She understood perfectly, but her eyes did not waver from his. “I am aware of that, Inspector. I do not know who killed Sebastian, but it was not Dr. Beecher, and it was not I. But I believe that if you investigate a little further, you will find that Elwyn Allard shot Dr. Beecher, and you cannot find it difficult to understand why, since you yourself assumed that Dr. Beecher was guilty of killing Sebastian.”
“Oi’m not sure as how Oi do believe it.” Perth bit his lip. “But Oi suppose Oi’d better go back to St. John’s an’ ask around a bit more, leastways find out if anyone saw Elwyn near Dr. Beecher’s rooms just before he were shot. But Oi still don’t see how he could have known where the gun were if it were in the pipe from the roof of the master’s lodgings!”
“The gun was on the floor, by Dr. Beecher’s hand,” Joseph said suddenly. “Did you do any tests to see if that was where and how it would fall if dropped from a man’s hand after he was shot?”
“An’ how would we do that, sir?” Perth asked dourly. “We can’t hardly ask somebody to shoot theirselves to show us!”
“Haven’t you ever seen suicides before?” Joseph was thinking rapidly. How on earth could he prove the truth he was more and more certain of with every moment? “Where do guns fall after the shock of death? A gun is heavy. If you shoot yourself in the head”—he carried on regardless of Connie’s gasp—“you fall sideways. Does your arm go down as his was, and the gun slither out of your fingers? For that matter, were there any fingerprints on it?”
“Oi dunno, sir,” Perth said sharply. “It was plain it was suicide to me, seeing as you yourself showed us that Sebastian Allard had been blackmailing him into doing all kinds o’ favors for him, things as he wouldn’t do o’ hisself, an’ ruining his name as a professor.”
“Yes, I know that,” Joseph said impatiently. “But I’m talking about proof. Think back on it now, with other possibilities in mind! Was that how a gun would fall?”
“Oi dunno, sir.” Perth looked troubled. “Oi suppose it were a bit . . . awkward. But that ain’t proof of anything. We dunno how he sat, nor what way he moved when he were shot. Begging your pardon, ma’am. Oi’d like to spare your feelings, but you ain’t making it possible.”
“I know that, Inspector,” she said quietly, but her face was ashen.
Joseph’s mind was racing urgently. “Surely, Inspector, if we could prove that the gun was in the bucket at the top of the drainpipe on the master’s roof, that would also prove that Dr. Beecher could not have got it to shoot himself?”
“Yes, sir, it would. But how are we going to prove that? Guns don’t leave nothin’ behind, an’ if it were there, likely it were wrapped in a cloth or something, to keep it from being seen, or getting wet.”
Wet. The idea was like a lightning flare. “We had rain the day Beecher was killed!” Joseph almost shouted the words. “If there was a cloth around the gun, then the whole thing would have blocked the drain! There are barrels at the bottom of the drainpipes in the Fellows’ Garden! If one of them is dry, that’s your proof! And he would choose that side, because the other overlooks the quad, where it was far more exposed.”
Perth stared at him. “Yes, sir, if it’s clear now, Oi’d take that as proof.” He started toward the door, barely waiting for them to follow. “We’d best go an’ look now, before it rains again an’ we’ve lost it all.”
It was a short walk back to St. John’s, and they did not speak as they dodged between pedestrians on the narrow footpaths. It was already getting warmer as the sun beat down on the stone.
They went in through the front gate past Mitchell, who looked startled and unhappy to see Perth again, then across the first quad, through the archway, and across the second. Then, since the gate was locked, as usual, they hurried through the master’s lodgings into the Fellows’ Garden.
Joseph felt his pulse quicken as they passed between the flowers, the perfume of them heavy in the stillness, and stopped in front of the first water barrel.
He glanced at Connie, and she back at him. His mouth was dry.
Perth looked into the barrel. “About a quarter full,” he announced. “Near as Oi can tell.”
Connie reached out and took Joseph’s hand, gripping him hard.
Perth moved to the middle barrel and looked in. He stood still, a little bent.
Connie’s fingers tightened.
Joseph felt his heart pounding.
“It’s dry,” Perth said huskily. He turned to look at Joseph, then Connie. “Better check the last one,” he said softly. “Oi think you’re right, Reverend. In fact, seems like for certain you are.”
“If it’s dry,” Joseph pointed out, “then there was something wrapped around the gun. It might still be there, especially if there’s still no water at all.”
Perth stared at him, then very slowly he turned away and bent to peer up the drainpipe. “Reckon as there is an’ all,” he said, pursing his lips. “Come most o’ the way down. Oi’ll have to see if Oi can get it the rest.”
“Can I help?” Joseph offered.
“No, thank you, sir. Oi’ll do it myself,” Perth insisted. He took his jacket off, reluctantly handing it to Joseph, then rolled up his shirtsleeve and poked his arm up the drainpipe.
There were several moments of frustrated silence while he wriggled without effort.
Connie walked over to the delphiniums and plucked out one of the canes that held them up. She returned with it and offered it to Perth.
“Thank you, madam,” he said, tight-lipped, and extended a dirty hand to take it from her. Three minutes later he retrieved a piece of canvas awning like that used on the punts at night. It was almost a foot square, and there were smudges of oil near the middle. Perth held it to his nose and sniffed.
“Gun oil?” Joseph asked huskily.
“Yes, sir, I reckon so. Suppose Oi’d better go an’ have a few words with Mr. Elwyn Allard.”
“I’ll come with you,” Joseph said without hesitation. He turned to Connie. “I think you’d better stay here.”
She did not argue. She let Joseph and Perth out of the side gate into the quad, then went back into the house.
Joseph followed Perth across toward Elwyn’s rooms. He knew it would be desperately painful, the more so because he could understand the passion of hatred, the compulsion that had drawn Elwyn to defend his mother from grief. And perhaps also the hunger within him to do something sufficiently powerful to make her grateful to him, even if she did not know why. Then she might emerge from her obsession with Sebastian long enough to acknowledge that she still had one live son who was equally worthy of her love.
They found Elwyn in Morel’s rooms. They were studying together, discussing alternative translations of a political speech. It was Morel who answered the door, startled to see Perth again.
“Sorry to disturb you, sir,” Perth said grimly. “Oi understand Mr. Allard is here.”
Morel turned just as Elwyn came up behind him.
“What is it?” Elwyn asked, glancing from Perth to Joseph and back again. If he was afraid, there was no sign of it in his face.
Joseph spoke before Perth could answer. “I think it would be a good idea if you were to come to the police station in town, Elwyn. There are a few questions you may be able to answer, and it would be better there.”
Perth glanced at him, a flicker of annoyance across his face, but he conceded.
“If you want,” Elwyn agreed, the tension greater in him now, too.
Morel looked at him, then at Joseph. Finally he turned to Elwyn. “Do you want me to come?”
“No, thank you, sir,” Perth cut him off. “This is a family matter.” He stepped back to block the stairway door. “This way, sir,” he directed Elwyn.
“What is it?” Elwyn asked halfway down the steps.
Perth did not answer until they had reached the bottom and were outside in the quad.
“Oi’m taking you in for questioning, sir, regardin’ the death o’ Dr. Beecher. Oi thought it easier for you if Mr. Morel didn’t have to know that at this point. If you give me your word to come without making a fuss, there’ll be no need for ’andcuffs or anything like that.”
Elwyn went white. “H-Handcuffs!” he stammered. He turned to Joseph.
“If you wish me to come with you, then of course I will,” Joseph offered. “Or if you prefer me to contact your parents, or a lawyer, then I’ll do that first.”
“I . . .” Elwyn looked lost, stunned, as if he had never considered the possibility of this happening. He shook his head, bewildered.
“Mr. Allard’s an adult, Reverend,” Perth said coldly. “If he wants a lawyer, then o’ course he can have one,
