Page 74 of Lies in Little Sutherland
I didn’t want to convince him—not of this—but he was eyeing me expectantly, so I cleared my throat and got on with it.“I suspected St George at the time.You know that.We talked about it.”
He nodded.
“I don’t think that he had an alibi for either murder.He was out and about the night Grimsby was shot.He was the one who unlocked the conservatory door for us, remember?And anyone in the house could have gone into Francis’s room and taken some of his Veronal.”
“It was Aunt Charlotte who served Grandfather his tea, though,” Christopher pointed out.“If Crispin had received the tray from one of the servants, I think they would have mentioned it, don’t you?”
“Perhaps.Perhaps not.Although it might have been both of them together.”
Christopher allowed as how that might have been possible.“I suppose you think he was the one who shot at you, then?That day we walked to the village?”
“If we’re talking means and opportunity,” I agreed, “he might have done.A gun is considered more of a man’s weapon than a woman’s, I think.”
The gun room had been open to anyone in the house, so Crispin could as easily have fetched the rifle and pointed it out Christopher’s window as his mother.And he might have been the one who shot Grimsby while Aunt Charlotte poisoned Duke Henry.Poison is considered more of a woman’s weapon than a man’s, at least if you listen to the novelists.The great equalizer, and all that.
“And Aunt Charlotte knew what he had done,” Christopher continued, “so she rang up the Dower House, to give Morrison time to get away, and then Aunt Charlotte wrote the note taking the blame, and took the rest of Francis’s Veronal, and went to sleep.”
“And Crispin let her?”
Christopher hesitated.The suggestion seemed to have given him pause, as it ought to have done.While Crispin and Uncle Harold had always had a contentious relationship, he and Aunt Charlotte had always been close.There was no way that the Crispin I knew would have allowed his mother to die for crimes he had committed.Or allowed her to die at all, if there was something he could have done to prevent it.
“I think we ought to talk to him,” I said.
Christopher widened his eyes.“To Crispin?”
“He deserves a chance to tell us why we’re wrong, don’t you think?”And in the event that we were not wrong, a chance to explain his side of the story.
He shook his head, most violently.“Absolutely not.I’m not telling my cousin that I suspect him of murder.”
“Then what do you suppose we do?Tell Tom and let him deal with it?That doesn’t seem quite fair, Christopher.St George is your cousin.I think you owe him better than that.”
“There’s no need to tell Tom,” Christopher said, without touching on the other part of my statement.“He knows already.”
Something cold settled into my chest.“What do you mean, Tom knows already?What does he know?”
“He said that it was all too much of a coincidence,” Christopher said.“For Morrison to die the same night that Shreve told us where to find her.For Doctor Meadows to die the same morning we went to speak to him.And for Alfie to die the same morning as Doctor Meadows, when he might have seen someone take a motorcar or bicycle out of the carriage house.”
I nodded.“I agree with Tom.It’s all very suspicious.I just don’t see why any of it implicates Crispin particularly.No more than anyone else.”
“I’ve just explained it to you,” Christopher said.“If he isn’t Uncle Harold’s son, then he would want to silence anyone who knows that.Who else has that sort of motive?”
“Laetitia,” I said triumphantly.“If Crispin doesn’t become Duke of Sutherland, she won’t become Duchess.And you know she’s marrying him at least partially for that.Besides, out of everyone here, she’s the most likely to try to frame me.You can’t convince me that Crispin would do that.”
“I suppose that might be true,” Christopher said grudgingly.
“You don’t have to sound so displeased.It’s not as if we want Crispin to be guilty.”
He didn’t answer, and I changed the subject.By a degree or so.“Did Tom find a murder weapon?”
“Not during the time I was there,” Christopher said.“But the constables started turning over the carriage house when I left, so unless the murderer took it with him, I’m sure they’ll find it.”
So was I.The carriage house was full of handy weapons, like tire irons and wrenches.There was no need to bring your own into that kind of environment.Just use whatever was handy.As the person who killed Doctor Meadows had done.And the person who killed Morrison, too.
“What do we do now?”I wanted to know.“You’re not willing to confront Crispin.Tom’s busy.I certainly don’t want to talk to Laetitia about any of this.Is there anything else we can do?”
“Search Crispin’s room for clues?”Christopher suggested.
I waved the proposal away.“I was in there earlier.There’s nothing there.”
