Episode 22 - Finale

Sunday

Apart from Dorothy’s phone call late on Saturday evening, when Robert had told her that he was now resigned to Cleo’s never-ending energy and had to be satisfied with Dorothy’s information that there had been a lot to discuss and meetings at HQ, Cleo and Dorothy had had no further contact until Dorothy walked down to Cleo’s cottage early on Sunday morning to drive in with her to HQ.

“You two should come to church,” Robert said. “I’m going to sing a solo today.”

“We can’t be there. The Coppins case is almost solved,” said Cleo.

“I’m almost sure you did not spend all Saturday evening almost solving it.”

“You’d better get moving or you’ll miss your cue,” said Cleo.

“We’ll talk later then,” said Robert, and left.

***

“I covered for you last night,” said Dorothy.

“I hope you didn’t tell him anything,” said Cleo.

“What would I have to tell him, Cleo?”

“Nothing special.”

“You were with Gary, weren’t you?” said Dorothy.

“What makes you think that?”

“There’s a glow about you, Cleo. I thought you were going to come clean with Robert a moment ago.”

“I should not say this, but I quite like the secrecy, Dorothy, and I am magically drawn to Gary, but it’s not a sex thing at the moment. We just want to be together.”

“I’m glad he makes you happy, Cleo. I’m just sorry for Robert. After all, you are carrying his baby, aren’t you?”

 “If it is Robert’s baby, Dorothy.”

 “I’m starting to feel sorry for Gary,” said Dorothy.

“I don’t love Robert,” said Cleo, “but he’s going to be my baby’s legal father and I’m going to take a sabbatical from Gary when the baby arrives.”

“He won’t like it.”

“Neither will I, but I can’t manage a baby and a lover at the same time.”

***

Dorothy was right in thinking that a fair amount of Cleo’s exhilaration was thanks to the hours spent with Gary. She asked herself if this ostensible day of rest was going to be the day Dr Marble’s murderer was finally brought to book. She and Cleo were both satisfied that neither Paddy Kelly nor Harry Marble had killed the solicitor, so who had?

Kelly was entitled to his farm though he had chosen an illegal route road to get his inheritance. His story of being disinherited by parents who had decided he was no longer their son was feasible but not strong enough a story. He had to have a will in order to get justice. Kelly had had no objection to Gary engaging in further investigation to get to the bottom of the whole story. Did Kelly know why he was disowned by his parents? Unless he volunteered the explanation, there was no way of finding out what had gone on in those people’s minds all those years ago. Kelly’s motive for killing Dr Marble would be based on a genuine will that could have been duplicated many times and deposited in a safe box, a bank, or with a legal firm. Was it possible that the secrecy surrounding the second will and Dr Marble’s possible involvement in the first will being drawn up without a mention of the son were the incentive?

“Surely there are better ways of contesting a will than murder,” said Dorothy.

“I find it strange how Kelly Junior is never quite guilty of crimes he is suspected of committing,” said Cleo. “It’s almost a relief that he is guilty of disposing of Mrs Coppins illegally.”

“He’ll get a telling off from the judge and a small fine for that,” said Dorothy.

***

Harry Marble was a different case. He was being left out of Dr Marble’s will because the old man didn’t like him or didn’t approve of him. That was often a reason for excluding even close relatives from an inheritance. They usually fought for their rights when the time came.

Cleo and Dorothy thought the reason Harry was innocent was because he was clever enough to understand that he was likely to be caught and sent to prison for such an action. His motive would immediately be clear and that was after all the reason he had been declared a suspect. But no, he had found his uncle dead. He would be convicted of trying to fake Mrs Riddle’s suicide, but depending on what Mrs Riddle had to say, he would be treated mildly by the judge.

Cleo and Dorothy were mentally well-prepared for what would no doubt prove to be a difficult confrontation with Mrs Riddle. Gary had not phoned them ahead of the meeting, so he must have decided how to approach the housekeeper. He had made coffee and even bought biscuits, so the sleuths were able to have a three-cornered chat before the prisoner was brought in.

To Cleo’s surprise, Sylvie had accompanied her mother. Dorothy was not surprised, since Sylvie had apparently studied law and might be more adept at handling the situation than Sara Riddle. The two women were not happy to see Cleo and Dorothy.

“They are here to ask questions,” said Gary. “Nigel is my assistant. He will take notes as usual.”

Gary paused for a moment before gesturing to the suspects to remain standing.

“First, so that the decks are cleared, Mrs Riddle,” said Gary, “I am charging you with the murder of your employer, Dr Henry Marble. Anything you say can be used as evidence against you.”

“Can he do that, Sylvie?” Sara Riddle asked.

“Of course he can, but he’ll have to prove it, won’t you, Mr Hurley?”

Gary signalled to the warder to handcuff Mrs Riddle. This was done despite protests from Sylvie and her mother.

“Mrs Riddle has been charged with murder,” he explained. “I am bound to do anything within reason to restrain her.”

“But she isn’t struggling,” said Sylvie.

“Furthermore, I am charging you with being an accessory after the fact, Miss Thomson.”

“You can’t do that,” said Sylvie. “And my name is Marble.”

“Is it now?”

“So the Marble villa was home from home to you, I expect,” said Gary.

“I haven’t been near the villa for years,” said Sylvie.

“Yes, you have,” Gary contradicted, signalled to the two women that they could now be seated He went to the house phone and tapped in the number. “You can take them now, Chris,” he said into the phone.

“Take what?” said Mrs Riddle.

“Fingerprints, Mrs Riddle. Your daughter’s. We have yours, of course.”

Sylvie looked uneasy. That did not escape Dorothy. She and Cleo had not discussed the young woman, but now Gary was taking action that must mean he suspected her of being an accessory. Could he prove it?

“Why would she accompany her mother if she had something to hide?” Dorothy said to Cleo in a low voice.

“Maybe to make sure her mother did not give the game away.”

“What game?”

***

Before Cleo could answer, Chris entered with his laptop. Fingerprints were secured conventionally, in ink, photographed by the webcam, secured digitally and with that same program compared instantly with the prints taped at the Marble villa. Chris nodded to Gary, who already had the Marble files open on his computer. Instead of unknown, the name Sylvie Thomson now appeared alongside one set of prints.

“I use an app to collect prints without ink,” Chris explained, producing wet wipes to remove the ink from the woman’s fingers. But I like the old-fashioned method because the dabs are on paper if something goes wrong with the digital evidence – and they can’t be faked,” he added.

Mrs Riddle and Sylvie said nothing. Gary was glad they had not made a scene.

“Why don’t you just tell me what happened that day,” Gary said to Mrs Riddle. Dorothy noted that he was quite charmed by Sylvie, but Gary tended to find all nice-looking women charming. He had made numerous errors in his choice of female companion thanks to his deference to good looks and seeming inability to judge character. Dorothy felt protective of Cleo. Was she a match for all those pretty young things?

Since Mrs Riddle didn’t answer, Cleo decided to try a different approach.

“Why did you suggest that Jessie Coppins has Asperger’s, Mrs Riddle?” she asked.

“You agreed,” replied Mrs Riddle. “I was going by the description of her conduct. I don’t know her.”

“Really?” said Cleo. “I’d been looking for an explanation of Miss Coppins’ behaviour and you supplied it.”

“She is not an Asperger’s sufferer, Mrs Riddle,” said Gary. “Jessie returned to the villa that night because she was curious about what happened after she had looked in at the window earlier that day and seen the solicitor lying on the floor and you, Mrs Riddle, behind the desk.”

Mrs Riddle said nothing.

“You took the housekeeping money, didn’t you, Mrs Riddle?” Cleo said.

“What if I did? I didn’t take all of it, only what was due.”

“You actually went to the desk to get the money while your employer was lying on the carpet with a bleeding wound, dying or dead, “said Cleo. “How callous is that?”

“I was going to call for help,” said Mrs Riddle.

“Help for what?”

“For Dr Marble, of course,” Mrs Riddle replied.

“But you did not call for help, Mrs Riddle,” said Gary. “We have a record of all the phone calls made from the villa and there was none to the police or ambulance services.”

“I used my mobile phone,” the woman explained.

“So you stood at the desk next to the telephone with a dying or dead man a few feet away and decided not to use the house phone?” said Gary.

“Yes.”

“There is no such call on your mobile either, Mrs Riddle. Your first call was to your daughter.”

“I wanted to tell her that I would be visiting again soon.”

“So your first thought was not to get help for Dr Marble,” said Cleo. “It was more important to tell your family that you would be visiting them, was it?”

“It beggars belief,” said Dorothy.

“I wonder if your daughter was at home, Mrs Riddle,” said Cleo.

“I was,” said Silvie.

“Mrs Riddle, this is not good enough,” said Gary. “You were seen behind the solicitor’s desk at the same time as Mr Marble was seen lying on the floor.”

“I thought maybe someone else would take the money if I didn’t,” Mrs Riddle now said.

“So you admit taking it,” said Gary.

Sylvie looked horrified when Mrs Riddle just nodded. Dorothy wondered if Sylvie had told her not to admit anything.

“Do you also admit bashing Dr Marble over the head, Mrs Riddle?” Gary asked.

Dorothy and Cleo watched appreciatively as Gary proceeded with his questioning. He can be quite imposing, thought Cleo.

“You can’t ask her that,” said Sylvie.

“Why not, Miss Marble?”

“Because it was me. I hit him,” said Sylvie.

“Did you now,” said Gary. “Would you care to tell me why?”

“Because he had disowned me for nearly all my life.”

“Oh,” said Gary. “Is that a reason to kill someone? He paid for your upbringing and education, Miss Marble.”

“But I was never in his heart,” said Sylvie.

“Why did you deny being at the villa earlier?”

“He was horrible to my mother. I wanted to ask him why.”

“So you knew then that Mrs Riddle is your mother and not your aunt,” said Cleo.

“I have known that for a long time,” said Sylvie.

“How did you find out, Miss Marble?” said Gary.

“I told Miss Hartley that I asked my father,” said Sylvie.

“Why didn’t you kill him then?” Gary asked.

“He said he would continue to look after us, but did not want to let anyone find out about our family constellation,” she explained. “You see, my mother still loved my father and he treated her like a servant.”

“That made you very angry and vengeful, didn’t it?” said Gary, who was now sure that mother and daughter had been working together. He thought a bit of taunting would be appropriate.

“Did you know that he had more than one illegitimate daughter, Miss Marble?”

“No.”

“It will be a comfort to know that the other daughter was treated in the same way as you. She is also a witness to what happened that day at the villa.”

“She could not have seen anything because there was nothing to see,” said Sylvie.

“You have changed your story,” said Cleo. “That’s not what you said earlier.”

“The first time you left, your father he was still alive, wasn’t he?” said Gary.

“Did you vow to kill him next time, Miss Marble?” Cleo asked.

“I vowed to kill him one day,” interrupted Mrs Riddle.

“And you kept your vow that day last week, didn’t you, Mrs Riddle?” said Gary.

“I tell you, I killed him,” said Sylvie.

“So you killed the man who was your father and whom your mother still loved, did you?” Dorothy said.

There was stalemate in the situation.

***

“It doesn’t matter who did it,” said Gary after a short pause. “One of you killed Dr Marble and the other is an accomplice. You will both be convicted of murder.”

“Harry did it,” said Mrs Riddle.

“That’s a brand new story, Mrs Riddle,” said Gary.

“You don’t know Harry,” said Cleo. “You told us you had never met him as an adult.”

“Did I? I don’t remember.”

“You have a very selective memory, Mrs Riddle,” said Gary.

“You recognized Harry when he came in through the front door that day, Mrs Riddle,” said Cleo. “But you told us he was the postman delivering a parcel. What was in that parcel?”

“I don’t remember.”

“There is nothing to remember, Mrs Riddle, because there was no parcel. Am I right?” Cleo asked. “Why invent a parcel if there was none?”

“I…I…”

“Harry came in through the open front door, didn’t he?” said Gary, “but you didn’t see him come the second time and you had only seen him from the back the first time he had tried to leave unseen.”

“Stop bullying my mother,” screamed Sylvie, and Gary thought she was a lot less charming than she looked.

“It’s odd that the front door was open, Miss Marble,” said Cleo. “But I know why now. It was open because you had run off through it and neglected to close it properly.”

 “Why were you running away?” Gary asked. “Was it because you had killed your father, or because you had seen your mother kill your father?”

Sylvie did not answer.

“I’ll recount the rest of the drama now,” Gary said to Nigel, Cleo and Dorothy. ”Sylvie escaped unseen via the front door, possibly because she had killed Dr Marble. She may have even told her mother what she had done. So what does Sara Riddle do? Instead of ringing for an ambulance she potters in the kitchen. She does not see Harry enter the house through the open front door. He goes straight into the office through the door next to the front door and finds his uncle dead. He goes to the desk, but the drawer containing the household cash is empty.”

Gary turned to Mrs Riddle and started to address her personally.

“Harry was shocked and scared, wasn’t he? He tried to leave the villa through the front door and you saw him. Unfortunately he had also seen you, Mrs Riddle. He followed you into the kitchen to ask you if you knew what had happened to his uncle. It’s on the cards that you, Mrs Riddle, said you would swear that he, Harry, had killed him, so you knew that Dr Marble was dying or dead, didn’t you?”

The women did not react.

 “That explains why Harry knocked you out, Mrs Riddle. He then had the bright idea of faking your suicide, but fortunately for you he did not get it right,” said Gary.

“Sylvie had left the house just after Dr Marble met his fate.” said Cleo. “How cold-blooded you are, Mrs Riddle. Harry would have been convicted on your evidence and you would not only be free, but also the owner or part owner of this lovely villa.”

“I’m entitled to it,” said Mrs Riddle.

“There’s Jessie Coppins to consider as far as this villa is concerned,” said Cleo. “She’s your half-sister, Miss Marble.”

“Then she had a good motive to kill my father,” said Sylvie.

“I don’t think so,” said Gary. “Miss Coppins is now looking forward to being rich one day, but she had no murderous thoughts of revenge and did not hate Dr Marble. I’m not even sure that she knew he was her father. If anyone is to blame for Miss Coppins’ misery, it’s her mother, but I’m starting to think your fate is similar, Miss Thomson.”

“Don’t blame my daughter,” said Mrs Riddle. “I hated Henry Marble and I killed him, and that’s the truth.”

“At last,” said Gary. “I’m glad you thought better of letting your daughter take the rap on her own.”

***

After the two women had been led away, Cleo could not help remarking that it had been an impressive show.

Gary was pleased with the way it had gone.

“It’s all over bar the nitty-gritty,” he informed the two sleuths. “Nigel, did you get everything?”

“Yes.”

See to the documentation, there’s a good boy. If you have problems, consult the recording.”

“Will do, Dad.”

"I'm not..... Oh hell, just get on with it."

Gary did not appreciate being laughed at. To cover his embarrassment he said “I think this calls for a toast,” and opened a cupboard that contained not only various office utensils, but also bottles of wine he had won or been given at HQ functions, freebies not drunk with one of his many pasta-to-go meals, and a modest few in case he was invited out somewhere.

“Someone gave me this bottle of sherry,” he said. “Will that be OK?”

“Amontillado; exactly right,” said Dorothy. “But I didn’t know the general public was allowed to give the police perks.”

“Only if they are not valuable, Dorothy.”

“Value is relative,” said Dorothy.

“So is entertaining guests, Dorothy. And that’s what this is, so it really does not matter where the plonk comes from.”

“Water for me, please,” said Cleo. “You’re in high spirits, Gary.”

“Case solved, Cleo.”

“Unless Mrs Riddle retracts her confession,” said Dorothy.

“If she does that, we’ll charge her daughter,” said Gary. “One of them did it and it really doesn’t matter who.”

“But can you prove it either way, Gary?” said Cleo.

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, Ladies. Cheers!”

***

“Can we cross the other bridge first, folks?”

“Which one?”

“The one that gets us to the other side of the River Grump. Gary.”

“You’re talking in riddles, to coin a phrase,” said Gary.

“I’m in labour, sweetheart.”

“What?”

“Don’t panic, but I should get a move on.”

“Do you need help?” Dorothy asked, looking very concerned. “We should notify Robert.”

“No thanks, I certainly don’t need him and he does not want the baby, for that matter.

“I want to be with you,” said Gary.

“You know that’s not possible,” said Cleo.

“I’ll call an ambulance,” he said. “You can’t drive in that condition.”

***

The paramedics insisted on a wheelchair. Cleo was in high spirits. Her labour pains did not seem to be bothering her.

Gary followed the ambulance and turned up as Cleo was about to be wheeled to the delivery room.

“Are you the father?” the attendant midwife asked.

“Yes,” said Gary, “but I don’t think I can go through with it.”

“You’ll have to now you’re here,” said Dorothy.

“It’s a horror trip,” he said as he was being dressed in a sterile overall, plastic mules and latex gloves. Dorothy was dressed the same.

“I won’t look,” he said.

“Yes you will,” said Dorothy. “I’m going to.”

Less than an hour later PeggySue had taken her first breath.

“I can see you’re the father,” the midwife said. “All that pent-up emotion. Congratulations.”

PeggySue was placed under a warm red lamp for her first check-up. Dorothy and Gary stood in wonderment.

“She is like you, Gary,” said Dorothy. “How are you going to talk yourself out of that?”

“I won’t even try,” said Gary. ”I’ll just see how Cleo’s getting on.”

“She’s tiny and beautiful,” said Gary. “And she’s definitely mine.”

“Not legally, Sweetheart,” said Cleo as her baby was placed gently on her breast. “Can you ask Dorothy to phone Robert and give him the news?”

“I suppose I’ll have to.”

“But not just yet,” said Cleo. “I don’t need him here.”

“Neither do I,” said Gary.

“I’ll get the bus home,” said Dorothy. “It’s symbolic that you were by Cleo’s side, Gary, but you’ll have to keep a low profile for a while.”

“I know that,” said Gary miserably.

“But not forever, did you hear, Cleo? Not forever and break this lovely man’s heart.”

With those words Dorothy left. She thought she might throw Robert out of Cleo’s cottage herself, but of course she couldn’t. You had to go with the flow in this life, she mused. And if you caught a few criminals on the way, that really was the icing on the cake.