The Murders of Richard III - Elizabeth Peters [83]
“The heads,” Jacqueline said. “Frank was the only one who had a car.”
There was a damp silence. Strangways was the first to catch on. He swore. “Ditto,” said Thomas. Jacqueline looked from one disappointed face to the next, and lifted the corner of her lip in a silent snarl.
“I know how Holmes felt after he explained his deductions and Watson told him how obvious they were,” she said.
“But it is obvious,” Thomas said. “I expected—”
“A pseudopsychological mishmash of Ricardian data? Oh, I suspected Frank before that; but I could have made out a plausible case against most of the people here. When will you get it through your academic head that possibilities are not proof?
“The plaster heads were the clincher. You yourself complained about the lack of privacy in well-staffed houses—the servants always unpacking for guests. The criminal knew this; he would have taken an awful risk trying to smuggle the heads into the house without their being seen. It might not have attracted comment or attention initially, but after the heads made their public appearance, a servant might have remembered them. Even if the criminal could count on sneaking his luggage in and unpacking it himself, where would he hide the things? A bureau drawer? A closet shelf? Under the bed?”
“What about secreting the heads somewhere in the grounds?” Thomas asked.
“Possible, but equally risky. Also inconvenient. If the heads were found, by one of the outside staff, they might not be traced to the person who brought them, but they would be unavailable thereafter, and he needed them. He had to be able to get at them in a hurry when the opportunity arose. If it would rain, he would get wet and muddy, which might arouse suspicion…. But there was one hiding place that was practically foolproof. The locked trunk of a car. You call it the boot, I believe,” Jacqueline explained to Mr. Ellis, who nodded dumbly.
“When did you first suspect Frank?” Thomas asked.
“Let’s begin at the beginning,” Jacqueline said, with infuriating patience. “At first we didn’t have a criminal; we had a comedian with a strange sense of humor. As soon as the pattern of the tricks became clear, I asked myself the obvious question: Were the incidents simply sick jokes, or were they camouflage, to mask a serious purpose? I really couldn’t believe the first interpretation. Only a madman would perpetrate such tricks. I hope you don’t mind my using that word. It isn’t approved these days, but it takes too long to say ‘mentally disturbed individual.’ ”
“Call him a Bedlamite if you like,” Thomas said impatiently. “Only get on with it.”
“Now madness, though its acts may seem irrational to normal people, has its own rationale. The acts become explicable when one comprehends the underlying obsession. A paranoidal schizophrenic attacks strangers because he believes they are members of a conspiracy aimed at his life. A religious fanatic may murder prostitutes. If we were dealing with a man of this type, the rationale could only be hatred of the society, or of Richard the Third—as you know, he still inspires strong emotions. Your members are all dedicated Ricardians. If any of you developed a monomania—which I could well believe—it would hardly take the form of a plot based on vicious slanders of your hero, or one that mocked the organization formed to defend him.”
“Do forgive me,” the rector said in his gentle voice, “but I believe there is a contradiction. You said, a few moments ago, that Sir Richard was the ultimate victim of this dreadful plot. By killing King Richard’s alter ego, the criminal made him a martyr, not a murderer. Of course I cannot agree that any of us would be capable of such atrocities, under any circumstances, but in a perverse sense Sir Richard’s death might suggest a pro-Ricardian bias, rather than the reverse.”
“I see what you mean,” Jacqueline said, smiling at him. “But I think you are being a little too subtle, Mr. Ellis. However, I had other reasons for believing that the tricks were not the work of a monomaniac.