The Three Locks by Bonnie MacBird (learn to read books txt) 📕

enact the second part of her plans. Vitale had followed her from her hideaway at the Cross and Anchor to the rectory. There is evidence that he remained awhile under the window. Once Buttons had left, Vitale came to the room, lingered at the door and asked again for his ring back. Seeing her unclothed, he stayed at the door, whereupon Miss Wyndham threw a bottle of ink at him. The cap cracked as it hit the doorjamb, splattering there, and a small drop landed on his neck. Vitale left, went to Eden-Summers’ rooms at Trinity College, where the two young men fought, both receiving damage to their hands and persons. Failing to convince his rival to join him in confronting Miss Wyndham, Vitale gave up, and returned to his dormitory to sleep.’

‘What evidence do you have for this?’ cried the priest. He turned to Hadley. ‘Inspector Hadley, why have you turned over your investigation to this amateur? Leo Vitale confessed to me!’

Holmes continued, unperturbed. ‘Meanwhile Miss Wyndham cleared up the ink the best she could and awaited the deacon’s return. My theory is that she got into bed so as to appear to provide a warm welcome. One can only presume she planned to offer herself to him. Hence the ink stain on the inside of the bed.’ Holmes took a sip of water.

‘Notice that I said “appear”, he continued. Because when Deacon Buttons returned, she told him that the money he received was not enough and she sent him next to retrieve a third ring, which she said was still back at the Cross and Anchor. It is my belief that she then got up, began to pack up her belongings, and was preparing to abscond with the pawnshop funds. Her plan all along.’

‘You are conjuring.’ said Lamb derisively. ‘You will have better luck on stage as a novelty act!’

‘I may consider it if work dries up,’ said Holmes with a smile. ‘In any case, Buttons returned to find that Miss Wyndham, the money and all her belongings were gone. He was staggered at this discovery. But he would have been even more so had he understood what had just transpired in that room. Because … while Deacon Buttons was at the Cross and Anchor, the killer came in and attacked Miss Wyndham. They fought, and she received a fatal blow to the head, from the water jug most likely. The killer then quickly tried to erase all signs of the fight, even proceeding to dump Dillie’s body in the convenient lock, pulling the lever so that the body would wash downstream, and then took her belongings somewhere we have yet to discover.’

‘So … Vitale returned,’ said Lamb.

‘No, it was another.’

‘You said Miss Wyndham was killed for love,’ exclaimed Hadley. ‘I don’t understand which of the three young men, then, was her killer?’

‘None of them. I have eliminated all three.’

Father Lamb looked at him in disdain. He turned to Inspector Hadley. ‘Perhaps the great detective from London is a trifle overrated. Vitale has confessed! Dillie Wyndham’s treachery destroyed him. Regret is the reason for his suicide. Let me collect Deacon Buttons, and we will be out of your hair.’

‘I am not quite finished, Mr Lamb,’ said Holmes. ‘What has been missing in this investigation is a fourth suspect. There was a fourth person with a motive to kill Miss Wyndham. Perhaps a less obvious motive than the three men who loved her.’

‘Atalanta Wyndham!’ I exclaimed. Of course. ‘She shot me. She was in love with Freddie Eden-Summers!’

The room sat silent. Everyone turned to look at me. Was it possible that for once, just for one time only, I was ahead of my friend in the matter? Perhaps I should not have blurted this out, but rather let him take the lead.

I faltered.

‘I believe, Watson, that Atalanta Wyndham was incarcerated in an asylum at the time of her sister’s murder,’ said Holmes quietly.

Hadley cleared his throat. ‘Er, no. She escaped almost immediately and returned home.’

Holmes stood still for a good five seconds. Once again, the tumblers were turning.

‘Father Lamb, had Atalanta Wyndham approached Mr Buttons for counselling?’ he asked.

‘She had. But he discerned that she was merely spying on her sister. He was kind but gave her no information.’

Holmes laughed suddenly, with that strange enthusiasm which made him so odd at times like this. ‘Yes! Of course! Thank you, Mr Hadley,’ he shouted. ‘Of course! Atalanta’s escape clears up one final mystery. What a puzzle. What a glorious puzzle! Ha ha!’

Electrified by whatever this news meant to him, he strode to the door and knocked on it four times for emphasis as he said, ‘One. Two. Three. Four. Atalanta! Peregrine! Leo! Freddie! So many tangled in this web. All with reasons to hate Miss Wyndham! And yet, … still, I say, she was killed for love.’

His eyes shone and he looked, quite frankly, mad. I had noted these oddly theatrical performances on several occasions. He was truly pushing the boundaries with this one. ‘Holmes—’ I murmured.

‘Love! When a murder is committed for love, it is the ultimate paradox! But what a capricious if not occasionally downright cruel young woman Miss Dillie Wyndham was!’ he said.

‘Well, the woman brought disaster upon herself,’ said Father Lamb. ‘It was as though she asked to be murdered.’ He paused. ‘God rest her soul,’ he added.

Holmes made an immediate left turn. His manner abruptly turned sober; his voice became very quiet. ‘Father, no one asks to be murdered. The poor girl was sorely used. Her private life was a misery.’ He advanced on the priest and stood directly facing the seated man. ‘Dillie confessed all of this to Peregrine Buttons. He offered her friendship. Kindness. Understanding. Her life at home was nothing short of a nightmare.’

‘Oh, come now, Mr Holmes,’ interrupted Inspector Hadley. ‘Professor Wyndham is a respected man. He is known to be just … rather strict.’

‘It is worse than that, Mr Hadley,’ said Holmes. ‘Wyndham is a cruel abuser, keeping the three