“George? What did you see? Or hear?” I prompted him after a long moment in which he continued to stare at the floor, hesitating.
Finally, he raised his eyes to meet mine. “Did see something.”
“On the terrace?” This was like pulling teeth. “What did you see, George? Or whom?”
He stared unhappily at me, stuck in debate with himself.
“George,” I said as gently as I could, given the frustration I was now feeling, “it will have to come out. You’ll have to tell the police.”
“Suppose you’re right, Simon, but I don’t think they’ll find it all that helpful,” he said, then took a deep breath. “Looked out the window at one point, thinking about taking a walk, and saw the Harper creature on the terrace. Talking to someone.”
“Who, George?”
He shrugged. “Not sure. Let me show you.” He stood up and walked to the window, drawing the curtain aside.
Standing beside him, I gazed down upon the terrace. I could see the lonely PC still at his place, guarding the scene of the crime. He was having a furtive smoke, lounging near the balustrade where someone had pushed the cement pot off on Wanda Harper.
“She was standing right about there,” George said, “talking to someone on the ground.”
“About where the PC is?” I asked to clarify. George nodded.
I looked again. From this angle, someone standing on the ground close to the terrace wall couldn’t be seen from George’s window.
“How do you know she was talking to someone?” I asked. “If you couldn’t see anyone else?”
“Poor creature was leaning over the balustrade, that’s how. Could see her gesturing at someone. Had to be someone standing below her. She was in the way of my seeing just who it was.”
“How long were you at the window?”
“Only a moment,” George said. “Weather looked too iffy, so I decided against a walk. Besides”—he shifted uncomfortably—“didn’t want to run into that creature outside. Or anywhere else.”
“You didn’t see anything distinguishable about the person? The top of the head, perhaps, or a glimpse of the clothing?”
“Nothing,” he said. He let the curtain drop and went back to his chair.
I followed him but didn’t sit down again. “Pity that you didn’t see who it was, George.” I was thinking, however, that it could have been Giles, but if it was, I reasoned, how could Norah Tattersall have seen him? She was much farther along the hall than George, and her angle of view down upon the terrace would be different, of course. But could she have seen from her window whoever was on the ground? Or would the terrace wall have shielded that person from view?
Perhaps Norah hadn’t really been in her room when she saw Giles arguing with Wanda Harper, I reasoned. Maybe instead, she was outside on the grounds somewhere. What was it she had said to me when I had asked her if she had seen Wanda and Giles from her window? “Yes, I suppose I must have been.”
That made me suppose that I had led my witness unintentionally. Norah hadn’t said she had been in her room when she had seen Wanda and Giles. Instead, she had responded more conditionally, and at the time I hadn’t really paid attention to exactly what she had said.
I had been wrapped up in my thoughts, so much so that I had forgotten George for the moment. Now I saw that he was eyeing me uneasily. I flashed him a reassuring smile.
“Not to worry, George, just ruminating over things,” I said.
“Playing Sherlock, eh, Simon?” George laughed.
“Perhaps, George. You must admit it’s tempting.”
George shrugged in response. I offered him my hand, and he took it. We shook. “Thanks, George. I appreciate your candor, and I assure you that what you told me earlier will go no further unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Thank you, Simon,” he said, standing and following me to the door. “I didn’t kill that woman, but I can’t say that I can condemn the poor sod who did.”
“I can understand that, George,” I said. “Promise me, though, you will inform the police of what you saw on the terrace.”
After assuring me that he would, George shut the door firmly behind me. I went back to my room, hoping that Giles had returned from his walk.
Not only had he returned, I discovered when I entered my room, he was reclining comfortably on my bed, snoring.
“Giles! Wake up.” I shook him none too gently. His first indignant cry died upon his lips, which quickly curved into an inviting grin when he realized who had accosted him. “There’s plenty of room here, Simon, if you’d like to climb in.”
I shook my head at him. “Nice try, Giles.” I retreated from the bed and sat down in one of the chairs near the window. I watched as he sat up on the bed and ran a hand through his hair. He yawned and swung his feet to the floor. Thankfully, he hadn’t removed his clothing, only his shoes, before making himself so comfortable on my bed. He padded over to the other chair and plopped down in it, regarding me with a disappointed smile.
“You rang?” he said.
“Tell me what happened when you argued with Wanda Harper on the terrace.”
“Not much, frankly,” Giles said, his face expressing his curiosity. “I told her I knew who she really was, and she wanted to know how.” He laughed. “I told her she really ought to lock her room if she didn’t want people finding out her secrets, and she got rather angry at that. She had quite an impressive vocabulary of vulgar words, that woman.”
I nodded. “Yes, I found that out myself.”
Giles shrugged. “And that was about it. I listened to her cursing at me for a moment; then I told her she could call me all the names she wanted to, but it wouldn’t change the outcome of what would happen as soon as Lady Hermione knew the truth. Then she uttered one more vulgarity and flounced off down the terrace. That was the last I saw of her, because I came back inside then.”
“You were on the terrace, then, when you confronted her?”
Giles nodded. “Yes, when I went out onto the terrace, she was only a few feet away from me, as if she had just arrived there herself. Why do you ask?”
“Because George Austen-Hare saw her arguing with someone, but she was at that point by the balustrade, and the other person was standing on the ground below the terrace wall.”
Giles considered that for a moment. “Most likely, that was after I saw her. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t see anyone else on the terrace with her.” He breathed a deep sigh of relief. “Maybe that will give Chase something else to do.”
“Giles, you don’t really think he considers you a viable suspect, do you?” My tone was light and mocking.
His eyes darkened for a moment. “Maybe not. But he doesn’t really care for me, Simon. Surely you’ve picked up on that.”
“I’ve noticed that you’re none too friendly with him, Giles, but to be truthful, I thought that was more on your part than his.”
“Because you think I’m jealous of him, is that it Simon?” Giles laughed.
“Why would you be jealous of him, Giles?” I countered playfully. “You’re young, handsome, titled, reasonably well off.”
“Because of the way you look at him, Simon. He’s aware of it, I can assure you, though he pretends otherwise.” Giles’s temper was becoming increasingly strained.
I’m not averse to having two attractive men fighting over me, mind you, but I thought I’d better take control of this situation before it got out of hand.
“Giles, look at me,” I said gently, waiting for him to do as I asked. His eyes stared straight into mine, and for the first time I saw the vulnerability and uncertainty there. Maybe his feelings for me were genuine after all, more mature and deeper than I had reckoned. He was so casually flirtatious on a daily basis that I had often been inclined to dismiss his feelings as simple lust and nothing more. But perhaps I had been misreading him all along.
"I like flirting as much as the next man,” I said, “and I’ll admit to flirting with Robin Chase. It’s amusing, and I get a kick out of it. But I don’t have a professional relationship with him. I lose nothing by being playful with him and watching him squirm ever so slightly.”
“Where does that leave me?” Giles said, and to his credit he managed not to sound self-pitying.
“I value your friendship, and I value our working relationship,” I said, and I could see him relax. “You’ve been very good for me, Giles, and you’ve made my working life much easier, I must say.”
“And is that all I am to you, Simon? A friend and assistant?” His voice was soft, and he had turned away from me.
If I had told him he was also a constant temptation, he would have read the wrong things into the admission, so I stilled the impulse to utter the words.
“Those are both things I value very much, Giles,” I said, “and I know you want more from me than that. For now, though, I think it’s better for both of us to be content with the present situation. We have plenty of time to see what might develop, don’t we?”
He turned to face me again, his eyes shining with both hope and longing. “Oh, Simon, what choice do I have?”
I wasn’t ready yet to tell him all my secrets, or face the responsibilities that the kind of relationship he wanted would entail. He might never want to see me again, or, worse, he might be so horrified that he would reveal the truth of what I was to everyone around us. Then my existence would be sheer hell. I liked what I had found in Snupperton Mumsley, and I didn’t want to lose it. I had to know him better, feel more confident in his feelings for me and mine for him, before I could take such an irrevocable step.
I smiled to take the sting out of the words. “Then I guess we’re stuck with each other for a while, eh?”
He grinned. “You won’t get rid of me very easily, Simon; I can promise you that.”
“I hope not, Giles, I hope not,” I said softly.
Giles got up from the chair and retrieved his shoes from the bedside. As he sat down on the bed to put his shoes back on, he asked, “What are we going to do next, Simon?”
“I think another talk with Norah Tattersall is in order. She most certainly knows more than she’s telling, and I want to see if I can persuade her to tell me what she knows. That is, if she hasn’t already told it all to Robin.”
“He certainly won’t tell you, Simon,” Giles said, his face split in a huge grin.
“No, he wouldn’t,” I conceded. “I’ll just have to tackle Norah anyway.” I got up from my chair. “While I do that, you keep digging for more dirt. Someone in this place had a motive for murder, and we need to find out what it is.”
Giles mumbled something in response as I went out the door. I moved quickly down the hall to Norah Tattersall’s room, hoping that I would be lucky enough to find her on the first try.
I knocked firmly on the door—so firmly, in fact, that I pushed it open slightly. It hadn’t been securely closed. I pushed the door open a bit farther. “Norah! Miss Tattersall!” I called. “May I come in?” No one answered me, but made curious by the fact that the door had been open, I went on inside her room.
There I got a bit of a shock. Norah Tattersall was in the room, after all, but she was very, very dead.