Agatha Christie - They Do It With Mirrors

'No,' said the Inspector thoughtfully, 'she didn't…'

Mrs Strete fitted into the library very much better than Gina Hudd had done. There was nothing exotic about Mrs Strete. She wore black with an onyx brooch, and she wore a hairnet over carefully arranged grey hair.

She looked, Inspector Curry reflected, exactly as the relict of a Canon of the Established Church should look - which was almost odd, because so few people ever did look like what they really were.

Even the tight line of her lips had an ascetic ecclesias-tical flavour. She expressed Christian Endurance, and possibly Christian Fortitude. But not, Curry thought, Christian Charity.

Moreover it was clear that Mrs Strete was offended.

'I should have thought that you could have given me some idea of when you would want me, Inspector. I have been forced to sit around waiting all the morning.'

It was, Curry judged, her sense of importance that was hurt. He hastened to pour oil on the troubled waters.

'I'm very sorry, Mrs Strete. Perhaps you don't quite know how we set about these things. We start, you know, with the less important evidence - get it out of the way, so to speak. It's valuable to keep to the last a person on whose judgment we can rely - a good observer - by whom we can check what has been told us up to date.'

Mrs Strete softened visibly.

'Oh I see. I hadn't quite realized…'

'Now you're a woman of mature judgment, Mrs Strete. A woman of the world. And then this is your home - you're the daughter of the house, and you can tell me all about the people who are in it.'

'I can certainly do that,' said Mildred Strete.

'So you see that when we come to the question of who killed Christian Gulbrandsen, you can help us a great deal.'

'But is there any question? Isn't it perfectly obvious who killed my brother?' Inspector Curry leant back in his chair. His hand stroked his small neat moustache.

'Well - we have to be careful,' he said. 'You think it's obvious?'

'Of course. That dreadful American husband of poor Gina's. He's the only stranger here. We know absolutely nothing about him. He's probably one of these dreadful American gangsters.'

'But that wouldn't quite account for his killing Christian Gulbrandsen, would it? Why should he?'

'Because Christian had found out something about him. That's what he came here for so soon after his last visit.'

'Are you sure of that, Mrs Strete?'

'Again it seems to me quite obvious. He let it be thought his visit was in connection with the Trust - but that's nonsense. He was here for that only a month ago.

And nothing of importance has arisen since. So he must have come on some private business. He saw Walter on his last visit, and he may have recognized him - or perhaps made inquiries about him in the States naturally he has agents all over the world - and found out something really damaging. Gina is a very silly girl. She always has been. It is just like her to marry a man she knows nothing about - she's always been man mad! A man wanted by the police, perhaps, or a man who's already married, or some bad character in the underworld.

But my brother Christian wasn't an easy man to deceive. He came here, I'm sure, to settle the whole business. Expose Walter and show him up for what he is.

And so, naturally, Walter shot him.'

Inspector Curry, adding some out-sized whiskers to one of the cats on his blotting pad, said: 'Ye - es.'

'Don't you agree with me that that's what must have happened?'

'It could be - yes,' admitted the Inspector.

'What other solution could there be? Christian had no enemies. What I can't understand is why you haven't already arrested Walter?'

'Well, you see, Mrs Strete, we have to have evidence.'

'You could probably get that easily enough. If you wired to America '

'Oh yes, we shall check up on Mr Walter Hudd. You can be sure of that. But until we can prove motive, there's not very much to go upon. There's opportunity, of course '

'He went out just after Christian, pretending the lights had fused '

'They did fuse.'

'He could easily arrange that.'

'True.'

'That gave him his excuse. He followed Christian to his room, shot him and then repaired the fuse and came back to the Hall.'

'His wife says he came back before you heard the shot from outside.'

'Not a bit of it! Gina would say anything. The Italians are never truthful. And she's a Roman Catholic, of course.'

Inspector Curry side-stepped the ecclesiastical angle.

'You think his wife was in it with him?' Mildred Strete hesitated for a moment.

'No - no, I don't think that.' She seemed rather disappointed not to think so. She went on: 'That must have been partly the motive - to prevent Gina's learning the truth about him. After all, Gina is his bread and butter.'

'And a very beautiful girl.'

'Oh yes. I've always said Gina is good looking. A very common type in Italy, of course. But if you ask me, it's money that Walter Hudd is after. That's why he came over here and has settled down living on the Serrocolds.'

'Mrs Hudd is very well off, I understand?'

'Not at present. My father settled the same sum on Gina's mother as he did on me. But of course she took her husband's nationality (I believe the law is altered now) and what with the war and his being a Fascist, Gina has very little of her own. My mother spoils her, and her American aunt, Mrs Van Rydock, spent fabulous sums on her and bought her everything she wanted during the war years. Nevertheless, from Walter's point of view, he can't lay his hands on much until my mother's death, when a very large fortune will come to Gina.'

'And to you, Mrs Strete.'

A faint colour came into Mildred Strete's cheek.

'And to me, as you say. My husband and myself always lived quietly. He spent very little money except on books - he was a great scholar. My own money has almost doubled itself. It is more than enough for my simple needs. Still one can always use money for the benefit of others. Any money that comes to me, I shall regard as a sacred trust.'

'But it won't be in a Trust, will it?' said Curry, wilfully misunderstanding. 'It will come to you absolutely.'

'Oh yes - in that sense. Yes, it will be mine absolutely.' Something in the ring of that last word made Inspector Curry raise his head sharply. Mrs Strete was not looking at him. Her eyes were shining, and her long thin mouth was curved in a triumphant smile.

Inspector said in a considering voice:

'So in your view - and of course you've had ample opportunities of judging - Master Walter Hudd wants the money that will come to his wife when Mrs Serrocold dies. By the way, she's not very strong, is she, Mrs Strete?'

'My mother has always been delicate.'

'Quite so. But delicate people often live as long or longer than people who have robust health.'

'Yes, I suppose they do.'

'You haven't noticed your mother's health failing just lately?'

'She suffers from rheumatism. But then one must have something as one grows older. I've no sympathy with people who make a fuss over inevitable aches and pains.'

'Does Mrs Serrocold make a fuss?'

Mildred Strete was silent for a moment. She said at last:

'She does not make a fuss herself, but she is used to being made a fuss of. My stepfather is far too solicitous.

And as for Miss Bellever, she makes herself positively ridiculous. In any case, Miss Bellever has had a very bad influence in this house. She came here many years ago, and her devotion to my mother, though admirable in itself, has really become somewhat of an infliction. She literally tyrannizes over my mother. She runs the whole house and takes far too much upon herself. I think it annoys Lewis sometimes. I should never be surprised if he told her to go. She has no tact - no tact whatever, and it is trying for a man to fred his wife completely dominated by a bossy woman.' Inspector Curry nodded his head gently.