“Likely not.” He sniggered. “So where are we now? Any closer to where we want to be?”
“If Rivers was telling the truth,” Tom said, “and he was in the kitchen with Miss Long when Mr. Montrose was killed—and that’s the same story she told, wasn’t it?”
Crispin nodded.
“Then we’re down to the three young men. All of whom had the opportunity to visit Ellery Mews yesterday.”
“But if Gladys and Rivers were in the kitchen together when Montrose was killed,” I objected, “she couldn’t have known which of the other three did it. So what was the reason for killing her?”
“They might have told her,” Christopher suggested. “Or she overheard. After we left Sunday morning. While they were cleaning up. They probably discussed what had happened.”
“If that’s the case, Rivers would have known, too. Wouldn’t he? He was there, if Hutchison was telling the truth when he said that Rivers took Gladys home.”
“But Hutchison could have been lying,” Christopher said. “Rivers could have run off immediately. Or Rivers could have been lying about not knowing. They could all be lying.”
“I’m inclined to take Rivers out of the equation, myself,” Crispin said after a moment’s silence.
Tom’s eyebrows rose. “Are you really? For what reason?”
Crispin glanced at him. “It makes sense that he and Gladys would be in the kitchen together. He had brought her dope and she would want to use it. She wasn’t in as bad a shape as Ronnie, but I could tell she wanted a hit. He probably set it up for her. And if they were in the kitchen and he was busy fiddling with the cocaine, he might not have noticed Monty in the butler’s pantry.”
“Shemight not have noticed,” Tom corrected, “but he might have. He wasn’t high, was he?”
We all shook our heads. “He knows better than to use the merchandise,” Crispin opined. “He’s seen all too well what happens when you do.”
Tom nodded. “And of everyone there, Rivers is the one with the strongest motive for wanting Mr. Montrose out of the way. Rivers was actively breaking the law. If Montrose did something to expose him, he would go to prison. The others—or Ronnie Blanton and Gladys Long, at any rate—were just users. He’s a dealer. If he did notice Montrose listening in, he had a very good reason to kill him. And if he did, Gladys Long would have seen him do it. So out of everyone, Rivers is the one most likely to have needed to kill her.”
Yes. That did make sense. But…
“I know I didn’t see his face,” I said, “but he seemed sincerely shocked when St George told him that she was dead.”
“I did see his face,” Christopher agreed, “and he was. And not just that, but he seemed frightened by it. As if they really had been together in the kitchen, and they really hadn’t seen what happened to Montrose, and he couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to kill her.”
“But since they had,” Crispin added, “he was afraid that he might be next.”
“That was the impression I got,” Christopher nodded.
“So we’re no further along than we were.” Tom sounded cross. “Other than that the three of you seem to think that the person with the strongest motive didn’t do it, and someone else did.”
I glanced at Christopher, who glanced at Crispin. “I suppose so,” the latter said. “Although I’d like to point out that, since we don’t know what motives the others might have had, we don’t actually know that Rivers was the person with the strongest motive.”
“But it’s a good one,” I added quickly, when Tom’s face darkened, “we agree.”
“Here is what I want you to do,” Tom said to Crispin, ignoring my attempt to cajole him into a better humor. “Contact your friends—all three of them: Blanton, Hutchison, and Ogilvie—and invite them over for a discussion. Gladys Long is dead, and someone might connect her to Mr. Montrose’s body—after all, they were seen sitting together at Rectors, and sitting with the rest of you, as well, and some of you have recognizable faces—and that might mean you’re all in danger of being arrested. You want to talk about how to handle the situation. Get your stories straight, so to speak.”
Crispin nodded.
“You be here, too,” Tom told Christopher, “since you were at Rectors that night, and of everyone there, you’re perhaps the one most likely to be recognized by the regulars.”
Christopher nodded. “Out of curiosity…”
“Yes,” Tom said. “A couple of the people we arrested that night pointed fingers at you. Not as yourself, of course, but as Kitty Dupree. And a few made comments about your ‘sister’ being there, as well.”
He turned back to Crispin. “Get them to talk about things. Montrose, Gladys Long, Cambridge, articles in The Daily Yell, cocaine… as well as what happened on Saturday night. See if any of them lets anything slip. Accuse Rivers and see if they jump to agree that he must be guilty.”
“Leave it to me,” Crispin said.
“I’ll have to, won’t I?” Tom turned to Christopher. “Whenever he loses control of the conversational ball, chuck it back to him.”
