They Do It With Mirrors - Christie Agatha (читать хорошую книгу полностью txt) 📗

'During his absence, a shot was heard, I understand. A shot that you all thought came from the Park?'

'I don't remember that… Oh yes, it was just after the lights had come on again and Wally had come back.' 'Did anyone else leave the Hall?'

'I don't think so. I don't remember.' 'Where were you sitting, Mrs Hudd?' 'Over by the window.'

'Near the door to the library?'

'Yes.'

'Did you yourself leave the Hall at all?'

'Leave? With all the excitement? Of course not.' Gina sounded scandalized by the idea.

'Where were the others sitting?'

'Mostly round the fireplace, I think. Aunt Mildred was knitting and so was Aunt Jane - Miss Marple, I mean Grandam was just sitting.' 'And Mr Stephen Restarick?' 'Stephen? He was playing the piano to begin with. I don't know where he went later.' 'And Miss Believer?' 'Fussing about, as usual. She practically never sits down. She was looking for keys or something.' She said suddenly: 'What's all this about Grandam's tonic? Did the chemist make a mistake in making it up or something?' 'Why should you think that?' 'Because the bottle's disappeared, and Jolly's been fussing round madly looking for it, in no end of a stew.

Alex told her the police had taken it away. Did you?' Instead of replying to the question, Inspector Curry said: 'Miss Bellever was upset, you say?' 'Oh! Jolly always fusses,' said Gina carelessly. 'She likes fussing. Sometimes I wonder how Grandam can stand it.' 'Just one last question, Mrs Hudd. You've no ideas yourself as to who killed Christian Gulbrandsen and why?' 'One of the queers did it, I should think. The thug ones are really quite sensible. I mean they only cosh people so as to rob a till or get money or jewellery - not just for fun.

But one of the queers - you know, what they call mentally maladjusted - might do it for fun, don't you think?

Because I can't see what other reason there could be for killing Uncle Christian except fun, do you? At least I don't mean fun, exactly - but ' 'You can't think of a motive?'

'Yes, that's what I mean,' said Gina gratefully. 'He wasn't robbed or anything, was he?'

'But you know, Mrs Hudd, the College buildings were locked and barred. Nobody could get out from there without a pass.'

'Don't you believe it,' Gina laughed merrily. 'Those boys could get out from anywhere! They've taught me a lot of tricks.'

'She's a lively one,' said Lake when Gina had departed.

'First time I've seen her close to. Lovely figure, hasn't she. Sort of a foreign figure, if you know what I mean.'

Inspector Curry threw him a cold glance. Sergeant Lake said hastily that she was a merry one. 'Seems to have enjoyed it all, as you might say.'

'Whether Stephen Restarick is right or not about her marriage breaking up, I notice that she went out of her way to mention that Walter Hudd was back in the Great Hall before that shot was heard.'

'Which, according to everyone else, isn't so?' 'Exactly.'

'She didn't mention Miss Believer leaving the Hall to look for keys, either.'

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

Chapter 14

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.'