussion about your sister’s new will took place in a room with the windows open and music playing so loud that you had to shout in order to be heard.”

“Yes.”

“Did the possibility of an eavesdropper occur to you?”

“Certainly. I’m sure it occurred to her, too. I’d say she probably depended on it to get her message across.”

“By that you mean she expected and wanted to be overheard?”

“I think so.”

“You may step down now, Mr. Van Eyck. Thank you very much.”

“It was no trouble, not a bit. I didn’t have anything else to do anyway.”

Once again Van Eyck shook hands with the District Attorney and bowed to the members of the jury. Then the District Attorney sat back in his chair and watched the members while they watched the old man leave. They looked a little uneasy, as though they’d just caught the first real scent of blood in the air.

It was time to call in the police.

Sergeant Reuben Orr of the sheriff’s department testified that in the early hours of July the fifth — “as soon as we could wake up the judge” — he had obtained a search warrant to enter the premises at 122 °Camino Grande.

“And did you search the premises, Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir. I and my partner, Ernesto Salazar, spent the next two days going through the house room by room except for the burned area, which was left to an arson specialist.”

“Did you find anything which has a particular bearing on this case?”

“Yes, sir, several items.”

“Are they in this courtroom now?”

“Yes, sir, on the table with the other exhibits. They’ve been marked 15 A, 15 B, 15 C, and 16.”

“Let’s consider 15 A first. Would you go over and pick it up and show it to the jury?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now describe it, please.”

“It’s a piece of pale blue notepaper which has been crumpled and then straightened out and placed between sheets of heavy plastic for safekeeping. The paper is of good quality, made of rags instead of wood pulp, and there are words on it written with a felt-tipped black pen.”

“Where did you find it?”

“In a trash bin outside the door of the main kitchen.”

“What condition was it in at that time?”

“Crumpled.”

“What is it?”

“A letter or note, at least the beginning of one.”

“We’ll return to that in a moment. I direct your attention to exhibit 15 B. What is it, Sergeant?”

“A half-empty box of pale blue stationery.”

“Could the sheet of paper marked 15 A have come from this box?”

“Not only could, it did.”

“Where was the box found?”

“In the room occupied by Mrs. Miranda Shaw.”

“What about exhibit 15 C?”

“I found that in the same place, on the desk in her room. It’s an address book bound in blue leather which has faded and turned greenish from overexposure to light. There are gold initials on the front, M.W.S.”

“What does the book contain?”

“Names, addresses and phone numbers, dates of anniversaries and birthdays, and a Christmas card list going back several years.”

“All in what appears to be the same handwriting?”

“Yes, sir, even though the entries were made at different times with different writing instruments — pencil, metal nib and ballpoint pens, and in the case of the most recent entries, a black felt-tipped pen.”

“Was this handwriting similar in any way to that of the unfinished letter or note found in the trash bin?”

“It was similar in all ways, including the instrument used, a black felt-tipped pen.”

“So 15 A was written on a sheet of paper from 15 B, the box of stationery found in Miranda Shaw’s room, in the same handwriting as in 15 C, Miranda Shaw’s address book.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Would you read to the jury the words written on 15 A?”

“Yes, sir... ‘Dearly Beloved: I don’t expect you to approve of my plan. It must seem drastic to you but please, please realise that it is the only way we can be together. This is the important thing, being together, you and I, now and always...’ The word realise, spelled with an S, has been stroked out and realize, spelled with a Z, written above it. Possibly on this account the note was crumpled up and thrown away.”

“Does the phrase ‘dearly beloved’ have any connotation in your mind?”

“Those are the words that usually begin a marriage ceremony.”

“A marriage ceremony?”

“Yes, sir.”

At the back of the room the fan, as if it had been waiting for the right moment, made a few gasping noises and expired. The District Attorney poured himself another glass of water.

“Sergeant Orr, which of the exhibits 15 A, B and C did you find first?”

“We started our search on the ground floor, so we found the note in the trash bin first, 15 A. It sounded peculiar in view of what had happened, so I was on the lookout for any clue as to who wrote it. When I found the box of stationery and then the address book containing the same handwriting, I became interested in everything else in Mrs. Shaw’s room which might possibly have some bearing on the case.”

“Such as exhibit 16?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Show it to the jury and explain what it is and where you found it.”

“Yes, sir. It’s a bottle of red and ivory capsules prescribed by Dr. Michael Lane for Mrs. Miranda Shaw on June the twentieth of this year. I found it in the medicine cabinet of Mrs. Shaw’s bathroom. Each capsule contains thirty milligrams of Dalmane, which is a fast-acting sedative. The dosage on the bottle is given as one capsule at bedtime for sleep.”

“How many capsules are left in this bottle?”