Here Lies Gloria Mundy

‘He came on the same day as Miss Mundy, but later. As a matter of fact, McMaster came to see me, to talk over some literary work I was doing for him. It was in preference to my going to see him at his home that the Wottons invited him to meet me here. Our talk was supposed to be completed that same afternoon, but the storm made all the roads pretty bad, so McMaster was asked to stay the night, and decided to do so.’

I hoped to goodness that he would not ask whether Hara-kiri had seen anything of Gloria in the grounds or elsewhere, and he did not. He merely asked whether any of the other guests had been acquainted with Gloria. Here, thinking that I could spread the load a little further, I said that I did not think any of the other guests had met her before, but then I added, ‘But I believe one of the young couples, who had to come back because their car got bogged down when they were caught in the storm, thought they might have seen her. Of course they only got a fleeting glimpse of her in the rain and they didn’t really know her.’

‘Then why did they assume it was Miss Mundy?’

‘That extraordinary hair by which Wotton and I identified the body.’

‘Ah, yes, of course, sir. Where had they met her previously?’

‘Only at Sunday lunch. By the way, is Dame Beatrice down on Wotton’s list of guests? She was not at lunch but she had come to cast a professional eye over the dotty aunt, and she had gone before Gloria came. Had to attend a conference in Cheltenham, I think.’

‘Dotty aunt?’ said Rouse, and I could almost see him prick his ears. ‘How dotty? Do you mean’ — he looked at Anthony’s list — ‘Miss Brockworth?’

‘Dotty enough to heave a chunk of bread into Miss Mundy’s plate of soup and splash her up to the eyebrows, and dotty enough to attempt to climb an unsafe staircase and bring it down with her and break a leg,’ I explained.

‘That would be the staircase in the burnt-out house?’

‘Yes. That’s why there was all that wood to which somebody set fire.’

‘Where is the lady now?’

‘In hospital, of course.’

‘And you think she is mentally unstable?’

‘How else can you account for her actions?’

‘I have her down on the list of guests with which Mr Wotton has furnished me. All the same, he did not mention the hospital or her accident. He merely gave me her home address.’

‘I suppose that is what you asked for.’

‘I don’t approve of people who withhold information, sir. I shall have to see this old lady. If she went to the old house, she may have something to tell me.’

‘Well, take care that you haven’t got a plateful of soup in front of you. She’s a dead shot at short range,’ I said, with a flippancy which was not only out of place but, under the circumstances, unwise, for he said stiffly that he was obliged to me for the warning. I asked whether there was anything more I could do for him. He replied that he had no more questions for me ‘at the moment’.

I did not care for the sound of this. It was clear that he had not finished with me. I pressed the point and asked whether I was free to return home.

‘At least, not home,’ I said. ‘I want to carry out my commission for Mr McMaster and he has set a deadline.’ I explained the nature of the job I was doing for Hara-kiri and added that the pay was good and that I needed the money. He proved not to be such a bad chap after all. He agreed to let me go after I had given him the addresses of the hotels I had still to inspect and the approximate time that I expected to stay at each one.

‘There’s another thing,’ I said, struck by a sudden idea. ‘Have you had a complaint from Mr Coberley?’

‘A complaint? About what, sir?’

‘Well, it seems there must be a gang of louts at work. They could be the arsonists as well, don’t you think?’

‘As well as what, sir?’

‘Somebody smeared grease — butter, he thinks — on the steps outside his house and his wife took a nasty toss and hurt her head. I expect they told you about it at the nursing home.’

‘And so, sir?’

‘Then comes this burnt-out house. Coberley had an option to purchase it and it got destroyed. Doesn’t that seem to add up? It could all be part of a vendetta against the Coberleys.’

‘And the murder of Miss Mundy? How do you fit that in?’

‘A clear case of a mugging. It wouldn’t be the first one which has ended fatally. My theory is that these louts killed the girl after she left here. They must have gone further in mugging her than they had ever intended, or else she fought back and one of them used a knife on her. I imagine he only threatened her with it at first and then lost his head. To me it all adds up. They must have thought the old house was already Mr Coberley’s property, so saw a chance of getting rid of the body and avenging themselves on Mr Coberley at one and the same time, even after the greasy steps incident. It looks like a real campaign of hate and revenge to me.’

‘Do I understand that you are a writer, sir?’ Although his tone was inoffensive, the implication of the words was plain.

‘Yes. I told you about the job I am doing for Mr McMaster,’ I said evenly.

‘Just so, sir. You would need plenty of imagination for literary work, of course.’

‘I suppose I might say the same about your job,’ I retorted.