Death at the Alma Mater (14 page)

Sebastian had the grace to look abashed. “Of course. Sorry. That came out the wrong way.”

Once the door closed behind him, Fear asked, “Why all the questions about James?”

“I’m just trying to get a feel for the dynamics of the family formed when James threw over Lexy for India. There’s usually some sort of feeling, you know. Lots and lots of emotion to go ’round, especially among the offspring who are affected by the new arrangements. And yet Sebastian seems to be handling it all with some maturity—or indifference. Assuming he’s telling the truth.”

“Do you like him for this murder?”

St. Just shrugged.

“It’s difficult to say. With that athlete’s build, he’s more than physically capable. And he is still at an age to waver on the fence between maturity and immaturity. A sudden passion, a flare of hatred, and he might strike out, maybe without the intent to kill … maybe with just the intent to quieten her … maybe she was taunting him somehow … Yes, I can see any and all of that happening with someone like Sebastian. The why is the puzzle.”

“Isn’t it always.”

“He doesn’t have an alibi, did you notice?” asked St. Just.

“I did, Sir. He’s vouching for himself, him with his fitness routine and his sculling schedule. Lights up or down or whatever it is. There was nothing to prevent him coming back early, at any time, really, and killing her. Certainly, as you say, he has the hands for it.”

“Let’s have his stepfather in here next.”

GOLDEN LADS AND GIRLS: PART II

Sir James was a
man dark haired and dark eyed, a complete contrast to his stepson’s fairness. He wore glasses with thick, black frames that might have been selected from a manufacturer’s “Serious Writer” catalog. He looked shaken, but composed. St. Just had a feeling Sir James would look composed if the college suddenly came under mortar attack. He had the air of a man not only raised up to deal with that sort of thing, but one who might live for the chance to display a little derring-do. A chance to throw on some armor, save England, and rescue his lady fair.

St. Just put these fanciful chivalric ideas aside, invited Sir James to take the chair just vacated by Sebastian, and said, “We’ve just spoken with your stepson.”

“I know. Poor kid. I saw him just now, looking completely gored. This must be a nightmare for him.”

“I think you’ll find youth is a great restorative in and of itself. He’s shaken and trying to hide it, but by tomorrow it may all be a fading memory.”

“I’ll have a word with my wife. Perhaps we should get him away from here.”

“Not anytime very soon, Sir. We’ll need everyone to stay around until we’re satisfied they have no more to tell us about these tragic events.”

“Oh, I see. Yes, quite. Of course. Anything … anything at all … ”

“I’ve heard from other sources a bit about the … somewhat unusual arrangements of this weekend. The fact that Lexy Laurant was your ex-wife. I’d like to hear the circumstances from you.”

“I thought you might. But it was years ago, you know, and I can absolutely assure you it could have nothing to do with this … this appalling tragedy.”

“You and Lexy were married how long?”

“Three years. We met at the college. Married in haste, as they say.”

“I see. And you and your present wife have been together how long?”

“It will soon be seventeen years.”

“You also met her while you were here at St. Mike’s?”

“Yes. I was here as a visiting scholar. I was here for some time working on a book, you see.”

“That all seems clear. Now, as to this weekend get-together: Was this in any way pre-arranged?”

“Did I know Lexy would be here, do you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Not until it was too late to prevent her coming. Not that I could have prevented it,” he added quickly. “Lexy could be rather headstrong.” Seeming to fear that last sentence might be misconstrued, he rushed on, “But only in some ways. Basically, she had a gentle nature.” He shook his head reminiscently. “That’s what makes this all the more inexplicable to me, that she should … should die like this.”

“In what ways was she not headstrong, Sir?”

James just looked at him. This was indeed a poser.

“Never mind, Sir. So you didn’t know she would be here, until, presumably, you received the list of attendees from the college.” He held out the copy of the list in his own hands.

“That is correct. Well, to be precise, I didn’t know until I saw her here. She was quite capable of changing her mind.”

“Still, since the invitation went out to all the old members connected with a certain time frame, you knew she would receive an invitation, along with your wife?”

“If I’d thought about it, yes.”

“And did you, Sir? Think about it?”

“Fleetingly, perhaps. I must tell you, Lexy was always heard to say, and loudly, that she detested this place, so my thinking about it would consist of cataloguing all the reasons she would almost certainly not be here.”

“But, as it turns out, you were wrong.”

He smiled bleakly; the skin under his eyes was smudged with dark shadows. “Yes.”

“And your wife’s reaction to finding out that Lexy was going to be here?”

“She wasn’t exactly pleased, of course. What woman would be? But India is a sensible soul. She soon decided she would simply rise to the occasion. Meaning, ignore it. She could afford to.”

“No jealousy, then?”

“Good lord, no. India—Lady Bassett—is too level-headed for that, I tell you. Plus, she has no reason whatsoever to doubt me, no reason for jealousy—over Lexy or anyone else, for that matter.”

St. Just allowed a long pause. When James did not elaborate further on his complete devotion to his present wife, St. Just went on:

“You had no residual feeling for Lexy, then.”

The man heaved an enormous sigh, as if he’d been expecting—and dreading?—this very question.

“I was fond of her, of course. I suppose one always retains a vestige of fondness for someone who reminds one of one’s youth. We were young together, and happy, and in love—for a time. One can’t pretend those years never existed. But I had ‘moved on,’ as the parlance goes. I’m afraid I thought seldom of Lexy these days, if at all. Awful thing to say now, I know, but it is the truth.”

“Now, this evening, when you heard of her death, what did you do?”

“I simply could not believe it. I thought Seb must be mistaken.”

“But you went to investigate.”

“It was rather a reflex action. But really, the situation couldn’t be ignored while we stood about sipping our port, could it? Although I did gather others were inclined to do just that. Some things about Cambridge never change, you know. Anyway, just to calm Seb I went to have a look. I thought it likely he’d stumbled across a tramp sleeping it off … it was bloody dark out, you know. The moon was hidden behind clouds, and the Bursar has never been one to ‘waste’ money on electricity.” He broke off. “This is just ghastly. There was … a certain amount of talk when I left Lexy for India, you know. It wasn’t universally received as joyous news … a lot of jealous old cats here, rather. This will just rake up all the old scandal. The media will have a field day. I can just see the headlines now: ‘Killing at Cambridge College.’”

Sergeant Fear looked up. “‘Murder at St. Michael’s,’” he offered. This earned him a cautioning look from St. Just, tempted as he himself was to enter into the headline game. He and Sergeant Fear often had private bets on how far into bad taste the press might wander over a particular case. More often than not, the pair of them could not begin to anticipate the worst efforts put forth by the members of the media.

“Good God,” said James. “I don’t suppose you can prevent that in any way?”

“It’s doubtful, Sir. It’s their job.”

“Just imagine, doing that to earn a living.”

“Now, Sir, your divorce from Lexy. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask.”

“It’s not germane, I tell you. Ancient history.” Off St. Just’s look, he subsided. “Oh, very well. What?”

“It was an amicable parting, was it?”

Sir James observed the ceiling, as if the answer might be written there. “I’ll be truthful. It was not amicable. I never believe people who say their divorce was, do you? By its definition, divorce means something has gone horribly wrong in a marriage and both sides can barely stand to be in the same room together. In our case … well, I suppose I behaved like a cad. I did behave like a cad—all right, I’ll admit it. But I met India and that was it. It was really the most astonishing, life-changing thing. I was mesmerized. Bewitched by her, I suppose some would say. If I could have helped myself, stopped myself, believe me I would have done so. But I don’t think it ever occurred to me that that was an option.”

“Do you still feel that way, Sir? No regrets?”

“Utterly and completely. I couldn’t bear to be parted from India for a day. So, no—no regrets whatsoever, except that I know it all hurt Lexy. But I simply can’t imagine my life without India.”

India’s motive was looking weaker by the minute, if Sir James was telling the truth. St. Just could sympathize with any man who felt bewitched, since James had well described his own reaction on meeting Portia, not too long ago. Good to know that kind of coup de foudre
could lead to lasting love.

“I did wonder,” James was saying, “when she turned up with that Argentine fellow.”

“Geraldo Valentiano. Yes?”

“I just mean to say, I can’t really see him wanting to harm Lexy, can you? I gathered the impression they didn’t know each other that well, or for that long. You had to know Lexy to—”

“To what, Sir? Hate her?”

Back-pedaling madly, Sir James said, “She was highly strung, Inspector. Anyone can tell you that. Even so, it is impossible to imagine her doing anything that could provoke him to that extent. A lover’s quarrel? Well, the hot-tempered Latino is rather a cliché, is it not? And quite undeserved, in my experience. Anyway, in this case, he doesn’t strike me as showing much interest outside himself.”

St. Just thought that a fair and accurate assessment of the Argentine’s baseline character, but was less willing to give Geraldo a free pass in the hot-tempered department.

Sergeant Fear looked up from his notebook.

“What was Lexy’s attitude towards him? Valentiano, I mean?”

James looked first to St. Just before answering:

“That’s rather a good question. I’m not sure I can say. She seemed—my impression only, you understand—but she seemed to regard him as decorative more than anything else. Of course, that may be a bit of prejudice on my part: He was a damnably good-looking man. Always did get my back up, that type.”

Amen to that, thought St. Just. Aloud he said, “You think she was using him to make you jealous?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that … I don’t really know. It does rather sound like something she’d do, I suppose …” His voice trailed off. His gaze rested on the fireplace, its hearth filled with summer flowers. Sir James seemed to be lost in the past—the past of his marriage to Lexy, presumably.

“You were seen talking with her. After dinner.”

Sir James seemed slightly taken aback at this. He blinked several times. “Was I? Yes, I rather suppose I would be.”

“What was the topic?”

Sir James said nothing.

“I’m going to have to insist that you answer, Sir. Was she hoping for reconciliation between you two?”

He shook his head ruefully. “She knew that was out of the question.”

“Hope is different from knowing, though, isn’t it? Did she have hope?”

Reluctantly, Sir James said, “She may have done. I did nothing whatsoever to encourage her thinking along those lines. Nothing. That you must believe absolutely.”

“Your meeting with her in the Fellows’ Garden—was that by pre-arrangement?”

Looking taken aback by the question, Sir James didn’t respond immediately. Finally he said, “No. I stepped out for a cigarette, and there she was. I allow myself one cigarette after each meal, you see.”

“She knew your habits, did she? So she might have hoped to run into you.”

“That is possible. Of course, I could have gone ’round to the front of the college.”

“What did you talk about?”

“She said something about how the memories were flooding back, and didn’t I feel it, too? The past revisited. ‘I feel such melancholy,’ she said. She asked me—” Here he paused, as if needing to collect himself. And when he spoke again moments later, his voice was husky and raw. “She asked me if I’d ever loved her. Now, in retrospect, that seems so incredibly sad, knowing she had such a short time to live.”

“And how did you answer, Sir?”

“I told her the truth. I told her that of course I had loved her. Thank God. If it gave her any peace to hear that, I am quite glad we had the conversation we had.”