Jane Vows Vengeance

“Honestly, I don’t think Mr. McGuinness and I exchanged more than half a dozen words before today,” she said calmly. “Including today,” she added.

Inspector Nesbitt wrote on his pad. “You were, however, aware of his relationship with Enid Woode,” he said, stating it as fact rather than as a question.

Jane nodded. “I was aware of that, yes,” she said.

“And how were you made aware of it?”

“I believe it was Mr. Pittman who informed me,” Jane answered. “The first night. In the American Bar.”

“Do you know anyone who might have reason to harbor ill-will toward Mr. McGuinness?” asked Nesbitt.

Jane thought for a moment. Now that she considered it, she did know a few people who had reason to dislike Ryan McGuinness. Chief among them, of course, was Chumsley Faber-Titting. But there was also Brodie, whose work McGuinness had stolen when they were students. But Brodie is a perfectly delightful man, she thought. I can’t imagine him doing such a thing.

Then she remembered seeing Chumsley emerging from McGuinness’s compartment on the train. She remembered too the words of warning Chumsley had uttered. Had they been a precursor to the day’s murderous events? It certainly seemed possible. But Chumsley knows you heard him, she reminded herself. He knows that if asked you would likely provide that information.

Chumsley seemed too clever a man to be tripped up so easily. Also, had he not been on the ground when Ryan McGuinness went over the side? Once again she was reminded that she and she alone had been on top of the keep. And so we’re back where we began, she thought grimly.

“No,” she said to Nesbitt, who had been patiently awaiting her answer. “I really can’t think of anyone who would want to kill Mr. McGuinness.”

The inspector wrote on his pad, then looked up and expressed the very thought Jane had just had herself. “It seems that everyone in the party was on the ground and accounted for at the time of the incident,” he said. “Except for you.”

Jane cleared her throat. “I’ve heard that,” she said.

“And yet you say you were nowhere near Mr. McGuinness at the time that he … exited the tower unexpectedly,” said Nesbitt.

“That’s right,” Jane said. “I was on the—I believe it was the north-facing side, and Mr. McGuinness fell from the west-facing side.”

“Right around the corner from where you were standing,” the inspector pointed out.

“Well, yes,” said Jane. “Regardless, I hardly have the strength to throw a man the size of Mr. McGuinness over a four-foot-high wall.”

“Did someone mention throwing?” asked Nesbitt.

“Not you,” said Jane. “But the others did. Bergen did.”

A small smile played at the corners of the inspector’s mouth. “The German fellow,” he said. “Yes, he was quite insistent on it.” He flipped through the pages of the notepad. “Something about the ‘angle of fall,’ I believe he said. Very interesting. And you’re correct. I don’t think you have the strength to throw a man over a wall.”

“Thank you,” Jane said, wondering if that was the proper response to such a statement.

“You could, however, have pushed him,” Nesbitt continued. “Had he been already standing on the wall, for instance.”

“But he wasn’t,” said Jane. “And I didn’t.”

“How do you know he wasn’t if you couldn’t see him?” asked the inspector.

“I don’t,” Jane admitted. “But I would think someone from below would have noticed if he had been.”

“Only if they were looking up,” Nesbitt countered.

Jane was becoming annoyed. These were all very good points. But I didn’t kill him, she thought.

“You’re a writer, aren’t you, Miss Fairfax?”

“Yes,” said Jane, eager to be going down a new avenue of discussion.

“I believe my wife has read your novel,” Nesbitt said. “She quite enjoyed it. I tend to stick to the likes of Patrick O’Brian myself. I enjoy a good sea battle.” He folded his notepad and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “Well, I think that will be all. Thank you for your time.”

Jane, perplexed, said, “That’s it? Don’t you have more questions for me?”

The inspector reached for his notepad. “Would you like me to ask you some more questions?”

Jane flushed. “No,” she said. “It’s just that the conversation ended so abruptly.”

Nesbitt stood up. “I’ve been an inspector for a great many years, Miss Fairfax,” he said. “I’ve seen many a guilty person and listened to many a fanciful tale designed to cover up the truth. I don’t find either here in this room this evening.”

“I see,” Jane said. “Then may I ask, what do you think happened to Mr. McGuinness?”

“I don’t know for certain,” said Nesbitt. “If I were pressed for an explanation, I would say that he jumped.”

“But the angle of fall,” Jane said.

“Indeed,” said the inspector. “The angle of fall. And we will have to look into that. But you’re asking what my gut tells me, and my gut tells me the gentleman jumped to his death. Why, I don’t know. Perhaps I will never know. Perhaps no one will ever know save for him and God. In the absence of a likely suspect, however, all I can do is eliminate the people I think did not do it, and at this moment that includes everyone who was present at Swichninny Castle this morning.”

Jane walked with Nesbitt to the front door. This required passing through yet another sitting room, in which were assembled all of the other tour participants, as well as Ben, Lucy, and Miriam. As Jane and the inspector entered, all eyes turned to her.

“Are you all right?” Walter asked, putting his arm around Jane.

“I’m fine,” she assured him.

“Well?” Enid demanded of the inspector. “What have you concluded?”

Nesbitt put on his hat. “Nothing conclusively,” he said. “But you are all free to go about your business. If I have further need of you, I will be in contact.”

Enid’s eyes—and the eyes of several other people—darted to Jane. “So you’ve cleared everyone of suspicion, then?”

The inspector buttoned his coat. “As I said, if I have further need of any of you, I will be in contact. In the meantime, I thank you all for your cooperation.”

After he’d gone, the mood in the room changed perceptibly. Jane sensed a distinct chill in the air, most of it emanating from Enid. No one spoke for a long while, until finally Chumsley said, “Well, we need to decide where we go from here.”

“You know very well that our next town is Clonakilty,” Enid said.

Chumsley nodded. “I wasn’t referring to the location of our next stop,” he said. “I meant, should we continue with the tour in light of today’s tragic events?”

Enid snorted. “What do you care? You hated him anyway. If she hadn’t been the only one up there with him”—she cocked her head in Jane’s direction—“you’d be the primary suspect.”

“You can’t seriously suspect Jane had anything to do with it!” Walter said. “That’s ridiculous.”

“She was the only one up there,” said Miriam.

“Nonsense,” said Lucy. “We all know Jane could never do something like that.”

Jane gave her a thankful look. Although she knows full well I could do it, she thought. If I wanted to.

“No, we don’t all know that,” said Genevieve. “Some of us don’t know her at all. All we do know is that she was alone with Ryan on top of the keep.”

“Jane isn’t on trial here,” Brodie reminded them all. “If the inspector thought she had something to do with McGuinness taking flight, he would have taken her in.”

“I agree,” Sam said. “Let’s not be pointing fingers.”

“Which brings me back to my original question,” said Chumsley. “Are we going to continue, or are we going