‘Why, exactly, did your husband leave his money the way he did?’
‘You mean, why did he leave it to Blackie? Not for the reason you’ve probably been thinking.’ The roguish twinkle was very apparent. ‘What minds you policemen have! Randall was never in the least in love with her and she wasn’t with him. Letitia, you know, has really got a man’s mind. She hasn’t any feminine feelings or weaknesses. I don’t believe she was ever in love with any man. She was never particularly pretty and she didn’t care for clothes. She used a little make-up in deference to prevailing custom, but not to make herself look prettier.’ There was pity in the old voice as she went on: ‘She never knew any of the fun of being a woman.’
Craddock looked at the frail little figure in the big bed with interest. Belle Goedler, he realized, had enjoyed—still enjoyed—being a woman. She twinkled at him.
‘I’ve always thought,’ she said, ‘it must be terribly dull to be a man.’
Then she said thoughtfully:
‘I think Randall looked on Blackie very much as a kind of younger brother. He relied on her judgment which was always excellent. She kept him out of trouble more than once, you know.’
‘She told me that she came to his rescue once with money?’
‘That, yes, but I meant more than that. One can speak the truth after all these years. Randall couldn’t really distinguish between what was crooked and what wasn’t. His conscience wasn’t sensitive. The poor dear really didn’t know what was just smart—and what was dishonest. Blackie kept him straight. That’s one thing about Letitia Blacklock, she’s absolutely dead straight. She would never do anything that was dishonest. She’s a very fine character, you know. I’ve always admired her. They had a terrible girlhood, those girls. The father was an old country doctor—terrifically pig-headed and narrow-minded—the complete family tyrant. Letitia broke away, came to London, and trained herself as a chartered accountant. The other sister was an invalid, there was a deformity of kinds and she never saw people or went out. That’s why when the old man died, Letitia gave up everything to go home and look after her sister. Randall was wild with her—but it made no difference. If Letitia thought a thing was her duty she’d do it. And you couldn’t move her.’
‘How long was that before your husband died?’
‘A couple of years, I think. Randall made his will before she left the firm, and he didn’t alter it. He said to me: “We’ve no one of our own.” (Our little boy died, you know, when he was two years old.) “After you and I are gone, Blackie had better have the money. She’ll play the markets and make ’em sit up.”
‘You see,’ Belle went on, ‘Randall enjoyed the whole money-making game so much—it wasn’t just the money—it was the adventure, the risks, the excitement of it all. And Blackie liked it too. She had the same adventurous spirit and the same judgment. Poor darling, she’d never had any of the usual fun—being in love, and leading men on and teasing them—and having a home and children and all the real fun of life.’
Craddock thought it was odd, the real pity and indulgent contempt felt by this woman, a woman whose life had been hampered by illness, whose only child had died, whose husband had died, leaving her to a lonely widowhood, and who had been a hopeless invalid for years.
She nodded her head at him.
‘I know what you’re thinking. But I’ve had all the things that make life worth while—they may have been taken from me—but I have had them. I was pretty and gay as a girl, I married the man I loved, and he never stopped loving me…My child died, but I had him for two precious years…I’ve had a lot of physical pain—but if you have pain, you know how to enjoy the exquisite pleasure of the times when pain stops. And everyone’s been kind to me, always…I’m a lucky woman, really.’
Craddock seized upon an opening in her former remarks.
‘You said just now, Mrs Goedler, that your husband left his fortune to Miss Blacklock because he had no one else to leave it to. But that’s not strictly true, is it? He had a sister.’