At Bertram's Hotel - Agatha Christie [83]
There was silence for some few minutes. Then Bess Sedgwick rose to her feet.
“I think you must be mad.” She put her hand out to the telephone.
“Going to ring up your solicitor? Quite the right thing to do before you say too much.”
With a sharp gesture she slammed the receiver back on the hook.
“On second thoughts I hate solicitors…All right. Have it your own way. Yes, I ran this show. You’re quite correct when you say it was fun. I loved every minute of it. It was fun scooping money from banks, trains and post offices and so-called security vans! It was fun planning and deciding; glorious fun and I’m glad I had it. The pitcher goes to the well once too often? That’s what you said just now, wasn’t it? I suppose it’s true. Well, I’ve had a good run for my money! But you’re wrong about Ladislaus Malinowski shooting Michael Gorman! He didn’t. I did.” She laughed a sudden high, excited laugh. “Never mind what it was he did, what he threatened…I told him I’d shoot him—Miss Marple heard me—and I did shoot him. I did very much what you suggested Ladislaus did. I hid in that area. When Elvira passed, I fired one shot wild, and when she screamed and Micky came running down the street, I’d got him where I wanted him, and I let him have it! I’ve got keys to all the hotel entrances, of course. I just slipped in through the area door and up to my room. It never occurred to me you’d trace the pistol to Ladislaus—or would even suspect him. I’d pinched it from his car without his knowing. But not, I can assure you, with any idea of throwing suspicion on him.”
She swept round on Miss Marple. “You’re a witness to what I’ve said, remember. I killed Gorman.”
“Or perhaps you are saying so because you’re in love with Malinowski,” suggested Davy.
“I’m not.” Her retort came sharply. “I’m his good friend, that’s all. Oh yes, we’ve been lovers in a casual kind of way, but I’m not in love with him. In all my life, I’ve only loved one person—John Sedgwick.” her voice changed and softened as she pronounced the name.
“But Ladislaus is my friend. I don’t want him railroaded for something he didn’t do. I killed Michael Gorman. I’ve said so, and Miss Marple has heard me…And now, dear Chief-Inspector Davy—” her voice rose excitedly, and her laughter rang out—“catch me if you can.”
With a sweep of her arm, she smashed the window with the heavy telephone set, and before Father could get to his feet, she was out of the window and edging her way rapidly along the narrow parapet. With surprising quickness in spite of his bulk, Davy had moved to the other window and flung up the sash. At the same time he blew the whistle he had taken from his pocket.
Miss Marple, getting to her feet with rather more difficulty a moment or two later, joined him. Together they stared out along the façade of Bertram’s Hotel.
“She’ll fall. She’s climbing up a drainpipe,” Miss Marple exclaimed. “But why up?”
“Going to the roof. It’s her only chance and she knows it. Good God, look at her. Climbs like a cat. She looks like a fly on the side of the wall. The risks she’s taking!”
Miss Marple murmured, her eyes half closing, “She’ll fall. She can’t do it….”
The woman they were watching disappeared from sight. Father drew back a little into the room.
Miss Marple asked:
“Don’t you want to go and—”
Father shook his head. “What good am I with my bulk? I’ve got my men posted ready for something like this. They know what to do. In a few minutes we shall know…I wouldn’t put it past her to beat the lot of them! She’s a woman in a thousand, you know.” He sighed. “One of the wild ones. Oh, we’ve some of them in every generation. You can’t tame them, you can’t bring them into the