Suddenly fearful of incurring Miss Peake's wrath for having marked the table, she snatched the plate up again, rubbed unsuccessfully at the mark it had made, and compromised by covering it with a nearby vase of flowers. She transferred the plate of sandwiches to the stool, then carefully shook the cushions on the sofa. Singing quietly to herself, she picked up Pippa's book and took it across to replace it on the bookshelves. "Can a body meet a body, coming through the – " She suddenly stopped singing and uttered a scream as she stumbled and nearly fell over Oliver Costello's body.
Bending over the body, Clarissa recognised who it was. "Oliver!" she gasped. She stared at him in horror for what seemed an age. Then, convinced that he was dead, she straightened up quickly and ran towards the door to call Henry, but immediately realised that he had gone. She turned back to the body, and then ran to the telephone and lifted the receiver. She began to dial, but then stopped and replaced the receiver again. She stood thinking for a moment, and looked at the panel in the wall. Making up her mind quickly, she glanced at the panel again, and then reluctantly bent down and began to drag the body across to it.
While she was engaged in doing this, the panel slowly opened and Pippa emerged from the recess, wearing a dressing-gown over her pyjamas. "Clarissa!" she wailed, rushing to her stepmother.
Trying to stand between her and the body of Costello, Clarissa gave Pippa a little shove, in an attempt to turn her away. "Pippa," she advised, "don't look, darling. Don't look."
In a strangled voice, Pippa cried, "I didn't mean to. Oh, really, I didn't mean to do it."
Horrified, Clarissa seized the child by her arms. "Pippa! Was it – you?" she gasped.
"He's dead, isn't he? He's quite dead?" Pippa asked.
Sobbing hysterically, she cried, "I didn't – mean to kill him. I didn't mean to."
"Quiet now, quiet," Clarissa murmured soothingly. "It's all right. Come on, sit down." She led Pippa to the armchair and sat her in it.
"I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to kill him," Pippa went on crying.
Clarissa knelt beside her. "Of course you didn't mean to," she agreed. "Now listen, Pippa..."
When Pippa continued to cry even more hysterically, Clarissa shouted at her. "Pippa, listen to me. Everything's going to be all right. You've got to forget about this. Forget all about it, do you hear?"
"Yes," Pippa sobbed, "but – but I – "
"Pippa," Clarissa continued more forcefully, "you must trust me and believe what I'm telling you. Everything is going to be all right. But you've got to be brave and do exactly what I tell you."
Still sobbing hysterically, Pippa tried to turn away from her.
"Pippa!" Clarissa shouted. "Will you do as I tell you?" She pulled the child around to face her. "Will you?"
"Yes, yes, I will," Pippa cried, putting her head on Clarissa's bosom.
"That's right." Clarissa adopted a consoling tone as she helped Pippa out of the chair. "Now, I want you to go upstairs and get into bed."
"You come with me, please," the child pleaded.
"Yes, yes," Clarissa assured her, "I'll come up very soon, as soon as I can, and I'll give you a nice little white tablet. Then you'll go to sleep, and in the morning everything will seem quite different." She looked down at the body and added, "There may be nothing to worry about."
"But he is dead – isn't he?" Pippa asked.
"No, no, he may not be dead," Clarissa replied evasively. "I'll see. Now go on, Pippa. Do as I tell you."
Pippa, still sobbing, left the room and ran upstairs. Clarissa watched her go and then turned back to the body on the floor. "Supposing I were to find a dead body in the drawing-room, what should I do?" she murmured to herself. After standing for a moment in thought, she exclaimed more forcefully, "Oh, my God, what am I going to do?"
CHAPTER EIGHT
FIFTEEN MINUTES later, Clarissa was still in the drawing-room and murmuring to herself. But she had been busy in the meantime. All the lights were now on in the room, the panel in the wall was closed, and the curtains had been drawn across the open French windows. Oliver Costello's body was still behind the sofa, but Clarissa had been moving the furniture about, and had set up a folding bridge table in the centre of the room, with cards and markers for bridge, and four upright chairs around the table.
Standing at the table, Clarissa scribbled figures on one of the markers. "Three spades, four hearts, four no trumps, pass," she muttered, pointing at each hand as she made its call. "Five diamonds, pass, six spades – double – and I think they go down." She paused for a moment, looking down at the table, and then continued, "Let me see, doubled vulnerable, two tricks, five hundred – or shall I let them make it? No."
She was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Sir Rowland, Hugo and young Jeremy, who entered through the French windows. Hugo paused a moment before coming into the room, to close one of the windows.
Putting her pad and pencil on the bridge table, Clarissa rushed to meet them. "Thank God you've come," she told Sir Rowland, sounding extremely distraught.
"What is all this, my dear?" Sir Rowland asked her with concern in his voice.
Clarissa turned to address them all. "Darlings," she cried, "you've got to help me."
Jeremy noticed the table with the playing cards spread out on it. "Looks like a bridge party," he observed gaily.
"You're being very melodramatic, Clarissa," Hugo contributed. "What are you up to, young woman?"
Clarissa clutched Sir Rowland. "It's serious," she insisted. "Terribly serious. You will help me, won't you?"
"Of course we'll help you, Clarissa," Sir Rowland assured her, "but what's it all about?"
"Yes, come on, what is it this time?" Hugo asked somewhat wearily.
Jeremy, too, sounded unimpressed. "You're up to something, Clarissa," he insisted. "What is it? Found a body or something?"
"That's just it," Clarissa told him. "I have – found a body."
"What do you mean – found a body?" Hugo asked. He sounded puzzled, but not all that interested.
"It's just as Jeremy said," Clarissa answered him. "I came in here, and I found a body."
Hugo gave a cursory glance around the room. "I don't know what you're talking about," he complained. "What body? Where?"
"I'm not playing games. I'm serious," Clarissa shouted angrily. "It's there. Go and look. Behind the sofa." She pushed Sir Rowland towards the sofa, and moved away.
Hugo went quickly to the sofa. Jeremy followed him and leaned over the back of it. "My God, she's right," Jeremy murmured.
Sir Rowland joined them. He and Hugo bent down to examine the body. "Why, it's Oliver Costello," Sir Rowland exclaimed.
"God Almighty!" Jeremy exclaimed. He went quickly to the French windows and closed the curtains again.
"Yes," said Clarissa. "It's Oliver Costello."
"What was he doing here?" Sir Rowland asked her.
"He came this evening to talk about Pippa," Clarissa replied. "It was just after you'd gone to the club."
Sir Rowland looked puzzled. "What did he want with Pippa?"
"He and Miranda were threatening to take her away," Clarissa told him. "But all that doesn't matter now. I'll tell you about it later. We have to hurry. We've got very little time."
Sir Rowland held up a hand in warning. "Just a moment," he instructed, coming closer to Clarissa. "We must have the facts clear. What happened when he arrived?"
Clarissa shook her head impatiently. "I told him that he and Miranda were not going to get Pippa, and he went away."
"But he came back?"
"Obviously," said Clarissa.
"How?" Sir Rowland asked her. "When?"
"I don't know," Clarissa answered. "I just came into the room, as I said, and I found him – like that." She gestured towards the sofa.
"I see," said Sir Rowland, moving back to the body on the floor and leaning over it. "I see. Well, he's dead, all right. He's been hit over the head with something heavy and sharp." He looked around at the others. "I'm afraid this isn't going to be a very pleasant business," he continued, "but there's only one thing to be done." He went across to the telephone as he spoke. "We must ring up the police and – "
"No," Clarissa exclaimed sharply.
Sir Rowland was already lifting the receiver. "You ought to have done it at once, Clarissa," he advised her. "Still, I don't suppose they'll blame you much for that."
"No, Roly, stop," Clarissa insisted. She ran across the room, took the receiver from him, and replaced it on its rest.
"My dear child – " Sir Rowland expostulated, but Clarissa would not let him continue.
"I could have rung up the police myself if I'd wanted to," she admitted. "I knew perfectly well that it was the proper thing to do. I even started dialling. Then, instead, I rang you up at the club and asked you to come back here immediately, all three of you." She turned to Jeremy and Hugo. "You haven't even asked me why yet."
"You can leave it all to us," Sir Rowland assured her. "We will – "
Clarissa interrupted him vehemently. "You haven't begun to understand," she insisted. "I want you to help me. You said you would if I was ever in trouble." She turned to include the other two men. "Darlings, you've got to help me."
Jeremy moved to position himself so that he hid the body from her sight. "What do you want us to do, Clarissa?" he asked gently.
"Get rid of the body," was her abrupt reply.
"My dear, don't talk nonsense," Sir Rowland ordered her. "This is murder."
"That's the whole point," Clarissa told him. "The body mustn't be found in this house."
Hugo gave a snort of impatience. "You don't know what you're talking about, my dear girl," he exclaimed. "You've been reading too many murder mysteries. In real life you can't go monkeying about, moving dead bodies."
"But I've already moved it," Clarissa explained. "I turned it over to see if he was dead, and then I started dragging it into that recess, and then I realized I was going to need help, and so I rang you up at the club, and while I was waiting for you I made a plan."
"Including the bridge table, I assume," Jeremy observed, gesturing towards the table.
Clarissa picked up the bridge marker. "Yes," she replied. "That's going to be our alibi."
"What on earth – " Hugo began, but Clarissa gave him no chance to continue. "Two and a half rubbers," she announced. "I've imagined all the hands, and put down the scores on this marker. You three must fill up the others in your own handwriting, of course."
Sir Rowland stared at her in amazement. "You're mad, Clarissa. Quite mad," he declared.
Clarissa paid no attention to him. "I've worked it out beautifully," she went on. "The body has to be taken away from here." She looked at Jeremy. "It will take two of you to do that," she instructed him. "A dead body is very difficult to manage – I've found that out already."
"Where the hell do you expect us to take it to?" Hugo asked in exasperation.
Clarissa had already given this some thought. "The best place, I think, would be Marsden Wood," she advised. "That's only two miles from here." She indicated the direction with her left hand. "You turn off into that side road, just a few yards after you've passed the front gate. It's a narrow road, and there's hardly ever any traffic on it." She turned to Sir Rowland. "Just leave the car by the side of the road when you get into the wood," she instructed him. "Then you walk back here."
Jeremy looked perplexed. "Do you mean you want us to dump the body in the wood?" he asked.
"No, you leave it in the car," Clarissa explained. "It's his car, don't you see? He left it here, round by the stables."
All three men now wore puzzled expressions. "It's really all quite easy," Clarissa assured them. "If anybody does happen to see you walking back, it's quite a dark night and they won't know who you are. And you've got an alibi. All four of us have been playing bridge here." She replaced the marker on the bridge table, looking almost pleased with herself, while the men, stupefied, stared at her.
Hugo walked about in a complete circle. "I – I – " he spluttered, waving his hands in the air.
Clarissa went on issuing her instructions. "You wear gloves, of course," she told them, "so as not to leave fingerprints on anything. I've got them here all ready for you." Pushing past Jeremy to the sofa, she took three pairs of gloves from under one of the cushions, and laid them out on an arm of the sofa.
Sir Rowland continued to stare at Clarissa. "Your natural talent for crime leaves me speechless," he informed her.
Jeremy gazed at her admiringly. "She's got it all worked out, hasn't she?" he declared.
"Yes," Hugo admitted, "but it's all damned foolish nonsense just the same."
"Now, you must hurry," Clarissa ordered them vehemently. "At nine o'clock Henry and Mr. Jones will be here."
"Mr. Jones? Who on earth is Mr. Jones?" Sir Rowland asked her.
Clarissa put a hand to her head. "Oh dear," she exclaimed, "I never realized what a terrible lot of explaining one has to do in a murder. I thought I'd simply ask you to help me and you would, and that is all there'd be to it." She looked around at all three of them. "Oh, darlings, you must." She stroked Hugo's hair. "Darling, darling Hugo – "
