clears Ralph,â said Crisp. âItâs corroborated in part by Watlingtonâs wife and negatively by Ralphâs own mis-statementsânotably the statement that he struck through the wig, which we know he did not.â
âLetâs have the other half, sir! Suppose there are two innocent persons?â
âMost probably there are! Thereâs the difference in their respective tales. And thereâs Querkâs point that they had no time in which to conspire. YesâI think itâll turn out to be a one-man jobâor letâs say one-person job.â
âYou mean, sir, that Miss Lofting might have returned to the library after Querk left it?â
âShe might have. We know only that she was having a bath, round about five-fifteen. Whatâs a bath?âa couple of hours or a couple of minutes. She had opportunity plus motive. Querk had opportunity, but no motive, so far as we know.â
âAll I can say,â announced Benscombe, âis that if Miss Lofting is the chief suspect, Iâm ready to follow Querk and plump for Watlingtonâs wife. That âwoman scornedâ stuff!â
âWomen get scorned every day, but they donât often commit murder about it. And donât forget the penknife and the signet ringâwhich becomes an elaborate and pointless act from the wifeâs point of view. To say nothing of ringing us up some hour and a half after the murder.â
âBut we donât know that she did that, sir!â
âWe donât. But itâs a working hypothesis that the murderer did, so as to get us bogged up with all those guests. Something may have happened then, which you and I missed. Thereâs a corker for you. But we donât want corkersâwe want facts. And we shanât get any more here tonight. Come along!â
As he gathered up the Chief Constableâs personal paraphernalia, Benscombe harked back.
âI hope, sir, you donât take your own little joke seriously. Miss Lofting means nothing to me. I donât care tuppence whether sheâs innocent or guilty. I just feel sure that she isnât the type.â
âOh, I feel that too! Thatâs because weâre human. But, you know, thereâs no such thing as a murderer type.â
In the hall, Claudia Lofting was waiting. As Crisp came out of the morning-room she approached him. She had discarded the evening dress, was wearing a morning frock and an apron, presumably borrowed from Bessie.
âRalph is ill,â she said. âI want to take him away from here tomorrow. Is there any objection?â
âWhat sort of âillâ?â asked Crisp.
âThat confession! Heâs a bit delirious after his excitement. He keeps telling meâover and over againâhow he killed his uncle.â
Again Crisp lapsed into the perilous business of assessing a human being on appearances. If she had been putting on an act, that apron would be free from stains, which it wasnât. She looked tired and pre-occupied. So he took her words at their face value.
âI have no authority in the matter,â he told her. âI suggest that you leave the decision to the doctor. Weâve a lot of spadework to do yet. And perhaps it would be in his own ultimate interest if he were to stay close at hand.â
Claudia nodded. Some of her fatigue vanished and she smiled.
âAnd in my ultimate interest too, Colonel?â
âSince you askâyes. Goodnight, Miss Lofting.â
With Benscombe beside him, Crisp drove back with more dash than was decorous in a Chief Constable.
âGood women,â he remarked, âmay conceivably commit crime for what they believe to be a good motive.â
Benscombe was irritated into an outburst of respectful agreement.
Chapter Seven
On the following morning, an hour before he was due to report at headquarters, Benscombe was knocking at Arthur Fenchurchâs flat. Eventually,
Del Sroufe
Jenn Roseton
Kathy Reichs
Wendi Zwaduk
George Packer
L. J. Oliver
Luann McLane
Gil Reavill
Parris Afton Bonds
Eve Babitz