They Do It With Mirrors (8 page)

I
nspector Curry and his entourage found Miss Bellever alone in the Great Hall when they arrived.

She came forward efficiently.

“I am Juliet Bellever, companion and secretary to Mrs. Serrocold.”

“It was you who found the body and telephoned to us?”

“Yes. Most of the household are in the library—through that door there. Mr. Serrocold remained in Mr. Gulbrandsen's room to see that nothing was disturbed. Dr. Maverick, who first examined the body, will be here very shortly. He had to take a—case over to the other wing. Shall I lead the way?”

“If you please.”

“Competent woman,” thought the Inspector to himself. “Seems to have got the whole thing taped.”

He followed her along the corridor.

For the next twenty minutes the routine of police procedure was duly set in motion. The photographer took the necessary pictures. The police surgeon arrived and was joined by Dr. Maverick.
Half an hour later, the ambulance had taken away the mortal remains of Christian Gulbrandsen, and Inspector Curry started his official interrogation.

Lewis Serrocold took him into the library and he glanced keenly round the assembled people making brief notes in his mind. An old lady with white hair, a middle-aged lady, the good-looking girl he'd seen driving her car round the countryside, that odd-looking American husband of hers. A couple of young men who were mixed up in the outfit somewhere or other and the capable woman, Miss Bellever, who'd phoned him and met him on arrival.

Inspector Curry had already thought out a little speech and he now delivered it as planned.

“I'm afraid this is all very upsetting to you,” he said, “and I hope not to keep you too long this evening. We can go into things more thoroughly tomorrow. It was Miss Bellever who found Mr. Gulbrandsen dead and I'll ask Miss Bellever to give me an outline of the general situation as that will save too much repetition. Mr. Serrocold, if you want to go up to your wife, please do and when I have finished with Miss Bellever, I should like to talk to you. Is that all quite clear? Perhaps there is some small room where—”

Lewis Serrocold said:

“My office, Jolly?”

Miss Bellever nodded, and said, “I was just going to suggest it.”

She led the way across the Great Hall and Inspector Curry and his attendant sergeant followed her.

Miss Bellever arranged them and herself suitably. It might have been she and not Inspector Curry who was in charge of the investigation.

The moment had come, however, when the initiative passed to
him. Inspector Curry had a pleasant voice and manner. He looked quiet and serious and just a little apologetic. Some people made the mistake of underrating him. Actually he was as competent in his way as Miss Bellever was in hers. But he preferred not to make a parade of the fact.

He cleared his throat.

“I've had the main facts from Mr. Serrocold. Mr. Christian Gulbrandsen was the eldest son of the late Eric Gulbrandsen, the founder of the Gulbrandsen Trust and Fellowship … and all the rest of it. He was one of the trustees of this place and he arrived here unexpectedly yesterday. That is correct?”

“Yes.”

Inspector Curry was pleased by her conciseness. He went on.

“Mr. Serrocold was away in Liverpool. He returned this evening by the 6:30 train.”

“Yes.”

“After dinner this evening, Mr. Gulbrandsen announced his intention of working in his own room and left the rest of the party here after coffee had been served. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“Now, Miss Bellever, please tell me in your own words how you came to discover him dead.”

“There was a rather unpleasant incident this evening. A young man, a psychopathic case, became very unbalanced and threatened Mr. Serrocold with a revolver. They were locked in this room. The young man eventually fired the revolver—you can see the bullet holes in the wall there. Fortunately Mr. Serrocold was unhurt. After firing the shots, this young man went completely to pieces. Mr. Serrocold sent me to find Dr. Maverick. I got through on the house
phone, but he was not in his room. I found him with one of his colleagues and gave him the message and he came here at once. On my own way back, I went to Mr. Gulbrandsen's room. I wanted to ask him if there was anything he would like—hot milk, or whisky before settling for the night. I knocked, but there was no response, so I opened the door. I saw that Mr. Gulbrandsen was dead. I then rang you up.”

“What entrances and exits are there to the house? And how are they secured? Could anyone have come in from outside without being heard or seen?”

“Anyone could have come in by the side door to the terrace. That is not locked until we all go to bed, as people come in and out that way to go to the College buildings.”

“And you have, I believe, between two hundred and two hundred and fifty juvenile delinquents in the College?”

“Yes. But the College buildings are well secured and patrolled. I should say it was most unlikely that anyone could leave the College unsponsored.”

“We shall have to check up on that, of course. Had Mr. Gulbrandsen given any cause for—shall we say, rancour? Any unpopular decisions as to policy?”

Miss Bellever shook her head.

“Oh no, Mr. Gulbrandsen had nothing whatever to do with the running of the College, or with administrative matters.”

“What was the purpose of his visit?”

“I have no idea.”

“But he was annoyed to find Mr. Serrocold absent, and immediately decided to wait until he returned?”

“Yes.”

“So his business here was definitely with Mr. Serrocold?”

“Yes. But it would be—because it would be almost certainly business to do with the Institute.”

“Yes, presumably that is so. Did he have a conference with Mr. Serrocold?”

“No, there was no time. Mr. Serrocold only arrived just before dinner this evening.”

“But after dinner, Mr. Gulbrandsen said he had important letters to write and went away to do so. He didn't suggest a session with Mr. Serrocold?”

Miss Bellever hesitated.

“No. No, he didn't.”

“Surely that was rather odd—if he had waited on at inconvenience to himself to see Mr. Serrocold?”

“Yes, it was odd.”

The oddness of it seemed to strike Miss Bellever for the first time.

“Mr. Serrocold did not accompany him to his room?”

“No. Mr. Serrocold remained in the Hall.”

“And you have no idea at what time Mr. Gulbrandsen was killed?”

“I think it is possible that we heard the shot. If so, it was at twenty-three minutes past nine.”

“You heard a shot? And it did not alarm you?”

“The circumstances were peculiar.”

She explained in rather more detail the scene between Lewis Serrocold and Edgar Lawson which had been in progress.

“So it occurred to no one that the shot might actually have come from within the house?”

“No. No, I certainly don't think so. We were all so relieved, you know, that the shot didn't come from in here.”

Miss Bellever added rather grimly:

“You don't expect murder and attempted murder in the same house on the same night.”

Inspector Curry acknowledged the truth of that.

“All the same,” said Miss Bellever, suddenly, “you know I believe that's what made me go along to Mr. Gulbrandsen's room later. I did mean to ask him if he would like anything, but it was a kind of excuse to reassure myself that everything was all right.”

Inspector Curry stared at her for a moment.

“What made you think it mightn't be all right?”

“I don't know. I think it was the shot outside. It hadn't meant anything at the time. But afterwards it came back into my mind. I told myself that it was only a backfire from Mr. Restarick's car—”

“Mr. Restarick's car?”

“Yes. Alex Restarick. He arrived by car this evening—he arrived just after all this happened.”

“I see. When you discovered Mr. Gulbrandsen's body, did you touch anything in the room?”

“Of course not.” Miss Bellever sounded reproachful. “Naturally I knew that nothing must be touched or moved.”

“And just now, when you took us into the room, everything was exactly as it had been when you found the body?”

Miss Bellever considered. She sat back screwing up her eyes. She had, Inspector Curry thought, one of those photographic memories.

“One thing was different,” she said. “There was nothing in the typewriter.”

“You mean,” said Inspector Curry, “that when you first went in,
Mr. Gulbrandsen had been writing a letter on the typewriter, and that that letter had since been removed?”

“Yes, I'm almost sure that I saw the white edge of the paper sticking up.”

“Thank you, Miss Bellever. Who else went into that room before we arrived?”

“Mr. Serrocold, of course. He remained there when I came to meet you. And Mrs. Serrocold and Miss Marple went there. Mrs. Serrocold insisted.”

“Mrs. Serrocold and Miss Marple,” said Inspector Curry. “Which is Miss Marple?”

“The old lady with white hair. She was a school friend of Mrs. Serrocold's. She came on a visit about four days ago.”

“Well, thank you, Miss Bellever. All that you have told us is quite clear. I'll go into things with Mr. Serrocold now. Ah, but perhaps—Miss Marple's an old lady, isn't she? I'll just have a word with her first and then she can go off to bed. Rather cruel to keep an old lady like that up,” said Inspector Curry virtuously. “This must have been a shock to her.”

“I'll tell her, shall I?”

“If you please.”

Miss Bellever went out. Inspector Curry looked at the ceiling.

“Gulbrandsen?” he said. “Why Gulbrandsen? Two hundred odd, maladjusted youngsters on the premises. No reason any of them shouldn't have done it. Probably one of them did. But why Gulbrandsen? The stranger within the gates.”

Sergeant Lake said: “Of course, we don't know everything yet.”

Inspector Curry said:

“So far, we don't know anything at all.”

He jumped up and was gallant when Miss Marple came in. She seemed a little flustered and he hurried to put her at her ease.

“Now don't upset yourself, Ma'am.” The old ones like Ma'am, he thought. To them, police officers were definitely of the lower classes and should show respect to their betters. “This is all very distressing, I know. But we've just got to get the facts clear. Get it all clear.”

“Oh yes, I know,” said Miss Marple. “So difficult, isn't it? To be clear about anything, I mean. Because if you're looking at one thing, you can't be looking at another. And one so often looks at the wrong thing, though whether because one happens to do so or because you're meant to, it's very hard to say. Misdirection, the conjurers call it. So clever, aren't they? And I never
have
known how they manage with a bowl of goldfish—because really that cannot fold up small, can it?”

Inspector Curry blinked a little and said soothingly:

“Quite so. Now, Ma'am, I've had an account of this evening's events from Miss Bellever. A most anxious time for all of you, I'm sure.”

“Yes, indeed. It was all so
dramatic,
you know.”

“First this to-do between Mr. Serrocold and”—he looked down at a note he had made—“this Edgar Lawson.”

“A very odd young man,” said Miss Marple. “I have felt all along that there was something wrong about him.”

“I'm sure you have,” said Inspector Curry. “And then, after that excitement was over, there came Mr. Gulbrandsen's death. I understand that you went with Mrs. Serrocold to see the—er—the body.”

“Yes, I did. She asked me to come with her. We are very old friends.”

“Quite so. And you went along to Mr. Gulbrandsen's room. Did you touch anything while you were in the room, either of you?”

“Oh no. Mr. Serrocold warned us not to.”

“Did you happen to notice, Ma'am, whether there was a letter or a piece of paper, say, in the typewriter?”

“There wasn't,” said Miss Marple promptly. “I noticed that at once because it seemed to me odd. Mr. Gulbrandsen was sitting there at the typewriter, so he must have been typing something. Yes, I thought it very odd.”

Inspector Curry looked at her sharply. He said:

“Did you have much conversation with Mr. Gulbrandsen while he was here?”

“Very little.”

“There is nothing especial—or significant that you can remember?”

Miss Marple considered.

“He asked me about Mrs. Serrocold's health. In particular, about her heart.”

“Her heart? Is there something wrong with her heart?”

“Nothing whatever, I understand.”

Inspector Curry was silent for a moment or two, then he said:

“You heard a shot this evening during the quarrel between Mr. Serrocold and Edgar Lawson?”

“I didn't actually hear it myself. I am a little deaf, you know. But Mrs. Serrocold mentioned it as being outside in the park.”

“Mr. Gulbrandsen left the party immediately after dinner, I understand?”

“Yes, he said he had letters to write.”

“He didn't show any wish for a business conference with Mr. Serrocold?”

“No.”

Miss Marple added:

“You see, they'd already had one little talk.”

“They had? When? I understood that Mr. Serrocold only returned home just before dinner.”

“That's quite true, but he walked up through the park, and Mr. Gulbrandsen went out to meet him and they walked up and down the terrace together.”

“Who else knows this?”

“I shouldn't think anybody else,” said Miss Marple. “Unless, of course, Mr. Serrocold told Mrs. Serrocold. I just happened to be looking out of my window—at some birds.”