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‘Peacefully, in her sleep,’ said Mrs Antrobus, without a flicker of expression. ‘She was very old.’
‘I see. But there was one unforeseen result of the murder, was there not? A gun fired in a small space like a room is very loud indeed. Your ears were never the same afterwards. Mrs Fisher told me that your husband used to sing when his uncle played the piano and had a voice like a songbird, but he never sang again after his uncle’s death. She must have thought it was because he did not have the heart to do so, but maybe there was another reason, maybe it was because his voice hurt your ears. The condition became worse over the years until it was impossible for you to live a normal life, but to avoid suspicion you were able to blame it on the firework display.’
Harriett sipped her water but said nothing.
‘Your husband never suspected you of murdering his uncle until shortly before his last journey. He had a conversation with Dr Goodwin, who is an otologist, an expert on afflictions of the ears, unlike the other men who saw you. Your husband expressed the opinion that your condition could not have been caused by the firework display, and Dr Goodwin advised him that even if that was so, there are many other causes.’ Frances took from her pocket Dr Goodwin’s booklet on ear pain. ‘He lists them here: a blow to the head; loud music, such as the sound of an orchestra which can affect the players; the noise of heavy machinery; loud explosions; even a single gunshot if close by can all produce the condition known as hyperacusis.’ She closed the book. ‘Did he realise then? Did you know before he went away that he pla
Inspector Sharrock and Cornelius listened to the long tale in silence.
‘And now we come to the murder of Mr Eckley, whose enquiries threatened the happiness of your sister, her marriage representing your best escape from the tyra
Frances kept her eyes on Mrs Antrobus but heard Cornelius utter a groan. She pressed relentlessly on. ‘Your guilt of the other two murders – or possibly three, as I suspect that Mr Henderson’s Aunt Lily was hurried to her death so she could not reveal what she saw – ca
Both Frances and Harriett looked at Sharrock. ‘I can’t make any guarantees,’ said the Inspector, ‘but if this lady was to confess to a catalogue of crimes so horrible that no one would think a woman would even be capable of them, then she might well be able to convince a court that she is someone who can’t tell right from wrong.’
Harriett rose gracefully from her chair and went to sit at her desk, then took a fresh pen, ink and a sheaf of paper. ‘I will write it all down.’
‘Does Miss Doughty have it right?’ Sharrock asked her.
Harriett smiled calmly. ‘She does, except in one respect. Robert did not blackmail me concerning the location of Edwin’s body. He himself did not know where it was, and neither do I.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Cornelius. ‘Is your husband dead?’
‘I expect so, yes,’ said the would-be widow, without a trace of emotion.
He looked appalled. ‘You seem not to mind.’
‘I mind not knowing.’
‘I think I might be able to guess at what happened,’ said Frances. ‘Since Mr Barfield was unable to walk fast on his injured leg, he would have found it hard to commit murder in the street or in any place where his victim could run away. He had to get him in a small space, a hotel room perhaps, but Mr Antrobus didn’t trust him enough to agree to a private meeting. Barfield attacked him on the train, didn’t he? And he was very strong in the arms and upper body, so he would have prevailed. Did he throw Mr Antrobus from the train?’
Harriet nodded, her pen moving smoothly, without pause. ‘So he said.’
‘And you both simply had to wait and hope that the body was found, but it never was.’
‘That can’t be right,’ objected Sharrock. ‘The track was searched, but nothing was found.’
‘You were looking for a man who might had fallen from the train,’ Frances reminded him. ‘If he was pushed by someone very strong the body might not have landed on the track.’ Frances searched the bookcases in the room and found a directory with a railway map. ‘Did he say whereabouts on the journey it happened?’
‘Robert was always a coward in such things,’ said Harriett disapprovingly. ‘He was still very shaken when he came to see me and confessed that he had not thought to make a note of the location until it was too late. All he could tell me was that the train had been travelling for at least half an hour out of Bristol and had not yet arrived at Reading.’
‘I suppose fifty miles of railway is better than a hundred,’ grunted Sharrock. ‘It’ll be a long job, mind.’
Cornelius was visibly trembling as he went to stand by Mrs Antrobus, who continued to write unconcerned. ‘And is Charlotte i
The pen flowed swiftly on. ‘She is i
‘And the other thing? Please tell me she is i
‘You must ask her yourself. She will tell you the truth.’
Frances saw her kind uncle’s face crumple with grief.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
So,’ said Dr Goodwin, when Frances paid him a visit a week later, ‘they have found the body at last.’
It was a happier occasion than when they had last met, and she, the doctor and young Isaac, who had been released when the charge of murder against him was dropped, were enjoying a pot of tea and some fancy cakes topped with strawberries.
‘They have. The railway men made a thorough search of the line between Bath and Reading, and the police interviewed the farmers. One man with a farm near Didcot had found a hat lying in his field and assumed that it had been blown from the head of a gentleman looking out of a train window. He still had the hat and wore it to church. Mr Antrobus’ hatter was able to identify it. Some bones were found in a deep ditch where the body must have rolled out of sight.’