CHAPTER II.
SIGNIFICANT INCONGRUITIES
For the next few days, the local press was filled with the search for the fugitive and her husband, Mr. Angel Clare, who had checked out of his hotel after the time of the murder (although, doubtless to protect the tourist trade, the press merely reported the case as an "attack", without hinting at the fatal outcome.) As usual, Holmes had ensured, through the police, that our involvement in the case was not disclosed to the public, and so the press merely reported that a workman from the villa next door had discovered the body after Mrs. Brooks had raised the alarm on noticing the bloodstain.
Mrs. Brooks' apparent overriding concern was for the reputation of her business and the financial implications of such a scandal. As soon as the police had finished their investigations of the premises, she called in a joiner and a plasterer to remove the physical traces of the crime from the building. The fact that her few other guests had decided to move to less notorious accommodation after making their statements assuredly distressed her. Mr. and Mrs. Oak said bluntly that they were going straight home to their farm in Weatherbury, because the case evoked "unpleasant memories". I puzzled to think what could lurk in the past of the drab 'Baa-thsheba'. Meanwhile, casual visitors of ghoulish inclinations began to call at The Herons, asking to see the room in which the crime had taken place. Our hostess refused to admit them.
"There are some gey unca' fowk about. We get them round here, wi' Mistress Shelley being buried at St. Peter's."
"You've read Frankenstein, then?" Holmes asked.
"Och, I've read mony novels, sir - when you're aftimes alane, it helps tae pass the time. But even Lady Audley's Secret's naucht tae this!"
Holmes spent each morning reading all the press reports of the "dangerous assault" which he could find in the town, county and national press. In the afternoon, he would clip them out and spread them upon the table.
"It would appear that the gentlemen of the press have Teresa Clare convicted before she has even been arrested," he commented drily.
I shrugged. "Is that surprising? The girl has 'a past' - that's usually enough for them!"
"Yes - according to The Wessex County Herald, she is alleged to have been the victim's mistress before her marriage, and to have returned to him on the assumption that her husband had deserted her. I wonder who was paid for that little confidence? And I wonder what bearing it has on what happened downstairs...?"
"The conversations which Mrs. Brooks overheard?"
"Yes. 'The eternal triangle', Watson - or perhaps one should say infernal. But is it the motive, or merely the pretext?"
"So you still believe Mrs. Clare may be innocent?"
"Let us say that, at present, it would be premature to assume her guilt. The yellow press no doubt finds the concept of a 'black widow' stabbing her mate somewhat titillating; but she seems an unlikely candidate for such a venomous rĂ´le."
I proceeded to prompt Holmes to tease out the logical processes behind his assertion: "Yet the circumstantial evidence is so strong - the return of her husband from Brazil; the argument with her lover; the fact that she fled the scene before the crime was discovered. If not murder, it could be manslaughter."
"I do not believe that Mrs. Clare stabbed Mr. d'Urberville, in hot blood or cold."
"Convince me."
"Well, Watson, you examined the victim yourself, did you not? And did you not remark that the wound in his chest was small?"
"Yes."
"- And yet the knife stolen from the breakfast tray was a carving-knife - the blade of which would surely have inflicted a larger injury?"
"Perfectly true, Holmes - that had occurred to me. But why, then, should someone - the murderer, we presume - remove the carving-knife?"
"If this were indeed an unpremeditated crime of passion, one would expect the murderer to have used the weapon closest to hand, such as the carving-knife. But it was not used. Instead, it was stolen - perhaps for self-defence, or else in an attempt to disguise the fact that this was a murder committed in cold blood, with a less readily available weapon."
"So you believe it was premeditated?"
Holmes rose and began to walk over to the door. "Utterly. What perplexes me, however, is the behaviour of the suspect herself on the morning of the murder... - Ah, Mrs. Brooks!" he said, opening the door so abruptly that she almost fell into the room.
"Mr. Holmes! I was just about tae chap, tae see if you needed -"
I offered her a seat.
"Och no, doctor - it's no' my business -"
Holmes interrupted: "My good woman, you are as much a part of this investigation as Dr. Watson and myself! I was aware that you were listening at the door, and it is only right that you should be involved more openly!"
She sat down between us at the table. "I'm sorry! I dinna usually... But after what's befa'n thon puir laddie... Weel, you're my ainly guests now, and I'm no' haein' you endin' up murdered in your beds!"
"Madam, would you like to help us in a small experiment?"
She swallowed hard. "What sort o' experiment?"
"A simple test. Imagine that, for some reason - perhaps he hasn't paid his bill - you want to kill my friend Dr. Watson!"
"Steady on, Holmes!" I protested.
"One moment- Now, Mrs. Brooks, pick up the letter-knife from the table - as if you were going to stab him with it. Try not to think too deeply about it."
Instinctively, she seized the knife and brandished it over me, the blade pointing downward.
Holmes applauded. "Bravo! A superb performance!"
I sighed with relief as she placed the knife back on the table. "Sae what does that prove?" she asked. "Surely you didna think I ?"
"Of course not, but it confirms - does it not, Watson- that the murder could not have been carried out in hot blood, as the police maintain."
Mrs. Brooks sat down. "Can you explain?"
"You were, for the purposes of my experiment, the average untrained British civilian. When you picked up the knife, you did so as most people do - blade downward. This detail often distinguishes the unpremeditated from the premeditated attack: it would be easy enough to disarm you."
"And in this case...?" she began.
Holmes turned to me for an answer. "In this case," I said, "the blade was pointing upward - far more deliberate and dangerous. Especially with a narrow, double-edged blade."
"Sae what I heard you say was true- It wasna my cairving-knife? Leastways that's one thing I canna be blamed for! But what a sleekit quine she maun be!"
"So you still believe she did it?"
"Who else could hae deen it, Mr. Holmes- A quine wi' morals like that - And this a respectable house!"
"Respectability... That is something which concerns you much, does it not, Mrs. Brooks? Why is that?"
Her pale face flushed pink. "Business. A woman in business maun be canny about appearances."
"- As must a sea captain's wife, when her husband is on long voyages, and she is only half his age?"
She gasped. "How did you ?"
Holmes smiled. "Your Amazonian parrot and your armadillo sewing-basket show that he sailed as far as South America. And although your mourning brooch is of a style made some fifteen years ago, the hair within is quite grey."
Mrs. Brooks sighed wearily. "This 'romantic love' the young fowk blether about is haivers - disnae last five minutes! Josh Brooks was a friend o' my faither's - he'd sailed wi' him. When Pa was drount, he helped us. He was a widower, wi' a son at sea aulder nor I. I cam' wi' him doun tae Bristol... He was a steady man. The voyages were lang, but... I was aye a true wife tae him. Betimes I've speired mysel' why... Then, when I thocht he was comin' hame for guid, he went and deed..." She tried to laugh: "I'm alane now, but for the bird, and thae airmadilly baskets - I've twa mair in the attic, you ken- He'd no' much imagination..."
Then a trace of bitterness crossed her face: "I've wondered why, for men, virtue's what they dee, but for women, it's what they dinna... Auld Brooks has said mair tae me deid than when he was alive!
"I used tae dee the rappin' on the wee table in my parlour. There's a mark now where the bluid was - the plaister canna be painted yet... Och, it's an awfu' thing! I didna see it on my goun for hours... But there's aye a smell tae bluid..."
Holmes agreed: "That may explain the tampering with the perfume bottle. Now, let us suppose that Mrs. Clare has just stabbed her lover. She wishes to leave the house to make her escape. She puts on her best hat, with its conspicuous black feathers, and a veil, and picks up her parasol. She descends the staircase in a flamboyant manner - 'like the Queen of Sheba', in your evocative phrase, Mrs. Brooks, and closes the door noisily. Does that sound like a fugitive wishing to escape notice, or like a woman who wishes to attract attention?"
"- But Holmes," I interjected, "surely that would be the best way to allay suspicion - to go out boldly, as if without a care in the world?"
"Perhaps, perhaps... But it troubles me. You accept that the killing was premeditated?"
"Your theory about the carving-knife is the only logical explanation of it," I said. Mrs. Brooks nodded in agreement.
"But is Teresa Clare is capable of cold-blooded murder?"
"Holmes, you yourself have often argued that almost anyone can commit murder, given the motive, means and opportunity!"
"No; the issue is whether this individual could have committed this particular murder. She had been living with the victim as his wife, not altogether unhappily. Could she have stabbed him, and then bedecked herself so gaily while he lay wounded in the very same room? But if it were not Mrs. Clare, then who could have done it? The victim did not try to defend himself - which suggests that he was caught unawares, or that he knew his assailant. Remember: we have to consider motive, means and opportunity... Mrs. Brooks, have you any ideas on the subject?"
Her eyes widened. "Me? I dinna ken much about these things! But... since Mr. d'Urberville was his wife's fancy man, did Mr. Clare no' hae a reason?"
"You're starting to think along the right lines, dear lady! But, according to the police, his alibi has already been firmly established. Staff and guests at the hotel where he was staying have confirmed that he was eating breakfast in the dining room at the time when the crime was committed. Of course, he may be involved in some other way, but until he is found, we can only speculate."
"Supposing the woman we saw leaving the building were not Mrs. Clare?" I asked.
"Ah, yes- Mrs. Brooks, you saw her more closely than either of us - could you swear it was she?"
She looked thoughtful. "I had my spectacles on for sewin', and she was wearin' the hat and veil - But they were Mistress Clare's hat and veil - there's nae mistakin' thae feathers. But wha else would be in the chaumer wi'... Och, are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin', Mr. Holmes?"
"What are you thinking, madam?"
"It's no' sae nice - speakin' ill o' the deid, but just supposin' he was being visited by a 'woman o' the toun', in a manner o' speakin'? I mean, he was no' sae douce as he seemed, was he, bidin' wi' a mairrit woman? And him sae braw-luikin', and haein' that way wi' him..."
"A ladies' man? Perhaps in the past. But to have invited some harlot... No, I doubt it, given his devotion to Mrs. Clare. There is another possiblity, however. As you said, Mrs. Brooks, the betrayed husband always has a motive; so does the discarded mistress. It might be worth investigating the victim's history."
"How do we go about doing that?" I asked.
Holmes produced a GWR timetable from his inside pocket. "I think we may need to do something rather disagreeable."
"Such as?"
"Venturing into the countryside." Holmes hates the country; he has such a jaundiced view of rural life that I can only think the reason for it lies buried in his own past (he is himself of the squirearchy). "Watson, I think it might be useful if you go up to Trantridge. That was Mr. d'Urberville's home, was it not, Mrs. Brooks?"
"Aye - the papers got that richt! I've still got the letter fae the original buiking - it's prentit at the top. I'm sure it maun hae cost a pretty penny tae get that deen!"
"So I've to go there alone?"
"Not exactly," Holmes replied. "We shall travel together, yet as strangers. While you investigate the victim, I intend to uncover the history of the suspect. Mrs. Clare's family dwell in the same village; I shall pay them a visit... Yet I don't want to arouse suspicion... Mrs. Brooks, do you still have any of your husband's old clothes?"
She frowned. "Why, there's some auld duds in a kist... But whatever for?"
"Was he a tall man?"
"Aye, but Mr. Holmes !"
He sprang up, rubbing his hands together with excitement. "Bring them out, my good woman - they'll need airing! And a spare armadillo, if you can find one! The game is afoot - but as to the sort of game it will be, and the identity of our opponent... that remains to be seen!"
To be continued.
