They Do It With Mirrors (Miss Marple 6)

She murmured:

“Of course, Alex dear—of course. Only, you see—things have been happenin

g—”

“Happening?”

Mildred gave the information, gave it with a kind of grim relish that Miss Marple found distasteful.

“Christian Gulbrandsen,” she said. “My brother Christian Gulbrandsen has been found shot dead.”

“Good God,” Alex registered a more than life-size dismay. “Suicide, do you mean?”

Carrie Louise moved swiftly.

“Oh no,” she said. “It couldn’t be suicide. Not Christian! Oh no.”

“Uncle Christian would never shoot himself, I’m sure,” said Gina.

Alex Restarick looked from one person to the other. From his brother Stephen he received a short confirmative nod. Walter Hudd stared back at him with faint resentment. Alex’s eyes rested on Miss Marple with a sudden frown. It was as though he had found some unwanted prop on a stage set.

He looked as though he would like her explained. But nobody explained her, and Miss Marple continued to look an old, fluffy and sweetly bewildered old lady.

“When?” asked Alex. “When did this happen, I mean?”

“Just before you arrived,” said Gina. “About—oh three or four minutes ago, I suppose. Why, of course, we actually heard the shot. Only we didn’t notice it—not really.”

“Didn’t notice it? Why not?”

“Well, you see, there were other things going on …” Gina spoke rather hesitantly.

“Sure were,” said Walter with emphasis.

Juliet Bellever came into the Hall by the door from the library.

“Mr. Serrocold suggests that we should all wait in the library. It would be convenient for the police. Except for Mrs. Serrocold. You’ve had a shock, Cara. I’ve ordered some hot bottles to be put in your bed. I’ll take you up and—”

Rising to her feet, Carrie Louise shook her head.

“I must see Christian first,” she said.

“Oh, no, dear. Don’t upset yourself—”

Carrie Louise put her very gently to one side.

“Dear Jolly—you don’t understand.” She looked round and said, “Jane?”

Miss Marple had already moved towards her.

“Come with me, will you, Jane?”

They moved together towards the door. Dr. Maverick, coming in, almost collided with them.

Miss Bellever exclaimed:

“Dr. Maverick. Do stop her. So foolish.”

Carrie Louise looked calmly at the young doctor. She even gave a tiny smile.

Dr. Maverick said:

“You want to go and—see him?”

“I must.”

“I see.” He stood aside. “If you feel you must, Mrs. Serrocold. But afterwards, please go and lie down and let Miss Bellever look after you. At the moment you do not feel the shock, but I assure you that you will do so.”

“Yes. I expect you are quite right. I will be quite sensible. Come, Jane.”

The two women moved out through the door, past the foot of the main staircase and along the corridor, past the dining room on the right and the double door, leading to the kitchen quarters on the left, past the side door to the terrace and on to the door that gave admission to the Oak Suite that had been alloted to Christian Gulbrandsen. It was a room furnished as a sitting room more than a bedroom, with a bed in an alcove to one side and a door leading into a dressing room and bathroom.

Carrie Louise stopped on the threshold. Christian Gulbrandsen had been sitting at the big mahogany desk with a small portable typewriter open in front of him. He sat there now, but slumped sideways in the chair. The high arms of the chair prevented him from slipping to the floor.

Lewis Serrocold was standing by the window. He had pulled the curtain a little aside and was gazing out into the night.

He looked round and frowned.

“My dearest, you shouldn’t have come.”

He came towards her and she stretched out a hand to him. Miss Marple retreated a step or two.

“Oh yes, Lewis. I had to—see him. One has to know just exactly how things are.”

She walked slowly towards the desk.

Lewis said warningly:

“You mustn’t touch anything. The police must have things left exactly as we found them.”

“Of course. He was shot deliberately by someone, then?”

“Oh yes.” Lewis Serrocold looked a little surprised that the question had even been asked. “I thought—you knew that?”

“I did really. Christian would not commit suicide, and he was such a competent person that it could not possibly have been an accident. That only leaves”—she hesitated a moment—“murder.”

She walked up behind the desk and stood looking down at the dead man. There was sorrow and affection in her face.

“Dear Christian,” she said. “He was always good to me.”

Softly, she touched the top of his head with her fingers.

“Bless you and thank you, dear Christian,” she said.

Lewis Serrocold said with something more like emotion than Miss Marple had ever seen in him before:

“I wish to God I could have spared you this, Caroline.”

His wife shook her head gently.

“You can’t really spare anyone anything,” she said. “Things always have to be faced sooner or later. And therefore it had better be sooner. I’ll go and lie down now. I suppose you’ll stay here, Lewis, until the police come?”

“Yes.”

Carrie Louise turned away and Miss Marple slipped an arm around her.

Nine

Inspector Curry and his entourage found Miss Bellever alone in the Great Hall when they arrived.

She came forward efficiently.

“I am Juliet Bellever, companion and secretary to Mrs. Serrocold.”

“It was you who found the body and telephoned to us?”

“Yes. Most of the household are in the library—through that door there. Mr. Serrocold remained in Mr. Gulbrandsen’s room to see that nothing was disturbed. Dr. Maverick, who first examined the body, will be here very shortly. He had to take a—case over to the other wing. Shall I lead the way?”

“If you please.”

“Competent woman,” thought the Inspector to himself. “Seems to have got the whole thing taped.”

He followed her along the corridor.

For the next twenty minutes the routine of police procedure was duly set in motion. The photographer took the necessary pictures. The police surgeon arrived and was joined by Dr. Maverick. Half an hour later, the ambulance had taken away the mortal remains of Christian Gulbrandsen, and Inspector Curry started his official interrogation.

Lewis Serrocold took him into the library and he glanced keenly round the assembled people making brief notes in his mind. An old lady with white hair, a middle-aged lady, the good-looking girl he’d seen driving her car round the countryside, that odd-looking American husband of hers. A couple of young men who were mixed up in the outfit somewhere or other and the capable woman, Miss Bellever, who’d phoned him and met him on arrival.

Inspector Curry had already thought out a little speech and he now delivered it as planned.

“I’m afraid this is all very upsetting to you,” he said, “and I hope not to keep you too long this evening. We can go into things more thoroughly tomorrow. It was Miss Bellever who found Mr. Gulbrandsen dead and I’ll ask Miss Bellever to give me an outline of the general situation as that will save too much repetition. Mr. Serrocold, if you want to go up to your wife, please do and when I have finished with Miss Bellever, I should like to talk to you. Is that all quite clear? Perhaps there is some small room where—”

Lewis Serrocold said:

“My office, Jolly?”

Miss Bellever nodded, and said, “I was just going to suggest it.”

She led the way across the Great Hall and Inspector Curry and his attendant sergeant followed her.

Miss Bellever arranged them and herself suitably. It might have been she and not Inspector Curry who was in charge of the investigation.

r /> The moment had come, however, when the initiative passed to him. Inspector Curry had a pleasant voice and manner. He looked quiet and serious and just a little apologetic. Some people made the mistake of underrating him. Actually he was as competent in his way as Miss Bellever was in hers. But he preferred not to make a parade of the fact.

He cleared his throat.

“I’ve had the main facts from Mr. Serrocold. Mr. Christian Gulbrandsen was the eldest son of the late Eric Gulbrandsen, the founder of the Gulbrandsen Trust and Fellowship … and all the rest of it. He was one of the trustees of this place and he arrived here unexpectedly yesterday. That is correct?”

“Yes.”

Inspector Curry was pleased by her conciseness. He went on.

“Mr. Serrocold was away in Liverpool. He returned this evening by the 6:30 train.”

“Yes.”

“After dinner this evening, Mr. Gulbrandsen announced his intention of working in his own room and left the rest of the party here after coffee had been served. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“Now, Miss Bellever, please tell me in your own words how you came to discover him dead.”

“There was a rather unpleasant incident this evening. A young man, a psychopathic case, became very unbalanced and threatened Mr. Serrocold with a revolver. They were locked in this room. The young man eventually fired the revolver—you can see the bullet holes in the wall there. Fortunately Mr. Serrocold was unhurt. After firing the shots, this young man went completely to pieces. Mr. Serrocold sent me to find Dr. Maverick. I got through on the house phone, but he was not in his room. I found him with one of his colleagues and gave him the message and he came here at once. On my own way back, I went to Mr. Gulbrandsen’s room. I wanted to ask him if there was anything he would like—hot milk, or whisky before settling for the night. I knocked, but there was no response, so I opened the door. I saw that Mr. Gulbrandsen was dead. I then rang you up.”

“What entrances and exits are there to the house? And how are they secured? Could anyone have come in from outside without being heard or seen?”

“Anyone could have come in by the side door to the terrace. That is not locked until we all go to bed, as people come in and out that way to go to the College buildings.”