The Reichenbach Problem, Page 36

  “I did not know what really happened after that. On top of everything else, especially on top of my happiness just then, it was more than I was able to bear. You understand?”

  I understood. A lifetime of repression and frustration and corked emotions emerging at this cruel slap in the face at the very moment when she had begun, for once in her life, to hope that there might be, after all, more to her existence.

  “I screamed. I told him that he and his mathematics colleagues had destroyed my husband and his life’s work. And then he could not stop me screaming. I wanted to hit out. To smash something. He was terrified. I picked up his alpenstock. I just wanted to crash it into something, the ground, a tree, but he thought that I had gone berserk and was going to kill him. He backed away from me. He was right at the edge of the fall but so scared he did not notice. I was screaming still. But this time I was terrified because I thought he was going to topple over. Yet I was in such a frenzy, I could not control myself enough to calm down and bring him back from his peril. Instead, I swung the alpenstock around and pointed it towards him. I was afraid to go too close to the edge myself. I wanted him to take hold of the end so I could pull him back from the precipice. I was afraid he might panic if I approached him, and we would both fall to our destruction. Afraid. Afraid. Afraid.”

  She began to sob. Wracking, unbearably agonized sobs. Anna Pivcevic went to her and held her. We waited for a while, allowing her storm to blow over and the tears to subside. And then, still in Anna’s arms like a little girl who had been scared by monsters of her own making, she finished her story.

  “He thought I was attacking him. He saw the alpenstock pointed towards him. We were still yelling at each other, neither making any sense. I wanted him to grab it. That’s all. I just wanted him to grab it. Which is why I pressed it towards him. But… in his fearfulness… he took a step backwards. It was too far. He slipped, he tried to regain his balance. He fell. I screamed again.”

  We all stood or sat in silence. Sombre. Feeling the poor woman’s pain. The policeman licked the tip of his pencil and made another note.

  Eventually, I spoke. “It was an accident.”

  “I killed him.”

  “That is for the enquiry to decide,” declared the young policeman, closing his notebook. “But if it is as you say, then I think that it will be seen as an accident there, also.”

  She did not look up, but I could feel stillness enfolding her.

  In due course, Father Vernon spoke. “But I do not understand about Mr Brown’s shoes. Did you not say that he was an experienced walker? Did we not hear that they had agreed to walk? It was not the spur of the moment. Would he not have prepared himself properly?”

  “He did,” she volunteered. “My husband and I had not come for the walking; it was not an interest of ours. We had come for the peace and the rest. We had heard that it was a very tranquil district, up here among the mountains. So when Mr Brown suggested I might make that visit with him to the falls, and I so dearly wished to accompany him, we arrived at an obstacle. I had none of the equipment that he possessed to take the paths we wished responsibly. I could not buy any walking boots because my husband controlled all our money. It would have been an extraordinary request of mine to seek funds for such an item as a pair of walking boots. Mr Brown offered to pay, but I would hear none of it. So we found another solution.”

  “Which was…?” I asked. Despite the solemnity of the occasion, I could not wait to hear the solution to the riddle that had vexed me from the moment I had laid eyes upon the poor fellow’s body.

  “I would wear his studded boots and he would wear his town shoes. He would use his alpenstock for stability and, on rougher sections of the route, I would take his arm. Together, across relatively undemanding terrain, we felt that we could make the distance in reasonable safety. I had always been cursed, I had felt, with big feet. But on this occasion, I felt them to be a blessing. At first, anyway. The boots were still a size or two too big, but two pairs of Mr Brown’s thick woollen socks compensated. They would also prevent blisters, he told me. I returned the socks to his room. His key hung in the office behind the reception desk. I collected it and returned it when everybody was busy preparing the evening meal.”

  “Along with the boots and the alpenstock?” I offered.

  “I could not return home alone without the security of the alpenstock.”

  “But you did not raise the alarm?” asked the policeman.

  “I went down to look at him, in case he was still alive. He was not. I did not know what to do. I had killed him. He was dead. It was not as if I could bring him medical help. I panicked.”

  “And the pipe knife,” I mused out loud. “You forgot that you had it and only discovered it when you had unpacked, after you had replaced the other items and the key…?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, what about the pipe knife with the initials P. B. that was discovered at the foot of the falls and mentioned in the newspaper?”

  She looked at me blankly. “I do not know anything of such a knife or such a newspaper story.”

  The policeman had not heard of this either, and reopened his notebook. Everything was not quite as cut-and-dried as clearly he had begun to suppose it was.

  “I put it there.”

  A voice, hoarse and subdued, drifted across to us from the corner of the room.

  “I put it there,” repeated Holloway, now that he had attracted our attention. “I had one engraved. I had taken a copy of the hotel skeleton key Eva had lent me. She found out later and was disgusted.” He looked around the room and found little sympathy in the faces of anyone there, either. “I had a case to solve…” he pleaded.

  This at least put the incident in the café that I had witnessed into perspective. Holloway, having offended and been admonished by the woman to whom he had been desperately and instantly attracted, sought solace in further female company. Francesca, on the other hand, was… well… her naturally solicitous self.

  The young man continued, “I took one of your visiting cards from your room, doctor. I had a pipe knife engraved P. B. I bought myself some smoking implements of my own in the process. I took the knife down into the valley and found my way round to the bottom of the Reichenbach gorge. There I tossed it into the rough where it looked as though it had fallen, but where it was nonetheless visible. I then went and introduced myself to the editor of the newspaper as you, doctor. I told him I was investigating a case. The case of the missing pipe knife, if you like. This knife.” He delved into a pocket and produced the counterfeit object. “It was returned to me by the newspaper office when they had no further use for it.”

  “Why did you do it?” Father Vernon asked.

  “I could not bear the good doctor’s arrogance and pomposity. I had become certain, through my association with him, that his theories were all bunkum. Despite his ‘wonderful and much-admired’ consulting detective stories, he had found nothing of real value, or so I had thought; he had blundered and pontificated with no hard facts. I believed it to be the Pivcevics. It was only a matter of time before something to prove my theory would turn up. I just believed I was helping matters along, that’s all. I had found the ouzo, hadn’t I? That was proof, wasn’t it? Proof enough.”

  “You went into our room and took the bottle-top?” asked Pivcevic, incredulously. For my part, I wondered briefly if he had not taken against the Pivcevics specifically because they had had no opium, although coming from that particular crossroads between East and West, he had unfairly assumed otherwise.

  “I went into everybody’s room. Just to see.” Holloway shrugged. “I found the ouzo and reached my conclusions…” He shook his head mournfully. “They were wrong. I was wrong. And I nearly ended up causing – what? Two more deaths up there at the falls? How could I have been so stupid? I was idiotic. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”

  I did not know what to say. None of us knew. So we stood and stared at our shoes for a while, contemplating the complex
ities of humankind.

  The policeman closed his notebook once more. “Perhaps I shall need to have a further conversation about your behaviour, sir.” He directed this at Holloway. “You are not purposing to leave in the next day or so?”

  Holloway shook his head.

  “Come,” said Anna Pivcevic at length, and took mevrouw van Engels by the hands to raise her off the chair. “We must get you back to your husband – he needs to know.” She looked across to the policeman who nodded his permission.

  “No! I could not possibly.” She backed away against the wall in dismay.

  “There is no need. I am here.” A further voice came from the doorway.

  “How long have you been there?” demanded the policeman.

  “I came to look for my wife,” said Professor van Engels. “Or is that a crime now, too? I was going to look out on the street. Sometimes I find her wandering out there alone, during the day or late at night. I never thought to ask why.”

  “What did you hear?” asked Father Vernon, joining Anna Pivcevic beside the lady in a gesture of protection and support.

  “I heard that I have been a blind, selfish, self-centred, brutish bully to my wife. I heard that, as a result, my dear wife understandably turned to another for companionship, human society, a gentle response to her honest needs. I heard that, because of how I have behaved towards my wife over these past years, and especially these past months, she has been driven to distraction. I heard that, as a result, a terrible and infinitely regrettable accident has occurred. I heard that if there is anyone ultimately to blame for all of this, if there is anyone who really needs the forgiveness of others, it is I.”

  He had walked into the middle of the room and had addressed each one of us in turn.

  We could see that he had been crying.

  TWENTY-TWO

  I was on the way to Meiringen, the town which lent its name to the whisked egg and sugar dessert invented by Gasparini. Father Vernon had a friend who ran a hotel there and who had wired to say that he would be delighted to put me up for the second part of my stay in Switzerland. We had discussed options. I was now clear of any blame. There was in any event no substantive case to answer, except, perhaps, that of wasting police time by fleeing from justice and hiding up in the hayloft. But no one, not least the policeman, had felt the need to pursue that matter. Nonetheless, I did not feel I could remain there any longer. It had been a very unpleasant experience: séances; being hounded over mountains in the middle of the night; being shot at; and nearly meeting my end not once but twice at the Reichenbach Falls. I had therefore resolved to complete my stay somewhere else. Where they did not know me. Should I ever return to this country, with my family, I would find another district altogether. Stevenson tells me Davos is particularly fine.

  Father Vernon had joined me in my room to help me pack and to accompany me at least part of the way. I had decided to spend the afternoon walking to my next destination. Blow the cobwebs away, so to speak. Clear my mind and make a new start. I was pleased to see that in honour of our little adventure upon the Eiger, he wore his friar’s habit but studded walking boots. Having arranged for my baggage to be taken ahead in a cart, I hitched my knapsack onto my shoulders, put on my hat, took up my ice axe, bade one last farewell to the mountains out of my balcony window and set off with him downstairs.

  We had said our goodbyes to the Pivcevics earlier, very much earlier, that morning. We had walked with them to their room following the interview with van Engels. We had talked for an hour about the events, and then the priest and I had bid them farewell at that point. They would be sleeping long into today.

  In the lobby, Anton, Holloway and Eva were waiting. I was somewhat surprised to see the latter two together. Holloway had been making his peace with her. An uneasy peace, it would appear. He continually cast timid, if admiring, glances in the young woman’s direction. Eva was all sunshine and light again. Goodness, health and joy exuded from every pore. A superb advertisement for her sex, her country and her people. Tall and gangling, fit and vital, her eyes smiled and her spirit thrived in the fresh mountain air. I remember thinking to myself, as I had thought when I first met her – could it only have been at the beginning of this week? – if only I were a few years younger. But then I was married, and thoroughly happily, too. So enough of that.

  We stopped and talked for a short while.

  “I suppose you, too, shall be leaving, now that this is all concluded,” I said to Holloway.

  “In fact, doctor, I’ve decided to remain in the village a while longer. Not least because the police still want to discuss my part in this whole affair. Eva has agreed to stand beside me.” They exchanged a smile. “Not sure how the villagers will treat me, though; not after everything I put them through…”

  “I will look after you,” said Eva, and gave his hand a squeeze.

  It was clear that he was going to try to fight through his personal battles. He had no one really to go back to, and he had everything here that he needed to help him; in other words – Eva. He had a mania, of that there was no doubt, and this had driven him to further, nearly disastrous, excesses. I imagine that, too, would have been Holmes’s fate had I left him alone with his cocaine habit and his boredom. But he intended to make a new start, get a grip, make some changes. Holloway, that is.

  “Did you know I asked my friend in England about you?”

  His eyes betrayed no sign of this knowledge. “I did not. What did they tell you?”

  “That although you told me you had gone to Dulwich, you were not, in truth, an Old Alleynian.” I was blunt but spoke without rancour.

  His face reddened. “I confess I truly do not know why I said that. I apologize unreservedly.”

  I accepted his apology. Now was not the time to knock off a scab that had already begun to form. I suspect, for a frustrated young man, such a provenance added a touch of je ne sais quoi to his biography. “And what about your claim to have played for Blackheath? I understand that this was the more legitimate claim.”

  He bowed his head in discomfiture. “It was there at the Rectory Field that I first heard of you and your stories. I had felt an affinity, I suppose one would describe it, and had pursued you through the pages of Lippincott’s and The Strand. Eventually I even discovered where you lived. I had taken, in my spare time, to wandering around the streets near your home on the off-chance of catching a glimpse of you.” He gave a short, mordant laugh. “In fact, I had plenty of spare time, as it goes. Although I was by trade a concert violinist, I was not, and presently am not, attached to any particular orchestra or string ensemble.”

  I wondered if that was only half the truth and that in fact his unstable temperament meant that he was unable to keep a steady job. Another trait of Holmes, exaggerated and contorted, perhaps? This unpredictability manifested itself in the actions he took as he proceeded to relate what he did next.

  “Passing you casually on the street one day, I overheard your conversation with your driver. You were loading your valise and trunks onto the four-wheeler immediately prior to your departure for Austria and then Switzerland. A moment of madness and I was convinced that it would be fascinating to pursue you. Hoping perhaps to ‘bump into you’ by chance and…” Now he looked painfully shamefaced. Bringing such matters out into the cold light of day revealed them to be the follies that they were. I noticed, though, that during this speech, observing his awkwardness, Eva had laid her hand on his arm. “…and maybe I would even end up your lifelong friend. So I raced back to my rooms in order that I might collect the wherewithal – money, papers – to embark upon what I now perceive to be a woefully misguided quest and try to catch up with you at Waterloo. I discovered that I had missed you, so I followed on and, eventually, knowing sufficient of your further travel plans… managed to eventually coincide with you at the Zürich terminus.”

  I was astonished.

  “But I insist, doctor, that I am truly a reformed character. I now see where such obsessive
behaviour leads: to the top of a fall, and perilously close to going right over it. It will not be a feature of my personal practices again. I swear it.”

  “I am glad to hear it.”

  Eva just smiled and gave Holloway’s hand another squeeze.

  I then handed Anton a package. “Would you see that Professor van Engels gets this, please?”

  He took it from me and nodded. It was the Dutchman’s story. Unread.

  We made our farewells. I reminded Anton that I was at his service at any time, for whatever reason. It was an offer with which he seemed genuinely pleased. I had the effrontery to give Eva a peck on the cheek. I trust we both enjoyed the gesture but, doubtless, for entirely different reasons. Then, with no little relief, I shook Holloway’s hand gravely and finally left that mad, bad and dangerous-to-know young fellow behind once and for all. I was leaving him in a welcoming, supportive community, a healthy environment, and Eva’s care. If anyone could give a person reason to reform and make the most of themselves, Eva could. It is amazing what the love of a good woman can do.

  I turned to go, but suddenly Holloway called after me: “Oh… Doyle?”

  “Yes?”

  Almost apologetically he held out his hand. I thought for a moment that he was going to shake mine again. But then I saw it was clasped around something. He turned his hand over and opened his fingers. There on the palm lay a thin, metallic object. It was the counterfeit pipe knife he had bought. “I thought you would like this…”

  Wordlessly, I took it and left.

  Outside Father Vernon and I encountered Monsieur and Madame Plantin taking the air. We began to say our goodbyes, but Marie stopped us.

  “I wish to thank you, doctor. For my husband and I have, indeed, begun discussing things. To be honest,” she continued in that delightfully insouciant way she had, “Marcus has improved his temperament noticeably as a result.”