“Possibly not, you know. He might have thought that the dagger had already retracted itself a bit while it was in the sheath. Anyway, he would probably have been rolling his eyes around in a fine frenzy of ham acting and not really looked at the dagger. Besides he, like most of the others, was a bit sloshed, and the lighting, as everybody will testify, was geared to the fairy scenes and not terribly helpful to the rest of the play.”
“Brian wanted it that way. He said that the operative word in the title was
“Of course Yorke didn’t like Rinkley much,” said Jonathan. “Remember how he chucked him out of the house because of Yolanda?”
Dame Beatrice asked for an explanation of this. At the back of her mind was something the child Rosamund had said at the Stone House.
“Yolanda? Oh, we don’t know any details and didn’t ask for any,” said Deborah. “Apparently—but it was a long time ago, I believe—Rinkley was involved in a rather unsavoury case of child molestation, so, as there were a number of children in the play, I suppose people kept an eye on him which, perhaps, was rather unfair. We stopped him playing a harmless game with Rosamund because she did not like being tossed up into the air. I think it upset her dignity. As to what happened with Yolanda when Brian gave Rinkley houseroom while his flat was being done up, we have no idea, as I say, but the upshot was that instead of having to put them off because Rinkley was occupying the spare bedroom, the Yorkes could put up our two babes after all.”
“The Yorkes were probably over-zealous,” said Jonathan, “but it was a fault on the right side, I feel.”
“Was Rinkley convicted in the case you mentioned?”
“No, aunt, he wasn’t. The trouble is that these things stick. It’s extremely unfair, but there it is.”
The next development emanated from Lynn, although, having met both of them, Dame Beatrice decided that the actual wording of his letter had been dictated by the far more self-effacing and tactful Emma.
“Please forgive an ignorant, self-educated fellow,” the letter ran, “as I have no notion how to word this request. There is a lot of pressure on me concerning Bourton’s death, as I sponsored the play and provided all the daggers.
“I do realise how eminent you are in your own line, so I hesitate to ask whether you ever accept commissions. The point is that it seems quite obvious that somebody who was in the play had a grudge either against Rinkley or against Bourton and must have provided that lethal dagger and substituted it for the retractable one. If you could possibly find out
“One pointer, if I can call it such, I have been able to give the police. Because of my hobby I have a specialised knowledge of weapons and I am pretty sure that the dagger with which Bourton killed himself did not begin life as a dagger, but was made from a cut-down rapier. The murderer (one has to use the word, I’m afraid) needed a finely-pointed, narrow-bladed weapon and may have come across this rapier by accident without, at the time, having any evil intentions. Later on perhaps he realised its possibilities, and it is more than likely, I think, that he got hold of a blacksmith and had the dagger made to his own specification. If I am right, the original rapier may have been in his possession for some time, possibly for several years, so I think the police should look for the blacksmith and, in view of the serious nature of what has happened, I doubt whether the smith would be a local man, so they may have their work cut out to find him. Of course, in these days of handymen and precision tools, the fellow may even have done the job himself.
“If you will accept a commission, dear and honoured lady, it would be to investigate the relationships between the various members of the company, their activities on the third night of the play and whether by any chance an outsider could have had any chance of changing over the daggers. I am a student of psychology in an amateur way, and I do not rule out the possibility that the murderer is a woman, particularly if the right (!) person was killed and the dagger was indeed intended for Bourton and not for Rinkley.”
Dame Beatrice showed the letter to Jonathan and Deborah. Deborah said, “Emma wrote that, but Marcus supplied the summary for it.”
Jonathan asked whether Dame Beatrice intended to accept the commission. She cackled and replied that he who supped with the devil must have a long spoon.
Chapter 11
Mytilus Edulis Has Orange Gills
“An actor, too, perhaps, if I see cause.”
« ^ »
Give you a summary of the loves and hates among the cast, my most eccentric and delightful of aunts?” said Jonathan. “Nothing easier, but then I think you had better canvas Deb’s opinion. We see eye to eye in all aspects of living and loving, but we don’t always agree in our reactions towards our acquaintances.”
“That only applies to the people each of us knew before we married,” said Deborah. “It’s a funny thing, and I’ve often noticed it, but hardly any wife can put up with the friends and cronies of her husband’s bachelor days, and that goes for the husband’s view of his wife’s girlhood confidantes. He can’t stand them, as a general rule, unless he falls for one of them. Then the fat really is in the fire.”
“If you are accepting Lynn’s commission,” said Jonathan, “mind you sting him good and plenty. He’s got oodles of money and will be glad to write you off against tax.”
“He couldn’t do that, could he?” asked Deborah seriously.
“I ought to demand payment by results,” said Dame Beatrice. “Payment must be geared to productivity. We are always being told so. Of course, the first thing which would strike an unbiased observer is that the offer of this commission is an attempt, and a crude one, to throw dust in my eyes. You see, other things being equal, (which, of course, they never are), my primary suspect would be Mr Lynn himself. He held the only key to the cupboard in which the properties were kept, so it is obvious that he, among all of you, had very much the best chance of substituting one dagger for another without being detected. I said at the beginning, and I adhere to it, that the daggers were changed over before the last performance began.”
“If that is so, it seems to let out Narayan Rao,” said Jonathan. Dame Beatrice looked enquiringly at him.
