Buffet for Unwelcome Guests(37)
She knew what she must do. She knew that now the truth was out—that murder stalked with unveiled face through their little house and that she must act. What she had done, she had done to save Richard: done for his sake entirely, she insisted to herself, to save him from the consequences of his own sickening sins. Very well then, if anyone was going to have to pay the price, it surely should not be herself? Innocent or guilty, it was he who had brought about this horrible tragedy: innocent or guilty, then, let him pay. She raised her blue eyes to Inspector Cockrill’s bright brown ones.
She said: ‘Inspector—who do you suspect?’
He looked back at her with a sort of glitter. ‘It’s my duty to enquire into things, Madam.’
She bowed her head. ‘What am I to say? Well—no, of course, it isn’t true that I never left the girl alone, I was just trying to….’ And she said, blurting it out, raising miserable blue eyes again: ‘One must protect those one—loves.’
‘You are referring to your husband, Mrs. Harrison?’
‘My husband?’ she said, startled. ‘Yes, of course. But, Inspector—don’t think for one moment that I believe my husband was really the father of this girl’s child…
‘Oh, I don’t, Madam,’ he said, with the faintest possible mocking imitation of her tone.
‘Of course it was upsetting. She threatened to make disgusting scenes at the hospital; as you said, it wasn’t till much later that we knew, when I talked to Matron, that there was nothing really to worry about.’ She added with apparent inconsequence that her husband had gone back to his patient by then.
‘Leaving the sedative tablets for the young lady to take?’
She permitted herself one terrified, upward glance; then lowered her eyes. ‘Six small white tablets. I wondered perhaps if such a large dose could have contributed to her death: quite innocently, of course, naturally—only, if it were administered on top of whatever quantity of morphia it was that she gave herself—’
‘Very ingenious, Madam. But that wouldn’t account for the alterations in the book: would it?’
‘I wish you wouldn’t start calling me Madam,’ said Stella, fluttering. ‘Why suddenly so stiff? You don’t suspect me of being a murderer, I suppose?’
‘How could I?’ he said. ‘You had no opportunity, had you?’
‘I gave the girl that coffee….’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing there; we’ve already done a rough check.’
She breathed more freely. ‘Well, but I was alone with her for some time, earlier on.’
‘Only for a few minutes, really. No time for any other teas or coffees, and if you’d given her any pills or powder undisguised, I think she’d have mentioned it. And later one or both of the gentlemen was with her all the time. You didn’t even see her to bed; you came straight down with Mr. Graham.’
‘I did go into her room for a moment,’ said Stella, ‘on our way up to bed.’ She let it hover in the air a moment. ‘But of course Mr. Graham had seen the first symptoms before that—hadn’t he?’
It had caught him on the hop: he gave her his bright, appraising glance. ‘Of course,’ said Stella, ‘she might have smuggled something up to bed with her; and that’s why she wouldn’t let me stay.’
‘But as you’ve just said—Mr. Graham had already seen the symptoms. And it still doesn’t account for the book.’
The last hope gone; and she was glad. With Ricky out of the way….She said: ‘Inspector—frankly: do you suspect someone?’
He gave her a wouldn’t-you-like-to-know smile, turning back the pages of his notebook, narrowing his eyes, underlining half a dozen words. What they were, she could not see; but might not one hazard a guess? ‘He placed six tablets on the mantelpiece…’? Frederick had said: ‘Rather a large dose?’ and Ricky had accounted for it, glibly. ‘These Restuwell things are very mild.’ But if they had not been Restuwell….
The two men came in from the surgery, their hands moist and pink from washing, after their ministrations to the child. Inspector Cockrill rose. ‘Doctor, a word with you, if you wouldn’t mind?’ Ricky acquiesced, unsuspiciously, and they went off together to the surgery. Stella was left alone with Frederick. He said compassionately: ‘You look all in.’
But she was all right again now: only still sick and dizzy with relief, after the traps and tensions of the past horrible half hour. She went up close to him, collapsed against him, butting her forehead into his shoulder: leaning there. He put one arm around her and gave her a little shake. ‘Bear up, love! Nothing more to worry about now. He just wants to check the book with Ricky, I suppose; and then they’ll all clear off and everything will be as-was.’