Chapter 23 Chapter 23: Moira's Disappearance

About an hour later, Frankie called Bobby. "Is that Hawkins? Hello, Bobby, have you heard what happened? Yes. Come on, we've got to meet somewhere. I think tomorrow morning is best. I'll sneak out before breakfast. Eight o'clock, at the same place where we met today." To cure those long curious ears, Frankie hung up just as Bobby respectfully repeated "Yes, Miss" a third time. Bobby arrived at the appointed place first, and Frankie didn't keep him waiting.She was pale and troubled. "Hello, Bobby, is this horrible? I couldn't sleep all night."

"I haven't heard any details," said Bobby, "that Henry Bassington-French shot himself. I suppose so?" "Yes. Sylvia had been talking to him, trying to persuade him to agree to a course of treatment, which he said he would take. His courage, I thought, must not have helped him. He went into the study, locked the door, and in a Wrote a few words on a piece of paper and shot himself. Bobby, that's horrible! It's... brutal." "I understand." Bobby looked calm. The two were silent for a moment. "Of course I have to go today," said Frankie at once.

"Yes, I think you will. How is she? I mean Mrs. Bassington-French." "She's broken, poor thing. I haven't seen her since we found the body. It must have taken a terrible blow for her." Bobby nodded. "You'd better bring the car around eleven," went on Frankie. Bobby didn't answer.Frankie watched him impatiently. "What's the matter with you, Bobby? You look out of your mind." "Sorry, actually..." "Actually what?" "Ah, I just thought it was weird. I thought, uh, I guess this is normal?" "What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you absolutely sure he did commit suicide?" "Oh!" said Frankie.She thought for a while and then said, "I see. Yes, it must be suicide." "You're absolutely sure? Come to think of it, Frankie, we heard from Moira that Nicholson wanted to kill two people. Well, one of them is dead." Frankie thought again, but shook her head again. "It must have been suicide," she said. "Roger and I were in the garden when we heard the gunshot. We ran straight into the house, through the living room and into the hall. The study door was locked from the inside. We went around When we got to the window, it was so tight that Roger had to smash the pane. Only then did Nicholson appear on the scene."

Bobby considered the words for a moment. "Things looked all right. But Nicholson's presence on the scene seemed too sudden." "He left his cane there earlier in the afternoon and he came back to get it." Bobby frowned and thought for a moment. "Listen, Frankie, suppose Nicholson shoots Henry Bassington-French..." "Then he has to induce Henry to write a suicide note first." "Forgery, I think, is the easiest thing in the world. Changes in handwriting can be interpreted as mood swings." "Yes, well said. Continue your speculation."

"Nicholson shot Henry, left a suicide note, sneaked out after locking the door, and reappeared a few minutes later, as if he had just arrived." Frankie shook her head regretfully. "The speculation is all right, but it cannot be established. The key has been in Henry Bassington-French's pocket from the first." "Who found it there?" "Well, it's actually Nicholson." "That's the problem. It's so easy for him to pretend he found the key there." "I remember, I was watching what he was doing and I was sure the key was in his pocket."

"That's what the jugglers say. You saw the rabbit in the hat! If Nicholson were a first-rate criminal, this simple trick would be child's play to him." "Well, your guess might be right. But honestly, Bobby, none of it is possible. Sylvia was in the house when the gunshot went off. She rushed out of the house and into the hall as soon as she heard the gunshot. If Ni Coulson walked out of the study after shooting, she must have seen him. Besides, she told us that Nicholson walked from the driveway to the gate. When we ran around the house, she saw him and led him around To the study window. No, Bobby, I hate to say it, but this man was not at the scene of the crime."

"As a matter of principle, I don't trust an alibi," said Bobby. "I don't believe it either. But, I don't see how you can outsmart this guy." "No. Sylvia's words should be enough to explain." "Yes, that's true." "Forget it," Bobby sighed, "I think we'll just have to look at it as suicide. Poor guy 2 Frankie, what's the next target?" "The Caymans," said Frankie, "I think we can't be too careless before we call on them. You have an address for Caymans to write to?" "Yes, as they gave at the hearing. 17 St. Leonard's Garden, Paddington."

"Don't you admit that we're kind of ignoring the investigative channel?" "Absolutely. All the same, Frankie, I've had an ominous thought that you'll find the bird flying away. I should have thought the Caymans must have had a hard time yesterday." "Even if they slip away, I might find out about them." "Why 'I'?" "Because, I repeat, I think it's better that you don't show up in this thing, as we come here thinking Roger is the bad guy in this scene. They all know you and not me." "So how are you going to meet them?" asked Bobby.

"I'll be a political man," said Frankie, "lobbying for the Conservative Party. I'll take leaflets." "Worth doing," said Bobby, "but, as I said, I think you'll find the bird flying. There's one more thing to think about now, and that's Moira." "Why," said Frankie, "I forgot all about her." "That's why I reminded you." Bobby's attitude was slightly disappointing. "You were right," said Frankie kindly. "There must be something going on with her." Bobby nodded.The incredible and unforgettable face appeared before his eyes.There was something tragic about this face.He had often felt that way from the moment he first took the photograph out of Alan Carstairs' pocket.

"If only you had seen her that night when I first went to Grange Hall!" Not neurotic or cranky or anything like that. If Nicholson wants to marry Sylvia there are two hurdles that must be cleared. One is dead. I have a feeling Moira's life is at stake and any delay Both could be fatal." Bobby's eager words jolted Frankie to her senses. "My dear, you're right," she said, "we must hurry. What shall we do?" "We must persuade her to leave Grange Hall at once." Frankie nodded in agreement. "I say," she said, "she'd better go to Wales, to the Castle. She'd say it's safe enough there, sure enough." "If you can settle Moira like this, Frankie, it can't be any better." "Come on, it's pretty simple. Father never notices who comes and goes. He'll like Moira, just about any man would like her, she's so soft. It's strange how men like to be helpless." Woman." "I don't think Moira is the sort of woman who can't help herself," said Bobby. "Nonsense. She's like a bewildered bird waiting for a snake to devour her." "What can she do?" "There's a lot going on," said Frankie briskly. "Oh, I don't see it. She has no money, no friends..." "Honey, don't sound so dull like you're giving a sorority briefing." "Sorry," said Bobby. The conversation broke off unpleasantly. "Forget it," Frankie returned to normal, "as you said, I think we'll get on with it soon." "I think so, too," said Bobby. "Really, Frankie, you're being too magnanimous." And say stupid things about her, like she's missing arms and legs, speechless and brainless. " "I just don't understand what you're saying," said Bobby. "Well, we don't have to talk about that anymore." Frankie said. Famous quote?" "A paraphrase of a famous saying. Go on, Mrs. Macbeth..." "You know, I always thought," said Frankie, suddenly rambling off topic, "that Mrs. Macbeth absolutely instigated Macbeth to do all those murders because she was tired of life, and by the way, of Macbeth. Totally. I'm sure Macbeth is the kind of submissive, harmless guy who drives his wife crazy. But once he kills for the first time in his life, he develops a sense of good people going to hell and begins to develop For megalomaniac, as a kind of compensation for his original inferiority complex." "You should write a book on the subject, Frankie." "I can't spell. Ah, where did we go? Oh, yes, get Moira. You'd better be here at ten-thirty. I'll drive to Grange Kew to find Moira. I see When she was there, if Nicholson had been there, I would have reminded Moira of her promise to come and live with me, and taken her away on the spot." "Excellent, Frankie. I'm glad we didn't waste time. I'm sick of another accident." "At ten-thirty, that's all," said Frankie.It was half-past nine when she reached Merowe Court.Breakfast was just being brought in, and Roger poured himself some coffee.His face is haggard... "Good morning," said Frankie, "I slept so badly that I ended up getting up about seven o'clock and going for a walk." "I'm terribly sorry for worrying you," said Roger. "How's Sylvia?" "They gave her sleeping pills last night. I think she's still asleep. Poor woman, I'm so sorry for her. She gave herself completely to Henry." "I know." Frankie paused for a moment, then explained her intention to leave. "I guess you must go," said Roger bitterly. "The inquest is Friday. If you want to know, I'll let you know. It depends on the coroner." He gulped down a cup of coffee and a slice of bread, and went out to do the many things that required his attention.Frankie felt sorry for him.She could imagine a suicide in a family that would only spark a lot of gossip and curiosity.Tommy came, and she could only concentrate on amusing the children. At ten-thirty Bobby drove up and Frankie's luggage was unloaded.Frankie said goodbye to Tommy and left a note for Sylvia.The Bentley galloped away. They arrived at Grange House in a short time.Frankie had never been here before, and the two big iron gates and the overgrown bushes weighed her down. "It's a creepy place," she commented, "I'm not surprised that Moira is horrified here." They drove up to the front gate, and Bobby got out and rang the doorbell. No answer for several minutes.Finally, a woman in full nurse outfit opened the door. "Is Mrs Nicholson there?" asked Bobby. The woman hesitated, then stepped back into the hall and opened the door wider.Frankie jumped out of the car and entered the house.The door closed behind her.There was a tinkling sound as the door closed.Frankie noticed the thick latch across the door.She had an absurd feeling that she had just happened to be a prisoner of this wicked house. "Ridiculous," she said to herself, "Bobby's out there in the car. I'm here openly. Nothing can happen to me." Shaking off those odd feelings, she followed the nurse upstairs, Go down a passage.The nurse opened a door and Frankie entered a small sitting room.The interior is elegantly furnished in a pleasing chintz, with fresh flowers in vases.Her spirits lifted.The nurse muttered something and left the living room. After about five minutes, the door opened and Nicholson entered. Frankie couldn't help the slight nervousness she felt suddenly, but she covered it up with a smile and a handshake. "Good morning," she said. "Good morning, Miss Frances. I hope you have no bad news for Mrs. Bassington-French?" "She was still fast asleep when I left there," said Frankie. "Poor woman, of course, with her own doctor looking after her." "Oh! By the way," she said after a pause, "I believe you are very busy. I should not take your time, Dr. Nicholson. I have come to call on your wife." "Look at Moira? You're too kind." Oddly enough, the sternness of the pale blue eyes behind the thick spectacles was greatly diminished. "Yes," he repeated, "that's very kind." "If she's not up yet," said Frankie, with a persuasive smile, "I'll sit here and wait for her." "Oh! she's up," said Nicholson. "Okay," said Frankie, "I'd like to persuade her to come and stay with me. She actually said yes." She smiled again. "Oh, that's very kind of you, Miss Frances, really, very kind. I'm sure Moira will probably be very pleased with that." "Probably?" asked Frankie sharply. Nicholson laughed, showing his set of straight white teeth. "Sadly, my wife passed away this morning." "Gone?" Frankie was at a loss, "Where did you go?" "Well: just a change. You know women, Miss Frances. The place is a little gloomy for a young woman. Moira felt that a little excitement was necessary now and then, so she went away." "Don't you know where she's gone?" asked Frankie. "London, I think. Shops and plays. You know that sort of thing." Frankie felt that his smile was very different from the one she had stumbled upon. "I'm going to London today," she said softly. "Can you give me her address?" "She usually lives in the Savoy," said Nicholson, "but I'll hear from her in a day or two anyway. I'm afraid she's not a good person to keep in touch with. I don't think the relationship between husband and wife Freedom of time. But I think you are most likely to find her in the Savoy." He opened the door, and Frankie found herself being led to the gate as she shook his hand.The nurse stood there and let her out.The last thing Frankie heard was Dr. Nicholson's genial, perhaps mocking voice: "It's very kind of you to think of inviting my wife to live with you, Miss Frances."