No Mask for Murder by Andrew Garve

Author:Andrew Garve [Garve, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781447215769
Publisher: Pan Macmillan UK

Chapter Fifteen

Mrs. Sylvester was giving her opinion of Fontego’s newspapers to a group of ladies gathered under the Garlands’ mango tree. “If you ask me,” she said, although no one had, “they are paying far too much attention to this murder. What else do they expect to happen at Fiesta? They should be campaigning against the thing itself.”

Celeste was listening with an air of lively satisfaction. She had found the telephone, after all, too arid a medium for full enjoyment of the latest sensation. It would be much more fun, she had decided, to watch people’s faces during discussion of the murder. She had therefore invited for tea, besides Mrs. Sylvester, Maisie Andrews—the pretty fluffy wife of the Attorney General—Delia Smythe, a raven-haired divorceé who was at present married to a rich cocoa planter, and Susan Anstruther.

Susan said, “But Dr. Dubois was one of the hopes of the Colony. He had brains. I can understand their making a fuss—it’s really quite a tragedy.”

Delia Smythe made a sound that was like a snort. “I don’t see that it matters to us what these black men do to each other,” she said. “They’re always cutting one another up on the estate. Only last week a man called Willy something lost his temper over some trifle—I dare say the rice wasn’t cooked properly—and he chopped his wife’s hand off with a cutlass. Nobody seemed to mind. They patched things up—the relationship, I mean, not the hand—and he visited her in the hospital and held the other hand and she forgave him.”

“Yes, but this case of Eke is different,” persisted Susan. “He wasn’t the sort of man to get involved in a violent quarrel, and you can hardly class him with the labourers on your estate. It looks as though this was a civilised murder—you know what I mean—with a proper motive and everything.”

“Well, I agree with Delia,” said Mrs. Sylvester firmly. “Why should we bother? I don’t think we ought to concern ourselves with these people’s squabbles.”

“They’re human,” said Susan.

“Oh, darling, don’t exaggerate,” drawled Celeste.

Susan smiled in spite of herself. It was impossible to talk seriously when Celeste was in a flippant mood.

“Anyway,” Celeste proceeded, “it’s not the murder that’s interesting, but the people who saw it happen and didn’t say anything. Isn’t it a fascinating thought that there are two white people here among us in the Colony who actually watched a murder committed and perhaps even know who did it and yet daren’t open their mouths for fear of scandal?”

“I’m not surprised they daren’t,” said Mrs. Sylvester. “I’ve heard that the Blue Pool during Fiesta is the absolute limit. People just don’t care what they do there.”

Celeste looked interested. “Have you been talking to someone who’s been there, Marion? Do tell us what goes on.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Mrs. Sylvester. “You know what a reputation the place has got as well as I do.”

“It looked very dull to me, I must say,” remarked Susan.

Four pairs of eyes swivelled toward her. “Susan!” cried Maisie Andrews.

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