The Act of Roger Murgatroyd (7 page)

‘Let me add, though, that if in your mind you’re already planning to be, well, economic with the truth, then, frankly, I’d prefer we didn’t waste our time by embarking on the experiment at all. You may like to think of it as a bit of a game, but, don’t forget, there’s not much point to any game, be it Ping-Pong or Mah-Jongg, if you refuse to abide by the rules.’

‘Then may I make a rather controversial suggestion?’

‘Please, Doctor, any suggestion, any sensible suggestion, is welcome.’

‘We’re all old friends here, aren’t we?’ said Rolfe. ‘And with everything that’s due to happen in the next few days whatever we elect to do now – the police trampling over our lives, the press snapping at our heels – our friendship is going to be put under a greater strain than it’s ever known. Already, both Evie and Trubshawe have spoken about how easy it is to poison the atmosphere with no more than a few lethal droplets of suspicion. Luckily, we haven’t had enough time yet to savour those droplets. But when the police do manage to get here, I guarantee there won’t be one of us who hasn’t hysterically accused his dearest friend of the murder of Raymond Gentry.

‘So it does appear to me to make extremely good sense to let the Chief-Inspector conduct his interviews. But what I also propose is this. So that none of us starts worrying about just what helpful little clues the others might be dropping into his ear in private, he should question us all together.’

‘All together?’ retorted an incredulous Colonel. ‘You mean, we all speak to Trubshawe in front of each other?’

‘That’s exactly what I mean. That we’re all present when each of us is being questioned. If dirty linen is going to be aired in public, then let it really be aired in public. It won’t be pleasant for any of us, I’ll be bound, but at least we’ll all be in the same boat. Otherwise, don’t you see, questioning us individually behind closed doors could destroy our friendship just as surely as not questioning us at all.’

The Chief-Inspector was manifestly intrigued by this notion, but he was also perturbed by its unconventionality. For forty years he had stoutly upheld the Law not merely in its majesty but in its minutiae, in all its procedural codes, practices and orthodoxies, and, in the matter of being taught new tricks, he may have been an older dog even than Tobermory.

‘We-ell, I really don’t know,’ he said. ‘If you ask me, that sounds less like something we at the Yard would countenance than a scene from one of Miss Mount’s novels.’

‘Oh, rubbish!’ the novelist interjected. ‘If you’re referring to the kind of scene I think you are, then you should know I
reserve it exclusively for a book’s climax. I mean the chapter in which the detective assembles all the suspects in the library then demonstrates, step by meticulous step, just how and why the murder was committed. Not the same thing at all.

‘But I have to say,’ she went on thoughtfully, ‘I do believe Henry’s idea is a good one. None of us will be able afterwards to accuse anyone of seeking to lay the blame elsewhere. Not that any of us would, of course. Then again, you never can tell, can you?’

‘Well,’ said Trubshawe, ‘that’s two in favour. Miss Rutherford?’

‘I’m going to surprise you,’ said the actress, ‘but I’m for it. Surprise you, I say, because I’ve got more to lose than any of you.’

‘Oh? And why is that, Cora?’ asked the Colonel.

‘Listen, darling, we now know we all have skeletons in our cupboards. I mean, what with that stinker Gentry spewing his rancid guts out last night, our dirty little secrets are practically in the public domain, right?’

‘Er, well – yes, I suppose so, right.’

‘But mine are a
star’s
dirty little secrets. They’re of interest to everyone. I tell you, there are muckraking journalists in Fleet Street who’d pay a small fortune to get the lowdown on my private life. However, I also know I didn’t murder Raymond Gentry and I’m ready to answer Trubshawe’s questions so long as I have his assurance that anything that turns out not to be relevant to the case stays within these four walls.’

‘That goes without saying,’ said Trubshawe.

‘Nevertheless,’ replied the actress, ‘I’d like to hear it said. When someone like you says, “That goes without saying”, he can always claim afterwards, perfectly honestly, that he never actually said it.’

The Chief-Inspector smiled wearily.

‘I solemnly promise not to repeat anything I hear inside this room in the next few hours that proves to have no bearing on the solution to Gentry’s murder. Satisfied?’

‘Satisfied. Then I’m in.’

‘Well,’ said Trubshawe, ‘we seem to be heading for a majority here. For the others, shall we take a vote? Remember, ladies and gentlemen, we can’t proceed unless you’re
all
prepared to participate. So who, among those of you who haven’t yet spoken up, supports Dr Rolfe’s proposal that I undertake an immediate interrogation at which all of you are present throughout?’

The second hand to be raised was Madge Rolfe’s. Then Don shot up his arm. And then, to everyone’s astonishment, Mary ffolkes more tentatively raised hers – to everyone’s astonishment, because her friends had always known her to be the sort of wife who would wait until she had learned exactly what her husband’s thoughts were on any given topic before daring to air a view of her own.

It was obvious that the Colonel himself was taken aback, for he gave her a sharp glance before (reluctantly?) raising his own arm.

Then there was silence.

Trubshawe finally turned towards the Vicar, who was seated next to his wife, a pained expression on his almost anaemically pale features.

‘Well, Vicar,’ he said. ‘As you see, Miss Mount, Miss Rutherford, Farrar, Mrs Rolfe, Don and now both the Colonel and his wife – they’ve all agreed to be questioned. That leaves just you and your good lady.’

‘Yes, I realise that,’ said the Vicar vexedly. ‘I, uh – well, you see, I – I – I really don’t think it’s –’

‘You do understand, don’t you, that if you refuse, we can’t conduct the investigation at all?’

‘Yes, you
have
made that point, Inspector.’

‘You’ll all have to sit about waiting for the police to turn up, wondering which of you did it, why they did it and whether they’ll do it again. Is that really what you want?’

‘No, no, of course it’s not, but I shan’t – I shan’t be bullied, you know. I’m a free agent and – well, it does seem – I’m sure Cynthia feels the same way, don’t you, my –’

‘Oh, for cripes’ sake, Clem!’ Cora Rutherford ejaculated. ‘We’re all in this together! And, frankly – I’d never say this except under circumstances as exceptional as these – but, frankly, you really have the least to lose! I would wager, from what Gentry hinted at last night, that most of us have already rumbled your Terrible Secret. And it’s going to come out anyway, whether you like it or not.’

‘She does have a point, Reverend,’ said Trubshawe softly.

The Vicar gazed helplessly at his wife, whose twinkly-eyed decency and pragmatism, precisely the modest English virtues one would expect to find in the helpmeet to a man of the Anglican cloth, were of scant assistance to him in a dilemma of this order. Then he gulped – you could almost hear him gulp – and said:

‘Oh, very well. But I do insist that – that –’

‘Yes?’

‘Oh, well, no, nothing. Yes, yes, I agree.’

‘Good,’ said Trubshawe, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

He looked at his watch.

‘Ten-fifteen. You’ve all been up now for over two hours. May I suggest you repair to your bedrooms, freshen up and get dressed. Then we’ll all come together in, let’s say, twenty minutes – inside the library.

‘And what,’ he appended to what he’d already stated, ‘what
does
go without saying is that none of you take it upon yourself to go wandering up to the attic. Not, you understand, that I don’t trust you. Except that, if Miss Mount is right, and I think she is, there’s at least one person in this room whom none of you can afford to trust. You get what I mean?’

They all got what he meant.

‘So, Colonel,’ he said, ‘would you like to show me the way?’

They were already deep in conversation as they entered the library, Tobermory plodding faithfully behind them.

‘I must say I began to think that Vicar chappie was going to scupper the whole scheme,’ the Chief-Inspector could be heard saying.

‘Yes, he’s something of a fusspot all right,’ answered the Colonel. ‘But he’s also a nice well-meaning old bird and all he needed was a poke in the ribs.’

‘I believe I’ll start the ball rolling with him, just so he’ll have no time to change his mind.’

‘I say, Trubshawe, this
is
a rum affair and no mistake.’

‘That’s true enough,’ said the policeman. ‘I never in my career came across such an outrageous crime. It’s like something out of one of Evadne Mount’s – whatyamacallums? – whodunits.’

‘Don’t let her hear you say that. Said exactly the same thing myself and had my head snapped off for it.’

‘Really? I’d have thought she’d take it as a compliment.’

‘Oh, you know what people are like. You pay them the wrong kind of compliment and they react as though they’ve never been so insulted in all their lives. Alexis Baddeley, I’ll have you know, won’t be doing with locked-room murders.’

‘Is that so?’ replied a bemused Trubshawe. ‘Choosy about the kind of murders she solves, is she? Wish I could have been.’

‘I’ve no patience with Evie’s stuff myself, but Mary tells me that, apart from locked rooms, you’ll find the whole trumpery bag of tricks. You know, a secret passage that only the murderer has a key to. A clock and a mirror facing each other at the scene of the crime, meaning the dial was read in reverse. Some black sheep of a family shipped off to South Africa and supposed to have died there, except that nobody’s certain he really did. All the usual whodunit hoo-hah. Load of codswallop, if you ask me.’

‘Well, we won’t have to go looking for anything of that kind in this case, I’m sure.’

‘No – except that, as it happens, ffolkes Manor does have its own secret passage. It’s a former Priest’s Hole, you know, located in a panel behind one of these walls. I should show it to you some time.’

‘Thanks. I’d like that. For the moment, though, I can’t see how it could possibly be relevant to Gentry’s murder. From what you told me, there was such a loathing of him among your guests, it seems to me that all I’ve got to do is find out the individual reasons for that loathing and, of course, who got there first.’

During the latter part of their conversation, the Colonel had begun to grow slightly fidgety and his agitation at last caught Trubshawe’s eye.

‘Something the matter, Colonel?’

‘Ah well, Trubshawe … yes. Yes, I have to say there is.’

‘What is it?’

‘
Well
’ – he took a deep breath – ‘you
are
planning to question all of us, am I right?’

‘Right.’

‘Which means me too, I suppose?’

‘Well, naturally, Colonel. I really don’t know how, in all fairness, if your guests are prepared to submit to the ordeal, I can leave you out. The others simply wouldn’t have it.’

‘No, no, of course not. It’s just that, like Cora, I
know
I didn’t murder Raymond Gentry and there are certain facts I’ve kept from Mary all these years, facts – from my past, you know – facts that would break her heart if they were suddenly to emerge at this late date. So I thought …’

‘Yes?’

‘I thought, if I were to give you those facts now, in private, just the two of us, you could – well, you could keep them out of the questioning.’

The Chief-Inspector had started shaking his head even before the Colonel finished speaking.

‘I’m sorry, Colonel, but there you’re asking too much of me. We’ve got to have a level playing-field, don’t you agree?’

‘Oh yes, quite. Quite. It’s only that the secrets – secret, I should say – the secret I’m thinking of is a rather special one. In view of the very serious consequences it could have for me, it just can’t be compared with the Vicar’s petty fibs or Evie’s peccadilloes, whatever they could possibly have been.’

‘Still, you really can’t expect me to give you privileged treatment. Not the done thing. Not cricket.’

‘I understand …’

It was clear, however, whether he understood or not, that the Colonel was still unwilling to give up.

‘Then what about this?’ he suggested. ‘What if I tell you now what it is I’m talking about and, when you interrogate me, if you judge, as I’m sure you will, that it’s got nothing to do with the murder, you won’t force me to bring it up?’

The policeman pondered for a few seconds.

‘Colonel,’ he finally agreed, ‘I’ll do what I can. But I make no promises. Understood?’

‘Understood.’

There was a brief silence. Then:

‘So? What is it you have to tell me?’

‘Well, Trubshawe, I haven’t always been the pattern of a model citizen. When I was young, scarcely more than a nipper, I got into a whole series of scrapes. Nothing close to murder or anything like that, but – well, it won’t serve any purpose my reciting all my crimes to you – it’s a lengthy list – I mean, it
was
a lengthy list – all of this happened a long time ago. But the fact is that in this country I have a criminal record.’