When angry, count four; when very angry, swear.
(MARK TWAIN)
‘AM I DOING all right?’ asked a slightly subdued Lewis as, five minutes after this preliminary interview, he sat in the canteen drinking coffee with Morse.
‘Very good – very good,’ said Morse. ‘But we’ve got to tread a bit carefully from now on because we’re getting to the point where we’re not quite sure of the ground – by which I mean it’s going to be difficult to prove one or two things. So let’s just recap a minute. Let’s go back to the beginning of things – Plan One, let’s call it. Bowman follows his wife up to Diamond Close that day, and later he confronts her with the evidence. She’s getting desperate anyway, and she goes along with the quite extraordinary plan he’s concocted. As we’ve seen he fixes up the phoney address and books a New-Year-Package-for-Two at the Haworth Hotel. She tells Wilkins that her husband’s gone off on a course and that they can spend all that time together; and he jumps at the chance. Once she’s safely in her room, she rings Wilkins – we still haven’t checked on that, Lewis – to give him the room number and soon she’s giving him the happy hour between the sheets. Then they both get ready for the fancy dress – which she’s already told Wilkins about, and which he’s already agreed to. If he hadn’t, Lewis, the plan couldn’t have worked. At about seven o’clock she makes some excuse to go out, when she gives the key to Bowman himself, who’s waiting somewhere near the annexe, and who’s dressed up in exactly the same sort of garb as Wilkins. Now Wilkins is a stronger man, I suspect, than Bowman ever was, and I should think that Bowman wouldn’t have taken any chance about letting the whole thing develop into a brawl – he’s probably got a knife or a revolver or something. Then the deed is done, and the next part of the deception begins. They could disappear from the scene straight away, but they agree that’s far too risky. Somebody’s going to find the body immediately if they do, because the “Ballards” as they called themselves won’t be there for the party. There’s virtually no risk in their being recognized anyway: they’re both in fancy dress for the rest of the evening – he’s got his face blacked, she’s wearing a veil; and the only time a busy receptionist had seen Margaret Bowman was when she’d been muffled up in a scarf and hood – with a pair of dark skiing glasses on, for all we know.’
Lewis nodded.
‘That was the original plan – and it must have been very much as I’ve described it, Lewis; otherwise it’s impossible to account for several facts in the case – for instance, the fact that Bowman wrote a letter to his wife that would give them both a reasonable alibi – if the worse came to the worst. It wasn’t a bad plan, either – except in one vital respect. Bowman was beginning to know quite a bit about Wilkins, but he never quite knew enough. Above all, he didn’t know that Wilkins was beginning to dominate his wife in an ever increasing way, and that she’d become so sexually and emotionally dependent on him that she came to realize, at some point, that it was her husband, Tom Bowman, she wanted out of her life for good – not her lover. Maybe Bowman had become so obsessed with this revenge idea of his that she saw, perhaps for the first time, what a crudely devious man he really was. But for whatever reason, we can know one thing for certain: she told Wilkins what they were planning. Now you don’t need to be a genius – and I don’t think Wilkins is a genius – to spot an almost incredible opportunity here: the plan can go ahead as Bowman had devised it – exactly so! – but only up to the point when Bowman would let himself into the room. This time it would be Wilkins who’s waiting behind the door for Bowman with a bottle of whatever it was to smash down on the back of his head.’
‘Front, sir,’ murmured Lewis if only, for conscience’ sake, to put the unofficial record straight.
‘So that’s what happened, Lewis; and it’s Plan Two that’s now in operation. After murdering Bowman, Wilkins is all ready to go along to the party in exactly the same outlandish clothes as the murdered man would be found in. The two men were roughly the same height and everybody is going to assume that the man in the Rastafarian rig-out at the party is the same as the man in the Rastafarian rig-out later found dead on the bed in Annexe 3. Almost certainly – and this is in fact what happened – the corpse isn’t going to be found until pretty late the next day; and if the heating is turned off – as it was – and if the window’s left half-open – as it was – then any cautious clown like Max is going to be even cagier than usual about giving any categorical ruling on the time of death, because of the unusual room temperature. I’m not sure, myself, that it wouldn’t have been far more sensible to turn the radiator on full and close all the windows. But, be that as it may, Wilkins clearly wanted to give the impression that the murder had taken place as late as possible. Agreed?’
‘I can’t quite see why though, sir.’
‘You will do, in due course. Have faith!’
Lewis, however, looked rather less than full of faith. ‘It’s getting a bit too complicated for my brain, sir. I keep forgetting who’s dressed up for what and who’s planning to kill who—’
‘“Whom”, Lewis. Your grammar’s as bad as Miss Jonstone’s.’
‘You’re sure he is the murderer? – Wilkins?’
‘My son, the case is over! There are bound to be one or two details—’
‘Do you mind if we just go over one or two things again?’
‘I can’t spell things out much more simply, you know.’
‘You say Wilkins wanted the murder to look as if it took place as late as possible. But I don’t see the point of that. It doesn’t give him an alibi, does it? I mean, whether Bowman’s murdered at seven o’clock or after midnight – what does it matter? Wilkins and Margaret Bowman were there all the time, weren’t they?’
‘Yes! But who said they’d got an alibi? I didn’t mention an alibi. All I’m saying is that Wilkins had a reason for wanting to mislead everyone into believing that the murder was committed after the party was over. That’s obvious enough, isn’t it?’
‘But going back a minute, don’t you think that in Bowman’s original plan – Plan One, as you call it – it would have been far more sensible to have committed the murder – murder Wilkins, that is – and then to get out of the place double quick? With any luck, no one’s going to suspect a married couple from Chipping Norton – even if the body’s found very soon afterwards.’
Morse nodded, but with obvious frustration.
‘I agree with you. But somehow or other we’ve got to explain how it came about that Bowman was found dressed up in identically the same sort of outfit as Wilkins was wearing at the party. Don’t you see that, Lewis? We’ve got to explain the facts! And I refuse to believe that anyone could have dressed up Bowman in all that stuff after he’d been murdered.’
‘There’s one other thing, sir. You know from Max’s report it says that Bowman could have been eating some of the things they had at the party?’
‘What about it?’
‘Well – was it just coincidence he’d been eating the same sort of meal?’
‘No. Margaret Bowman must have known – she must have found out – what the menu was and then cooked her husband some of it. Then all Wilkins had to do was just eat a bit of the same stuff—’
‘But how did Margaret Bowman know?’
‘How the hell do I know, Lewis? But it happened, didn’t it? I’m not making up this bloody corpse you know! I’m not making up all these people in their fancy dress! You do realize that, don’t you?’
‘No need to get cross, sir!’
‘I’m not bloody cross! If somebody decides to make some elaborate plan to rub out one side of the semi-eternal triangle – we’ve got to have some equally elaborate explanation! Surely you can see that?’
Lewis nodded. ‘I agree. But just let me make my main point once again, sir – and then we’ll forget it. It’s this business of staying on after the murder that worries me: it must have been a dreadfully nerve-racking time for the two of them; it was very complicated; and it was a bit chancy. And all I say is that I can’t really see the whole point of it. It just keeps the pair of them on the hotel premises the whole of the evening, and whatever time the murder was committed they haven’t got any chance of an alibi—’
‘There you go again, Lewis! For Christ’s sake, come off it! Nobody’s got a bloody alibi.’
The two men were silent for several minutes.
‘Cup more coffee, sir?’ asked Lewis.
‘Augh! I’m sorry, Lewis. You just take the wind out of my sails, that’s all.’
‘We’ve got him, sir. That’s the only thing that matters.’
Morse nodded.
‘And you’re absolutely sure that we’ve got the right man?’
‘It’s a big word – “absolutely” – isn’t it?’ said Morse.