Grainger nodded. "Yes, I saw him early this afternoon. In the study, about one o'clock I think it was."
"No one saw him after early afternoon?"
No one had, or rather, no one admitted to having seen Charles Swanson.
"Then we will assume that he was killed between one o'clock and six o'clock. Did anyone hear anything that resembled a gun
shot?"
No one had.
"All right, then. I shall begin with my own whereabouts." Lyon spoke slowly, concisely.
"and after swimming, Diana and I returned to the house about five o'clock. Of course, my wife and I give each other alibis. It is unfortunate, but no one saw us after we left the village. About what time was that, Diana?"
"Three-thirty, I think."
Lucien Savarol had no witness to account for much of his time. He'd worked alone in the study, then walked to the mango grove, to think about things, he said. What things? Diana wondered, but she remained silent.
Everyone had seen someone during the day and early evening, but no one could account for every minute. Even Grainger, normally surrounded by slaves during the day, had been alone for several hours, writing letters in his house, he said.
They sat and stared at one another.
Lucien sighed deeply. "What now, Lyon?"
It disturbed Lyon that Lucien Savarol seemed so very removed, so willing to hand the responsibility to him. Was it Deborah he was thinking about?
"We will need to bury Charles Swanson. Bemis, does he have relatives? You and he were friends, after all."
"No," said Bemis, "there is no family."
"There is something I should like to know, Mr. Bemis," Diana said suddenly, her voice clear and firm. "I saw you and Charles arguing. I saw you strike Charles."
All eyes went to Bemis, who had turned perfectly white. If looks could have killed, Diana, Lyon thought, would be dead meat.
"Yes, Bemis. Can you please explain that?" Lucien said.
Bemis got himself together, but Diana saw his control was hanging by a thread.
"It waspersonal," he said finally. "It has nothing to do with his death. Nothing."
"I think you can be more specific," Deborah said abruptly, rising from her chair. "What do you mean by personal?"
Bemis shook his head. "It is none of your business. My God, he was my friend!" He jumped to his feet. "Do you understand me? He was my friend! Did you see him! His head was nearly blown off. My God!" He rushed from the drawing room, slamming the heavy door behind him.
No one said anything for many moments.
"Well," said Deborah.
"Well, indeed," agreed Lucien.
A lovers' quarrel? Lyon said nothing. Perhaps it had been Charles Swanson Patricia was meeting and Bemis found out about it. The jealous, castaway lover. But then again, how to account for Moira's death? Surely Bemis had no reason to strangle that poor girl. Or did he? Was it possible that there were two killers? Lyon sighed. They were no further to discovering any answers than when they'd begun.
Before they went their respective ways to bed, Lucien said, "I don't think any of us should ever be alone. Or if any of you have to be alone, take no chances."
Diana said to Lyon as they lay in their bed some time later, "Did you see Deborah's face?"
"Yes. She seemed extraordinarily upset, but she had a firm hold on herself. Perhaps she knew that Patricia was seeing Charles Swanson, and out of anger for her betrayal of Daniel, she killed him."