'I think she told the truth as she sees it,' I agreed. 'She didn't like Victoria, and so she was ready to lay all the blame at her door. But everyone-Alicia, the rector, Michael himself-had also told me that there was no love lost between the sisters. Marjorie left home as soon as she could after her mother died, and her father did nothing to stop her from going. The wonder is, he didn't think of disinheriting her, once Mrs. Garrison was dead.'
'And that may well be Victoria Garrison's problem. In spite of all she'd done to make him believe the first daughter wasn't his, in the end he had doubts.'
I looked at him. 'You are clever,' I said. 'It would explain so much.'
After a moment, I went on. 'Granted, I haven't known these people for very long. But I was drawn into their lives because I was a witness to what happened. If the police had found Mrs. Evanson's killer straightaway, that would have been the end of it.'
'Not every murder inquiry leads to someone being taken into custody, much less tried and convicted. God forbid that Mrs. Calder should die, but if she does, and there is no explanation of why she had called the lieutenant's name in extremis, a shadow will hang over him for the rest of his life. It might be better to have a trial and clear him of any culpability.'
'What if he's convicted?'
'There's that risk as well.' My father paused. 'Who would you suggest as the murderer the police are looking for?'
I shook my head, feeling tired suddenly. 'I don't know.'
'Then you can understand Inspector Herbert's dilemma.'
I smiled against my will. 'I would very much like it to be Victoria.'
My father laughed. 'From what Simon tells me, this Inspector Herbert is no fool.'
'He tells you that because Inspector Herbert advised me to stay out of the Yard's affairs.'
'Good advice.'
For what was left of the afternoon, I helped my mother plan her dinner, shaking out the best table linens, stored away in lavender, and helping with the polishing of the silver and then I washed glasses and dried them carefully. She and I worked side by side in contented silence or chatted about whatever I needed for my return France.
And all the while my mind was busy with what the Colonel Sahib had asked me: Who had killed Marjorie Evanson?
I was no closer to an answer by the end of the day.
The menu, given all the shortages of food, presented a problem. Sighing, my mother said, 'Do you suppose we could ask our guests to bring their own chickens?'
I laughed.
Then, changing the subject as she so easily could when one least expected it, she added, 'You may as well tell me what is going on. It will save me from having to cajole your father.'
I was saved-quite literally-by Nell appearing in the doorway.
'Miss Elizabeth,' she said, 'there's a message for you. The boot boy, Sammy, from The Four Doves, just brought it round.'
I took the folded sheet she held out to me, and opened it.
A hasty scrawl read:
I've just been told. Is it true? Please, will you come and talk to me? It was signed Serena Melton.
I refolded it and turned to my mother. 'We might not need those chickens after all.'
As I left the room she answered, 'I hadn't had my heart set on them, you know.'
I drove to The Four Doves, wondering all the way there if Serena Melton had somehow discovered Scotland Yard's interest in her brother-in-law, Raymond. I didn't see how she could have found that out-or my role in identifying him. Her husband, Jack, was important in the cryptology section, but that gave him no influence with the police or even the Home Office. But then news sometimes had a way of leaking out. Someone else could have heard and then called him. I'd already confessed to him that I'd seen the man.
The doors to the inn were standing wide, allowing late sunlight to pour through into the small reception area, gilding the polished wood of the floors. The woman behind the desk greeted me warmly as I came in. Gray-haired and gray-eyed, she could pose for one of the original doves. But she had taken her son's place running the little inn when he went off to war, and had managed to keep it up despite the lack of nearly everything from paint to food.
'Good afternoon, Mrs. Cox,' I said. 'I've just received a message from a visitor. Is she still here?'
'Yes, I put her in the small parlor. She was reluctant to come to the house. Heaven knows why.'
I knew why. The last time we'd met, Serena had called me a liar.
I thanked Mrs. Cox and started for the parlor. 'Shall I bring you tea? We don't have any biscuits today, I'm afraid.'
I knew she needed the business, and agreed that that would be nice. But I doubted Serena Melton would stay long enough to drink it.
She was standing when I walked into the little parlor, as if she had been pacing the floor while waiting to see if I would come to her or not.
'Miss Crawford,' she said as soon as she saw me. 'Bess.'
'Hello, Serena.' We hesitated, decided not to shake hands, and I sat down.
It took her a moment to rally herself, and then she said, 'I hope you've forgiven me for the things I said when we parted at the railway station. I was under considerable strain, and it seemed then that everyone was set against me. I felt an obligation to find out who the man was in Marjorie's life-I owe that to my brother-but it has been a very difficult task I've set myself, and I have no experience to guide me.'
It was a long preamble. I was beginning to feel a little ill at ease.
'I can appreciate your determination, Serena. But I think the police are better at getting to the truth.'
'But they haven't. In all this time. Until now. I'm told you were there. And I need to know if I can believe-if it's true, is it the same man who seduced her?'
'I-really don't know, Serena. I'm as much in the dark as you.'
'But you were there,' she pressed. 'You must know something. I don't fault you for not telling me, not after the way I behaved earlier. Still, for Meriwether's sake, if not mine, perhaps you'll tell me what you know.'
Thinking she might be more willing to reveal her sources now, when she wanted something from me, than after I'd answered her questions, I said, 'First, I'd like to ask you how you knew that I was present.'
The door opened and Mrs. Cox came in with the tea tray. Smiling, she set it down on the table next to me, and then quietly withdrew.
Busying myself with the pot and the cups, I asked Serena how she preferred her tea, all the while wondering how much I could safely tell her about that night in the rain when I'd seen Marjorie Evanson.
I nearly dropped the cup I was about to hand her when she said, 'Victoria Garrison telephoned me. She felt I ought to know. I can't think why-she and I had words over where her sister was to be interred. To be honest, under the circumstances, I didn't want Marjorie lying next to Meriwether and Victoria didn't want Marjorie to be returned to Little Sefton. Even when Merry was alive, I didn't see Victoria very often, and I could tell she and Marjorie never got on. I wasn't sure whether she was gloating or intended to be kind when she telephoned me.'
Oh dear, I thought, rapidly reassessing what it was she must be wanting me to tell her. I'd come all too close to revealing more than I should, because it was on my mind and not hers.
'Do you mean when Michael was taken into custody?'
'Yes, yes. The police had come to arrest him for the attack on Mrs. Calder, as well as Marjorie's murder. Is it true? Did he do those things? I'd suspected he and Marjorie were close, even before she married my brother. But if he killed her, was he also her lover? I must know. Michael always struck me as someone who used his charm for his own advantage. I never could tell when he was serious or not. But he's been in France, or so I'd thought, and it never occurred to me to look in his direction until now.'
'I think the police have probably made a mistake,' I said. 'I don't know Michael all that well, you see. I was there, yes, but I couldn't quite understand why the police feel he killed Marjorie. He admits he was in London at the time-'
'So I have heard,' she interrupted eagerly. 'He was there, he had the opportunity. I'd persuaded Jack to find
