‘Forgive me for saying so, Inspector,’ murmured Arno, ‘but what you suggest is quite impossible. As Andrew has already explained and we can all confirm - he never went near the dais. Are you saying he had an accomplice?’
‘An unwitting accomplice. Not to the act of murder, but of course he had to get the knife and the glove into the Solar. He was dressed - I’m sure deliberately to reinforce his “alibi” - in such a way as to make concealment about his person out of the question.’
‘But how could anyone bring a knife in without knowing it?’ said Ken.
‘In a bag,’ said Barnaby. ‘There was a thread caught up on the handle proving this. Where were you positioned on the dais, Mr Carter?’
Andrew did not reply. Suhami said, ‘He was next to me.’
‘Yet after fetching Miss Cuttle’s cape you did not return there?’
‘May often had distressing times during her regressions. I thought it might be of help if I stayed close.’
‘Ever done that before?’
‘No, but I should think just the fact that I chose to do it then is enough to knock your theory on the head. If you’re going to kill someone you get as close to your victim as possible, not as far away.’
‘Ah, but you had no choice. Because you put the knife in the wrong bag. It was only when opening it to take out the cape that you realised your mistake.’
‘In my bag!’ May’s voice surged to a peak of Bracknellian splendour.
‘He thought it was Miss Gamelin’s. They’re very similar.’ Suhami groaned at this and Heather’s bosoms leapt to their cradling once more.
‘He did this at the very last minute, perhaps even taking charge to make sure she didn’t open it.’
‘Yes that’s right,’ cried Ken. ‘He carried it in for her. I remember.’
‘You would,’ said Andrew.
‘He was banking on the sort of disturbance which did in fact take place, but of course he expected to be close to Craigie at the time. As I said previously, this was a partly planned, partly impulsive crime.’
‘I don’t see how he could possibly have slipped a knife in at the last moment Inspector,’ said Arno. ‘He couldn’t have been carrying it and it certainly wasn’t on the table.’
‘Yes, that fazed me for a bit. Then I remembered Guy Gamelin’s complaint that he wasn’t allowed to sit beside Sylvie because one of the community’s disciplines was keeping to the same seat. I’ve no doubt that there was a cushion on Mr Carter’s. The knife was placed beneath it earlier in the day. And the glove, too, of course.
‘Stupidly choosing a left-handed one,’ said Andrew scornfully, ‘although I use the right.’
‘Just an added pointer in the wrong direction. I think you simply turned it inside out then turned it back. You couldn’t have known of course that Gamelin would be left-handed. That must have seemed a real bonus. As it happened, he tried to offload it behind the curtain and was spotted. I’m sure, if this had not been the case, you would have somehow managed to draw the matter to our attention. Perhaps via Miss Gamelin who was already completely convinced of her father’s guilt.’
‘Supposition - all of it. You’re stuck, Inspector - you can’t solve the problem so you’ve dreamed up this fantasy. And if you’re going to say I killed him when I went to switch on the light you can think again. I didn’t go near him at any time. Nor, as you’ve obviously forgotten, was I part of the group that Craigie pointed at before he died.’
‘That’s of no matter,’ said Barnaby. ‘For Arthur Craigie was not pointing at a person at all.’
‘Yes he was. Gamelin. Ask anyone.’
‘Certainly it must have seemed that way but going over things earlier tonight, I was struck by one very interesting difference between Guy Gamelin and the rest of the group. He was the only person who was standing up.’
‘So?’
‘That put him in the way.’
‘In the way of what, Inspector?’ asked Arno.
‘I believe Craigie was indicating the direction from which the knife was thrown!’
There was a fair old hubbub at this. The word ‘thrown’ was repeated several times with varying degrees of incredulity. Heather left Suhami and ran excitedly back to Ken. Andrew burst out laughing.
‘Oh - that’s brilliant. In a dark room? Ten feet away?’
‘Not dark - duskish. And he was wearing a brilliant white robe.’
‘Impossible.’
‘Not to someone who’s thrown knives for a living.’ The hubbub melted into a stunned silence. ‘You didn’t tell us that did you, Mr Carter?’
‘There’s all sorts of things I didn’t tell you.’
‘That’s for sure,’ said Troy.
‘It was careless to mention your time at Blackpool, because we got in touch with your employers who revealed that, apart from your lion-taming skills for which they had little use, you also offered fire eating and a knife act.’
‘Carny people’ll say anything.’ Barnaby was silent for quite a time. Eventually Andrew Carter spoke again.
‘That’s it is it? Your evidence against me? Well, all I can say is that if by some miracle this ever gets as far as a courtroom, the jury’ll be falling off their bench in hysterics.’
Miracle is right, thought Troy. He had listened, engrossed, totally convinced, whilst the chief unravelled the case against Andrew Carter but now the mesmerising tale was done what did they have? What did they actually have? A thread from a bag caught up on a knife. Everything else was supposition. No prints on the murder weapon. One quick daring movement with everyone looking elsewhere. All Carter had to do was stick to his bewildered denials and a good lawyer would have him out on the streets before you could say no case to answer. He knew that - the cunning bugger. Look at him shrugging, shaking his head, smiling. He wouldn’t crack. Or make mistakes. Even if they managed to dig up some past form - so what? All that proved was he’s not Persil clean. And character defamation could only take you so far. Troy tried to look at his chief but Barnaby, his face blank, was gazing at the stone-flagged floor. Finally he looked up and spoke.
‘How did you get the boy to come out of his room?’
Stone the crows he’s really getting desperate. Clocked the problems, no making the first one stick so going all out on the second which is even more of a no no. Riley’d already attacked Carter once and nearly killed him. Self-defence is a foregone conclusion. They won’t even get him on manslaughter. Troy’s expression revealed none of these ponderings but his heart was heavy. What was it the chief had said yesterday - up the creek without a paddle? Too bloody right! Troy felt a momentary flash of fellow feeling for Barnaby. Almost of affection. This sort of empathetic insight was so alien to his usual way of thinking that he was relieved to see it disappear as quickly and mysteriously as it had arisen.
Now the tension in the room had snapped, mainly because of Andrew’s burst of apparently quite genuine laughter. May broke a long awkward silence by asking Arno how his foot was feeling. Suhami turned her back on them all. Heather collected the dirty cups and took them to the sink. Only Troy saw the door slowly open.
Barnaby repeated the question, ‘How did you get the boy to come out?’