Holmes thought about it. “I believe that is a perfect solution to what happened, and if it is, the blood on Sir Charles’s shirt should confirm it.”
“I believe it will.”
“And how did you come by the shirt?”
“Sir Charles and I have the same shirtmaker and the same laundress. I believe the laundress on the estate accidentally put his shirt in with mine and delivered them to me.”
“Well, then,” Holmes said, “I have a couple of jobs ahead of me: first, I must have the blood on the shirt analyzed, and if it proves your theory, I must then arrest Sir Charles on a charge of murder.”
“I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that,” Stone said.
“How so?”
“Sir Charles lies, dying, a quarter of a mile from where we sit. His doctor believes he will not live out the day.”
Holmes allowed himself a chuckle. “Then what would be the point of charging him?”
“I can’t think of one. The brigadier is dead and has left no family, save his two natural children, who don’t know he is their biological father. And Sir Charles is departing this life as we speak.”
“Then you are suggesting that I — what’s the expression? Let sleeping dogs lie?”
“What would be the point of doing anything else?”
“Well,” Holmes said, rising, “I don’t believe that is properly my decision to make. I am bound to take this shirt and this theory to my chief inspector. We will see what he has to say.”
“Then do what you must,” Stone said. “However, I don’t think you are ethically bound to speak to him today. Perhaps tomorrow would do as well.”
“You have a point, Mr. Barrington,” Holmes said. “I’ll make an appointment to see him tomorrow. I’m sure he’s too busy to see me today.”
The two men shook hands, and the deputy chief inspector took his leave, the shirt tucked into his raincoat pocket.
59
Stone lingered over a second cup of coffee after the inspector’s departure, and he was shortly joined by Billy Barnett, who poured himself a cup and sat down.
“I have news,” Billy said, handing Stone a copy of the International New York Times, open to page seven.
Stone picked up the newspaper and read the headline:
He read on:
Dr. Don Beverly Calhoun, a television evangelist, was found in his Rio de Janeiro penthouse apartment, along with his wife, Cheree, both shot to death. Police said he had been expecting a visitor, who went up to the apartment then left again minutes before a housemaid discovered the bodies. The man was described as heavyset, tall, and with a mustache and horn-rimmed glasses. He was not seen again after leaving the building, and a search is under way for him. The motive was thought to be robbery, but as yet nothing has been found missing from the apartment.
“Sounds like our visitor,” Stone said.
“Doesn’t it? Bar the mustache, of course.”
“Did you have any involvement in this, Billy?”
Billy did not answer the question directly. “My theory is that Dr. Don, on learning that Al Junior had failed in his mission, demanded his money back. Al probably believed that a better way to settle the debt was to eliminate the debt holder.”
Stone nodded. “Makes sense. I seem to remember that Dino told me that the police, when they searched Dr. Don’s New York apartment, found a large sum of cash in his safe.”
“I remember that, too — eight hundred thousand, wasn’t it?”
“I believe so.”
“The article mentions that nothing was found missing from the apartment, but it fails to mention anything being found, either.”
“Are the police looking for Al Junior?”
“I don’t see why they should. I haven’t heard anyone mention a connection between him and Dr. Don. Also, it’s well known that the United States and Brazil do not have an extradition treaty, and that works both ways.”
“Is Al Junior any kind of threat to us?”
“I don’t think so. Al Junior works under contract, and he no longer has an employer with any interest in you or yours.”
“Well, as far as I’m concerned, whoever assisted Dr. Don into the next life has done the world a favor,” Stone said.
“I tend to agree. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Agreed. What are your plans now that you’ve wrapped the film?”
“I suppose we’ll all go back to L.A. shortly. I understand from Peter that Ben and Centurion Studios are having talks about his replacing the retiring CEO as head of the studio.”
“Then I’m glad Peter has you to back him up.”
“And I’m glad to be able to help him. I find the work very satisfying. What are your plans?”
“I think I’m going to have to get back to New York and repair some bridges with Woodman & Weld, who seem to think I have spent too much time here of late.”
“It’s nice to be needed,” Billy observed.
“That remains to be seen,” Stone replied. “I like it here so much that I’m afraid New York won’t satisfy me the way it always has.”
“Do I detect a midlife crisis in the offing?”
“That remains to be seen,” Stone said. “Dino and Viv are returning for the wedding, and when that’s over, we’ll all be on our way back.”
“And Susan Blackburn?”
“She can’t be parted from her expanding business.”
“Oh, well.”
“Oh, well, indeed.”
60
Rain fell hard on the roof of the country church, and its pews were full, with others standing at the rear, as last services were conducted for Sir Charles Bourne. As the service ended, the rain stopped and sunshine began to pour through the stained-glass windows.
The grave had been sheltered from the storm by a tent, and this was taken away as the crowd assembled at the burial site. Another short ceremony was conducted, along with a final prayer, and the pallbearers lowered the coffin into its receptacle.
As the crowd lined up to offer their condolences to the widow, then drifted back toward the car park, Stone saw Lady Bourne in conversation with Deputy Chief Inspector Holmes. He tipped his hat and left her to deal with the last mourners.
Stone caught up with the policeman in the car park. “Did Lady Bourne have anything new to say to you?” he asked.
“There was a deathbed confession,” Holmes replied. “Your theory was confirmed.”
“Is there anything else to be done?”
“No, I don’t think so. My chief inspector will feel the same way, I think. I understand you’ve a wedding this evening.”
“That’s correct — a double wedding, actually.”
“Then please offer my best wishes to the four of them.”
“I will do that.”
The two men shook hands, and Holmes drove away.
The ceremony took place in the great hall at Curtis House, officiated by two priests, an Anglican and a Catholic. Close to forty guests had arrived from London and the States.
Stone stood with Dino and Viv, plus Mary Ann Bacchetti, Ben’s mother. “They’re a handsome group, aren’t they?” Mary Ann observed of the crowd. “They all look right out of Central Casting as a Hollywood crowd.”
“And none handsomer than the celebrants,” Dino added.
“Isn’t this where the brides and grooms are supposed to make their escapes for their respective honeymoons?” Viv asked.
“There’s a Centurion Studios Gulfstream waiting for them at the airstrip,” Stone said. “They’ll sleep in Cannes tonight. After the honeymoon, the airplane will come back here to pick up a few others of the crew, then fly them all, nonstop, back to Los Angeles.”