‘Somebody else could have realised that and thought it might implicate me, don’t you think?’
‘Perhaps we have not explored sufficiently the question of means.’
‘But there
‘I was not thinking of the wolfsbane. I refer to the cream.’
‘But
‘No, but it had to be purchased. Enquiries have been made of the dairyman who supplied milk to Headlands, Campions and Seawards. Headlands put in a regular order for fresh cream. The other two houses did not. The cream, on the Friday before Mrs Leyden died on the Sunday, was delivered to Headlands as usual and was added to the innocent condiment fabricated by Mrs Plack, who tasted the result and passed it as being up to standard. That accounts for the cream which was delivered by the milkman. But the murderer also needed cream. He had sufficient perspicacity not to order it direct from the milkman, but he had to get hold of it somehow. I am sure he took a long walk on the Thursday before he called at Headlands to ask Mrs Leyden for money to meet some outstanding bills, went over to Polyarn—not a particularly daunting objective for a practised walker such as yourself—and bought the cream over the counter. He counted upon not being recognised, as the counter hand would not have been familiar with his appearance, whereas the milkman might have been.’
‘I never heard anything so specious in my life!’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘When a description of you reaches the shop and is recognised, will it not require some explanation?’
‘Forewarned is forearmed. One would plead a sudden desire for fresh cream, I suppose. People do have sudden desires for things, don’t they?’
‘You had a desire—although I do not think it was a sudden one—for a share of Mrs Leyden’s fortune.’
‘But surely you were told I stood no chance of that?—and now it is known to everyone that I did not.’
‘No, but after the first of the two dinner parties you knew that Mrs Leyden had become interested in Gamaliel, and after the second that, although the actual amount had not been mentioned, your wife would benefit. I think it was after the second dinner that you began to formulate your plans. What I think perhaps you do not know is how nearly you came to killing the wrong person.’
‘Nobody else liked horseradish.’
‘The cook was fond of it. It was her habit, in any case, to taste her condiment before it went to table to make certain that the cream had not turned sour. Owing to two factors which could not have been foreseen, she ate a quantity of her innocent mixture as soon as she had made it on the Friday and was prevented from tasting your lethal mixture on the Sunday because lunch was late and was rushed to the table at a peremptory summons from Mrs Leyden.’
‘If you’re only relying on a purchase of fresh cream to prove your otherwise unfounded allegations, I don’t think you’ll get away with them,’ said Parsifal, with a slight smile on his long, camel-like lips. ‘It was clever of you to spot the Romula-Romulus angle, though. Poetic justice I thought it. Those suckled by the she-wolf deserve to die of the wolfsbane. That thought gave me a great deal of satisfaction.’
‘I am sure it did.’
‘You see, it would have been so much simpler to have pushed her over the cliff, as Diana tried to do.’
‘You know that Mrs Bosse-Leyden did that?’
‘Oh, yes, the same as I know that Rupert did the same to Diana. But their attempts were half-hearted. It took me, the poet, to carry my plans to their logical conclusion. All my life, you know, Dame Beatrice, I have been an underdog, despised, neglected, overlooked and poor, but little did that arrogant old woman know that I held her life in my hands.’
‘And elected to destroy it. Yes, I see. Oh, well, I will take my leave, Mr Leek.’ She rose from the basket chair.
‘Thank you for calling,’ said Parsifal politely. Neither of them realised that the swimmers had left the water, although Dame Beatrice had seen Laura, some few minutes earlier, walk up the garden and disappear round the side of the house, presumably to return to the car. As Dame Beatrice descended the wooden steps which led down from the balcony, however, she was slightly startled to meet Gamaliel who, still in his bathing-trunks, was standing just in shadow outside the back door. He opened it and drew her into the house.
‘So it would have been simpler to have pushed my other dear old lady over the cliff, would it?’ he said. ‘What shall we do, my present dear old lady?’
‘Leave everything to the police, my dear young man. How much did you hear?’
‘Enough. I guessed the truth a long time ago, but he is my mother’s husband. He cannot go to prison.’
‘The girl must not suffer for something she did not do. The law must take its course. You see that, don’t you?’
‘There is more than one law.’
‘We must not take the law into our own hands.’
‘So my mother and I and my best friend Garnie are to live our lives under the shadow of this murderer serving a life sentence? That seems to me unfair.’
‘Of course it is unfair.’
‘As unfair as that Margaret Denham should go to prison for something she did not do?’
‘Quite as unfair.’
‘Ah!’ said Gamaliel in a tone of satisfaction. ‘I am pleased to hear you admit that.’ He glanced down at his naked limbs. ‘I am cold. I must get dressed. Do you think the discovery of the truth is an end in itself, even if it benefits nobody and damages three innocent people?’
