The Murder Of Gonzago

wag its tail and say hello, is it?’

‘Why should Felicity want to kill your brother?’

‘Same reason as me, my dear. Money. Felicity’s awfully keen on expanding her antiques business. Besides, she’s always found Roderick a trial, ever since he insisted on shooting an apple off her head… You don’t really think it was me who plugged Roderick in the head, do you?’

‘How do you know he was shot in the head?’

‘I watched that videotape… One can actually see the gun protruding from between the window curtains!’

‘What tape are you talking about?’

‘Someone sent us a tape. A recording of the dumbshow you put on at La Sorciere… I knew what it was at once. The Murder of Gonzago. Fratricide is a jolly interesting subject. Old Hamlet was, by all accounts, a pussycat and he didn’t really deserve the earful of poison he got.’

‘Your brother phoned you the day before he died. Basil Hunter mentioned it to me. Your brother was quite horrible to you – he told you to go and kill him – he told you that was the only way to get hold of his money… You aren’t going to deny that such a conversation took place, are you?’

‘No, I am not. Perfectly true.’ Gerard nodded. ‘Roderick was frightfully rude to me. I’d been badgering him for money, but then Papa did say on his deathbed we must help each other. Roderick had an awful lot of money and yet he refused to finance the Dilettanti Droug Press, or rather he kept saying he would think about it. He was frightfully rude to me on the phone.’

‘Were you upset?’

‘Of course I was upset. I must admit I got angry too. Furious. I felt – well, I felt like killing him.’ Gerard regarded the burning end of his cigar. There was a pause. ‘They can’t prove if someone’s been to a foreign country, can they?’

‘They can.’

‘They’d have one’s details at the airport, I suppose… It’s all computers now, isn’t it? Then there are the stamps in one’s passport and so on. Unless one has used a false passport? Apparently an awful lot of people travel on false passports, I read somewhere.’

‘You would have been caught on CCTV cameras,’ Renee said a trifle wearily. ‘They are everywhere.’

‘Are they? Damn. No privacy these days. What if I’d changed my appearance?’

‘Gerard, this could be serious-’

‘I could have worn a false moustache… It’s the kind of thing that happens in detective stories… As a matter of fact, detective stories could be vehicles for all kinds of ideas, so perhaps I shouldn’t sneer at them,’ he went on in a meditative voice. ‘And nobody could stop me if I decided to write sentences like “His sleuthorial instincts were stimulated.” I mean I could experiment in all kinds of ways… Incidentally, did you tell anyone where and when you came across my cigar cutter?’

‘No. No one knows about it.’

‘I am glad.’ Suddenly he laughed. ‘So if I were to kill you now, the secret, as they say, would die with you!’

‘I feel so awful, I wouldn’t mind dying,’ Renee Glover whispered.

25

The Mysterious Mr Quin

‘My memory’s getting worse. What is a meta-documentary once again, not that it matters the tiniest bit, but do remind me?’ Lady Grylls cupped her ear with her hand. ‘I see. You are so terribly clever, Hughie, they must have hated you in the army, or did you contrive to keep a low profile?’

‘I was clever enough not to let anyone suspect me of being clever at all. I believe I managed to blend in. Actually I was quite popular with my brother officers.’

‘Were you? You mean you drank to excess, gambled for high stakes and talked about women and horses in a knowledgeable if highly irresponsible fashion? I am so proud of you.’ Lady Grylls tapped the tape of the documentary. ‘It’s a real hoot, terribly funny. I am sure you will be amused. Is there any particular reason you are so keen on watching it?’

‘We are curious to see what Lord Remnant was like,’ Major Payne said. ‘In any murder case the character of the victim is of paramount importance. Murder is frequently – though by no means invariably – a direct consequence of something the victim has done.’

‘Roderick certainly managed to upset a great number of people and, from what I hear, he never quite knew when to stop. He called it “teasing”. He seemed to have lacked the wisdom to be afraid. Well, the Grenadin locals had been threatening to carve him up and set La Sorciere aflame, so perhaps it was one of the locals who killed him after all? A case of raw revenge, what do you think?’

‘You may be right, darling. Perhaps it was a case of raw revenge.’

Lady Grylls pushed her glasses up her nose. ‘You don’t sound too convinced. You think it’s too simple. I imagine it’s an addictive pursuit, the hunting down and ultimate unmasking of lethally inclined characters?’

‘It is addictive, yes.’

‘Who’s your favourite suspect, Hughie?’

‘I have no favourite suspect.’

‘Not the stepson, surely?’

‘The stepson seems to be the most obvious choice, but in a vague kind of way we are suspicious of Clarissa’s aunt. As it happens, she is also Clarissa’s mother. Well, Hortense Tilling is the only member of the house party, with the exception of Stephan, that is, who was not in the room at the time of the murder-’ Payne broke off. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Mr Quin! I’ve been meaning to tell you about Mr Quin! The mysterious Mr Quin! Goodness, my memory’s really bad these days. The Case of the Curious Codicil, that’s how I think of it.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘That would make a pretty decent title for a detective yarn. The Conundrum of the Curious Codicil. It’s got a ring to it. Antonia might like it, what do you think?’

‘It sounds like a short story title and you know Antonia doesn’t write short stories, only novels.’

‘How about The Mysterious Mr Quin?’

‘I believe that’s already been used.’

‘Can’t it be used again?’

‘Not really, darling. What codicil and who or what is Mr Quin?’

‘There’s something peculiar about the whole business. I mean, leaving a fortune to a fella no one’s ever heard of. I knew there was something I needed to tell you, Hughie. You told me to keep my eyes and ears open for developments, didn’t you?’

‘I believe I did, darling, but perhaps you could try to present your facts in a slightly more linear fashion?’

‘The other curious fact is that Clarissa has dismissed all the servants and is at Remnant on her own. Bobo believes she’s gone bonkers. One of the Remnant maids is the sister of Bobo’s gardener, you see. That’s how he heard about it, from his gardener. The sister was terribly upset. They were given no notice. Clarissa just told them to go.’

‘Clarissa is at Remnant on her own?’

‘She is indeed. The mind boggles. Remnant is the size of a hippodrome, with high vaults, eccentrically hazardous staircases and endless corridors. A former abbey or something equally gruesome. For some reason Clarissa brings to mind the woman in the story who sits and waits for her demon lover.’

‘Who is Mr Quin?’ Something had started stirring in Major Payne’s deep well of unconscious cerebration. He believed he was already in possession of a certain significant fact. What was it? Then it came to him. The Damascus chest in the Fenwicks’ drawing room – the secret drawer – the letter from Marrakech signed ‘Q’ – Q for Quin?

‘Quin is the enigmatic legatee. The fellow to whom Roderick left a fortune in his will. No one knows who he is. I