Chapter 6 Chapter Six

The front door was open.We walked through the front door into a somewhat surprisingly large hall.The room was austerely furnished--blackened oak and gleaming brass.At the end of the hall where the stairs would normally be, there was a paneled white wall with a door. "Where my brother-in-law lives," said Miss de Haviland. "The first floor is where Philip and Magda live." We go through a passage on the left and enter a large living room.Pale blue paneled walls, thick satin furniture, every table and every wall is covered and hung with photographs and portraits of actors, dancers, and stage designs.A Digas painting of "Ballet Dancers" hangs on the wall above the fireplace.A large number of flowers are displayed, such as large tea-colored chrysanthemums and large vases of carnations of various colors.

"I suppose," said Miss de Haviland, "that you would like to see Philip?" Do I want to see Philip?I have no idea.All I wanted was to meet Sophia.I have done this.She's very much in favor of my dad's plan--but she's out now, presumably on the phone somewhere, and hasn't told me how to proceed.How should I approach Philip Leonides, as a young man eager to marry his daughter, or as a friend who stops by, (not at this hour, of course!") or As a police officer? Miss de Haviland gave me no time to consider her question.In fact, her sentence was not a question at all, but more like an assertion.I judged that Miss de Haviland was in the habit of declaring rather than asking for opinions.

"Let's go to the study," she said. She led me out of the living room, down a hallway, and through another door. It was a big room full of books.Books don't sit peacefully on ceiling-high shelves.On chairs, on tables, even on the floor.However, it doesn't feel messy. The room was cold.It was missing a flavor I was expecting.There was a smell of old books and a faint smell of beeswax in the air.After a second or two, I knew what was missing, the aroma of tobacco.Philip Leonides does not smoke. As soon as we came in, he got up from behind the desk—a tall man of about fifty, a very handsome man.Everyone puts so much emphasis on the ugliness of Aristide Leonides that I expect his son to be just as ugly.I certainly didn't expect to see such a perfect appearance--a straight nose, a flawless chin, a head of blond hair brushed back from a well-shaped forehead with a splash of gray.

"This is Charlie Howard. Philip," said Edith Haviland. "Ah, hello." I don't know if he has heard of me.The hand he held out for me was cold, and his expression was rather nonchalant, which made me a little nervous.He stood there patiently and disinterestedly. "Where are those dreadful policemen?" asked Miss de Haviland. "Have they ever been here?" "I believe the Inspector--" you glance at the business card on the desk) "err--Taverner is coming to talk to me later." "Where is he now?" "With Brenda?"

"I really do not know." From the way Philip Leonides looked, it seemed quite unlikely that a murder had been committed near him. "Is Magda up yet?" "I don't know. She doesn't usually get up until eleven o'clock." "It sounded like she was coming," said Edith Haviland. What she called "sounds as if she was coming" was high-pitched, fast talking, approaching here very quickly.The door behind me slammed open and a woman walked in.I don't know how she did it.It felt as if three women had entered instead of one. She was smoking a long filter cigarette, wearing a peach-colored satin homely gown, and lifted the hem of the dress with one hand.A cascade of tan hair cascaded down her back.Her face had that startling nudity that women these days have before they've gone completely without make-up.She had huge blue eyes, walked very fast, and spoke in a somewhat raucous and charming voice, very clearly developed.

"Honey, I can't stand it - I can't stand it at all - think of the public attention - it hasn't been reported yet, but of course it will be reported - I can't decide what to wear to the court of inquiry - the colors are very, very subdued clothes?—couldn’t be black,—maybe dark purple—I’ve run out of cloth ration tickets—I’ve lost the address of the man who sold it to me—you know, at A garage near Chevroletsbury Lane - if I drive over, the police will follow me and they will probably ask me some really embarrassing questions, won't they? I mean, what can I say How calm you are, Philip! How can you be so calm? Don't you understand. We can get out of this dreadful house now? Free—free! Oh, it's cruel to say that—poor old sweetheart -Of course we wouldn't have left him while he was alive. He really doted on us, didn't he-no matter how hard that woman upstairs tried to provoke our feelings. I'm pretty sure if we left sooner Well, leave him to her alone, and he'll leave us nothing. Terrible woman! Poor old sweetheart is nearly ninety years old, after all—all the relatives in the world put together can't stand against that Terrible woman to live with day and night. You know, Philip, I really believe this is a great opportunity to put out that Edith Thompson play. The murder will give us a lot of pre-publicity. Bill Dansden said He can find a tragedian--that dreadful poetic drama about miners is going to go down any moment--it's a good chance--very good. I know they say I have to do comedy all the time because of my nose--but you Knowing that Edith Thompson's play still has a lot of comedy in it - I don't think the writer understands that - comedy can heighten the suspense. I know how I should play it - mediocre, stupid, fake , and then at the last minute—"

She threw an arm—the cigarette fell from the holder, onto Philip's mahogany desk, and began to burn.He calmly picked up the cigarettes and threw them into the waste paper bin. "And then," whispered Magda Leonides, her eyes suddenly widening and her face hardening, "the utter terror..." The expression of utter horror stayed on her face for about twenty seconds, and then the muscles on her face relaxed and wrinkled again, like a bewildered child about to burst into tears. Suddenly, all the expressions on her face disappeared, she turned to me, and asked me solemnly:

"Don't you think that's the way to play Edith Thompson?" I said back that I thought that was the way to play Edith Thompson.At the time I had only a very vague idea of ​​who Edith Thompson was, but I was anxious to get off to a good start with Sophia's mother. "It's kind of like Brenda, really, isn't it?" said Magda. "You know, it never occurred to me. Very interesting. Shall I tell the Inspector that?" The man behind the desk frowned slightly. "It's really not necessary, Magda," he said. "You don't have to see him at all. I can tell him whatever he wants to know."

"Don't need to see him?" Her voice rose. "But of course I have to see him? Well, well, my dear, you're so unimaginative! You don't understand the importance of details. He needs to know exactly how and when everything happened, everyone noticed All the little things and the doubts at the time—” "Mom," said Sophia, coming in through the open door, "don't talk nonsense to the Inspector." "Sophia, dear..." "I know, my dear mama, you're all set and ready to put on a good show. But you're wrong. Pretty wrong idea."

"Nonsense, you don't know—" "I really do. You've got to act differently. Darling. Hold yourself in—talk as little as possible—tune in—be vigilant—protect your family." Magda Leonides had a look of childlike bewilderment on her face. "Honey," she said, "do you really think—" "Yes. Throw away those silly ideas of yours. That's exactly what I meant." When a smile of pleasure began to break across her mother's face, Sophia added: "I've got some chocolates for you, in the living room—" "Oh—well—I'm starving—"

She walked to the door and stopped. "You don't know," she said, obviously either to me or to the bookshelf behind me, "how wonderful it is to have a daughter!" After saying this "exit speech", she walked out. "God knows," said Miss de Haviland, "what she'll say to the police!" "She'll be fine," said Sophia. "She might say anything." "Don't worry," Sofia said. "She will do what the director says, and I am the director!" She followed her mother out, then turned sharply and said: "Inspector Taverner is here to see you, Dad, and you don't mind if Charlie stays?" I think Philip Leonides had a very slight look of perplexity on his face.Probably!But his habit of indifference did me good. "Oh, of course—of course," he murmured somewhat vaguely. Inspector Taverner walked in, solid, reliable, with a pleasant air of alertness and efficiency. "Just a little unpleasantness," he said, "and then we'll leave the house forever—and no one will be happier than me. We don't want to linger here, and I can tell you ensure……" I don't know how he managed to convey what he meant without saying a word, just pulling a chair over to the desk, but it worked.I humbly sat down a little further away. "Well, Inspector?" said Philip. Mademoiselle de Haviland interrupted suddenly: "You don't need me, Inspector?" "Not at present, Miss Haviland. Later, if I may speak to you for a few words—" "Of course, I'll be upstairs." She went out and closed the door behind her. "Well, Inspector?" Philip repeated. "I know you're very busy, and I don't want to disturb you for too long. But I can mention to you privately that our suspicions have been confirmed. Your father did not die of natural causes. His death was the result of a physostigmine overdose—generally The more familiar name is Iserin." Philip bowed his head.He didn't have any particular emotional response. "I don't know if this has any hints for you?" Taverner continued. "What's the point? My own opinion is that my father accidentally took the poison." "You really think so, Mr Leonides?" "Yes, it seems quite probable to me. He is nearly ninety, you know, and has very bad eyesight." "So he poured eye drops into insulin vials for insulin. Does that really sound plausible to you, Mr. Leonides?" Philip did not answer.The expression on his face became more calm. Taverner continued: "We found the eyedrop bottle, empty - in the bin, without fingerprints. That's peculiar in itself. Normally there should be fingerprints. Father's, of course, or his wife's or Servant..." Philip Leonides looked up. "And what about the servants?" he said. "Where's Jonson?" "Are you implying that Jonson is a possible murderer? Of course he has a chance. But when we think about the motives of the crime it makes a difference. His lord is in the habit of giving him a year-end bonus every year--this year-end bonus increases every year. His lord made it clear to him that in this way he replaced any money left to him in the will. Now this year-end bonus, after seven years of service, has reached a very substantial amount and is still increasing every year. Evidently his lord lives The longer the better for Jonson. Besides, they get on very well, and Jonson's record is impeccable--he's a thoroughly loyal and skilled valet." He paused. "We don't suspect Jonson." Philip replied calmly, "I understand." "Mr. Leonides, perhaps you could tell me now about your own whereabouts on the day your father died?" "Of course, Inspector. I've been here, in this room, all day—except at mealtimes, of course." "Have you ever seen your father?" "I went to greet him after breakfast as usual." "Were you alone with him then?" "I—er—my stepmother was in the room." "Does he look normal?" Philip replied with a hint of sarcasm: "He gave no indication that he would be murdered that day." "Is that part of the house where your father lives completely cut off from here?" "Yes, the only access is the door in the hall." "Is that door always locked?" "No." "Never locked?" "As far as I know that's true." "Anyone can come and go as they please?" "Of course. It's only based on the convenience of home life privacy." "How did you know your father passed away?" "My brother Roger, who lives upstairs in the West Wing, hastened down to tell me that my father had had a fit. He had trouble breathing, and it seemed to be very serious." "How do you handle it?" "I called the doctor. No one seemed to think of doing it. The doctor was out--but I left him a message to come as soon as possible. Then I went upstairs." "and then?" "My father was obviously in a very serious condition and he died before the doctor came." Philip's voice was without emotion, just a simple statement of facts. "Where are the others?" "My wife was in London. She came back shortly afterwards. Sophia wasn't there, I believe. The two little ones, Eustace and Josephine, were at home." "I hope you do not misunderstand me. If I were to ask you, Mr. Leonides, how your father's death would affect your financial situation." "I quite understand that you want to know all the facts. My father made us financially independent years ago. He made my brother the chairman and major shareholder of United Catering, the largest company he owns, the The management was entirely in his hands. He gave me what he thought would be an appropriate amount--actually I think it was various bonds and good stocks of £150,000--to do with me as I pleased. He also arranged for A very generous sum was given to my two sisters who later died." "And he's a very rich man himself?" "No, in fact he only left himself a moderate income in comparison. He said that was enough for his living needs. From then on." The corner of Philip's lips showed a smile for the first time, "Because Success in various ventures, and he became richer than ever." "Brother Ling and yourself come to live here. This is not the result of any financial—difficulties, is it?" "Of course not, purely for convenience. My father used to tell us that we were always welcome to move in with him. It was convenient for me, for various domestic reasons." "At the same time," Philippe added deliberately, "I am very fond of my father. I moved here with my family in 1937. I don't pay rent, but I pay the taxes on my house. " "Where is Brother Ling?" "My brother moved here in 1943 when his house in London was bombed." "Mr. Leonides, do you know how your father's estate is distributed?" "Quite clear. He renewed his will shortly after the declaration of peace at the end of the war in 1945. My father was not a sneaky man, he was very family-minded. He called a family meeting, and his lawyer was there, and should His request, explain to us the terms of his will. I am sure you are aware of those terms. No doubt Mr. Gaskill has told you. Roughly speaking, there is a net sum of one hundred thousand pounds for me after tax. Stepmother, in addition to the very generous dowry that was already given to her at the time of marriage. The rest of the property is divided into three equal parts, one for me, one for my brother, and the other for his grandchildren in a trust fund .The inheritance is huge, but of course the inheritance tax is also heavy.” "Any bequests or charitable donations left to the servants?" "Not at all. The salary of the servant increases every year if he stays in the job." "You're not really - pardon me for asking - in need of money, Mr Leonides?" "You know. The income tax is kind of heavy, Inspector--but I make enough for myself--and my wife. Besides, my father used to give us all very generous presents, and if anything In case of emergency, he will rescue immediately." Philippe added coldly and clearly: "I can assure you that I have no financial reason for my father's death, Inspector General." "Mr. Leonides, I am very sorry if you think I mean it. But we have to know all the facts. Now I am afraid I have to ask you some sensitive questions. It is about the relationship between your father and his wife." relationship. Are they happy together?" "As far as I know, it's perfect." "No quarrel?" "I don't think so." "Their ages—there's a big difference?" "It's huge." "Do you—excuse me—approve of your father's second marriage?" "He didn't ask for my opinion." "That's not an answer to my question, Mr. Rioziz." "Since you say so, I'll tell you the truth, I don't think this marriage is—unwise." "Have you ever persuaded your father?" "When I knew it, it was already a fait accompli." "It's a big shock to you, isn't it—eh?" Philip did not answer. "Any bad feelings about it?" "My father was free to do whatever he pleased." "You and Mrs. Leonides are on good terms?" "Very peaceful." "You and her are friendly." "We rarely see each other." Inspector Taverner changed the subject. "Can you tell me about Mr. Laurence Brown?" "I'm afraid I can't tell you. He was hired by my father." "But he was hired to teach your children, Mr Leonides." "That's right. My son is a victim of polio - luckily not serious - and we decided it would be better not to send him to school. My father proposed that he be tutored with my daughter Josephine - that The choice of governess at the time was rather limited - as it had to be exempt from military service. The young man's qualifications were satisfactory, my father and my aunt (who had been looking after the children's welfare) were happy with him and I defied them I mean. By the way, I am impeccable in his teaching, responsible and thoughtful.” "He lives in your father's part of the house, not here?" "There are vacancies up there." "Have you ever noticed—I'm sorry to ask you this—any sign of intimacy between Laurence Brown and your stepmother?" "I don't have a chance to notice this kind of thing." "Have you heard any gossip about it?" "I never listen to gossip, Inspector." "Very admirable," Inspector Taverner said. "So you don't see evil, don't listen to evil, and don't speak evil?" "Say what you like, Inspector." Inspector Taverner stood up. "Well," said he, "thank you very much, Mr. Leonides." I humbly followed him out of the room. "Phew," said Taverner, "he's as cold as ice!"