Page 37 of Marble Hall Murders

‘Let us start with the letter written to me by Lady Chalfont. She devotes one paragraph to her second husband and the feelings that she has for him. Then she says that she has overheard something that has made the ground dissolve beneath her feet. Unfortunately, she does not say what it was she heard nor who was speaking. Even so, we can make the obvious inference. Let us say that she had discovered that Elmer Waysmith was engaged in some form of criminal activity and this had compelled her to reconsider her will. I had the very same thought when we were in the office of Monsieur Lambert in Saint-Paul-de-Vence yesterday, but almost at once I knew that something was wrong.’

‘And what was that?’

‘If Lady Chalfont feared that her husband had deceived her, she might have called her solicitor to discuss the will. Or she might have asked a detective such as myself to investigate what had occurred. But would she do both? It seems to me that one action fights against the other. If he is guilty, changethe will, but do not summon a detective. If he is innocent, summon a detective, but do not change the will.’

‘And if she doesn’t know?’

‘Then wait until the truth is revealed.’

‘Perhaps she didn’t feel she had enough time.’

‘It is unfortunate that her actions certainly made this the case.’

Fraser nodded. He had taken out his notebook and began to fill a page.

‘There is also the preparation of the tea in the kitchen,’ Pünd continued. ‘We know from the housekeeper, Béatrice, that she filled the two teapots, but then left them unattended. When she returned to the kitchen, she noticed that someone had removed the lid from the pink teapot, which was the one intended for Lady Chalfont and which would contain the aconitine. But the question I would put to you is – why did the killer do this? Why did they effectively draw attention to the fact that they had been in the kitchen?’

‘That’s simple,’ Voltaire retorted. ‘They slipped into the kitchen when Béatrice left and added the poison to Lady Chalfont’s tea. However, Béatrice came back too soon and they didn’t have time to cover up what they had done. They left the lid on the side and that was that.’

‘You say it is simple. To me it is the work of less than two seconds to replace the lid, unless you are telling me that the killer was distracted or simply forgot. And I have another question. From where did this poison come?’

‘This is France, not England, Herr Pünd. Our pharmacists are much more easily persuaded to prescribe medicines which may be lethal if misused. My men are already asking in everyestablishment in Nice, Cannes and the surrounding villages to see if a measure of aconitine was recently sold.’

‘But why use aconitine at all? Even with the strong flavours of lemon and ginger, Lady Chalfont tasted something in her tea. She displayed the symptoms of poisoning. There are many other substances that the killer might have chosen which would have more closely resembled a heart attack, and we overheard the child – Cedric – telling his father that the garden here has many toxic plants.’

‘He’s eight years old. He knows nothing.’

‘It might still be worth asking him what he meant.’

‘In other words, there’s more to this than meets the eye.’ Fraser had spoken without thinking. He glanced at Voltaire’s disfigured face. ‘Sorry!’

‘We are not expected for another hour,’ Pünd said. ‘So I will return to my room, where I have work to do. You have your car, Monsieur Voltaire?’

‘It’s waiting by the door.’

‘Then I will meet you there.’

*

No-one was in sight when they reached the Chateau Belmar, shortly before eleven o’clock. The sun was beating down on an empty garden where the fountain was splashing magnificently but a little forlornly at the centre. Nor was there any sign of Lambert’s car. Given the splendour of the house and grounds, the tropical weather and the soft whisper of the sea, it was almost impossible to believe that less than forty-eight hours before, this had been the scene of a murder.

As they got out of the car, the front door opened and Robert Waysmith appeared, dressed in a dark suit for the reading of the will. He looked briefly over his shoulder, then moved down to join them.

‘Monsieur Voltaire, gentlemen …’ He drew a breath. ‘I was wondering if I could have a quick word with you before you went in.’

‘There is something that concerns you?’ Pünd asked. He could see that Robert was worried. He had also taken care to make sure that he wasn’t being watched or overheard.

‘I just wanted to apologise to you for yesterday. The way my father behaved …’

‘He was a man who had just received a great shock.’ Pünd’s tone was forgiving. ‘I am quite sure he did not mean to give offence.’

‘He was extraordinarily rude to you. I don’t know what he said after he sent me away, but I just wanted to tell you that he’s nothing like the man you met. He’s looked after me ever since my mother died. Yes, he can be difficult if he doesn’t get his own way. He likes to be in control. I was terrified of him when I was a child! But he’s also a reasonable man and, underneath it all, he very much loved my stepmother. So I suppose what I’m saying is, please don’t judge him too harshly. Once you get to know him, he’s not quite the monster you think.’

There was the sound of a second car arriving and Pünd turned to see Lambert and his secretary arriving in their grey Citroën.

‘You go ahead,’ Robert muttered. ‘I’d better see to them.’

They went their separate ways, Voltaire entering the housewith Pünd and Fraser close behind. There was no sign of Béatrice. They entered the main vestibule and walked towards the back of the house, passing the open door of thepetit salon. Pünd heard a soft chiming and looked into the room. Sure enough, there was an oak grandfather clock, elegantly curved, standing against the far wall. He turned back towards the main entrance, now some distance behind him.

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