glanced curiously at her. She had been rummaging about in her handbag, her hands busy inside its capacious interior. What on earth was she doing? Now she looked up, smiled at him reassuringly, and zipped up her bag. The car stopped, and Keith opened Ivy’s door.
“Out!” he said, and then did the same with Roy. “Both of you, inside,” he continued. “And don’t try any funny business.”
“Good God, what d’you think we shall do, man?” Roy exploded. “Do a runner down the drive? Disable you with a rugby tackle? You’re talking to two old people in their dotage! You should be thoroughly ashamed of yourself!”
“Hear, hear!” said Ivy, and added that actually Mr. Goodman was not very strong. She was sure, she said, Keith wouldn’t want to be responsible for anything serious that might happen to him. He ignored this and indicated that they should get out and go into the back door of the Hall, where Beatty stood waiting for them. He followed close behind.
“Good job you phoned to give me time,” Beattie said to her brother. “So it was okay with the other driver?”
He nodded. “All fixed,” he said. “Are the others here?”
Beattie nodded. “They think it’s a social occasion,” she said, and her laugh sent a shiver down Roy’s spine.
Gus and Deirdre sat in the long drawing room, tiny glasses of sherry on a small table beside them. As Ivy and Roy came in, with Keith prodding them from behind, Gus took one look at them and leapt to his feet. “Ivy! Roy! What on earth has happened? And who are you?” he added, seeing Keith following.
“Are you blind, Halfhide? Long-lost twin, that’s me,” Keith said. “Beattie, pour coffee for the old gent. Don’t want him snuffing it in the squire’s drawing room. Then we can start.”
“Start what?” Deirdre said. She had recognised the twin brother immediately.
“Start explanations,” Keith answered impatiently. Beattie gave Roy his coffee, but Ivy reached in front of him and waved it away imperiously. “Probably poisoned. Don’t drink it, Roy. Nor the sherry,” she added, seeing that Gus and Deirdre had scarcely sipped theirs.
“Good thinking,” said Gus. He admired the way Ivy had in those few words banded the four together. Four against two, Gus calculated. Should be child’s play, even though he didn’t like the look in Keith’s eye. The two of them had clearly been plotting something for a while, he reckoned, and Enquire Within had got in the way. His thoughts churned on as they waited for Beattie to sit down.
Deirdre had begun to shake, and Gus took her hand. “Get on with it, then,” he said angrily to Keith. “And anyway,” he added, looking round, “where’s the boss?”
“Out,” said Beattie shortly. “Not back until tomorrow.” Ivy noticed her glance towards the door in the corner, and did not believe her.
Gus unexpectedly began to laugh, and they all stared at him. “Blimey,” he said. “You’ve been reading too much Agatha Christie. Here we are, gathered together under duress at the Hall, waiting for all to be revealed. So who’s the murderer, and where’s the police inspector? This is a total farce, and I’m off out of here. Come on, gang, follow me.”
“Not s’fast, Mr. Halfhide,” said Keith, the phrase causing Gus to laugh again. “Typecast!” he said delightedly. He pulled Deirdre to her feet, and then she screamed.
“He’s got a gun!” she yelled, and the others froze.
“Keith!” Beattie said. “There’s no need for that. Give it to me.”
But he took no notice, and said they were all to sit down and listen. He added with a sneer that as they had not “enquired within” very far, he would oblige them by filling in the gaps in their investigations. “After all,” he said, “you’re not going to be around to do me any harm.”
He levelled the gun at each one of them in turn and Beattie stepped forward. “Keith!” she said. “Put that thing down. Where did you get it? This is not what we planned at all! For heaven’s sake let’s just get out of here, and forget the rest.”
Gus, completely serious now, motioned to Ivy and Roy to sit down, and helped Deirdre back into her chair. “Make it brief,” he said to Keith. “You have very little time.” His voice was quiet but authoritative, and Keith bridled.
“Bluffing will get you nowhere,” he said, and began his explanation in a strangely flat voice, as if reciting a prepared text from memory. It was a sorry story. Unkind foster parents and Beattie, his one comfort, taken back by their mother. He had been abandoned. As soon as he could, and still underage, he had left the foster home and made his own way, moving from place to place, sometimes living rough, and occasionally taking temporary jobs. “For a while, quite a long while, as a matter of fact,” he said with a twisted smile, “I was the guest of Her Majesty. To put it another way, I was in the nick.”
“And likely to go there again,” said Ivy. Gus shook his head warningly at her. He had seen a few madmen in his time, and knew they were not to be trusted to act rationally. You had to humour them.
Keith lifted the gun and pointed it at Ivy. “Shut up!” he said. “Or else you’ll be sorry.”
He then continued, taking them through the time when he discovered that his mother and other sister were living in seclusion and under false names at a house called Springfields in Barrington.
“All cunningly arranged by my beloved father,” he said.
“No need to mention that,” Beattie said. “For God’s sake hurry up, Keith.”
His voice became a self-pitying whine. “I was not allowed out to see them,” he said. “So I didn’t find out until weeks later that Mother had died and my other sister had overdosed and gone the same way.”
Beattie’s face was set hard. “They were cremated,” she said. “It was for the best.”
“Why are you telling us all this?” Deirdre said, regaining her confidence with her hand held tightly by Gus. “It’s nothing to do with us.”
“Oh yes it is,” Keith said. “Snoopers all, aren’t you? Amateurs, of course. I could teach you a thing or two. Especially you, Halfhide. You had no idea I was in your house, waiting to put you out of action. You were first on the list, and lucky for you, I was out of practice.”
“By what list and
Again the gun was waved in his direction. “Shut up and listen!” he said, and his twin frowned. “Keith,” she said gently, “would you like a drink? Don’t get too upset, my dear.”
Ivy took a deep breath. So the man was unhinged, she thought, and even Beattie was frightened of him. That was why he needed to tell us all this stuff, to show how clever he is. She crossed her fingers and hoped he was not as clever as he thought he was. Gus’s calmness was reassuring, but she dreaded there would not be enough time before Keith went completely off his head and pulled the trigger. She found herself looking at her watch every two minutes.
He shook his head, and then rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He seemed to sway a little, and Beattie said, “Perhaps I could take over from here. Give you a bit of a rest?”
He frowned, but reluctantly agreed, and Beattie began. Then, before she had said more than a couple of sentences the door in the corner burst open, and Theo Roussel stood there. Keith snapped to attention and aimed the gun. Unfortunately for him, he took his eye off the others, and Gus, well trained, was on him in seconds, knocking the gun out of his hand and overpowering him. Beattie screamed and ran from the room.
“Well done, Halfhide,” Theo said, rubbing his wrists. “The buggers had me tied up in that cubbyhole. Took longer than I thought to get out.”
THEO TOLD THEM all to sit down and take deep breaths, while he fetched the brandy. “Better than sherry,” he said. “Depressing stuff, sherry.” Deirdre noticed admiringly that he was at once in charge. And all because of me, she thought romantically. Gus was still holding her hand and gave it a squeeze, reminding her he was there. He had not missed the soft look on her face as Theo came back with brandy and glasses.
“Shouldn’t we get on to the police at once?” Ivy said. She was feeling a little shaky, and noticed that Roy’s usually rosy cheeks were very pale.
“Of course, Miss Beasley,” Theo said. “But don’t worry. Beattie won’t get far. First let’s give ourselves a chance to collect our thoughts. And,” he added, glancing venomously at Keith, now well secured, “there are one or two questions I’d like to ask this appalling villain here.”
