The six of them were sitting quite formally in the living room, facing each other on two sofas and two chairs. Hawthorne and Dudley had taken the chairs.
‘What sort of person would always be ten moves ahead?’ Hawthorne was saying. ‘That was the question I asked myself. Who might see the whole world as a game where you could manoeuvre people left and right, this way and that, making them do almost anything you wanted? Who would remember every last detail about everyone around them so that they could use it to their own advantage? Who could plan against any eventuality so that no matter what happened, they’d be able to come back with the right response?’
‘A chess player,’ Adam Strauss said. ‘I have to admit, it’s an interesting idea, Mr Hawthorne.’
‘Why are you here?’ Teri demanded. ‘Are you accusing my husband of murdering Giles Kenworthy?’
‘And Roderick Browne,’ Hawthorne remarked amicably.
‘It’s lies! You are telling lies! You should get out of my house.’
Adam smiled and laid a hand on his wife’s thigh. ‘Don’t worry, darling,’ he said. ‘I’ve got nothing to be afraid of and I’d be quite interested to hear what Mr Hawthorne has got to say.’
‘You’re denying it?’ Detective Superintendent Khan asked.
‘I’m not quite sure yet what it is I’m being asked to deny. Murder, obviously. But how, why and when? I’ve never been a great shot with a bow and arrow and right now –’ he lifted the walking stick – ‘I’m in no fit state to have broken into Roderick’s house and killed him. In fact, I was the last person to see him alive. Alive being the operative word. We were also good friends, although I don’t suppose that counts for anything in Mr Hawthorne’s mind. Do go ahead, Mr Hawthorne. So far, you’ve made complete sense, even if you’re barking up entirely the wrong tree.’
‘Unlike Mrs Winslow’s dog,’ Dudley said. ‘He had a thing about that magnolia in the Kenworthys’ garden.’
‘We’ll come to that in a minute,’ Hawthorne said. He hadn’t been put off by Strauss’s denials. He was quite relaxed.
‘We already know everything about the first meeting,’ he continued. ‘All the neighbours get together to air their complaints and at the last moment Giles Kenworthy pulls out – because someone’s tried to hack into his computer system. I’d guess you had a hand in that, Mr Strauss. It’s a smart move. It makes him look bad, worse than he is. It helps turn him into the target that he’ll eventually become. And that’s just the start of it. In the weeks that follow, the weaker chess pieces – May Winslow and Andrew Pennington – will be advanced across the board. Horrible things will happen to them to bring them onside. May’s pet dog will be killed. Andrew’s flower display will be spoiled – and in both cases the Kenworthys will get the blame.’
‘My chess set was also smashed,’ Adam reminded him.
‘Yeah . . . you and your precious chess set, Mr Strauss! You had to be one of the team. You had to suffer too. That’s part of the reason everyone trusted you. They thought you were with them. But it wasn’t a cricket ball that came through your window. You did it – just like you cold-bloodedly crept out and killed that poor bloody dog, and cut down the flowers on the anniversary of Andrew Pennington’s wife’s death. Only, here’s the funny thing, you were too vain to destroy anything that was truly valuable. So you chose a piece of posh merchandise made under licence from a film that came out thirteen years ago. You may have tried to big it up, but even when it was in a hundred pieces rather than thirty-two, I could tell it wasn’t up to much, and my friend Dudley thought it was rubbish too. A king that looks like Ian McKellen? A knight based on Orlando Bloom? The whole idea of hobbits against orcs? Fifty quid on eBay even if it was given to you by some major sheikh, which, incidentally, I doubt. Pull the other one!
‘The first meeting assembled the pieces that really mattered – your neighbours. The second moved them into position. By the way, Andrew Pennington thought it might have been his idea for all of you to get together again, but he also mentioned that it came out of a conversation with you two lovebirds. So you probably found a way to suggest it to him, the same way you hired two people to buy the same book at The Tea Cosy so that Phyllis or May would bring up the idea about everyone committing the same murder. The way you see the world, everyone’s a pawn.
‘So now they’re all pissed off with the Kenworthys and this time you make sure there’s lots of alcohol but no food so that things get a bit out of hand and there will be no inhibitions. When someone brings up the idea of murder, it’s all a bit of a laugh. To start with, you’re all going to do it – just like in the book. But then you remember that you’ve got a packet of drinking straws in the kitchen. You know, the very first time I heard that, it struck me as weird. You don’t have kids but you’ve got drinking straws left over from some party? It’s rubbish, of course. You’d bought them specially for that night. More manipulation.
‘And there was something else about the drawing of the straws that didn’t add up. Phyllis Moore told me that you were the one who held them – no surprises there – but she added that they were behind your back “so there could be no cheating”. But that makes no sense at all. It’s exactly the reason why you hold them in front of you, so everyone can see. If they’re behind your back, it’s easy to conceal the shortest straw in the waistband of your trousers or somewhere and force it on the person you’ve chosen by leaving them until last. That person was Roderick Browne. All along, you’d decided that he was going to be your patsy. But then, like every opponent you’ve ever come across, you had him psychologically pinned down like a butterfly. He was perfect for what you wanted.
‘He and his wife, Felicity, had been the most vocal opponents of Giles Kenworthy – along with Dr Beresford, of course. The death of his patient, Raymond Shaw, was a bonus . . . I doubt even a chess grandmaster could arrange a heart attack, so we’ll put that one down to real coincidence. Tom Beresford was onside anyway. Roderick Browne was the actual target. He and Felicity were hopping mad about the pool. For them it was almost a matter of life and death. And they had the murder weapon, right where they needed it. Everything was set up.
‘My guess is that you’d taken the crossbow before the trick with the drinking straws. That was always your method. Ten moves ahead. You knew that the Kenworthy kids would be boarding. You probably even knew about Lynda Kenworthy and her French teacher. You slipped round to the house when Giles Kenworthy was on his own, shot him and generously left the crossbow complete with Roderick Browne’s fingerprints, even making sure it was pointing at the right house for the police to find. As for that chess game you told us about, the one you were playing online with your Polish friend and which provided your alibi – my guess is that you were doing it on your phone at the same time. Talk about multitasking!
‘What’s the end result of all this? You’ve created the perfect conspiracy. What was a joke, a drunken game of “let’s pretend”, has suddenly become a reality. Roderick Browne has told everyone he’s going to kill Giles Kenworthy and he’s even been generous enough to name the murder weapon. How you must have laughed! Because the following morning, Kenworthy is found with a bolt in his throat and of course everybody assumes that Roderick went through with it, that it must have been him.
‘At the same time, they’re terrified. Like it or not, they were all part of it. Andrew Pennington is quick to warn them. It’s a classic “conspiracy to commit murder” and Roderick won’t be the only one to go down. They all will! Nice, respectable people: a doctor, his posh jewellery-designer wife, a retired barrister, two old ladies . . . they were all there. Before the police even arrive, they’ve all taken a vow of omertà. Nobody can say anything that might incriminate them. Don’t mention the second meeting! Everyone has to lie. What was the first thing Roderick said to me when I met him? “Has anyone said anything?” He was terrified that one of his neighbours would land him in it.
‘And things only got worse for Roderick. You talked to him once on Tuesday, Detective Superintendent, and then on Wednesday, after he’d taken his wife to Woking, you pulled him into Shepherd’s Bush. By the end of a heavy session, he was convinced he was going to be arrested and charged – and that was why he ended up writing that letter. Read it again! It’s not a confession! All he meant was the public humiliation of being taken away in handcuffs. “We will see each other again on the other side.” Did you think he was talking about the Pearly Gates? He meant the other side of the arrest, the trial, or even the prison sentence. But once the letter was sitting on his lap and he had a bag over his head and a tank of nitrous oxide, it wasn’t surprising that you should think otherwise.’
‘So he killed himself because he was afraid of going to jail,’ Goodwin said.
‘You haven’t been listening, love. Adam Strauss killed Roderick Browne just like he’d always planned.’
‘This is all lies,’ Teri hissed.
Adam Strauss squeezed her hand. ‘We’ll have our chance to respond,’ he said, speaking quietly.
‘I examined that garage,’ Khan said. ‘It was impossible to get in or out. Are you going to explain that?’
‘Of course. But let’s start with the set-up. Strauss deliberately made it look like suicide. In fact, it screamed suicide. You’re right! Two locked doors. A skylight securely fastened. The only set of car keys in his trouser pocket. Suicide note in his lap. Nobody in their right mind goes to so much trouble unless they really, really want you to accept the obvious. And surely by now you understand that, all along, Strauss was playing with your mind. He even left the supposed reason for the suicide sitting there for you to find. There’s no reason on earth why Roderick Browne would have slipped the cut-off piece of drinking straw in his top pocket. He didn’t mention it in his letter. Right to the end, he was protecting his neighbours. No. Strauss put a new straw in there. And if Detective Superintendent Khan had stuck with the idea that Roderick was taking cocaine – as he suggested – I’m sure Strauss would have found a way to drop another clue to lead us all back to the second meeting, which was what he wanted all along.
‘We know that Strauss was the last person to see Roderick Browne alive and that Browne invited him over. Strauss knew that Andrew Pennington played bridge every Wednesday evening, so it’s easy enough to time everything for the exact moment Pennington gets home. And what does Pennington see? Strauss says goodbye to Browne, who replies, “You’ve been very kind . . .” Words to that effect. The door closes and the light goes off. The time of death is two hours away. So, at this moment, Browne is very much alive.
‘That’s what we’re meant to think. But Strauss has been with Browne, by his own admission, for at least an hour and a half. What really happened was that he slipped a whole lot of sleeping pills into Browne’s whisky. One little mistake there. He couldn’t get hold of Felicity’s temazepam, so he used pills he must have stolen from Dr Beresford . . . which were the next best thing. Always good to point suspicion in the wrong direction. When he leaves at ten o’clock, Browne is already unconscious. How to fake the conversation on the doorstep? Easy with an iPhone and a portable speaker. Dudley here has been recording every conversation I’ve had, including this one! That’s what Pennington hears.
‘As for the lights, he said something very interesting to me. “The front door closed, the light went out and Adam walked away.” But that’s strange for all sorts of reasons. Firstly, Roderick clearly wasn’t going to bed. More to the point, think about what he said. A single light going off. The light switch by the door turns off the lights in the hallway, the stairs and the first landing. If Roderick had flicked the switch by the door, that’s what Pennington would have seen. But if it was a single light, Roderick would have had to close the door and then cross the hallway to turn off the antique lamp on the chest of drawers.’
‘So are you saying that it was Strauss who turned it off?’ Goodwin asked. She was finally entertaining the possibility that some sort of trick had been involved.
‘Exactly.’
‘How?’ Khan demanded.
‘Easy. He could have used a piece of string and pulled the plug out of the wall. But there were all sorts of electrical bits and pieces that suddenly turned up inside the garage and I think what he used was a cheap remote control he’d brought with him. In reality, Roderick Browne is sound asleep in the kitchen because of the zolpidem. Strauss plays the recording. He closes the door. He turns off the lights with the remote control, which he dumps in the garage later. No point risking the police finding it in his home. Anyway, that’s the illusion. Roderick Browne is alive and all is well. Except it isn’t.
‘Adam Strauss returns to the house. He’s left the garage open so he can get in without any trouble. First, though, he uses the ladder to climb onto the roof and remove the screws that hold down the skylight. And that, incidentally, is where Marsha Clarke enters the equation. The dear old lady in Hampton Wick! When Dudley and I stood on the garage roof, we could see just one window in the close: the room belonging to Kylie Jane, the Beresfords’ nanny. But that meant if she’d been there, she would have had a view of the garage and there was always a chance that she would look out and see what was happening. So she had to go. It was Strauss who attacked Marsha Clarke. He must have seen Kylie leaving the close with her breadcrumbs for the birds . . . he knew what was going on. He bashed the old lady, knowing Kylie would stay there and look after the cats. As for the political leaflet, that was more misdirection. It was another lie.
‘Anyway, as I was just saying, Strauss goes back into the house. My guess is that he’s already helped his old friend write the letter to his wife, maybe suggesting a phrase or two. He’s got to be sure it’ll work for him. Now he drags the unconscious man into the garage. Puts a bag over his head – making another small mistake. Roderick doesn’t shop at Tesco’s. But it’s a suicide. Who’s going to notice? He turns on the gas. And now comes the clever part. How is he going to leave Roderick in the car, with the only key fob in his pocket and with all the windows and doors locked from inside?
‘In fact, it couldn’t be easier. When I visited the garage, I had to step over a pool of water on the concrete floor and I did wonder what it was doing there. After all, it hasn’t rained for weeks – you can tell that from the state of the gardens. The answer’s built into the car that Roderick Browne drove, the Skoda Octavia. It comes with a range of accessories, but one of them is a rain sensor, located in front of the windscreen. If you’re driving and it rains, the wipers come on automatically. And if you’ve left the car parked, the windows close themselves.
‘There was a tap and a bucket in the garage. All Strauss had to do was pour a certain amount of water in the right place to complete the illusion that Browne had locked himself in. Most of the water drained away, but unfortunately for him a little puddle was left and I noticed it the moment I went in.
‘So. Back to the night of the crime.
‘The up-and-over garage door is locked. The door into the house likewise. Now Strauss climbs onto the Skoda and exits through the skylight. Of course, it would have been hard work doing that with a badly sprained ankle, but he’d faked that ahead of the game too, pretending to fall down the stairs at Richmond station. He pulls himself onto the roof, with no Kylie Jane to spot him, and fastens the screws using glue, which he’s brought with him. It was never rust. Stainless steel doesn’t rust. Then he climbs down the ladder and goes home to bed.
‘That’s pretty much it. The one question you might like to ask, Detective Superintendent, is how much Teri Strauss knew about all this. I’m surprised she wasn’t woken up when her husband tiptoed in sometime around midnight – and there was definitely someone behind him at Richmond station wearing a hoodie when he was “pushed” down those stairs. She seems quite a feisty little number. Maybe her oriental brain even came up with some of the plot.’
‘You are a racist!’ Teri snapped.
‘Better a racist than a murderer,’ Hawthorne retorted.
‘Wait a minute!’ Khan cut in. ‘You’ve said all this and I suppose it makes some sort of sense, even if it’s hardly very likely. But there’s one thing you haven’t explained. Why would Mr Strauss have wanted to kill Giles Kenworthy in the first place? If it wasn’t his chess set and it wasn’t any of the other complaints, why go to all this trouble?’
‘That’s the biggest misdirection of them all,’ Hawthorne replied. ‘The whole “Nightmare Neighbour” thing – it had nothing to do with it. You’ve got to ask, what was the one big change that happened at the time of the first meeting?’
‘The swimming pool,’ Dudley said.
‘Exactly. Kenworthy was going to dig up the garden to build a pool. Now, the evidence is a bit circumstantial, but let’s put it all together. First, there’s the magnolia tree with its amazing blossoms. Even Lynda Kenworthy was impressed by that. And Mrs Winslow’s dog was always sniffing around it . . . so it must have been attracted by something. Then we come to Wendy Strauss, Adam’s first wife, who divorced him and disappeared from the scene. What do we know about her? Only that she didn’t like chess. She wasn’t happy in the close. And she and Adam didn’t get on. We also know that Adam was having financial difficulties, so it probably wouldn’t have helped him to lose half his savings in a divorce.’
‘What are you suggesting?’ Strauss asked. He seemed completely relaxed, half smiling.
‘That she’s under the magnolia tree,’ Hawthorne said. ‘If Kenworthy had gone ahead and built his pool, her skeleton would have been the first thing they discovered. The moment he got planning permission, that was when he had to die.’
There was a lengthy silence in the room. It was broken, at last, by Detective Superintendent Khan.
‘So, Mr Strauss,’ he said. ‘What have you got to say?’