The Young Widow (31 page)
Authors: Cassandra Chan
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Bethancourt, after confirming to
the chief inspector that he was absolutely certain of what McAllister had told him, punched the disconnect button and began turning the same problem over in his mind. He lit yet a third cigaretteâoblivious to the one still burning in the ashtrayâwhile he meditated, trying to wrap his mind around this new development. It was not that Marion Berowne had no motive at all; there was the £100,000 bequest and a loveless marriage to get out of. But Bethancourt could not see why she would have needed £100,000 so desperately and, as for her marriage, she had very little to lose by seeking a divorce. Any court would see to it that her alimony payments were adequateâunless, of course, she remarried. Could Marion Berowne have fallen in love with a poor man?
the chief inspector that he was absolutely certain of what McAllister had told him, punched the disconnect button and began turning the same problem over in his mind. He lit yet a third cigaretteâoblivious to the one still burning in the ashtrayâwhile he meditated, trying to wrap his mind around this new development. It was not that Marion Berowne had no motive at all; there was the £100,000 bequest and a loveless marriage to get out of. But Bethancourt could not see why she would have needed £100,000 so desperately and, as for her marriage, she had very little to lose by seeking a divorce. Any court would see to it that her alimony payments were adequateâunless, of course, she remarried. Could Marion Berowne have fallen in love with a poor man?
With that thought, he sat bolt upright and exclaimed, “What an idiot I've been!”
He reached again for the phone.
“I can't talk now, Phillip,” said his sister when she came on the line. “I've got a meeting of the local garden club here in full swing.”
“This will only take a moment, Margaret,” Bethancourt promised. “Just tell me this: did Sir Rodney ever have an affair with Marion Berowne?”
“What? Really, Phillip, how can you ask such a question? Even if it was true, it's in the worst possible taste.”
“Yes, but is it true? The sooner you tell me, the sooner you can get back to the garden club.”
“How on earth should I know?” retorted Margaret. “I don't make a habit of prying into other people's affairs.”
“You knew he'd slept with Claire Lyndhurst,” said Bethancourt. “And I know, even if you don't, that Rosemary Chilton was having an affair with him. He tried it on with you, which only leaves Nancy Clarendon, Mildred Urqhart, and Marion Berowne from the orphan's committee. Nancy and Mildred are both over sixty, which really only leaves us with Marion. You can't tell me he didn't at least try.”
“I don't know and I don't want to know,” insisted Margaret.
“Margaret, please. It's terribly important.”
There was a pause.
“Claire did say she thought Sir Rodney had broken it off with her because of Marion,” said Margaret at last, unwillingly. “I don't know if she was right or not, and that is absolutely all I am prepared to say on the subject.”
“That's enough,” said Bethancourt happily. “Thank you, Margaret. You can go back to the garden club now.”
“Good of you to give me permission,” muttered Margaret and rang off.
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The road spun away
beneath the police car and Gibbons followed its curves effortlessly as it wove in and out of the sunshine. He was
walking on air. He hardly cared that Marion Berowne had committed murder, so long as he could prove that Annette had not. Gorringe and Andrews had agreed that McAllister had referred to seeing “Mrs. Berowne” leave the house, and that they had never questioned the idea that he meant Annette. Moreover, in the notes Andrews's sergeant had taken during their interviews with McAllister, it was clear that Andrews himself had always referred to Annette as Mrs. Berowne while speaking with the gardener.
beneath the police car and Gibbons followed its curves effortlessly as it wove in and out of the sunshine. He was
walking on air. He hardly cared that Marion Berowne had committed murder, so long as he could prove that Annette had not. Gorringe and Andrews had agreed that McAllister had referred to seeing “Mrs. Berowne” leave the house, and that they had never questioned the idea that he meant Annette. Moreover, in the notes Andrews's sergeant had taken during their interviews with McAllister, it was clear that Andrews himself had always referred to Annette as Mrs. Berowne while speaking with the gardener.
Gibbons had never been so happy to be wrong about something in his life. He turned into the estate's drive and gleefully stepped on the accelerator.
Carmichael was no less anxious to reach his new chief witness. “I won't truly believe it until I hear it for myself,” he said. “I still can't believe I made such a mistake.”
“But it's the right answer at last, sir,” said Gibbons. “It has to be. Marion Berowne had no reason to lie about visiting her father-in-law if her visit was innocent. When Commander Andrews first spoke to her, no one even realized Geoffrey hadn't died a natural death.”
“True,” said Carmichael. “But I'd be happier if I could see a motive. Even if she was set on divorce, that doesn't give her anything like the kind of motive it gave her husband. He stood to lose everything if he divorced her, but she simply didn't have the same things at stake. Geoffrey Berowne couldn't prevent the courts from awarding her alimony, and if she remarried she wouldn't get alimony whether Geoffrey was alive or not.”
“But she would have gotten a hundred thousand pounds.”
“Yes,” agreed Carmichael, “but that would hardly keep her in the style to which she was accustomed. Her lover must have been a very poor man indeed to make a hundred thousand pounds worth murdering for.”
“Did she have a lover, sir?” asked Gibbons. “You looked into that, I thought.”
“I did,” affirmed Carmichael. “I didn't find anything, but that doesn't mean there was nothing there. Those things are the very devil to winkle out. Her friends all said she was faithful as the day is long, but then they would.”
Ahead Gibbons could see the gray Jaguar parked along the curve of the drive with his friend leaning up against it. Bethancourt hailed them as they pulled up, coming over to open the car door.
“I've had a thought,” he announced, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose excitedly. “I do believe that Marion Berowne was having an affair with Rodney Randolph.”
“Is he poor?” asked Carmichael, climbing out of the car.
“Poor?” Bethancourt looked startled. “Well, no. I wouldn't call him wealthy, but I should think he was reasonably well-off. Why?”
“Because,” answered Gibbons, “she must have wanted that hundred thousand pounds for something. Geoffrey couldn't prevent her getting a divorce the way he could his sonâif that's all she wanted, she had no reason to kill him.”
“He might have had some other kind of hold over her we know nothing about.”
“How sure are you about this affair?” asked Carmichael.
“Not positive,” answered Bethancourt. “I'm only really sure he tried it on with her. If he did succeed, I should say he called it off af- ter Geoffrey's death when Marion began talking about marriage. She must have been devastated.”
“Why do you think that?” asked Carmichael. “Why shouldn't they have carried on?”
“Well, for one thing,” said Bethancourt, looking disgusted, “Rodney would never have had any intention of marrying her. It's why he sticks to married women, so there's no risk of real involvement. But beyond that, it fits with what I've heard. I just never put it together before. Marion was one of the mainstays of the orphan's charity, even after Geoffrey was murdered. But then, just as the charity ball
was coming up, she suddenly started missing meetings and generally not holding up her end.”
was coming up, she suddenly started missing meetings and generally not holding up her end.”
Carmichael looked confused. “What do charities have to do with it?” he demanded.
“Oh, sorry, of course you wouldn't know. Marion Berowne is on the organizing committee for an orphan's charity whose guiding light is Sir Rodney Randolph. My sister is on the committee as well, which is how I come to know all about it. Rodney had an affair with another woman on the committee, who resigned when he broke it off, but she's a friend of my sister's and told her Rodney had dumped her for Marion Berowne.”
“If it's true,” mused Carmichael, leaning his elbows thoughtfully on the roof of the car, “it at least gives her a motive for wanting a divorce.”
“He probably caught her at just the right psychological moment, too,” said Bethancourt bitterly. “Here she is, estranged from her husband and becoming increasingly isolated from her father-in-law by virtue of his new wife. She must have been very lonely, and then along comes Rodney. I think he deserves to be shot.”
“You don't think he could have had any hand in planning the murder with her?” asked Gibbons.
“No,” answered Bethancourt, “much as I'd like to see him arrested. But the last thing he wanted was to have her free to marry him.”
“It still doesn't quite add up in my mind,” said Carmichael, “although God knows murders have been committed for even less reason. Well, let's get on and see McAllister.”
The gardens were a blaze of color and scent and for the first time that day Bethancourt took note. Gibbons was grinning at him and he felt pleased that he had come through for his friend, even if it had been pure accident.
They found McAllister eventually beyond the gardens among the
apple trees. He seemed unusually subdued and was going about his job with considerably less than his accustomed vigor. He did not even seem very upset to have the police come interrupting his work yet again.
apple trees. He seemed unusually subdued and was going about his job with considerably less than his accustomed vigor. He did not even seem very upset to have the police come interrupting his work yet again.
“I always meant Mrs. Marion Berowne,” he said in response to Carmichael's question. “I did think,” he added, “that everybody knew that.”
How they were all supposed to have divined his meaning he did not explain, and Carmichael was inclined to be magnanimous.
“Well, at least it's straightened out now,” he said. “Didn't you think it odd, though, that Miss Wellman should be so excited over your having seen Marion Berowne rather than Annette?”
McAllister looked troubled. “She was going on about them silly tomatoes,” he muttered. “I was just glad she stopped. I thought she was pleased to find out who killed him, and what would it matter who it was?”
“But surely you knew she believed it to be Annette Berowne.”
“Did she? I wonder why that was.”
The detectives all exchanged incredulous glances.
“Weren't you aware,” said Carmichael, “that Miss Wellman didn't get on with Mrs. Berowne?”
McAllister clearly wasn't. “My job's on the grounds,” he said. “I don't pay much mind to them in the house.”
Still, he seemed upset to learn that he had sent the investigationâand Miss Wellmanâoff on the wrong path. After they took their leave of him, Carmichael looked worried.
“It's a fine time for him to suddenly start taking an interest in the case,” he said, frowning. He glanced back in the direction of the apple orchard, though they had moved out of sight of the gardener. “I had thought,” he said, “that we might interview this Randolph before we tackled Mrs. Berowne, but now I'm not so sure. I have a funny feeling that McAllister's conscience is bothering him, and
that before day's end he might well be up at the house, baring his soul to Miss Wellman.”
that before day's end he might well be up at the house, baring his soul to Miss Wellman.”
“And you think she would warn Marion, sir?” asked Gibbons.
“I don't know, Sergeant,” said Carmichael thoughtfully. “She might. Her belief in Annette Berowne's guilt is absolute and she might go to Marion hoping she could explain away what McAllister saw. And I'd much prefer to spring the surprise on Marion Berowne myself and hope to startle something out of her. It's still circumstantial evidence, you see. We've no way even to prove that she knew lilies of the valley were poisonous. On the other hand, if I accuse her of having an affair with Randolph without having confirmed it and it turns out not to be true, it could ruin everything.”
The two younger men watched him wrestle with this problem silently. At last he looked up and said, “I'll risk it. If I have to come back to her tomorrow having shown my hand today, at least I'll have had the opportunity to use surprise, and that might well be gone if I don't speak to her at once.”
“It makes sense, sir,” said Gibbons. “I think you're right.”
“Then let's get over to Little House and hope she's home.”
They were in luck. As they approached the house, Marion Berowne was plain to be seen sitting with another woman under the trees on the front lawn. A croquet set had been set up beyond the trees and three little boys were enthusiastically knocking the balls about without much regard for the rules of the game. Cerberus loped happily over to join them and they greeted his arrival with joyous squeals.
Marion rose when she caught sight of the police and came to meet them. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she still looked strained, but she smiled as she greeted them.
“Chief Inspector,” she said. “I didn't expect to see you here today. I thoughtâthat is, Maddie said you were questioning Annette.”
“I have been,” agreed Carmichael. “But something came up in
the interview that I wanted to check with you. Could we step inside for a moment?”
the interview that I wanted to check with you. Could we step inside for a moment?”
“Certainly. Linda will watch the children.”
She led the way into the house and turned into the parlor, motioning them into chairs and taking a seat on the sofa herself.
“What can I do for you?” she asked.
“I wanted to ask about your movements the morning of the murder,” said Carmichael. “According to your statement, you spent the morning in the schoolroom upstairs with your son.”
“That's right,” she answered. “We went up as soon as Mrs. Simmons was done.”
“And you were still there when Miss Wellman rang to tell you what had happened.”
“Yes.”
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