official stuff has been useless. Itâs a year old. Itâs just a string of uncorrected details. For what itâs worth youâve got it in these precious files. It doesnât give you a picture of a Flossie Rubrick who was murder-worthy.â
âYou know,â said Alleyn cheerfully, âthatâs only another way of saying there was no apparent motive.â
âAll right. Iâm being too elaborate. Put it this way. If factual evidence doesnât produce a motive, isnât it at least possible that something might come out of our collective idea of Flossie?â
âIf it could be discovered.â
âWell, but couldnât it?â Fabian was now earnest and persuasive. Alleyn began to wonder if he had been very profoundly disturbed by his experience and was indeed a little unhinged. âIf we could get them all together and start them talking, couldnât you, an expert, coming fresh to the situation, get something? By the colour of our voices, by our very evasions? Arenât those signs that a man with your training would be able to read? Arenât they?â
âThey are signs,â Alleyn replied, trying not to sound too patient, âthat a man with my training learns to treat with extreme reserve. They are not evidence.â
âNo, but taken in conjunction with the evidence, such as it is?â
âThey canât be disregarded, certainly.â
Fabian said fretfully, âBut I want you to get a picture of Flossie in the round. I donât want you to have only my idea of her which, truth to tell, is of a maddeningly arrogant piece of efficiency, but Ursulaâs idea of a wonderwoman, Douglasâs idea of a manageable and not unprofitable aunt, Terenceâs idea of an exacting employerâall these. But I didnât mean to give you an inkling. I wanted you to hear for yourself, to start cold.â
âYou say you havenât spoken of her for six months. How am I to break the spell?â
âIsnât it part of your job,â Fabian asked impatiently, âto be a corkscrew?â
âLord help us,â said Alleyn good-humouredly, âI suppose it is.â
âWell, then!â cried Fabian triumphantly. âHereâs a fair field with me to back you up. And, you know, I donât believe itâs going to be so difficult. I believe they must be in much the same case as I am. It took a Herculean effort to write that letter. If I could have grabbed it back, I would have done so. I canât tell you how much I funked the idea of starting this conversation but, you see, now I have started thereâs no holding me.â
âHave you warned them about this visitation?â
âI talked grandly about âan expert from a special branch.â I said you were a high-up whoâd been lent to this country. They know your visit is official and that the police and hush-hush birds have a hand in it. Honestly, I donât think that alarms them much. At first, I suppose, each of us was afraid; personally afraid, I mean, afraid that we should be suspected. But I donât think we four ever suspected each other. In that one thing we are agreed. And would you believe it, as the weeks went on and the police interrogation persisted, we got just plain bored. Bored to exhaustion. Bored to the last nerve. Then it stopped, and instead of Flossieâs death fading a bit, it grew into a bogey that none of us talked about. We could see each other thinking of it and a nightmarish sort of watching game set in. In a funny kind of way I think they were relieved when I told them what Iâd done. They know, of course, that your visit has something to do with our X Adjustment, as Douglas pompously calls it.â
âSo they also know about your X Adjustment?â
âOnly very vaguely, except Douglas. Just that itâs rather special. That couldnât be helped.â
Alleyn stared out at a clear and