Agatha Christie - A Pocket Full of Rye

The young lady was continuing composedly:

"Adele married him for his money, of course, and his son, Percival, and his daughter, Elaine, were simply livid about it. They're as nasty as they can be to her, but very wisely she doesn't care or even notice. She knows she's got the old man where she wants him. Oh dear, the wrong tense again. I haven't really grasped yet that he's dead…"

"Let's hear about the son."

"Dear Percival? Val as his wife calls him. Percival is a mealy-mouthed hypocrite. He's prim and sly and cunning. He's terrified of his father and has always let himself be bullied, but he's quite clever at getting his own way. Unlike his father he's mean about money. Economy is one of his passions. That's why he's been so long about finding a house of his own. Having a suite of rooms here saved his pocket."

"And his wife?"

"Jennifer's meek and seems very stupid. But I'm not so sure. She was a hospital nurse before her marriage – nursed Percival through pneumonia to a romantic conclusion. The old man was disappointed by the marriage. He was a snob and wanted Percival to make what he called a 'good marriage.' He despised poor Mrs Val and snubbed her. She dislikes – disliked him a good deal, I think. Her principal interests are shopping and the cinema, her principal grievance is that her husband keeps her short of money."

"What about the daughter?"

"Elaine? I'm rather sorry for Elaine. She's not a bad sort. One of those great schoolgirls who never grow up. She plays games quite well, and runs Guides and Brownies and all that sort of thing. There was some sort of affair not long ago with a disgruntled young schoolmaster, but Father discovered the young man had communistic ideas and came down on the romance like a ton of bricks."

"She hasn't got the spirit to stand up to him?"

"She had. It was the young man who ratted. A question of money yet again, I fancy. Elaine is not particularly attractive, poor dear."

"And the other son?"

"I've never seen him. He's attractive, by all accounts, and a thoroughly bad lot. Some little matter of a forged cheque in the past. He lives in East Africa ."

"And was estranged from his father."

"Yes, Mr Fortescue couldn't cut him off with a shilling because he'd already made him a junior partner in the firm, but he held no communication with him for years, and in fact if Lance was ever mentioned, he used to say 'Don't talk to me of that rascal. He's no son of mine.' All the same –"

"Yes, Miss Dove?"

Mary said slowly: "All the same, I shouldn't be surprised if old Fortescue hadn't been planning to get him back here."

"What makes you think that?"

"Because, about a month ago, old Fortescue had a terrific row with Percival – he found out something that Percival had been doing behind his back – I don't know what it was – and he was absolutely furious. Percival suddenly stopped being the white-headed boy. He's been quite different lately, too."

"Mr Fortescue was quite different?"

"No. I mean Percival. He's gone about looking worried to death."

"Now what about servants? You've already described the Crumps. Who else is there?"

"Gladys Martin is the parlourmaid or waitress, as they like to call themselves nowadays. She does the downstairs rooms, lays the table, clears away and helps Crump wait at table. Quite a decent sort of girl but very nearly half-witted. The adenoidal type."

Neele nodded.

"The housemaid is Ellen Curtis. Elderly, very crabbed, and very cross, but has been in good service and is a first-class housemaid. The rest is outside help – odd women who come in."

"And those are the only people living here?"

"There's old Miss Ramsbottom."

"Who is she?"

"Mr Fortescue's sister-in-law – his first wife's sister. His wife was a good deal older than he was and her sister again was a good deal older than her – which makes her well over seventy. She has a room of her own on the second floor – does her own cooking and all that, with just a woman coming in to clean. She's rather eccentric and she never liked her brother-in-law, but she came here while her sister was alive and stayed on when she died. Mr Fortescue never bothered about her much. She's quite a character, though, is Aunt Effie."

"And that is all."

"That's all."

"So we come to you. Miss Dove."

"You want particulars? I'm an orphan. I took a secretarial course at the St Alfred's Secretarial College . I took a job as shorthand typist, left it and took another, decided I was in the wrong racket, and started on my present career. I have been with three different employers. After about a year or eighteen months I get tired of a particular place and move on. I have been at Yewtree Lodge just over a year. I will type out the names and addresses of my various employers and give them, with a copy of my references to Sergeant – Hay, is it? Will that be satisfactory?"

"Perfectly, Miss Dove." Neele was silent for a moment, enjoying a mental image of Miss Dove tampering with Mr Fortescue's breakfast. His mind went back farther, and he saw her methodically gathering yew berries in a little basket. With a sigh he returned to the present and reality. "Now, I would like to see the girl – er Gladys – and then the housemaid, Ellen." He added as he rose, "By the way. Miss Dove, can you give me any idea why Mr Fortescue would be carrying loose grain in his pocket?"

"Grain?" She stared at him with what appeared to be genuine surprise.

"Yes – grain. Does that suggest something to you. Miss Dove?"

"Nothing at all."

"Who looked after his clothes?"

"Crump."

"I see. Did Mr Fortescue and Mrs Fortescue occupy the same bedroom?"

"Yes. He had a dressing-room and bath, of course, and so did she…" Mary glanced down at her wrist-watch. "I really think that she ought to be back very soon now."

The Inspector had risen. He said in a pleasant voice:

"Do you know one thing. Miss Dove? It strikes me as very odd that even though there are three golf courses in the immediate neighbourhood, it has yet not been possible to find Mrs Fortescue on one of them before now?"

"It would not be so odd. Inspector, if she did not actually happen to be playing golf at all."

Mary's voice was dry. The Inspector said sharply:

"I was distinctly informed that she was playing golf."

"She took her golf clubs and announced her intention of doing so. She was driving her own car, of course."

He looked at her steadily, perceiving the inference.

"Who was she playing with? Do you know?"

"I think it possible that it might be Mr Vivian Dubois."

Neele contented himself by saying: "I see."

"I'll send Gladys in to you. She'll probably be scared to death." Mary paused for a moment by the door, then she said:

"I should hardly advise you to go too much by all I've told you. I'm a malicious creature."

She went out. Inspector Neele looked at the closed door and wondered. Whether actuated by malice or not, what she had told him could not fail to be suggestive. If Rex Fortescue had been deliberately poisoned, and it seemed almost certain that that was the case, then the set up at Yewtree Lodge seemed highly promising. Motives appeared to be lying thick on the ground.

The girl who entered the room with obvious unwillingness was an unattractive, frightened looking girl, who managed to look faintly sluttish in spite of being tall and smartly dressed in a claret-coloured uniform.

She said at once, fixing imploring eyes upon him.

"I didn't do anything. I didn't really. I don't know anything about it."

"That's all right," said Neele heartily. His voice had changed slightly. It sounded more cheerful and a good deal commoner in intonation. He wanted to put the frightened rabbit Gladys at her ease.