Fatal Masquerade. Vivian Conroy

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       Chapter Three

      ‘A tragic case,’ Zeilovsky said.

      He had engaged Alkmene all during dinner with his talk of warring siblings, going from biblical examples, via English history, to the present-day case of Vera Steeplechase, who had murdered her sister, Mary, so as to be able to marry her brother-in-law, the man she had wanted for herself from their first meeting ten years earlier. Vera had almost got away with it as Mary’s death had been deemed natural at first.

      Only two days before Vera’s wedding to the widower, an anonymous letter to the police had caused Mary’s body to be dug up, and a postmortem had shown traces of poison. Instead of going down the aisle in her sumptuous bridal gown – purchased in the presence of her unsuspecting mother, who’d had no idea her one daughter had killed the other – Vera had been taken into custody, to be tried and perhaps eventually hanged.

      ‘I do wonder,’ Alkmene said, putting her fork down, ‘who wrote the anonymous letter.’

      Opposite her, Aunt Felicia knocked over her glass of wine. There was little liquid left in it, and her husband could quickly dab at the stain with a napkin. The woman’s face was on fire as she glanced down into her lap.

      Alkmene continued to Zeilovsky. ‘Was it just a spiteful person who wanted to ruin Vera’s wedding, her day of happiness, and who got more than he or she bargained for? I find it hard to accept the writer knew for sure Vera had poisoned her sister. If he or she had known, they should have shared that knowledge with the police at the time of Mary’s death.’

      ‘Perhaps the person wasn’t sure at the time,’ Mrs Zeilovsky said, speaking past her husband. ‘Perhaps he or she had seen Vera near some bottle with a potion Mary took on occasion to calm her stomach or her nerves. Perhaps only later, when Vera announced she was going to marry her brother-in-law, did that person realize she might have tampered with the contents of the bottle in question to kill her sister and take Mary’s husband for her own. The human mind doesn’t always jump to conclusions straight away. Sometimes we lack information that can make us see the connection.’

      Alkmene nodded slowly. That did make sense.

      ‘In Vera Steeplechase’s case the information that was first lacking was the motive.’ Zeilovsky picked up his wife’s reasoning as if the couple had agreed on it beforehand. ‘The person who saw her near Mary’s bottles before Mary’s untimely death would never have guessed Vera wanted to kill her own sister. It would be such a heinous thing to do. You don’t expect it of siblings.’

      ‘No? But you’ve just regaled me with stories of countless murderous siblings,’ Alkmene said with an innocent smile.

      Ignoring the flaw in his reasoning, Zeilovsky went on, ‘The mind can even refuse to make a connection because it doesn’t want to. The writer of the anonymous letter might have cared very much for Vera and initially have refused to conclude she was guilty of something as terrible as murder. Only after time had gone by, and Vera’s true intentions revealed themselves in the announcement of the marriage to her brother-in-law, did the person dare write the letter.’

      Alkmene leaned back. ‘We won’t know if Vera is really guilty of poisoning Mary until it’s been proven in her trial.’

      ‘My dear lady,’ Zeilovsky said, ‘Mary’s body was full of poison.’

      ‘So, we know for certain that Mary didn’t die a natural death. That doesn’t prove her sister Vera killed her.’

      ‘But Vera agreed to marry Mary’s husband!’ Mrs Zeilovsky cried. ‘So soon after poor Mary was dead.’

      ‘Perhaps the husband saw, too late, after he had already married Mary, that he wanted Vera anyway. Perhaps he killed Mary, thinking nobody would suspect anything. Now Vera’s been accused, he’ll keep his mouth shut and she might swing for his crime.’

      Alkmene realized too late she had spoken quite clearly and other conversations around the table had just come to an end. The words ‘swing for his crime’ seemed to ring out in the sudden silence.

      Mrs Hargrove gave her an accusing look from the head of the table. ‘Dear Alkmene, must you be so gruesome over dinner?’

      ‘On the contrary,’ the dry legal man said. He hadn’t spoken much with anybody, leaning over his plate and wolfing down his food like he never got anything good at home.

      But now he sat up straight, fixing her with burning eyes. ‘I think Lady Alkmene has made an excellent point. All we do know is that a woman who died was poisoned and that, some time later, her sister wanted to marry the widower. Does that make her a killer?’

      The silence around the table lingered, a little startled and a little chill.

      Keegan continued, ‘It certainly makes her a suspect. But, as Lady Alkmene just explained, the husband himself springs to mind as a likely suspect.’

      ‘Poison is a woman’s means,’ Aunt Felicia’s husband said. He was a handsome man with a deep baritone voice. Alkmene couldn’t remember his name.

      Jake laughed softly. ‘A man who wants to kill his wife and get away with it will hardly dig a steak knife into her chest.’

      ‘Please!’ Mrs Hargrove exclaimed, but Hargrove said, ‘Well put. He would know better than to use a weapon that leaves clear traces. We all know now how clever the choice of poison really was. Without the anonymous letter, nothing would ever have come of it. No case, no conviction.’

      Alkmene looked at Aunt Felicia, whose expression had lost the earlier deep red and was now unnaturally pale, as if made of marble. She bit her lip for a moment as she stared down at her plate. The subject seemed to be unbearably painful to her. Had she known the Steeplechase family? Did Vera’s upcoming trial fill her with dread of a possible conviction?

      ‘Yes,’ Jake Dubois said, looking around the table, ‘there always has to be someone writing an anonymous letter, right? Spoiling it all.’

      Mrs Hargrove pushed her chair back in a grate. ‘Gentlemen, I’m sure you want to smoke. Ladies, please accompany me СКАЧАТЬ