Agatha Christie - The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side

Jason Rudd turned his head slowly. 'You hear what Inspector Craddock says, Marina,' he said. 'It's possible, as he says, that you may know something that I do not. If so, for God's sake, don't be foolish about it. If you've the least suspicion of anyone, tell it to us now.'

'But I haven't.' Her voice rose in a wail. 'You must believe me.'

'Who were you afraid of that day?' asked Dermot.

'I wasn't afraid of anyone.'

'Listen, Miss Gregg, of the people on the stairs or coming up it, there were two friends whom you were surprised to see, whom you had not seen for a long time and whom you did not expect to see that day. Mr Ardwyck Fern and Miss Brewster. Had you any special emotions when you suddenly saw them coming up the stairs? You didn't know they were coming, did you?'

'No, we'd no idea they were even in England,' said Jason Rudd.

'I was delighted,' said Marina, 'absolutely delighted!'

'Delighted to see Miss Brewster?'

'Well -' she shot him a quick, faintly suspicious glance.

Craddock said, 'Lola Brewster was, I believe, originally married to your third husband Robert Truscott?'

'Yes, that's so.'

'He divorced her in order to marry you.'

'Oh, everyone knows about that,' said Marina Gregg impatiently. 'You needn't think it's anything you've found out. There was a bit of a rumpus at the time, but there wasn't any bad feeling about it in the end.'

'Did she make threats against you?'

'Well – in a way, yes. But, oh dear, I wish I could explain. No one takes those sort of threats seriously. It was at a party, she'd had a lot of drink. She might have taken a pot-shot at me with a pistol if she'd had one. But luckily she didn't. All that was years ago! None of these things last, these emotions! They don't, really they don't. That's true, isn't it, Jason?'

'I'd say it was true enough,' said Jason Rudd, 'and I can assure you, Mr Craddock, that Lola Brewster had no opportunity on the day of the fête of poisoning my wife's drink. I was close beside her most of the time. The idea that Lola would suddenly, after a long period of friendliness, come to England, and arrive at our house all prepared to poison my wife's drink – why the whole idea's absurd.'

'I appreciate your point of view,' said Craddock.

'It's not only that, it's a matter of fact as well. She was nowhere near Marina 's glass.'

'And your other visitor – Ardwyck Fern?'

There was, he thought, a very slight pause before Jason Rudd spoke.

'He's a very old friend of ours,' he said. 'We haven't se him for a good many years now, though we occasionally correspond. He's quite a big figure in American Television.'

'Was he an old friend of yours too?' Dermot Craddock asked Marina.

Her breath came rather quickly as she replied. 'Yes, oh yes. He – he was quite a friend of mine always, but I've rather lost sight of him of late years.' Then with a sudden quick rush of words, she went on, 'If you think that I looked up and saw Ardwyck and was frightened of him, it's nonsense. It's absolute nonsense. Why should I be frightened of him, what reason would I have to be frightened of him? We were great friends. I was just very, very pleased when I suddenly saw him. It was a delightful surprise, as I told you. Yes, a delightful surprise.' She raised her head, looking at him, her face vivid and defiant.

'Thank you, Miss Gregg,' said Craddock quietly. 'If you should feel inclined at any moment to take me a little further into your confidence I should strongly advise you to do so.'

Mrs Bantry was on her knees. A good day for hoeing. Nice dry soil. But hoeing wouldn't do everything. Thistles now, and dandelions. She dealt vigorously with these pests.

She rose to her feet, breathless but triumphant, and looked out over the hedge on to the road. She was faintly surprised to see the dark-haired secretary whose name she couldn't remember coming out of the public call box that was situated near the bus stop on the other side of the road.

What was her name now. It began with a B – or was it an R? No, Zielinsky, that was it. Mrs Bantry remembered just in time, as Ella crossed the road into the drive past the Lodge.

'Good morning, Miss Zielinsky,' she called in a friendly tone.

Ella Zielinsky jumped. It was not so much a jump, as a shy – the shy of a frightened horse. It surprised Mrs Bantry.

'Good morning,' said Ella, and added quickly: 'I came down to telephone. There's something wrong with our line today.'

Mrs Bantry felt more surprise. She wondered why Ella Zielinsky bothered to explain her action. She responded civilly. 'How annoying for you. Do come in and telephone any time you want to.'

'Oh – thank you very much…' Ella was interrupted by a fit of sneezing.

'You've got hay-fever,' said Mrs Bantry with immediate diagnosis. 'Try weak bicarbonate of soda and water.'

'Oh, that's all right. I have some very good patent stuff in an atomizer. Thank you all the same.'

She sneezed again as she moved away, walking briskly up the drive.

Mrs Bantry looked after her. Then her eyes returned to her garden. She looked at it in a dissatisfied fashion. Not a weed to be seen anywhere.

'Othello's occupation's gone,' Mrs Bantry murmured to herself confusedly. 'I dare say I'm a nosy old woman but I would like to know if -'

A moment of irresolution and then Mrs Bantry yielded to temptation. She was going to be a nosy old woman and the hell with it! She strode indoors to the telephone, lifted the receiver and dialled it. A brisk transatlantic voice spoke.

'Gossington Hall.'

'This is Mrs Bantry, at the East Lodge.'

'Oh, good morning, Mrs Bantry. This is Halley Preston. I met you on the day of the fête. What can I do for you?'

'I thought perhaps I could do something for you. If your telephone's out of order -'

His astonished voice interrupted her.

'Our telephone out of order? There's been nothing wrong with it. Why did you think so?'

'I must have made a mistake,' said Mrs Bantry. 'I don't always hear very well,' she explained unblushingly.

She put the receiver back, waited a minute, then dialled once more.

'Jane? Dolly here.'

'Yes, Dolly. What is it?'

'Well, it seems rather odd. The secretary woman was dialling from the public call box in the road. She took the trouble to explain to me quite unnecessarily that she was doing so because the line at Gossington Hall was out of order. But I've rung up there, and it isn't…'

She paused, and waited for intelligence to pronounce.

'In-deed,' said Miss Marple thoughtfully. 'Interesting.'

'For what reason, do you think?'

'Well, clearly, she didn't want to be overheard -'

'Exactly.'

'And there might be quite a number of reasons for that.'

'Yes.'

'Interesting,' said Miss Marple again.

Nobody could have been more ready to talk than Donald McNeil. He was an amiable red-headed young man. He greeted Dermot Craddock with pleasure and curiosity.

'How are you getting along,' he asked cheerfully, 'got any little special tit-bit for me?'

'Not as yet. Later perhaps.'

'Stalling as usual. You're all the same. Affable oysters! Haven't you come to the stage yet of inviting someone to come and "assist you in your inquiries"?'

'I've come to you,' said Dermot Craddock with a grin.

'Is there a nasty double entendre in that remark? Are you really suspicious that I murdered Heather Badcock and do you think I did it in mistake for Marina Gregg or that I meant to murder Heather Badcock all the time?'

'I haven't suggested anything,' said Craddock.

'No, no, you wouldn't do that, would you? You'd be very correct. All right. Let's go into it. I was there. I had opportunity but had I any motive? Ah, that's what you'd like to know. What was my motive?'