Chapter 25 Chapter Twenty-Five

We have been in the garden for a long time.By tacit understanding, we didn't talk about the fear that weighed on us.Sophia spoke fondly of the dead woman, of the things they had done together, of the games they had played with Lanny when they were children--and of what the old woman had often told them about Ro Jay, their father, and other uncles and aunts. "They were her real children, you know. She only came back to help us during the war, when Josephine was a baby and Eustace was a ridiculous little boy." These memories had a soothing effect on Sophia, and I encouraged her to keep talking.

I don't know what Taverner was up to, maybe he was asking questions, I thought.A car brought the police photographer and two others, followed by an ambulance. Sophia trembled a little.Shortly thereafter, the ambulance departed, and we learned that Lanny's body was being taken away for an autopsy. We are still in the garden, or sitting, or getting up and walking, talking, and our words become more and more a cover for what we really want to say. Finally, Sophia trembled and said: "It must be late—it's getting dark. We have to go in. Aunt Edith and Josephine haven't come back yet... Surely they should be back by now?"

There was a vague uneasiness in our hearts.What happened?Was Edith trying to get the kid out of the freak house on purpose? We went inside and Sophia drew all the curtains.The fire in the fireplace has been lit, and the large living room seems to have an unreal luxurious atmosphere of the past.Big pots of brown chrysanthemums are placed on each table. Sophia rang the bell and a maid I recognized from upstairs brought in tea.Her eyes were red, and she kept blowing her nose, and I noticed her frightened glances behind her now and then. Magda joined us, but Philip's tea was brought to him in his study.Magda's "role" at this time is a frozen image of grief.She spoke very little, almost never.She said a word:

"Where are Edith and Josephine? They've been away for a long time." But she was absent-minded. I myself became increasingly restless.I asked if Taverner was still in the house, and Magda said she thought so.I went to him and I told him I was worried about Miss de Haviland and the kid. He immediately grabbed the phone and gave a few instructions. "I'll let you know as soon as I have news," he said. I thanked him and went back to the living room.Sophia and Eustace were there.Magda is gone. "He'll let us know if he has any news," I said to Sophia.

She whispered: "Something happened, Charlie, something must have happened." "My dear Sophia, it is not too late." "What are you worried about?" said Eustace. "Maybe they went to the movies." He wandered out.I said to Sophia, "She may have taken Josephine to a hotel—or to London. I think she fully understands that the child is in danger—perhaps she knows better than we do." Sophia replied with a gloomy look that I didn't quite understand. "She kissed me goodbye..." I don't quite understand what she means by this incoherent statement, or what she's trying to convey.I asked her if Magda was worried.

"Mom? No, she's okay. She has no sense of time. She's reading a new play by Van Wassel Jones called 'Morning the Hen,' which is a ludicrous play about murder—a female 'young Bearded Man' - a rip-off from 'Arsenic and the Old Ribbon', but it has a nice female character, a psychopath who wants to be a widow." I didn't say anything more.We sat and pretended to read books and newspapers. At thirty past six, Taverner opened the door and walked in.His countenance prepared us for what he was about to say. Sophia stood up. "How?" she said.

"Sorry. I have bad news for you. I issued a general alert for that vehicle. A Mobile Patrol officer saw a Ford with what appeared to be the same license plate number turning off the road in the Freaksberg Wilderness —and drive into the woods." "Isn't it—the path to the Freksberg Quarry?" "Yes, Miss Leonides." He paused, and then went on: "The car was found in the quarry with both occupants dead. You'd be glad they died instantly and weren't tortured before death." "Josephine!" Magda stood at the door.Her voice rose to a cry. "Josephine... my child."

Sophia walked towards her and put her arms around her.I said, "Wait a minute." What did I remember!Edith Haviland wrote a letter or two and went out into the hall with her hand. But when she got into the car, the letter was not in her hand. I rushed into the hall and walked up to the long oak chest.I saw the letters -- tucked inconspicuously behind a copper teapot. The last one was addressed to Inspector Taverner. Taverner has followed.I handed the letter to him, he opened it, and I stood by him to read the brief content of the letter. I expect this letter to be opened after my death.I don't mean to go into too much detail, but I take full responsibility for the deaths of my brother-in-laws, Arizen, Leonides and Jenny Roy (Lanny).I hereby solemnly declare that Brenda Leonides and Royce Brown are innocent of the murder of Aristide Leonides.Ask Dr. Mike Shevaji at 783 Harley Street and he will confirm that I have only a few months to live.I'd rather live the rest of my life this way and spare two innocent people the nightmare of being charged with trumped-up murder.I am sane and fully aware of what I am writing.

Edith Alfredo Haviland. Only after I finished watching did I realize that Sophia had also read it on the sidelines—with Taverner's consent, I don't know. "Aunt Edith..." Sophia murmured. I thought of Edith Haviland trampling wild bindweed into the dirt with her feet.I remembered that I had doubted her earlier, almost imaginatively.but why-- Sophia hit on my idea before I thought it out. "But why Josephine—why did she bring Josephine?" "Why is she doing this?" I asked. "What was her motive?" But when I asked, I knew the truth.I see the whole thing.I realized I still had her second letter in my hand, and I looked down to see my name on the envelope.

This letter is thicker and stiffer than the other.I think I know what's in there.I opened the envelope and Josephine's little black notebook fell out.I picked it up from the ground - spread it out in my hands, and looked at the first page of records... I heard Sophia's clear, self-possessed voice as if from far away. "We got it all wrong," she said. "It wasn't Edith who did it." "No." I said. Sophia came closer to me - she said softly: "It's—Josephine—isn't it? Yes, it's Josephine." Together we looked down at the first entry in the little black book, written crookedly by a child.

"Today I killed Grandpa."