Chapter Nine #3
‘I think we ought to be honest about it,’ said Patience. ‘None of us liked the man, and Clarice had more reason than all of us to despise him. Good riddance to the awful monster, I say. We’re better off without him and we should definitely enjoy ourselves as best we can.’
This, I believed, was something they needed to hear, something they’d all been thinking but none dared say. The mood of the room lifted immediately and conversation flowed once more, as did the wine. A convivial meal ensued.
The good humour continued through brandies in the library, where Bridgewater’s story was as old as I feared, but as filthy and funny as Clarice had promised. He really was a natural raconteur.
It was in the drawing room, as Clarice and Lady Hardcastle played, that the rancour returned.
I couldn’t hear what was being said from the front of the room, but between page-turns I could see Sidwell-Plant having whispered arguments first with Bridgewater, then with Patience.
Dotty tried to intervene but was snapped at for her troubles.
All of this made Wilson and Lily, who had been rather quiet all evening, look somewhat uncomfortable.
Only JB seemed to be enjoying himself. Either he was oblivious to the atmosphere or he didn’t care. He was just there for the music.
Lady Hardcastle had neglected to return the Louis XIII she’d ‘borrowed’ from the library and we were sitting in her room once more, cradling our brandy balloons and trying to make sense of the day’s events.
‘We got absolutely nowhere on alibis,’ I said.
‘Indeed. Everyone we spoke to just confirmed what we’d already surmised.’
‘True. I thought it was interesting that Lily provided one without being prompted, though.’
‘She did?’
‘She did. She just rattled off a list of her movements, completely unbidden. It’s very much the sort of thing you expect a guilty person might do.’
Lady Hardcastle shrugged. ‘Or a determined chatterbox. She might have been making sure you thought she was nowhere near Everett, but she might just as easily have been chuntering on because she can’t stop herself.’
‘True. What’s going on with Bridgewater and Sidwell-Plant?’
‘All that stuff about stealing stories, you mean? After that argument we overheard between Patience and Dotty, I’m beginning to wonder if Bridgewater stole the jewels.’
I nodded. ‘Exactly my thinking. Did you see Sidwell-Plant wink or did I imagine it?’
‘I’m afraid I was looking at Wilson and Lily. They do make a lovely couple, no matter how much they might protest.’
‘You incorrigible softy. Well, I thought I saw a wink, as though he was taunting Bridgewater about something.’
‘I say, you don’t think Bridgewater’s the one Patience is having it away with?’
I laughed. ‘Seriously? She’s a fine-looking woman and stiletto sharp, and he’s . . . well, he’s Granville Bridgewater, amiable buffoon and plodding solicitor. What do you suppose she might see in him?’
‘He could be a wizard at the old bedchamber fun-time shenanigans.’
I laughed again. ‘Can you imagine? No, he’s not her paramour. But I wonder from his retort to Sidwell-Plant if he knows who is.’
‘Or was.’
‘You’re back to Everett, then?’
‘I know JB said it was unlikely, but he did say Sidwell-Plant suspected him. Perhaps Bridgewater was goading him back.’
I shrugged. ‘Perhaps. It makes Sidwell-Plant an extremely likely suspect, wouldn’t you say?’
‘If he really did think it was Everett, then yes. He remains unaccounted for during our time-of-death window, but then again, so do half the people here.’ She made more notes in her little notebook.
‘So if he doesn’t think Bridgewater is tupping Patience, what does he think he’s “stealing” apart from comic anecdotes?
Does this back up what we were saying this morning when we were talking to JB?
Could it be straightforward theft, or is it a boring insurance fraud? ’
‘It very well could be either,’ I said. ‘But would Bridgewater kill if he were found out?’
‘As we always say: anyone might kill. But Bridgewater had no opportunity – we know exactly where he was during those two hours.’
‘You know who we haven’t considered, don’t you?’
She nodded. ‘The Crawfords. I was thinking that over dinner. We searched their rooms, but only in a perfunctory, embarrassed, sorry-to-bother-you sort of way. We didn’t take a look in the storeroom because we were afraid of it appearing that we were accusing them of something.’
‘For my part it was because I was a bit bored of the whole thing and had convinced myself it was all a prank.’
She smiled. ‘Well, there’s that, too. But what if Jago Crawford had seen these women showing off their jewellery before and thought he might liberate a couple of items for his retirement fund?’
‘We can’t rule it out. And he’d be out of a job if he were found out – that would give him a motive for killing Everett if he knew what he was up to – which he sort of hinted he did. But . . .’
She was still writing. ‘But what, dear?’
‘But I think the Crawfords have another dodge on the go. I think they’re smuggling.’
‘The four cases of brandy, you mean?’
‘Indeed. This is an ideal spot for it, don’t you think?
His Majesty’s Customs and Excise will be watching the big ports, as always.
They might even keep an eye on a few smaller fishing harbours or beaches with easy access, but they wouldn’t pay any attention to a private island a mile out to sea.
Smugglers could drop off their contraband at that smuggling beach on the south side of the island, and then Vickerman the Fisherman could take it ashore when he comes to deliver the supplies. No one would be any the wiser.’
‘It sounds like a workable scheme, but we only have Sidwell-Plant’s word for it that there was any brandy in the kitchen in the first place. I certainly didn’t notice any, and I have a nose for these things.’
I shrugged. ‘So why would Sidwell-Plant mention it?’
‘Magician’s misdirection. He’s trying to get us to look at the Crawfords to stop us looking at him. So far only you and I, JB, Jago Crawford and the murderer know Everett didn’t die of a heart attack, so whoever it is is going to be working hard to make sure we’re not paying them any attention.’
I took a sip of my brandy. ‘Sounds as though we’re talking ourselves into thinking of Sidwell-Plant as the main suspect.’
‘For the murder, at least – I still can’t rule out Bridgewater for the jewel thefts.
But for now it makes more sense for Sidwell-Plant to have killed Everett than the four women.
The only people who had the time to kill him are Sidwell-Plant, Dotty, Patience, Clarice and Lily.
Bridgewater, Wilson and JB are accounted for.
I love to daydream about a world where women are equal in all things, but I’m struggling to imagine any of those four running Everett through with a narwhal tusk and carrying the body upstairs.
Even working together it seems a stretch.
I think we should definitely start trying to find out more about Sidwell-Plant and see if we can’t properly pin down his movements on Friday afternoon. ’