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Edna Metcalf turned out to be the almost mirror opposite of Nirad Shah. A tall, plumb woman in her late forties or early fifties, she spoke with an undisguised cockney accent.
“Ms. Metcalf, I’d like to ask you about the events of the afternoon of December 11th,” Priestly began. “You told Inspector Atkins here that you heard a gunshot from this room. What were you doing at that time?”
“Cleaning the shelves sir,” she replied, pointing to the five rows of book shelves behind her. “I do that every Thursday.”
“Can you remember from which window you heard the gunshot?”
“The middle one.....I think. I couldn’t be sure. But definitely from the garden.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“I climbed down the ladder and went to have a look. I didn’t see anyone.”
“What did you do after that?”
“I went back to cleaning the shelves. A few minutes later, I heard a lot of shouting. So I again went to the window to have a look. I saw two gentlemen running towards the front gate. After about a minute, I saw them return with Mister Hammond and a young lady.”
“You mean Alistair Hammond? Do you know him by sight?”
“Yes sir. He’s a regular member of the club. Everyone knows him.”
“Could you hear the gunshots from the duck shoot inside here?”
“Not really sir. Once the library door is closed, it’s very difficult to hear anything from the side of the kitchen.”
Priestly waited a few seconds for Prem Singh to catch up. He used this time to light another cigarette.
“I’d like you to think carefully about the moments before you heard the gunshot. What did you hear?”
“I heard the bell sir,” Edna replied. “It rang once.” Then she seemed to hesitate. She appeared to take a deep breath and shifted in her chair. “Maybe.....” she tried to continue and then stopped.
“Yes, Ms. Metcalf,” Priestly prodded. “Please do tell. Anything you can add might be quite useful.”
Edna Metcalf again hesitated. She looked to her right at the windows and then at the three investigators with more than a hint of trepidation. “The thing is sir, I cannot be sure about this. But I think I heard a second gunshot as well.”
Priestly shot a quick glance at David Atkins. This was not in the original report. “When did you hear the second shot?” he asked.
“Just before the first gunshot and then I heard the bell. But as I said sir, I can’t be sure. The bell was really loud.”
“Let me clarify this. You think you might have heard a gunshot immediately followed by the ringing bell and then a second gunshot.”
“That’s right sir. But I’m only certain about the second gunshot. Not the first. Maybe I just imagined it because of the bell.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Atkins asked, sounding a little irritated.
“I couldn’t be sure sir,” Edna Metcalf replied, sounding extremely apologetic. “You asked me to tell you only the important facts. I wasn’t sure if it was important. I’m really not sure I heard it at all. But I certainly heard the bell.”
“Were all these windows open that day?” Priestly enquired, gently trying to ease her back into a cooperative frame of mind. He did not want Edna Metcalf to start getting defensive because of Atkins and withhold potentially useful information.
“Yes sir. All of them. We usually close them only at night.”
“What did you do afterwards that day?”
“I went downstairs and joined the kitchen staff. I was interviewed by a policeman and then I went home.”
“Thank you, Ms. Metcalf,” Priestly said, puffing on his cigarette. “Is there anything else you would like to add? Any detail that might be useful.....”
Edna Metcalf hesitated yet again before speaking. “Well sir,” she continued with a slightly subdued voice. “I don’t know if this is important to you. But I think I smelled matches outside the window.”
“Matches?” Atkins asked, leaning forward in his chair. “Do you mean cigarettes?”
“No sir. I mean matches. It smelled as if someone had lit a match in the front garden. But I did not smell any cigarettes or saw anyone smoking.”
“I assume this was after you heard the gunshots,” Priestly asked.
“That’s right sir. The smell was not there before when I cleaned the windows.”
Priestly tapped the cigarette on the ashtray and looked at Atkins and Prem Singh. Neither of them had anything more to ask. “That’ll be all Ms. Metcalf,” he said. “You can leave now.”
“The driver will send you back to Landour,” Atkins told her. “We’ll contact you there if we need more information.”
Priestly was up from his chair even before Edna Metcalf had exited the room. He turned to his left and went out of the middle door of the library into the first floor balcony. Leaning over the wooden railing, he peered straight down and then into the distance. Even through the light mist rolling in from the surrounding mountains, he could clearly see every detail of the front garden.
“Do you believe her?” Atkins asked, coming up behind Priestly. “I think she’s confusing the second gunshot with the first.”
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“Perhaps. But I think this is equally interesting,” Priestly said, pointing downwards. Prem Singh also joined Atkins. Both men looked down in the direction of Priestly’s jabbing finger. “What do you see?”
“Nothing,” Atkins responded. “Just the front lawn.”
“Exactly. The front veranda below us is completely invisible. This balcony overhangs the veranda.”
“So does it mean anything?”
“Edna Metcalf said she did not see anyone when she went to the window. She could not have seen anyone if that person was standing directly below us.”
Without further ado, Malcolm Priestly turned left and walked to the main central staircase. As they walked down to the front reception, they heard the car with Edna Metcalf driving away. Again without any explanation, Priestly walked briskly through the front reception and into the front garden. He swivelled left and almost ran to that end of the garden through a cluster of Eucalyptus trees and short bushes. While Prem Singh easily followed Priestly, he could hear Atkins grunting behind them in his attempt to keep up.
When they reached the outer stone wall that marked the boundary of the garden, Priestly stood on his tip toes to look over it. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he turned to face David Atkins. “Your report said the gardener was standing on this side. Do you know precisely where?”
An almost breathless Atkins pointed to Priestly’s left. “About thirty metres towards there. He said he was trimming the hedges.”
Priestly immediately ambled to the spot indicated by Atkins. “Well, this confirms it,” he said, pointing to the bushes and thick cluster of trees in front of them. “I think the gardener was telling the truth when he said he did not see anything. He couldn’t have. His view was completely blocked. You cannot even see the front reception from here. So we really have no way of knowing if anyone walked on to the veranda that day.”
Again, without further comment, Priestly spun around and started walking to his left. He followed the contours of the boundary wall to its corner, turned right and walked up to the front gate. Briefly acknowledging the salute of the policeman stationed there, he ambled out on to the middle of the road.
Looking to his right, he pointed to a four storey building in the distance, partially shrouded in the mist. “I assume that’s the YMCA where Nirad Shah stays.”
Without waiting for an answer from Atkins, he turned around again and started walking back to the club building. As he approached the front reception, Priestly paused and looked up at the two upper floors. This allowed a clearly struggling Atkins to catch up. “Are the club rooms available for rent by the members?” Priestly asked.
“Not rent as such. They are given out based on an annual lottery system. The members can put in requests and the lottery is organised during New Year’s Eve. The members who received rooms during the previous year are not allowed to participate in the next one.”
“Was Colonel Hammond given a room this year?”
“Yes, he has a room. John Harrison also received a room this year.”
Priestly acknowledged the answers and started walking again. He walked in through the front reception and turned left into the front veranda. He looked up at the ceiling and then turned to Atkins. “I think we’re now directly below the central window where Edna Metcalf was standing. Our shooter was also probably standing here.” He pointed to the main meeting room with the giant bronze bell. “This also offers the clearest line of sight to where Colonel Hammond was standing. The view is not blocked by the bell from this angle.”
“Well, then there can be no doubt about it. Nirad Shah’s our man. No one else was anywhere nearby. He also had access to all the rifles.”
“Ah yes, the missing rifle,” Priestly mused. “We’ll need to find it if we have to exonerate John Harrison. So far, all we have is a good hypothesis.”
“He could have hidden it anywhere in the building or in the grounds. Shall I order a full search? I’ll need to get more men from Landour.”
Priestly shook his head in denial. “I have a better idea. Also, before we search for the rifle, we need to find out why Hammond rang the bell and who he was waiting for that afternoon.”
“Maybe he wasn’t waiting for anyone at all,” Prem Singh opined.
“I think he was. A man like him is hardly likely to turn down the opportunity of a duck shoot. I believe he was expecting someone in the meeting room that day.”
“I also don’t understand what Edna Metcalf meant by matches,” Atkins confessed. “But she smelled no cigarette smoke. This is a strange place for someone to stand around and light matches.”
Priestly gave a short laugh at Atkins’ observation. “Those were definitely not matches,” the Chief Inspector explained. “You’ll find that the Cutlass brand of matches smells very different from other types. Its smell is also more potent. Since you don’t smoke cigarettes, you probably would not recognise its smell. Edna Metcalf smelled gunpowder smoke from the rifle that killed Colonel Hammond.”