A Murder Is Announced - Christie Agatha (читать книги онлайн бесплатно серию книг TXT) 📗

‘There are far too many robberies nowadays. The police are getting slack.’ Craddock did not reply. ‘I suppose you’ve been talking to Phillipa Haymes?’

‘I wanted her account as an eye-witness.’

‘You couldn’t have waited until one o’clock, I suppose? After all, it would be fairer to question her inher time, rather than inmine…’

‘I’m anxious to get back to headquarters.’

‘Not that one expects consideration nowadays. Or a decent day’s work. On duty late, half an hour’s pottering. A break for elevenses at ten o’clock. No work done at all the moment the rain starts. When you want the lawn mown there’s always something wrong with the mower. And off duty five or ten minutes before the proper time.’

‘I understood from Mrs Haymes that she left here at twenty minutes past five yesterday instead of five o’clock.’

‘Oh, I dare say she did. Give her her due, Mrs Haymes is quite keen on her work, though there have been days when I have come out here and not been able to find her anywhere. She is a lady by birth, of course, and one feels it’s one’s duty to do something for these poor young war widows. Not that it isn’t very inconvenient. Those long school holidays and the arrangement is that she has extra time off then. I told her that there are really excellent camps nowadays where children can be sent and where they have a delightful time and enjoy it far more than wandering about with their parents. They need practically not come home at all in the summer holidays.’

‘But Mrs Haymes didn’t take kindly to that idea?’

‘She’s as obstinate as a mule, that girl. Just the time of year when I want the tennis court mowed and marked nearly every day. Old Ashe gets the lines crooked. Butmy convenience is never considered!’

‘I presume Mrs Haymes takes a smaller salary than is usual?’

‘Naturally. What else could she expect?’

‘Nothing, I’m sure,’ said Craddock. ‘Good morning, Mrs Lucas.’

‘It was dreadful,’ said Mrs Swettenham happily. ‘Quite-quite-dreadful, and what I say is that they ought to be far more careful what advertisements they accept at theGazette office. At the time, when I read it, I thought it was very odd. I said so, didn’t I, Edmund?’

‘Do you remember just what you were doing when the lights went out, Mrs Swettenham?’ asked the Inspector.

‘How that reminds me of my old Nannie!Where was Moses when the light went out? The answer, of course, was “In the Dark.” Just like us yesterday evening. All standing about and wondering what was going to happen. And then, you know, thethrill when it suddenly went pitch black. And the door opening-just a dim figure standing there with a revolver and that blinding light and a menacing voice saying “Your money or your life!” Oh, I’ve never enjoyed anything so much. And then a minute later, of course, it was alldreadful. Real bullets, justwhistling past our ears! It must have been just like the Commandos in the war.’

‘Whereabouts were you standing or sitting at the time, Mrs Swettenham?’

‘Now let me see, where was I? Who was I talking to, Edmund?’

‘I really haven’t the least idea, Mother.’

‘Was it Miss Hinchcliffe I was asking about giving the hens cod liver oil in the cold weather? Or was it Mrs Harmon-no, she’d only just arrived. I think I was just saying to Colonel Easterbrook that I thought it was really very dangerous to have an atom research station in England. It ought to be on some lonely island in case the radio activity gets loose.’

‘You don’t remember if you were sitting or standing?’

‘Does it really matter, Inspector? I was somewhere over by the window or near the mantelpiece, because I know I wasquite near the clock when it struck. Such a thrilling moment! Waiting to see if anything might be going to happen.’

‘You describe the light from the torch as blinding. Was it turned full on to you?’

‘It was right in my eyes. I couldn’t see a thing.’

‘Did the man hold it still, or did he move it about, from person to person?’

‘Oh, I don’t really know. Which did he do, Edmund?’

‘It moved rather slowly over us all, so as to see what we were all doing, I suppose, in case we should try and rush him.’

‘And where exactly in the room wereyou, Mr Swettenham?’

‘I’d been talking to Julia Simmons. We were both standing up in the middle of the room-the long room.’

‘Was everyone in that room, or was there anyone in the far room?’

‘Phillipa Haymes had moved in there, I think. She was over by that far mantelpiece. I think she was looking for something.’

‘Have you any idea as to whether the third shot was suicide or an accident?’

‘I’ve no idea at all. The man seemed to swerve round very suddenly and then crumple up and fall-but it was all very confused. You must realise that you couldn’t really see anything. And then that refugee girl started yelling the place down.’

‘I understand it was you who unlocked the dining-room door and let her out?’

‘Yes.’

‘The door was definitely locked on the outside?’

Edmund looked at him curiously.

‘Certainly it was. Why, you don’t imagine-?’

‘I just like to get my facts quite clear. Thank you, Mr Swettenham.’

Inspector Craddock was forced to spend quite a long time with Colonel and Mrs Easterbrook. He had to listen to a long disquisition on the psychological aspect of the case.

‘The psychological approach-that’s the only thing nowadays,’ the Colonel told him. ‘You’ve got to understand your criminal. Now the whole set-up here is quite plain to a man who’s had the wide experience that I have. Why does this fellow put that advert in? Psychology. He wants to advertise himself-to focus attention on himself. He’s been passed over, perhaps despised as a foreigner by the other employees at the Spa Hotel. A girl has turned him down, perhaps. He wants to rivet her attention on him. Who is the idol of the cinema nowadays-the gangster-the tough guy? Very well, he will be a tough guy. Robbery with violence. A mask? A revolver? But he wants an audience-he must have an audience. So he arranges for an audience. And then, at the supreme moment, his part runs away with him-he’s more than a burglar. He’s a killer. He shoots-blindly-’

Inspector Craddock caught gladly at a word:

‘You say “blindly”, Colonel Easterbrook. You didn’t think that he was firing deliberately at one particular object-at Miss Blacklock, that is to say?’

‘No, no. He just loosed off, as I say, blindly. And that’s what brought him to himself. The bullet hit someone-actually it was only a graze, but he didn’t know that. He comes to himself with a bang. All this-this make-believe he’s been indulging in-isreal. He’s shot at someone-perhaps killed someone…It’s all up with him. And so in blind panic he turns the revolver on himself.’

Colonel Easterbrook paused, cleared his throat appreciatively and said in a satisfied voice, ‘Plain as a pikestaff, that’s what it is, plain as a pikestaff.’

‘It really is wonderful,’ said Mrs Easterbrook, ‘the way you know exactly what happened, Archie.’

Her voice was warm with admiration.

Inspector Craddock thought it was wonderful, too, but he was not quite so warmly appreciative.

‘Exactly where were you in the room, Colonel Easterbrook, when the actual shooting business took place?’

‘I was standing with my wife-near a centre table with some flowers on it.’

‘I caught hold of your arm, didn’t I, Archie, when it happened? I was simply scared to death. I just had to hold on to you.’

‘Poor little kitten,’ said the Colonel playfully.

The Inspector ran Miss Hinchcliffe to earth by a pigsty.

‘Nice creatures, pigs,’ said Miss Hinchcliffe, scratching a wrinkled pink back. ‘Coming on well, isn’t he? Good bacon round about Christmas time. Well, what do you want to see me about? I told your people last night I hadn’t the least idea who the man was. Never seen him anywhere in the neighbourhood snooping about or anything of that sort. Our Mrs Mopp says he came from one of the big hotels in Medenham Wells. Why didn’t he hold up someone there if he wanted to? Get a much better haul.’

That was undeniable-Craddock proceeded with his inquiries.

‘Where were you exactly when the incident took place?’

‘Incident! Reminds me of my A.R.P. days. Saw some incidents then, I can tell you. Where was I when the shooting started? That what you want to know?’

‘Yes.’

‘Leaning up against the mantelpiece hoping to God someone would offer me a drink soon,’ replied Miss Hinchcliffe promptly.

‘Do you think that the shots were fired blindly, or aimed carefully at one particular person?’

‘You mean aimed at Letty Blacklock? How the devil should I know? Damned hard to sort out what your impressions really were or what really happened after it’s all over. All I know is the lights went out, and that torch went whirling round dazzling us all, and then the shots were fired and I thought to myself, “If that damned young fool Patrick Simmons is playing his jokes with a loaded revolver somebody will get hurt.”’

‘You thought it was Patrick Simmons?’

‘Well, it seemed likely. Edmund Swettenham is intellectual and writes books and doesn’t care for horseplay, and old Colonel Easterbrook wouldn’t think that sort of thing funny. But Patrick’s a wild boy. However, I apologize to him for the idea.’

‘Did your friend think it might be Patrick Simmons?’

‘Murgatroyd? You’d better talk to her yourself. Not that you’ll get any sense out of her. She’s down the orchard. I’ll yell for her if you like.’

Miss Hinchcliffe raised her stentorian voice in a powerful bellow:

‘Hi-youp, Murgatroyd…’

‘Coming…’ floated back a thin cry.

‘Hurry up-Polieece,’ bellowed Miss Hinchcliffe.

Miss Murgatroyd arrived at a brisk trot very much out of breath. Her skirt was down at the hem and her hair was escaping from an inadequate hair net. Her round, good-natured face beamed.