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

The telephone rang. Cornish took the call.

'It's the Dorchester. Mr Ardwyck Fenn is on the line.' He proffered the receiver to Craddock who took it.

'Mr Fenn? This is Craddock here.'

'Ah, yes. I heard you had rung me. I have been out all day.'

'I am sorry to tell you, Mr Fern, that Miss Zielinsky died this morning – of cyanide poisoning.'

'Indeed? I am shocked to hear it. An accident? Or not an accident?'

'Not an accident. Prussic acid had been put in an atomizer she was in the habit of using.'

'I see. Yes, I see…' There was a short pause. 'And why, may I ask, should you ring me about this distressing occurrence?'

'You knew Miss Zielinsky, Mr Fenn?'

'Certainly I knew her. I have known her for some years. But she was not an intimate friend.'

'We hoped that you could, perhaps, assist us?'

'In what way?'

'We wondered if you could suggest any motive for her death. She is a stranger in this country. We know very little about her friends and associates and the circumstances of her life.'

'I would suggest that Jason Rudd is the person to question about that.'

'Naturally. We have done so. But there might be an off-chance that you might know something about her that he does not.'

'I'm afraid that is not so. I know next to nothing about Ella Zielinsky except that she was a most capable young woman, and first-class at her job. About her private life I know nothing at all.'

'So you have no suggestions to make?'

Craddock was ready for the decisive negative, but to his surprise it did not come. Instead there was a pause. He could hear Ardwyck Fern breathing rather heavily at the other end.

'Are you still there, Chief-Inspector?'

'Yes, Mr Fenn. I'm here.'

'I have decided to tell you something that may be of assistance to you. When you hear what it is, you will realize that I have every reason to keep it to myself. But I judge that in the end that might be unwise. The facts are these. A couple of days ago I received a telephone call. A voice spoke to me in a whisper. It said – I am quoting now – I saw you… I saw you put the tablets in the glass… You didn't know there had been an eye-witness, did you? That's all for now – very soon you will be told what you have to do.'

Craddock uttered an ejaculation of astonishment.

'Surprising, was it not, Mr Craddock? I will assure you categorically that the accusation was entirely unfounded. I did not put tablets in anybody's glass. I defy anyone to prove that I did. The suggestion is utterly absurd. But it would seem, would it not, that Miss Zielinsky was embarking on blackmail.'

'You recognized her voice?'

'You cannot recognize a whisper. But it was Ella Zielinsky all right.'

'How do you know?'

'The whisperer sneezed heavily before ringing off. I knew that Miss Zielinsky suffered from hay fever.'

'And you think – what?'

'I think that Miss Zielinsky got hold of the wrong person at her first attempt. It seems to me possible that she was more successful later. Blackmail can be a dangerous game.'

Craddock pulled himself together.

'I must thank you for your statement, Mr Fenn. As a matter of form, I shall have to check upon your movements today.'

'Naturally. My chauffeur will be able to give you precise information.'

Craddock rang off and repeated what Fenn had said. Cornish whistled.

'Either that lets him out completely. Or else -'

'Or else it's a magnificent piece of bluff. It could be. He's the kind of man who has the nerve for it. If there's the least chance that Ella Zielinsky left a record of her suspicions, then this taking of the bull by the horns is a magnificent bluff.'

'And his alibi?'

'We've come across some very good faked alibis in our time,' said Craddock. 'He could afford to pay a good sum for one.'

It was past midnight when Giuseppe returned to Gossington. He took a taxi from Much Benham, as the last train on the branch line to St Mary Mead had gone.

He was in very good spirits. He paid off the taxi at the gate, and took a short cut through the shrubbery. He opened the back door with his key. The house was dark and silent. Giuseppe shut and bolted the door. As he turned to the stair which led to his own comfortable suite of bed and bath, he noticed that there was a draught. A window open somewhere, perhaps. He decided not to bother. He went upstairs smiling and fitted a key into his door. He always kept his suite locked. As he turned the key and pushed the door open, he felt the pressure of a hard round thing in his back. A voice said, 'Put your hands up and don't scream.'

Giuseppe threw his hands up quickly. He was taking no chances. Actually there was no chance to take.

The trigger was pressed – once – twice.

Giuseppe fell forward…

Bianca lifted her head from her pillow.

Was that a shot… She was almost sure she had heard a shot… She waited some minutes. Then she decided she had been mistaken and lay down again.

'It's too dreadful,' said Miss Knight. She put down her parcels and gasped for breath.

'Something has happened?' asked Miss Marple.

'I really don't like to tell you about it, dear, I really don't. It might be a shock to you.'

'If you don't tell me,' said Miss Marple, 'somebody else will.'

'Dear, dear, that's true enough,' said Miss Knight. 'Yes, that's terribly true. Everybody talks too much, they say. And I'm sure there's a lot in that. I never repeat anything myself. Very careful I am.'

'You were saying,' said Miss Marple, 'that something rather terrible had happened?'

'It really quite bowled me over,' said Miss Knight. 'Are you sure you don't feel the draught from that window, dear?'

'I like a little fresh air,' said Miss Marple.

'Ah, but we mustn't catch cold, must we?' said Miss Knight archly. 'I'll tell you what. I'll just pop out and make you a nice egg-nog. We'd like that, wouldn't we?'

'I don't know whether you would like it,' said Miss Marple. 'I should be delighted for you to have it if you would like it.'

'Now, now,' said Miss Knight, shaking her finger, 'so fond of our joke, aren't we?'

'But you were going to tell me something,' said Miss Marple.

'Well, you mustn't worry about it,' said Miss Knight, 'and you mustn't let it make you nervous in any way, because I'm sure it's nothing to do with us. But with all these American gangsters and things like that, well I suppose it's nothing to be surprised about.'

'Somebody else has been killed,' said Miss Marple, 'is that it?'

'Oh, that's very sharp of you, dear. I don't know what should put such a thing into your head.'

'As a matter of fact,' said Miss Marple thoughtfully, 'I've been expecting it.'

'Oh, really? exclaimed Miss Knight.

'Somebody always sees something,' said Miss Marple, 'only sometimes it takes a little while for them to realize what it is they have seen. Who is it who's dead?'

'The Italian butler. He was shot last night.'

'I see,' said Miss Marple thoughtfully. 'Yes, very likely, of course, but I should have thought that he'd have realized before now the importance of what he saw -'

'Really!' exclaimed Miss Knight, 'you talk as though you knew all about it. Why should he have been killed?'

'I expect,' said Miss Marple, thoughtfully, 'that he tried to blackmail somebody.'

'He went to London yesterday, they say.'

'Did he now,' said Miss Marple, 'that's very interesting, and suggestive too, I think.'

Miss Knight departed to the kitchen intent on the concoction of nourishing beverages. Miss Marple remained sitting thoughtfully till disturbed by the loud aggressive humming of the vacuum cleaner, assisted by Cherry's voice singing the latest favourite ditty of the moment, 'I Said To You and You Said To Me.'