Charles looked down at the melting ice of his drink. His conclusion was inescapable, but he wanted to phrase it as gently as possible.
‘Listen, Sydnee, I know Chippy’s a friend of yours and I can see exactly why you’re doing what you’re doing, why you’re involving me, but I’m afraid it does sound pretty hopeless. I mean, Chippy had every reason to want Barrett dead, and she had the opportunity to kill him. From what you say of her mental state, she sounds to have been quite hysterical enough to have done it. I’m sorry, Sydnee, but I think the police are right. They’ve got their murderer.’
The pale blue eyes were full of pain. To his surprise, he saw tears gathering at their corners.
‘As I say, I’m sorry, but that’s how it must have happened. She went to Barrett’s dressing room, hoping for the final reconciliation. He was as unpleasant to her as ever. She thought, all right, sod the bastard, I’ll get him. She went back to Studio B, got the bottle of cyanide. . into Studio A and filled his glass. Wouldn’t have taken her more than a minute. And that was it.’
Sydnee was silent for a moment. Then, softly, she said, ‘Except it wasn’t.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I heard about the argument going on in Barrett’s dressing room, and I went down to get Chippy out of it. I then took her back to the bar and bought her a large drink. So she’s got an alibi from the time she went into Barrett’s dressing room.’
‘Okay, so she must have doctored the drink before she went to see him. It doesn’t make a lot of difference to the main outline of the crime. She told him she was going to get him.’
‘Yes.’
Sydnee’s reply was so listless, and she looked so dejected, that Charles felt he must summon up a little more interest.
‘Let’s look at the time-scale. When did she say she went into Studio A to switch the glasses?’
‘First thing she did when she went down from the bar. And that’s when the police say she put the cyanide in the glass. It was the only chance she had. She was seen going into Barrett’s dressing room at twenty-five-past six, and I got her out of there about twenty to seven.’
Charles did the sums in his head. Then, slowly he said, ‘Ah. You know, Sydnee, I think you may have a point, after all.’
Because, as he knew well (and with a degree of gratitude), at six-thirty the contents of the glass on Barrett Doran’s lectern had been not cyanide, but gin.
Chapter Six
It was the first time Charles had had the privilege of his own research team in investigating a murder. Sydnee had mustered all of the researchers who had worked on
None of them was impolite enough to say anything, but he sensed a sniff of disapproval in the air. Their standards were probably different from his. In domestic arrangements, Charles always made a distinction between hygiene and tidiness. And, though he knew he offended against the strict canons of the second, he felt confident that he did not transgress with regard to the first.
Assuming, of course, that one didn’t regard dust as unhygienic.
There was a generous cover of dust over every surface. And, since none of these surfaces were flat, but tended to be piles of books, clothes, stationery and scripts, the general effect could be, to the uncharitable eye, seen as a mess.
This view seemed to be reflected in his visitors’ expressions. Sydnee sat on a chair. The other girl, Chita, who had been responsible for the contestants on the studio day, had the other one. Charles shared the edge of the bed with the rather exquisite young man called Quentin, who had been in charge of the celebrities. Charles had offered whisky and wine; they had all chosen white wine. He had some chilling (a little belatedly — he’d only thought about it ten minutes before they arrived) in his small fridge, and had soon assembled a whisky tumbler, a half-pint tankard and a chipped glass that had been given away with soap powder for his guests. He was left with a pink plastic tooth-mug for his whisky.
The atmosphere was not unfriendly, though the three researchers seemed to be suffering mild disbelief at the idea of people actually living in such surroundings. Charles thought it might be only a matter of time before they started making a documentary about him.
Sydnee opened the meeting. ‘Chita and Quentin are fully up-to-date with everything. They’re as concerned as I am to get charges against Chippy dropped.’
‘Have you mentioned to them the idea of going to the police?’ Charles asked formally.
‘Yes. We’re all agreed that we shouldn’t do that until we can point the finger at the person who really killed Barrett.’
‘But surely. . if all you want is to get Chippy free, all I have to do is go and tell the police that Barrett’s glass still contained gin at half-past six and — ’
‘No.’ Sydnee was implacable. ‘Apart from anything else, that’s then going to start the police being suspicious of you. We need your help; we don’t want you shut up in a cell “helping the police with their enquiries”.’
Charles agreed. It was an aspect of the situation he hadn’t considered. So. . he was committed to the case now. He’d better accept it with good grace.
‘Right, so let’s see where we are. We know that Barrett Doran’s glass contained gin at six-thirty. What time would everyone start coming back from their meal-break? Sharp at seven?’
‘Most people would, yes,’ said Sydnee. ‘Cameras have to line up for half an hour between seven and seven- thirty, so the cameramen would drift back at around five to.’
‘But the P.A. would probably have been in the Gallery before that,’ Quentin contributed. And there might be other people drifting back a bit earlier. . stage managers, people checking props.
Chita agreed. ‘Yes. It’d be quite a risk to try to do anything criminal after about ten to. Likely to be someone around then.’
‘So we’ve narrowed down the time when the cyanide was put in the glass to the twenty minutes between six-thirty and ten to seven,’ Charles summed up. ‘Now, assuming that the murderer was someone connected with the show, which of your charges were out of your sight during that period?’
‘I’ll start,’ said Sydnee, ‘because my bit’s probably the simplest. After I sent you down to Make-up, Charles, I was intending to send the other “professions” down at five-minute intervals, but then I had a call in the bar from one of the Make-up girls saying they were getting behind and could I hold it. So your three fellow-performers didn’t leave the bar till after seven.’
‘Are you sure? Because you went down to Barrett’s dressing room at twenty to.’
‘I’m sure. I left them in the charge of a friend up in the bar. He confirmed none of them left. He was a bit pissed off, actually. . found he had to buy them all a round of drinks.’
So that ruled out the hamburger chef, the surgeon and the stockbroker.
‘What about the contestants?’ Charles asked Chita.
‘Most of them stayed up in the Conference Room right through the meal-break. There were sandwiches and drink up there.’
‘When did they go to Make-up?’
‘Not till about ten to seven. They didn’t need much. Just a quick slap of foundation and powder.’
‘You said “most of them”. .’
‘Yes, a couple went out about quarter past six, but they were both back by twenty to seven.’
‘Which ones?’
The two who got through to the second half. The one who won. .’
‘Tim Dyer,’ said Sydnee.
