and he did not stray from his domicile during the day. I assume there were visitors?'
'Three.' The inspector referred to his official notebook. 'At one in the afternoon Mr. Ezra Hinshaw consulted with Michael about a lecture at the Tate Museum. He transacted his business rapidly and left in short order. At three, a Vicar Bisbee arrived in hopes of securing a donation for a local charity. Whether Michael complied or not I haven't learned, but the vicar is well known in those parts. He is somewhat deaf and quite nearsighted.'
'We can rule out Bisbee for obvious reasons,' remarked Holmes.
Aside from the vicar's line of work, I could divine no obvious reasons but withheld comment on the matter.
'Around four-thirty, one Cedric Folks visited Michael. Bit of a ne'er-do-well, that one. Orbits 'round the edge of society as a painter of sorts. Attended Sandhurst but left under something of a cloud. Haven't run him down yet but evidently his visit to Michael was connected with the art world. Folks was not expected at the establishment and Herndon was reluctant to admit him. Folks asked the butler to tell his master that he brought a message from Shadrach.'
'Now that's interesting,' said Holmes. 'Sounds a bit like a code. I assume Michael agreed to see the fellow?'
'He instructed the butler to show Folks up to his first-story study. The artist left shortly before five, slamming the front door forcibly. This sound brought the butler into the hall. Michael appeared at the head of the stairs and directed the servant to secure the doors carefully. Herndon told me that Michael appeared angry. It was the last time he saw the art critic alive.'
'Did the butler make any other comment about this incident?'
MacDonald's brow furrowed in thought. 'Simply that he went through his regular procedure of shooting the bolts on the front door and then checking the windows. Wait a wee bit,' the inspector added. 'He did say he heard horses' hooves outside and saw Folks' hansom depart.'
Holmes rubbed his hands with satisfaction. 'Now, as the butler went about his regular task, Michael returned to his upstairs study I assume?'
'Yes, sir. As the butler completed his security tour, Miss Claremont went to her room on the ground floor. She engaged in needlework, but her door was open. She stated that neither Herndon nor his wife came from the servant quarters before the shot was fired. Because of the layout of the house, they would have had to pass her door.'
I was intrigued by this. 'The prime suspect gives the servants a foolproof alibi. She might better have kept silent on the matter.'
'Incontestable alibis arouse my suspicions,' remarked Holmes. 'But it is no matter since I have learned what I wish to know. Gentlemen, a prima facie case for your consideration.'
The very manner in which he leaned back in his chair told the story. The calm theorist of Baker Street was ready with another
'Daily study of the journals makes one privy to seemingly odd incidents which prove helpful in solving puzzles. Cedric Folks is attempting a career in art and had a showing recently. In covering the event, Michael stated in print that the painter was obviously trying to emulate the French Impressionist Pissarro, but that his paintings created naught but a false impression. This acid critique elicited much ribald laughter in art circles, and Folks, I must assume, became livid with rage. Recall his stormy departure from the presence of the art critic. You did mention that he slammed the outer door loudly.'
The Scot, his eyes intent on Holmes, nodded briefly.
'Now, Mr. Mac, regarding the upstairs study where Michael met his end. It is sizeable?'
'More than thirty feet in length.'
'And the door to the study is adjacent to the staircase?'
'How did you know that?'
'To fit my reconstruction, it had to be.'
I thought my friend's smile was somewhat smug but quelled the thought, being on tenterhooks for the denouement.
Holmes resumed his summation. 'Three members of the household, not counting the corpse, and three visitors during the day. The man from the museum and the vicar can be ruled out, surely, for complete lack of motive, not to mention means. But Cedric Folks, the irate artist, had motive. Of the others, the servants are given an alibi by Vanessa Claremont. She had motive. They did not. Miss Claremont has an alibi.'
'If she does, I canna see it.'
'Come now! A frail young woman shoots Michael with a .450 Adams revolver? I doubt she could even manage the trigger pull of such a heavy-caliber weapon. But to expect her to fire it with the accuracy of a marksman over a distance of thirty feet is asking the impossible.'
'Could she not have been close to Michael when she shot him?' MacDonald was far from convinced.
'Had Miss Claremont been near the victim, the bullet would have torn through his head. You said it was lodged in his brain. Come, come, Inspector; we are speaking of a heavy piece of ordinance with high muzzle velocity.'
MacDonald shot me a sheepish look. 'He's right, you know,' was his grudging admission.
'He usually is,' I replied.
'I ruled out your prime suspect promptly,' continued Holmes. 'When Cedric Folks rushed down the stairs shortly before five, he opened the front door and then slammed it shut without his leaving the house. Instead, he concealed himself within. Behind a convenient sofa, perhaps. The butler, thinking he had left, locked up the house. Outside there was the sound of the departing hansom. When the time seemed right, Folks stole up the stairs, opened the door to the study and, as Michael turned at the sound, he fired from the doorway. He did attend Sandhurst, you said. I'll wager you will learn that he is an excellent shot. Wiping the gun clean, he threw it into the murder room and raced down the stairs to hide below. The body was discovered, the butler rushed outside, and Miss Claremont fainted. At this point Folks escaped from the house unnoticed, though he might have done so later, when the constable arrived and all attention was directed to the first-floor study, where the victim's body lay. There's your case for you, MacDonald, all tied up neatly.' The detective directed a smile at me. 'And the resolution did not require Watson's braving the elements after all.'
The inspector was shaking his head. 'I've a thought that I'm going to look like a fool, but there's one wee matter, Mr. Holmes. If Folks did not leave the house around five, how was it that the hansom that brought him departed?'
'But that's the whole key to the matter. I can reconstruct what happened but how can you prove it in court? Folks hired the cab and instructed its driver to leave when he slammed the front door. He gave the man a sizeable fee, no doubt. The hansom driver is the tool to force a confession from Folks. Just locate him and you have your witness to the fact that the artist did not leave the Michael mansion at five o'clock.'
At last MacDonald seemed satisfied. 'That artist fellow will learn that it doesn't pay to have a temper that matches his hair.'
Holmes' self-satisfied expression vanished. 'Let us run that last statement by again, Mr. Mac. You imply that Folks is redheaded?'
'You don't know him?'
'Never set eyes on the fellow.'
'Well I suspect there's some Irish in his background, for he is a carrot top and that's a fact.'
MacDonald had risen from his chair and I helped him on with his topcoat. 'You've tied him up in a knot, Mr. Holmes, and I'm grateful,' continued the Scot, his normally dour expression erased by grim satisfaction.
Holmes did not share his enthusiasm. 'The third caller at the Michael mansion is your murderer, Mr. Mac, but his identity is still to be proven.'
'Come now, Mr. Holmes. You always were one for dotting the
Holmes shrugged. 'Cedric Folks will certainly have to be questioned, but if there is any problem relative to him, we shall speak again on the matter.'
It was after Inspector MacDonald left that Holmes turned toward me with a lazy smile. 'At first glance, this matter seemed bizarre indeed. An
