Page 131 of Marble Hall Murders

‘Well, it wasn’t me.’ Elmer glared at Lola as if she had deliberately accused him. ‘I have never used the service stairs in my life and I certainly didn’t go anywhere near the kitchen that afternoon.’

‘But who else could it have been?’ Pünd asked. ‘Only yourself, Lola Chalfont and Judith Lyttleton were in the house.’

‘I was reading,’ Judith said. ‘I was very involved in my work. I didn’t hear anything.’

Pünd waved a hand. ‘We have established your motive, your method and your movements,’ he concluded. ‘Nobody else in this room had the slightest desire to harm Lady Margaret Chalfont. Why do you not admit your guilt?’

‘Because I didn’t do it!’ Elmer Waysmith exclaimed.

There was a long silence, broken by Robert Waysmith. ‘My pa would never hurt anyone, Mr Pünd,’ he said. ‘You must have made a mistake.’

‘I said at the very start that this was a straightforward crime,’ Pünd said.

‘But you also said that the solution wasn’t,’ Voltaire reminded him.

‘That is indeed the case, Monsieur Voltaire. I have outlined a sequence of events that is unarguable. Unfortunately, it also leaves many questions unanswered.’

‘What questions?’ Harry demanded. ‘Elmer did it! You’ve made that crystal clear. Who else could it have been?’

‘You yourself have questions to answer, Mr Lyttleton,’ Pünd replied. ‘It is certain that Alice Carling was killed to keep her silent. She had been persuaded to take part in a charade that went against her better nature and she knew the identity of the man who purchased the aconitine in the Pharmacie Lafayette. She believed herself to be engaged to this man and it was your photograph that we found in her handbag.’

‘We’ve already gone into this, Mr Pünd. She may have had fantasies about me, but I knew nothing about it.’

‘I find it beyond belief, though, that she would consider marriage to Elmer Waysmith, a man who was the same age as her father. You, on the other hand, have good looks and charm …’

‘And I’m happily married. I had no interest in Alice Carling whatsoever.’

‘But there are other peculiarities, things that I do notunderstand.’ Pünd turned to Voltaire. ‘Would you say that Elmer Waysmith is a stupid man?’ he asked.

‘I would say he’s anything but,’ Voltaire replied.

‘So why did he make so many foolish mistakes? We have already mentioned the copy ofErskine’s Toxicologythat protruded from his shelf and the turquoise ink with which he signed the pharmacy’s ledger. Even using the name of an American film director in the hotel’s register pointed to his nationality. Then there was the American bottle of shoe polish he left in his hotel room. And why dispose of the walking stick and the blue linen suit in a dustbin close by in the street? My colleague, James Fraser, recovered them in less than a minute and I remarked upon this at the time. Also, why leave a book of matches with the name Hôtel Lafayette printed on the cover at the Chateau Belmar? That is the work of an imbecile and seems even more remarkable when you consider that Mr Waysmith does not smoke.

‘But the most foolish mistake of all takes place at the time of the murder. Elmer Waysmith has returned home. He makes his way down the service stairs, ignoring the fact that they will creak and alert the entire house that they are being used. He enters the kitchen and slips the aconitine into the pot containing the lemon and ginger tea.And he fails to replace the lid.Of course this was noticed by the housekeeper, Mademoiselle Béatrice. Think for a moment. An elderly lady with a heart condition dies on a hot day in the garden. Nobody for one minute will suspect there is anything amiss. But Mr Waysmith has almost deliberately signalled that he has added something to the tea. He has invited the police to suspect foul play.’

‘I suggested to you that the killer did not have time to replace the lid,’ Voltaire said.

‘I did not wish to argue with you, Monsieur Voltaire. But it struck me that this was unlikely. It was the work of two seconds to replace the lid, but to leave it off would be a catastrophe.’

‘You’re right, Monsieur Pünd. I can’t disagree.’

‘Mistake after mistake after mistake,’ Pünd went on. ‘But there are other aspects of this case that make no sense – and this I have said all along. Let us return to Lady Chalfont. She has overheard a conversation with her husband that suggests he is a criminal. She telephones her solicitor to change her will. And then she meets me in London and asks me to investigate what she has heard. Why does she not then cancel her meeting with Monsieur Lambert? Either her husband is guilty or he is not. If he is, she does not need me. If he is innocent, she does not need Monsieur Lambert.

‘And there is something else that I have always found strange. Why was Dr Lyttleton so unhappy to see me?’ Pünd turned his eyes to Judith. ‘You did everything you could to move Lady Chalfont quickly out of the room.’

‘We had a plane to catch, Mr Pünd.’

‘You were not concerned that your mother had consulted a detective?’

‘Of course I was. I had no idea what was going on in her head.’

‘But still you did not mention the encounter to anyone else in the family.’

‘I’ve already told you this. My mind was on other things and I forgot.’

‘I do not believe you, I’m afraid, Dr Lyttleton.’

Judith’s face went red. ‘It’s true. I came back to France, to the sunshine, and I forgot all about it.’

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