At Bertram's Hotel - Agatha Christie [65]
“What did you do with the chocolates?”
“We threw them away,” said Elvira. “They were lovely chocolates,” she added, with a tone of slight grief.
“You didn’t try and find out who sent them?” Elvira looked embarrassed.
“Well, you see, I thought it might have been Guido.”
“Yes?” said Chief-Inspector Davy, cheerfully. “And who is Guido?”
“Oh, Guido…” Elvira paused. She looked at her mother.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Bess Sedgwick. “Tell Chief-Inspector Davy about Guido, whoever he is. Every girl of your age has a Guido in her life. You met him out there, I suppose?”
“Yes. When we were taken to the opera. He spoke to me there. He was nice. Very attractive. I used to see him sometimes when we went to classes. He used to pass me notes.”
“And I suppose,” said Bess Sedgwick, “that you told a lot of lies, and made plans with some friends and you managed to get out and meet him? Is that it?”
Elvira looked relieved by this short cut to confession. “Sometimes Guido managed to—”
“What was Guido’s other name?”
“I don’t know,” said Elvira. “He never told me.”
Chief-Inspector Davy smiled at her.
“You mean you’re not going to tell? Never mind. I dare say we’ll be able to find out quite all right without your help, if it should really matter. But why should you think that this young man, who was presumably fond of you, should want to kill you?”
“Oh, because he used to threaten things like that. I mean, we used to have rows now and then. He’d bring some of his friends with him, and I’d pretend to like them better than him, and then he’d get very, very wild and angry. He said I’d better be careful what I did. I couldn’t give him up just like that! That if I wasn’t faithful to him he’d kill me! I just thought he was being melodramatic and theatrical.” Elvira smiled suddenly and unexpectedly. “But it was all rather fun. I didn’t think it was real or serious.”
“Well,” said Chief-Inspector Davy, “I don’t think it does seem very likely that a young man such as you describe would really poison chocolates and send them to you.”
“Well, I don’t think so really either,” said Elvira, “but it must have been him because I can’t see that there’s anyone else. It worried me. And then, when I came back here, I got a note—” She stopped.
“What sort of a note?”
“It just came in an envelope and was printed. It said ‘Be on your guard. Somebody wants to kill you.’”
Chief-Inspector Davy’s eyebrows went up.
“Indeed? Very curious. Yes, very curious. And it worried you. You were frightened?”
“Yes. I began to—to wonder who could possibly want me out of the way. That’s why I tried to find out if I was really very rich.”
“Go on.”
“And the other day in London something else happened. I was in the tube and there were a lot of people on the platform. I thought someone tried to push me onto the line.”
“My dear child!” said Bess Sedgwick. “Don’t romance.”
Again Father made that slight gesture of his hand.
“Yes,” said Elvira apologetically. “I expect I have been imagining it all but—I don’t know—I mean, after what happened this evening it seems, doesn’t it, as though it might all be true?” She turned suddenly to Bess Sedgwick, speaking with urgency, “Mother! You might know. Does anyone want to kill me? Could there be anyone? Have I got an enemy?”
“Of course you’ve not got an enemy,” said Bess Sedgwick, impatiently. “Don’t be an idiot. Nobody wants to kill you. Why should they?”
“Then who shot at me tonight?”
“In that fog,” said Bess Sedgwick, “you might have been mistaken for someone else. That’s possible, don’t you think?” she said, turning to Father.
“Yes, I think it might be quite possible,” said Chief-Inspector Davy.
Bess Sedgwick was looking at him very intently. He almost fancied the motion of her lips saying “later.”
“Well,” he said cheerfully, “we’d better get down to some more facts now. Where had you come from tonight? What were you doing walking along Pond Street on such a foggy evening?”
“I came up for an Art class at the Tate this morning. Then I went to lunch with my friend Bridget. She lives in Onslow Square.