“Janet and Jonathan tell anyone who will listen that Douglas and I are counting the days until Arnold dies, so that we can claim Douglas’s share of the inheritance,” said Maddie. “Apparently we are wildly impatient to leave Frelly and buy a house of our own.”
Douglas said, “It was entirely my brother’s idea that we use the money bequeathed to us by Pa to buy a house as far away from here as possible. Oh, and they also want Ma out, once Pa is gone.” Douglas’s face contorted in disgust. “Our clear instructions were to take her with us—and of course that is now presented as us trying to kidnap and make off with her in order to have her all to ourselves.”
“Janet’s view of Vivienne is deranged.” Maddie shookher head. “She will not let go of the ridiculous notion that Vivienne prefers Douglas and me because we are both eldest siblings and so was Vivienne. It is nonsense! Vivienne has never in her life uttered a single word that could be construed as taking a side between the four of us. No matter what the disagreement is, she maintains an agonized silence—never caring about how the matter is settled, wishing only for peace. If she does prefer Douglas and me, it is probably because we are nice to her. She cannot have failed to notice that her younger son and daughter-in-law are thoroughly vile people.”
There was a light knock at the dining-room door, though it was standing ajar. Terence Surtees appeared, looking rather shellshocked. “Oh,” he said when he saw the three of us together.
“Hello, Dad,” said Maddie. “What you looking so glum about?”
To me it seemed likely that her father had just overheard his youngest daughter being described as vile by his eldest, which would surely be enough to wipe the smile off any chap’s face.
“I was hoping to have a word with Inspector Catchpool, but...”
“Daddy, wait.”
It was too late for Maddie to hand me over, graciously, to her father; Terence Surtees had already left the room.
Three people looked in on me as I decorated the Christmas tree in Arnold Laurier’s study; this struck me asnoteworthy. The drawing room and dining room were both rooms that members of the household might pass as they went about their day—walking between the front door and the back door, for instance, or from the main stairs to the kitchen—but Arnold’s study was at the end of a small, out-of-the-way corridor that led nowhere else; one would not pass its open door unless one took a deliberate diversion in order to do so.
The first person to appear was the curate, Felix Rawcliffe, who asked when I had last seen Vivienne Laurier. At breakfast that morning, I told him. He frowned and searched the room with his eyes, as if dissatisfied, then left abruptly.
A few seconds later, Dr. Osgood walked in. “Oh, it’s you,” he said. “Did I hear you talking to Rawcliffe a moment ago?”
“He asked me if I knew where Vivienne was.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“She is perhaps with Arnold,” said Osgood. “She was looking for him a moment ago.” He hesitated, then said, “Did Felix tell you what he wanted her for?”
I shook my head. The doctor looked as if he would have liked to object to my answer, but could find no grounds that would seem reasonable. “I don’t like the way you have arranged the ornaments according to their color,” he said, nodding at the Christmas tree. “Nobody wants a mass of red on one side and a clump of silver on the other. The colors should be evenly distributed. Let me show you.”
Piece by piece, he destroyed my design and created something more predictable and mundane. I made noises that were suggestive of admiration.
“I believe you are unmarried, inspector,” he said as he re-hung two shiny bell ornaments. “Much to your mother’s consternation, I gather. I too am unmarried. It makes life very easy in some ways, does it not?”
“Life is never easy,” I told him. “There are different kinds of difficult, and one must choose between them.”
“Some lives are considerably easier than others, inspector.”
“Perhaps. Such things are never discernible from the outside, however. Only the one living the life can judge. I say, those bells look superb in that spot. I had not thought to put them there. You have made the tree look positively regal.”
“Yes, it does look rather good,” Osgood agreed. “Better, anyway.”
“I shall make sure everyone knows you saved the day,” I said, trying not to mind that my handiwork had been vandalized.
“The question is: should one marry only for the motive of love?” Osgood said this as if it followed logically from my remark about the tree. “Or should one decide that to marry is a worthy goal, and then select the best available... candidate?”
“The former, in my opinion. Though my mother would prefer me to favor the latter strategy. Are you not engaged to be married?”
“I am, yes,” the doctor said quickly and without interest.“I don’t suppose... Have you had a chance to speak to Vivienne properly since you arrived yesterday?”
“I spoke to her at some length before dinner last night.”
“Did she...? Did the name of Felix Rawcliffe come up at all in your conversation?”
“No.”
