The murder of Robert Benham would not be as easily accomplished as that of Merrily Marshall. Though he felt pride in the achievement of his wife’s death, Graham could see the advantages which he had when planning it. A knowledge of her habits and a knowledge of her environment had both helped. Lack of any motive apparent to the outside world had also been on his side. Living in the same house, he had had time and opportunity to set up the means of her removal. And his absence in Brussels had ensured its remote operation. Setting it in perspective, after, the first euphoria of achievement, he could see that it was a good murder, but not a great murder.
To dispose of Robert Benham he would need something rather better. And in the case of Benham, he might be seen to have a discernible motive, so greater caution would be required.
Like Merrily’s, he decided, the young man’s death must appear to be accidental. Though he thought he had the skills to divert suspicion from himself in a murder investigation, life would be considerably simplified if no such investigation were ever started.
Benham had three main areas of operation where he might meet with an accident — at the office, at his Dolphin Square flat, or at his country cottage. Other settings were appealing, but impractical. For Robert to be run down on his way to work, or for him to fall down a flight of steps on one of his visits to Miami, were attractive, but hard to arrange. Or hard to arrange without Graham’s involvement being too obvious. If he just happened to be in Miami at the same time as Benham, the finger of suspicion would not take too long to home in on him. No, as with Merrily, the operation had to be remote. When Benham died his murderer must not be in the vicinity; Graham must be somewhere else with an unbreakable alibi.
These were just general principles. Graham felt no great urgency to form a complete plan at once. The fact that he was making a start, that he had made the decision, gave him sufficient pleasure for the time being. He opened a rather good bottle of wine and settled down to watch Saturday evening television.
He awoke on the Sunday morning, luxuriating in the space of the double bed. He contemplated masturbating. There was nothing to stop him; it might be quite fun. But an exploratory hand stirred no response. And his mind remained empty of carnal images. Perhaps he really had managed to eliminate desire, along with so many other inconvenient distractions, when he killed Merrily.
He went downstairs to make a cup of instant coffee and collect the papers, then returned to bed. He felt deliciously unhurried. Time to savour all the irrelevancies that journalists dig up for Sundays; time, if he got bored with that, to relish a few more of the pathologist’s tales of murder; time, if he felt like it, to think and plan.
The papers occupied him for forty minutes, the book a mere ten. Then, giving in good-humouredly to his mind like an indulgent father, he returned to the teaser of Robert Benham’s murder.
First, the setting for the fatal accident. .
He thought about the office. Like all buildings, the Crasoco tower offered opportunities for fatal accidents. As he knew from experience, anywhere on mains electricity could prove lethal. There were also boilers to explode, heavy furniture to crush people, lift shafts and staircases to be fallen down. Come to that, there were windows to fall out of. Only a year before a twenty-two-year-old secretary had drawn attention to the unhappiness of her affair with her boss by projecting herself from the tenth floor. As a method of killing it had been undoubtedly efficacious.
But nobody was going to believe in Robert Benham as a suicide victim. The idea was totally incongruous. And the idea of anyone falling accidentally from those windows was even less convincing. Because of the building’s air conditioning, actually getting one open was quite an achievement.
Besides, even granted the gift of Robert Benham standing at an open window, Graham would have to be on hand — and therefore visible — to push him.
The same objection arose with all office accidents. The Crasoco tower was a busy place; few things occurred unseen. And even if Graham could engineer an accident without witnesses, or, better, contrive one that happened by remote control, it was all too close. In the office setting, if there were the slightest suspicion, professional rivalries would instantly be investigated. The atmosphere between the two had been observed, and Graham’s statements to the lunchtime anti-Benham faction would be remembered. He would be set up as a prime suspect.
No, the office was out.
He had never been to the Dolphin Square flat, but knowledge of the block and the dangers of any break-in being witnessed, ruled it out straight away.
He turned his attention to the cottage. This offered considerable advantages over the Crasoco tower and the flat. First it was remote. If, as Benham had implied, he was frequently there on his own, the danger of witnesses was less. Or if a remotely triggered method could be devised, Graham was unlikely to be observed while setting it up. The cottage was also old and, though it had been extensively modernised, its age made an accident more feasible.
Then there were all those beams. And the thatch. In a place like that fire would spread instantly. And the cottage’s small windows might make escape difficult. Anyone asleep upstairs when a fire started would be lucky to survive.
As a method of killing it would undoubtedly work, but setting up a suitable conflagration posed problems. Arson was not one of Graham Marshall’s special subjects, but his reading of newspapers suggested that it was a crime fairly easily detected. So shoving petrol-soaked rags through the letter box, or throwing a can of the stuff in at one of the windows, or even — in a frivolous image his mind presented — shooting flaming arrows Indian-style at the thatch, though probably efficacious methods, were unlikely to escape the notice of the authorities.
And they all had the disadvantage of requiring Graham’s presence at the scene of the crime at the time of the crime.
There were remote methods that might work. Maybe he could use another act of electrical sabotage. Some appliance that could overheat near a curtain, perhaps? Or near a sofa? The flames from the burning foam in modern sofas were notoriously deadly.
Hmm, not quite. The idea had not quite the form yet, not the intellectual perfection that his plan to dispose of Merrily had had. He wondered briefly whether he really had been so convinced when he devised his wife’s quietus, or whether the conviction had been added in the retrospect of success. On balance, he thought it had always been there, and felt confident that, when he got the right idea for Robert Benham’s extinction, he would recognise it.
He brought his mind back to the cottage. There were arguments against the staging of electrical disasters. The timing might be a problem. Suppose the faulty appliance were spotted. . Then the sabotage might be identified and investigations ensue.
The trouble with any such plan was that it would involve housebreaking. He realised again how easy he had had it with Merrily. Was that, he wondered wryly, the reason why the majority of murders are of cohabitants?
Breaking into Robert’s cottage to set a booby-trap doubled the risk. There was a danger of discovery, not only when the thing went off, but while it was being installed. And there was no guarantee that. .
Suddenly he remembered the bright blue burglar alarm on the front of the cottage.
For the time being he had reached an impasse. He took the realisation philosophically. Time enough, time enough. He was on the right track. He would get there.
It was while he was shaving that he thought of the boat.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Graham saw Stella in the canteen on the Monday lunchtime. She was sitting at an empty table, eating cheese and biscuits, when he approached with his loaded tray.
‘Do you mind if I …?’
‘No. Please.’ He sat down. She scrutinised him. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Oh, you know. .’
‘Any better?’
‘A bit.’
‘The shock must be awful.’
‘Yes. In surprising ways. It sort of upsets one’s whole thinking. Whatever you think about is different. The
