After the Funeral - Agatha Christie [47]
“Yes, indeed.”
The ambulance came. Miss Gilchrist was taken away and the doctor went with her. He told Susan he would ring her up in the morning. When he had left she went upstairs to bed.
This time she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
II
The funeral was well-attended. Most of the village had turned out. Susan and Mr. Entwhistle were the only mourners, but various wreaths had been sent by the other members of the family. Mr. Entwhistle asked where Miss Gilchrist was, and Susan explained the circumstances in a hurried whisper. Mr. Entwhistle raised his eyebrows.
“Rather an odd occurrence?”
“Oh, she’s better this morning. They rang up from the hospital. People do get these bilious turns. Some make more fuss than others.”
Mr. Entwhistle said no more. He was returning to London immediately after the funeral.
Susan went back to the cottage. She found some eggs and made herself an omelette. Then she went up to Cora’s room and started to sort through the dead woman’s things.
She was interrupted by the arrival of the doctor.
The doctor was looking worried. He replied to Susan’s inquiry by saying that Miss Gilchrist was much better.
“She’ll be out and around in a couple of days,” he said. “But it was lucky I got called in so promptly. Otherwise—it might have been a near thing.”
Susan stared. “Was she really so bad?”
“Mrs. Banks, will you tell me again exactly what Miss Gilchrist had to eat and drink yesterday. Everything.”
Susan reflected and gave a meticulous account. The doctor shook his head in a dissatisfied manner.
“There must have been something she had and you didn’t?”
“I don’t think so… Cakes, scones, jam, tea—and then supper. No, I can’t remember anything.”
The doctor rubbed his nose. He walked up and down the room.
“Was it definitely something she ate? Definitely food poisoning?”
The doctor threw her a sharp glance. Then he seemed to come to a decision.
“It was arsenic,” he said.
“Arsenic?” Susan started. “You mean somebody gave her arsenic?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“Could she have taken it herself? Deliberately, I mean?”
“Suicide? She says not and she should know. Besides, if she wanted to commit suicide she wouldn’t be likely to choose arsenic. There are sleeping pills in this house. She could have taken an overdose of them.”
“Could the arsenic have got into something by accident?”
“That’s what I’m wondering. It seems very unlikely, but such things have been known. But if you and she ate the same things—”
Susan nodded. She said, “It all seems impossible—” then she gave a sudden gasp. “Why, of course, the wedding cake!”
“What’s that? Wedding cake?”
Susan explained. The doctor listened with close attention.
“Odd. And you say she wasn’t sure who sent it? Any of it left? Or is the box it came in lying around?”
“I don’t know. I’ll look.”
They searched together and finally found the white cardboard box with a few crumbs of cake still in it lying on the kitchen dresser. The doctor packed it away with some care.
“I’ll take charge of this. Any idea where the wrapping paper it came in might be?”
Here they were not successful and Susan said that it had probably gone into the Ideal boiler.
“You won’t be leaving here just yet, Mrs. Banks?”
His tone was genial, but it made Susan feel a little uncomfortable.
“No, I have to go through my aunt’s things. I shall be here for a few days.”
“Good. You understand the police will probably want to ask some questions. You don’t know of anyone who—well, might have had it in for Miss Gilchrist?”
Susan shook her head.
“I don’t really know much about her. She was with my aunt for some years—that’s all I know.”
“Quite, quite. Always seemed a pleasant unassuming woman—quite ordinary. Not the kind, you’d say, to have enemies or anything melodramatic of that kind. Wedding cake through the post. Sounds like some jealous woman—but who’d be jealous of Miss Gilchrist? Doesn’t seem to fit.”
“No.”
“Well, I must be on my way. I don’t know what’s happening to us in quiet little Lytchett St. Mary. First a brutal murder and now attempted poisoning