Appointment With Death - Agatha Christie [63]
‘Raymond Boynton left the camp with the others about three-fifteen. Mrs Boynton was then alive and well. Before long Raymond and Sarah King had a tête-à-tête interview. Then he left her. According to him, he returned to the camp at ten minutes to six. He went up to his mother, exchanged a few words with her, then went to his tent and afterwards down to the marquee. He says that at ten minutes to six, Mrs Boynton was alive and well.
‘But we now come to a fact which directly contradicts that statement. At half-past six Mrs Boynton’s death was discovered by a servant. Miss King, who holds a medical degree, examined her body and she swears definitely that at that time, though she did not pay any special attention to the time when death had occurred, it had most certainly and decisively taken place at least an hour (and probably a good deal more) before six o’clock.
‘We have here, you see, two conflicting statements. Setting aside the possibility that Miss King may have made a mistake—’
Sarah interrupted him. ‘I don’t make mistakes. That is, if I had, I would admit to it.’
Her tone was hard and clear.
Poirot bowed to her politely.
‘Then there are only two possibilities—either Miss King or Mr Boynton is lying! Let us examine Raymond Boynton’s reasons for so doing. Let us assume that Miss King was not mistaken and not deliberately lying. What, then, was the sequence of events? Raymond Boynton returns to the camp, sees his mother sitting at the mouth of her cave, goes up to her and finds she is dead. What does he do? Does he call for help? Does he immediately inform the camp of what has happened? No, he waits a minute or two, then passes on to his tent and joins his family in the marquee and says nothing. Such conduct is exceedingly curious, is it not?’
Raymond said in a nervous, sharp voice:
‘It would be idiotic, of course. That ought to show you that my mother was alive and well as I’ve said. Miss King was flustered and upset and made a mistake.’
‘One asks oneself,’ said Poirot, calmly sweeping on, ‘whether there could possibly be a reason for such conduct? It seems, on the face of it, that Raymond Boynton cannot be guilty, since at the only time he was known to approach his stepmother that afternoon she had already been dead for some time. Now, supposing, therefore, that Raymond Boynton is innocent, can we explain his conduct?
‘And I say, that on the assumption that he is innocent, we can! For I remember that fragment of conversation I overheard. “You do see, don’t you, that she’s got to be killed?” He comes back from his walk and finds her dead and at once his guilty memory envisages a certain possibility. The plan has been carried out—not by him—but by his fellow planner. Tout simplement—he suspects that his sister, Carol Boynton, is guilty.’
‘It’s a lie,’ said Raymond in a low, trembling voice.
Poirot went on: ‘Let us now take the possibility of Carol Boynton being the murderess. What is the evidence against her? She has the same highly-strung temperament—the kind of temperament that might see such a deed coloured with heroism. It was she to whom Raymond Boynton was talking that night in Jerusalem. Carol Boynton returned to the camp at ten minues past five. According to her own story she went up and spoke to her mother. No one saw her do so. The camp was deserted—the boys were asleep. Lady Westholme, Miss Pierce and Mr Cope were exploring caves out of sight of the camp. There was no witness of Carol Boynton’s possible action. The time would agree well enough. The case, then, against Carol Boynton is a perfectly possible one.’ He paused. Carol had raised her head. Her eyes looked steadily and sorrowfully