Page 144 of Marble Hall Murders

‘Don’t you want to know who killed your grandmother, Julia?’ I asked her.

‘Not really. I’m just glad she’s dead.’

‘You’re here because you may have information that helps us, Miss Crace,’ Blakeney explained.

‘I don’t know anything.’

‘But you and your two brothers talked about killing Miriam,’ I reminded her. ‘You wanted to poison her.’

‘That was just a game. And we didn’t know anything about arsenic.’

‘That may be true. But after Eliot was caught trying to steal poison from Dr Lambert’s medicine bag, the entire house knew what you were thinking. And somebody realised that you’d given them a fantastic opportunity. They could poison Miriam with arsenic and, with a bit of luck, nobody would even notice. If they did, it was you children who would get the blame. Either way, they’d be in the clear.’

‘Why would anyone want to kill her?’ Roland asked. ‘Grandma was eighty-three years old. She was ill. She was going to die anyway.’

‘That’s the question everyone asked in your brother’s book,’ I said. ‘Why would anyone want to kill Lady Margaret Chalfont? But there was one person in this room who had every reason to kill Miriam.’ I turned on Jonathan Crace and rather enjoyed seeing him trying to avoid my eye. ‘She was threatening to sell the estate to American interests. I think you’d have happily killed her to prevent that.’

‘It was all words. She would never have done it.’

‘You say that now. Were you so sure of it then?’

‘Are you saying I killed my own mother so that I could take over her legacy?’

‘No, Jonathan. I’m just saying you could have. Just asRoland and Julia could have killed her to stop her taunting and teasing them. I know you like to pretend this isn’t true, but you know perfectly well that your mother was so vile that simply to meet her was a good enough reason to want to kill her – your lawyers probably hated her too.

‘But the actual reason Miriam Crace was murdered was very human, very understandable. It’s nothing that anyone has ever considered, but it’s been in front of us all the time.’

I turned to Julia.

‘I met your aunt Leylah for a drink and she said something very strange. It’s been on my mind ever since. She was telling me how everyone in the Crace family was a liar. Jonathan had lied about the death of his daughter. Gillian had lied to Eliot. And then she said: “Freddy lied about his car accident – you should ask Julia what really happened.” I remember the exact words. So let me ask you now. In what way did he lie to you?’

‘What has my accident got to do with anything?’ Frederick interrupted. It was the first time he had spoken since he had sat down.

‘I don’t know what you want me to say,’ Julia complained.

‘Just tell me what happened.’

She answered before he could. ‘We were driving through west London. Uncle Fred – that was what I always called him – was taking me to the airport. We were in Kensington High Street and there was a red traffic light. I didn’t realise what was about to happen until it was too late. He drove straight through it and a lorry, crossing the junction, smashed into us. It hit the driver’s side of the car, which was why he was the one who was more injured. I got away with a broken collarbone and cuts and bruises.’

‘I told you about this,’ Frederick said. ‘I wasn’t concentrating. I had flu.’

‘No. That’s not true.’ Julia had finally answered my question. ‘I know that’s what you told everyone, but you weren’t ill. You were fine. You just weren’t looking where you were going. You didn’t see the light was red.’

Frederick stared at me balefully. ‘This happened a long, long time ago,’ he complained. ‘It was my fault and I was the only one who was badly hurt. Why bring it up now?’

‘Why did you lie?’

‘I didn’t! Well … maybe I did. I felt dreadful about what had happened. Julia broke her collarbone. She missed her flight. What was I meant to say? That I was asleep at the wheel?’

‘You could have told her you were colour-blind.’

Nobody spoke. Everyone was staring at Frederick.

‘Confusing red and green is one of the most common symptoms of colour blindness,’ I went on. ‘Drivers who are colour-blind have to be aware of thepositionof each light. They don’t think red, yellow, green. They think top, middle, bottom.’

‘So what? So what?’

‘Are you right-handed or left-handed, Frederick?’

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