Chapter 4 Chapter Four

The next day I went with Taverner to the Gabled Triple House. My identity is peculiar.Pretty unorthodox, to say the least.But my dad was never very orthodox. I'm still a bit attached to the status.In the early days of the war I worked with the Special Service at Scotland Yard. certainly.It's a whole different thing - but my early performances gave me some sort of official status, so to speak. my father said: "If we're going to solve this case, we've got to get some inside information. We've got to know everyone in that house. We've got to get to know them from the inside -- not from the outside. You can get us the inside The person with the news."

I don't like that.I threw the cigarette butt into the fireplace and said: "I'm a spy for the police? Is that so? To get inside information from Sophia, whom I love and who loves and trusts me (at least I believe she does)." Pop started to look rather indignant.He said sharply: "For heaven's sake, don't take such a vulgar view. Don't say anything else, you don't believe your young woman murdered her grandfather?" "Of course not. It's just ridiculous." "Well—we don't believe it either. She's been away for a number of years, and she's been on very good terms with him. She's got a very good income, and I should say, he'll be delighted to hear that she's engaged to you." , and perhaps a generous dowry for her. We don't doubt her. Why should we doubt her? But you can be quite sure that if this matter is not clarified, that girl will not marry you. From I'm pretty sure of what you've told me. And, mark my words, this is a crime that may never be cleared up. We can be reasonably sure that the lady and her young man may have conspired - but to prove it was true But that's another matter. Even so far, the case hasn't reached the prosecutor. Unless we find definitive evidence against her, everything will always be in doubt. You understand that, don't you?"

Yes, I understand. Dad said quietly: "Why don't you just talk to her about it?" "You mean—ask Sophia if I—" I pause. "Yes, yes... I don't mean you go in secret and not tell the girl what you want. Talk to her and see what she has to say?" So the next day I drove to Svenley with Chief Inspector Taverner and Sergeant Lamb. A little past the golf course we turned into a passage which, I think, must have had two large iron gates before the war.The Great Iron Gate was donated out of patriotism or taken forcibly during wartime.We drove up a curving drive lined with heather bushes to the gravel driveway in front of the house.

It's incredible!I wondered why the house was called a "Gabled Triple House."It is more appropriate to call it "Eleven Gables"!Oddly enough it has an eerie twist - I think I know why.It's actually a cottage-type building; a cottage out of proportion.It's like a country house seen through a giant magnifying glass.The crooked beams, the wooden frame, the gables—a monstrosity like a mushroom in the night! However, I figured it out.It's the English architecture of a Greek restaurateur tycoon's conception.It was purposely built to look like an Englishman's home - built the size of a castle!I don't know how the first Mrs. Leonides felt about it.I don't think he ever consulted with her or told her about his plans for the house.Most likely it was a little surprise from her foreign husband.I don't know whether she felt the creeps when she saw it or smiled.

Evidently she had lived in that house quite happily. "It's kind of overwhelming, isn't it?" said Inspector Taverner. "Of course the old gentleman expected a lot from it—to make it three separate houses, so to speak, with kitchens and such. Everything inside is the best, and it's run like a luxury hotel." Sophia came out the front door.She was hatless and was wearing a green shirt and a tweed skirt. She saw me and stood there dumbfounded. "You?" she called. I say: "Sophia, I have to talk to you. Where is the best place to go?" For a moment I thought she was going to protest, then she turned and said, "This way."

We cross the lawn.From there the first golf course in Swinley could be seen--and beyond that a pine-forested hill with a view of misty, smoky countryside beyond. Sofia took me to a rock garden, a bit untidy, and we sat down on an uncomfortable-looking wooden bench. "How?" she said. Her tone was uncomfortable. I said it--all to her. She listened very intently.Her face rarely showed what was going on in her mind, but when I stopped talking, she sighed.He sighed deeply. "Your father," she said, "was a very clever man." "My old man has his reasons. I think it's a dirty idea myself—but—"

"Oh no," she said. "It's not a mean idea at all. It's the only way it's going to do any good. Your father does know what's going on in my head, Charlie. He knows better than you." Suddenly, desperately, she clenched her fist with one hand and slammed the palm of the other. "I must find out the truth. I must know." "For us? But, my dearest—" "Not just for us, Charlie. I have to know for my own peace of mind. You know, Charlie, I didn't tell you last night—but the truth is—I was scared." "Fear?" "Yes—afraid—afraid—the police think, your father thinks, everybody thinks—it's Brenda."

"probability--" "Oh, yes, it's quite possible. It's possible. But when I say to myself, 'Maybe Brenda did it,' I'm pretty sure it's just a wishful thinking. Because, you know, I Don't really think so." "You don't think so?" I said slowly. "I don't know. You've heard everything from the outsider as much as I've hoped. Now I'll show you the insider's eyes. I don't think Brenda is that kind of person at all—she's not." Man, I think, she's not the type to do anything that puts herself in danger. She takes herself too seriously."

"And the young man? Laurence Brown." "Lawrence is a complete coward. He won't have the guts." "I suspect." "Well, we don't really know, do we? I mean, people can surprise people. How a person is perceived by other people turns out to be all wrong sometimes. No Always wrong—sometimes. But anyway, Brenda—" She shook her head—"she's always been in the right place. She's what I call a girly type. Likes to sit down, eat sweets, and wear nice clothes , wearing jewellery, reading cheap novels, going out to the movies. It's kind of weird when you remember he's eighty-five years old, but I really think she's kind of in awe of her grandfather. He's powerful, You know. I think he can make a woman feel—oh—kind of like a queen—a royal concubine! I think—I've always thought—he makes Brenda feel like she's an exciting Romantic women. He's had a knack for women all his life--and that kind of thing is an art--no matter how old you get, you never lose that knack."

I put Brenda's question aside for a moment and went back to a line Sophia said that bothered me. "Why do you say," I asked, "that you are frightened?" Sophia trembled a little, her hands clasped tightly together. "Because it's true," she whispered. "It's very important, Charlie, and I have to let you know this. We're a very weird family, you know. . . . We all have quite a bit of ruthlessness—and yes—different kinds of ruthlessness. That's what bothers people, the different types." She must have seen my puzzled expression.She went on, talking vigorously.

"I'll try to make my point as clear as I can. Grandfather, for example. Once, when he told us about his childhood in Smyrna, he mentioned rather casually that he had stabbed two big men. For some kind of The quarrel - greatly insulted - I don't know - was just a fairly natural occurrence. He really forgot about it afterward. But, in England, to hear people say so nonchalantly It’s weird when something like this happens.” I nod. "It's a type of grimness," Sophia went on, "and then there's my grandmother. I don't remember her very well, but I've heard people talk about her a lot. I think she probably had that kind of coldness that came from nothing." The ruthlessness of the imagination or something. All those ancestors of fox hunting—and those old generals, the bloodthirsty type. Full of integrity and pompous disposition, not at all afraid to take on the great responsibility of life and death." "Isn't that a little too far-fetched?" "Maybe—but I've always been a little afraid of that type. Pretty honest, but brutal. Then there's my biological mother—she's an actress—she's a sweetheart, but she has no sense of balance. She's one of those unconscious egotists who see things only as they affect them. It's kind of scary sometimes, you know. And Clemency, Uncle Roger's wife. She's a scientist— She's doing some very important research - she's also the cold, cold-blooded, impersonal type. Uncle Roger is the exact opposite - he's the kindest and sweetest person in the world, but he has a really bad temper Scary to die for. He hardly knows what he's doing when everything gets his blood rolling. And father—” She paused for a long time. "Father," she said slowly, "was almost too self-controlled. You never knew what he was thinking. He never showed any emotion. Maybe it was a way of countering Mother's overindulgence." Unconscious self-defense, but sometimes—it worries me a little bit." "My dear girl," I said, "you don't have to suffer yourself like this. It turns out that everybody could be murdered." "I think it's true. Even me." "It won't be you!" "Oh, Charlie, you can't exclude me. I think I might kill..." She was silent for a moment, and then added: "But if so, it must be for something really worth it!" I laughed.I can not hold it in.Sophia smiled slightly. "Maybe I'm a fool," she said, "but we've got to find out the truth about my grandfather's death, we've got to. I hope it's Brenda..." Suddenly I feel a little bit sorry for Brenda Leonides.