Agatha Christie - They Do It With Mirrors

Inspector Curry stirred a little.

'Just a minute, Dr Maverick. Is this young man, in your opinion, definitely a mental case?'

Dr Maverick smiled the superior smile again.

'We are all mental cases, Inspector Curry.'

Tomfool answer, thought the Inspector. He knew quite well he wasn't a mental case, whatever Dr Maverick might be!

'Is he responsible for his actions? He knows what he is doing, I suppose?'

'Perfectly.'

'Then when he fired that revolver at Mr Serrocold it was definitely attempted murder.'

'No, no, Inspector Curry. Nothing of that kind.'

'Come now, Dr Maverick. I've seen the two bullet holes in the wall. They must have gone dangerously near to Mr Serrocold's head.'

'Perhaps. But Lawson had no intention of killing Mr Serrocold or even of wounding him. He is very fond of Mr Serrocold.'

'It seems a curious way of showing it.'

Dr Maverick smiled again. Inspector Curry found that smile very trying.

'Everything one does is intentional. Every time you, Inspector, forget a name or a face it is because, unconsciously, you wish to forget it.'

Inspector Curry looked unbelieving.

'Every time you make a slip of the tongue, that slip has a meaning. Edgar Lawson was standing a few feet away from Mr Serrocold. He could easily have shot him dead.

Instead, he missed him. Why did he miss him? Because he wanted to miss him. It is as simple as that. Mr Serrocold was never in any danger - and Mr Serrocold himself was quite aware of that fact. He understood Edgar's gesture for exactly what it was - a gesture of defiance and resentment against a universe that has denied him the simple necessities of a child's life security and affection.'

'I think I'd like to see this young man.'

'Certainly if you wish. His outburst last night has had a cathartic effect. There is a great improvement today.

Mr Serrocold will be very pleased.' Inspector Curry stared hard at him, but Dr Maverick was serious as always.

Curry sighed.

'Do you have any arsenic?' he asked.

'Arsenic?' The question took Dr Maverick by surprise.

It was clearly unexpected. 'What a very curious question.

Why arsenic?'

'Just answer the question, please.'

'No, I have no arsenic of any kind in my possession.'

'But you have some drugs?'

'Oh certainly. Sedatives. Morphia - the barbiturates.

The usual things.'

'Do you attend Mrs Serrocold?'

'No. Dr Gunter of Market Kimble is the family physician. I hold a medical degree, of course, but I practise purely as a psychiatrist.'

'I see. Well, thank you very much, Dr Maverick.' As Dr Maverick went out, Inspector Curry murmured to Lake that psychiatrists gave him a pain in the neck.

'We'll get on to the family now,' he said. 'I'll see young Walter Hudd first.' Walter Hudd's attitude was cautious. He seemed to be studying the police officer with a slightly wary expression.

But he was quite cooperative.

There was a good deal of defective wiring in Stonygates - the whole electric system was very old-fashioned.

They wouldn't stand for a system like that in the States.

'It was installed, I believe, by the late Mr Gulbrandsen when electric light was a novelty,' said Inspector Curry with a faint smile.'

'I'll say so! Sweet old feudal English and never been brought up to date.' The fuse which controlled most of the lights in the Great Hall had gone, and he had gone out to the fuse-box to see about it. In due course he got it repaired and came back.

'How long were you away?'

'Why that I couldn't say for sure. The fuse-box is in an awkward place. I had to get steps and a candle. I was maybe ten minutes - perhaps a quarter of an hour.'

'Did you hear a shot?'

'Why no, I didn't hear anything like that. There are double doors through to the kitchen quarters and one of them is lined with a kind of felt.'

'I see. And when you came back into the Hall, what did you see?'

'They were all crowded round the door into Mr Serrocold's study. Mrs Strete said that Mr Serrocold had been shot - but actually that wasn't so. Mr Serrocold was quite all right. The boob had missed him.'

'You recognized the revolver?'

'Sure I recognized it! It was mine.'

'When did you see it last?'

'Two or three days ago.'

'Where did you keep it?'

'In the drawer in my room.'

'Who knew that you kept it there?'

'I wouldn't know who knows what in this house.'

'What do you mean by that, Mr Hudd?'

'Aw, they're all nuts?

'When you came into the Hall, was everybody else there?'

'What d'you mean by everybody?'

'The same people who were there when you went to repair the fuse.'

'Gina was there… and the old lady with white hair and Miss Bellever… I didn't notice particularly - but I should say so.'

'Mr Gulbrandsen arrived quite unexpectedly the day before yesterday, did he not?'

'I guess so. It wasn't his usual routine, I understand.'

'Did anyone seem upset by his arrival?' Walter Hudd took a moment or two before he answered: 'Why no, I wouldn't say so.' Once more there was a touch of caution in his manner.

'Have you any idea why he came?'

'Their precious Gulbrandsen Trust I suppose. The whole set-up here is crazy.'

'You have these "set-ups" as you call it, in the States.'

'It's one thing to endow a scheme, and another to give it the personal touch as they do here. I had enough of psychiatrists in the Army. This place is stiff with them.

Teaching young thugs to make raffia baskets and carve pipe-racks. Kids' games! It's sissy!'

Inspector Curry did not comment on this criticism.

Possibly he agreed with it.

He said, eying Walter carefully:

'So you have no idea who could have killed Mr Gulbrandsen?'

'One of the bright boys from the College practising his technique, I'd say.'

'No, Mr Hudd, that's out. The College, in spite of its carefully produced atmosphere of freedom, is none the less a place of detention and is run on those lines. Nobody can run in and out of it after dark and commit murders.'

'I wouldn't put it past them! Well - if you want to fix it nearer home, I'd say your best bet was Alex Restarick.'

'Why do you say that?'

'He had the opportunity. He drove up through the grounds alone in his car.'

'And why should he kill Christian Gulbrandsen?' Walter shrugged his shoulders.

'I'm a stranger. I don't know the family setups.

Maybe the old boy had heard something about Alex and was going to spill the beans to the Serrocolds.'

'With what results?'

'They might cut off the dough. He can use dough uses a good deal of it by all accounts.'

'You mean - in theatrical enterprises?'

'That's what he calls it?'

'Do you suggest it was otherwise?' Again Walter Hudd shrugged his shoulders.

'I wouldn't know,' he said.

Alex Restarick was voluble. He also gestured with his hands.

'I know, I know! I'm the ideal suspect. I drive down here alone and on the way to the house, I get a creative fit, I can't expect you to understand. How should you?'

'I might,' Curry put in drily, but Alex Restarick swept on.

'It's just one of those things! They come upon you there's no knowing when or how. An effect - an idea and everything else goes to the winds! I'm producing Limehouse Nights next month. Suddenly - last night - the set-up was wonderful… The perfect lighting. Fog -and the headlights cutting through the fog and being thrown back - and reflecting dimly a tall pile of buildings.

Everything helped! The shots - the running footsteps and the chug-chugging of the electric power engine could have been a launch on the Thames. And I thought - that's it - but what am I going to use to get just these effects? - and ' Inspector Curry broke in.