The Seventh Sinner - Elizabeth Peters [68]
“The second attempt was more direct—pushing Jean into the path of a car. Here, one would think, the murderer took a greater risk. And yet again it was impossible to alibi any of you. The time of day was well chosen; it was the lunch-siesta period, when the streets are crowded. It is true that you are all rather distinctive-looking, easily recognized. But wigs are cheap here; a change of clothing, or simple disguise, could make any of you safe from a casual glance. And that incident had its own built-in safeguards. If Jean had recognized a friend she would have hailed him—or her—and then the attempt would not have been made. After she had fallen into the street, the chance of her being able to recognize anyone was, to say the least, unlikely.
“The third attempt took place here, in the pool; and I find it hard to forgive myself for that, because I was expecting it. Expecting—and praying that it wouldn’t happen. It did happen, right under my nose, and only luck got her out alive that time. And again I found it impossible to clear any of the suspects. But the incident confirmed what had been until then only a nasty hunch.
“The attempt in the pool also demonstrated the killer was getting desperate. The more ‘accidents’ Jean had, the less plausible they became; and in the third case the killer had to take an extraordinary risk of being recognized. I could only conclude that his need to silence Jean was great. She must pose a threat so potentially dangerous that he had to risk drawing official attention back to this little circle of people—the Seven Sinners, as Andy calls them.”
“One moment,” Scoville said. “May I point out one flaw in your masterful exposition? You claim the murderer had to silence Jean because of her knowledge. What if he is that strange but not uncommon type, a killer who enjoys killing? Could not these crimes have been committed by an outsider who hates students, or foreigners, or something of the sort?”
Jacqueline nodded. Jean noticed that she would not meet Scoville’s eyes.
“I considered the possibility, of course. However, the police eliminated the tourists who were in the church when Albert died. On that occasion, and again in the third attempt on Jean’s life, the only people present were the students. Add the fact that Jean was the one to find Albert, the one to whom he tried to speak, and I think you will admit the conclusion is hard to avoid.”
She waited, courteously. Scoville shrugged, and leaned back in his chair.
“Therefore,” Jacqueline resumed, “I returned to the one fact that set Jean apart. Albert could not speak to her, but he did communicate. He scratched a symbol in the dust before he died. No one else saw it. It may have been purposely obliterated. More likely, it was wiped out when Albert fell forward in his death agony. But Jean was the only one to see it.”
“So she says,” Dana interrupted. Her voice was openly hostile.
“So she says,” Jacqueline repeated. “Naturally one has to consider the possibility that Jean lied. But why should she? There have been murderers who thrust themselves into public view, either from arrogance or from an anxious desire to be on the scene and know what’s happening. It is a stupid thing to do; the sensible killer lets someone else find the body and stays as quiet as he can. But let us assume Jean is this psychological type. Surely it would be foolish of her, though, to insist on facts that raised further suspicion and obscured the very impression she was trying to create. For the murderer obviously tried to suggest a case of suicide. If Jean was