Mrs Warwick regarded him steadily. 'First, I must tell you something else, Mr Starkwedder,' she said. 'I must tell you something about my son.' She went to the sofa and sat. 'I loved my son very dearly. As a child, and in his young manhood, he had many fine qualities. He was successful, resourceful, brave, sunny-tempered, a delightful companion.' She paused, and seemed to be remembering. Then she continued. 'There were, I must admit, always the defects of those qualities in him. He was impatient of controls, of restraints. He had a cruel streak in him, and he had a kind of fatal arrogance. So long as he was successful, all was well. But he did not have the kind of nature that could deal with adversity, and for some time now I have watched him slowly go downhill.'
Starkwedder quietly seated himself on the stool, facing her.
'If I say that he had become a monster,' Richard Warwick's mother continued, 'it would sound exaggerated. And yet, in some ways he was a monster – a monster of egoism, of pride, of cruelty. Because he had been hurt himself, he had an enormous desire to hurt others.' A hard note crept into her voice. 'So others began to suffer because of him. Do you understand me?'
'I think so – yes,' Starkwedder murmured softly.
Mrs Warwick's voice became gentle again as she went on. 'Now, I am very fond of my daughter-in-law. She has spirit, she is warm-hearted, and she has a very brave power of endurance. Richard swept her off her feet, but I don't know whether she was ever really in love with him. However, I will tell you this – she did everything a wife could do to make Richard's illness and inaction bearable.'
She thought for a moment, and her voice was sad as she continued, 'But he would have none of her help. He rejected it. I think at times he hated her, and perhaps that's more natural than one might suppose. So, when I tell you that the inevitable happened, I think you will understand what I mean. Laura fell in love with another man, and he with her.'
Starkwedder regarded Mrs Warwick thoughtfully. 'Why are you telling me all this?' he asked.
'Because you are a stranger,' she replied, firmly. 'These loves and hates and tribulations mean nothing to you, so you can hear about them unmoved.'
'Possibly.'
As though she had not heard him, Mrs Warwick went on speaking. 'So there came a time,' she said, 'when it seemed that only one thing would solve all the difficulties. Richard's death.'
Starkwedder continued to study her face. 'And so,' he murmured, 'conveniently, Richard died?'
'Yes,' Mrs Warwick answered.
There was a pause. Then Starkwedder rose, moved around the stool, and went to the table to stub out his cigarette. 'Excuse me putting this bluntly, Mrs Warwick,' he said, 'but are you confessing to murder?'
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mrs Warwick was silent for a few moments. Then she said sharply, 'I will ask you a question, Mr Starkwedder. Can you understand that someone who has given life might also feel themselves entitled to take that life?'
Starkwedder paced around the room as he thought about this. Finally, 'Mothers have been known to kill their children, yes,' he admitted. 'But it's usually been for a sordid reason – insurance – or perhaps they have two or three children already and don't want to be bothered with another one.' Turning back suddenly to face her, he asked quickly, 'Does Richard's death benefit you financially?'
'No, it does not,' Mrs Warwick replied firmly.
Starkwedder made a deprecatory gesture. 'You must forgive my frankness –' he began, only to be interrupted by Mrs Warwick, who asked with more than a touch of asperity in her voice, 'Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?'
'Yes, I think I do,' he replied. 'You're telling me that it's possible for a mother to kill her son.' He walked over to the sofa and leaned across it as he continued. 'And you're telling me – specifically – that it's possible that you killed your son.' He paused, and looked at her steadily. 'Is that a theory,' he asked, 'or am I to understand it as a fact?'
'I am not confessing to anything,' Mrs Warwick answered. 'I am merely putting before you a certain point of view. An emergency might arise at a time when I was no longer here to deal with it. And in the event of such a thing happenings I want you to have this, and to make use of it.' She took an envelope from her pocket and handed it to him.
Starkwedder took the envelope, but remarked, 'That's all very well. However, I shan't be here. I'm going back to Abadan to carry on with my job.'
Mrs Warwick made a gesture of dismissal, clearly regarding the objection as insignificant. 'You won't be out of touch with civilization,' she reminded him. 'There are newspapers, radio and so on in Abadan , presumably.'
'Oh yes,' he agreed. 'We have all the civilized blessings.'
'Then please keep that envelope. You see whom it's addressed to?'
Starkwedder glanced at the envelope. 'The Chief Constable. Yes. But I'm not at all clear what's really in your mind,' he told Mrs Warwick. 'For a woman, you're really remarkably good at keeping a secret. Either you committed this murder yourself, or you know who did commit it. That's right, isn't it?'
She looked away from him as she replied, 'I don't propose to discuss the matter.'
Starkwedder sat in the armchair. 'And yet,' he persisted, Td like very much to know exactly what is in your mind.'
'Then I'm afraid I shan't tell you,' Mrs Warwick retorted. 'As you say, I am a woman who can keep her secrets well.'
Deciding to try a different tack, Starkwedder said, 'This valet fellow – the chap who looked after your son –' He paused as though trying to remember the valet's name.
'You mean Angell,' Mrs Warwick told him. 'Well, what about Angell?'
'Do you like him?' asked Starkwedder.
'No, I don't, as it happens,' she replied. 'But he was efficient at his job, and Richard was certainly not easy to work for.'
'I imagine not,' Starkwedder remarked. 'But Angell put up with these difficulties, did he?'
'It was made worth his while,' was Mrs Warwick's wry response.
Starkwedder again began to pace about the room. Then he turned to face Mrs Warwick and, trying to draw her out, asked, 'Did Richard have anything on him?'
The old lady looked puzzled for a moment. 'On him?' she repeated. 'What do you mean? Oh, I see. You mean, did Richard know something to Angell's discredit?'
'Yes, that's what I mean,' Starkwedder affirmed. 'Did he have a hold over Angell?'
Mrs Warwick thought for a moment before replying. Then, 'No, I don't think so,' she said.
'I was just wondering –' he began.
'You mean,' Mrs Warwick broke in, impatiently, 'did Angell shoot my son? I doubt it. I doubt that very much.'
'I see. You're not buying that one,' Starkwedder remarked. 'A pity, but there it is.'
Mrs Warwick suddenly got to her feet. 'Thank you, Mr Starkwedder,' she said. 'You have been very kind.'
She gave him her hand. Amused at her abruptness, he shook hands with her, then went to the door and opened it. After a moment she left the room. Starkwedder closed the door after her, smiling. 'Well, I'm damned!' he exclaimed to himself, as he looked again at the envelope. 'What a woman!'
Hurriedly, he put the envelope into his pocket, as Miss Bennett came into the room looking upset and preoccupied. 'What's she been saying to you?' she demanded.
Taken aback, Starkwedder played for time. 'Eh? What's that?' he responded.
'Mrs Warwick – what's she been saying?' Miss Bennett asked again.
Avoiding a direct reply, Starkwedder merely remarked, 'You seem upset.'
'Of course I'm upset,' she replied. 'I know what she's capable of.'
Starkwedder looked at the housekeeper steadily before asking, 'What is Mrs Warwick capable of? Murder?'
