Body in the Library - Agatha Christie [47]
With characteristic candour Mark had gone straight to the heart of things.
“It’s just dawned on me,” he said, “that I’m Favourite Suspect No. I to the police! They’ve been delving into my financial troubles. I’m broke, you know, or very nearly. If dear old Jeff dies according to schedule in a month or two, and Addie and I divide the dibs also according to schedule, all will be well. Matter of fact, I owe rather a lot … If the crash comes it will be a big one! If I can stave it off, it will be the other way round—I shall come out on top and be a very rich man.”
Sir Henry Clithering said:
“You’re a gambler, Mark.”
“Always have been. Risk everything—that’s my motto! Yes, it’s a lucky thing for me that somebody strangled that poor kid. I didn’t do it. I’m not a strangler. I don’t really think I could ever murder anybody. I’m too easygoing. But I don’t suppose I can ask the police to believe that! I must look to them like the answer to the criminal investigator’s prayer! I had a motive, was on the spot, I am not burdened with high moral scruples! I can’t imagine why I’m not in the jug already! That Superintendent’s got a very nasty eye.”
“You’ve got that useful thing, an alibi.”
“An alibi is the fishiest thing on God’s earth! No innocent person ever has an alibi! Besides, it all depends on the time of death, or something like that, and you may be sure if three doctors say the girl was killed at midnight, at least six will be found who will swear positively that she was killed at five in the morning—and where’s my alibi then?”
“At any rate, you are able to joke about it.”
“Damned bad taste, isn’t it?” said Mark cheerfully. “Actually, I’m rather scared. One is—with murder! And don’t think I’m not sorry for old Jeff. I am. But it’s better this way—bad as the shock was—than if he’d found her out.”
“What do you mean, found her out?”
Mark winked.
“Where did she go off to last night? I’ll lay you any odds you like she went to meet a man. Jeff wouldn’t have liked that. He wouldn’t have liked it at all. If he’d found she was deceiving him—that she wasn’t the prattling little innocent she seemed—well—my father-in-law is an odd man. He’s a man of great self-control, but that self-control can snap. And then—look out!”
Sir Henry glanced at him curiously.
“Are you fond of him or not?”
“I’m very fond of him—and at the same time I resent him. I’ll try and explain. Conway Jefferson is a man who likes to control his surroundings. He’s a benevolent despot, kind, generous, and affectionate—but his is the tune, and the others dance to his piping.”
Mark Gaskell paused.
“I loved my wife. I shall never feel the same for anyone else. Rosamund was sunshine and laughter and flowers, and when she was killed I felt just like a man in the ring who’s had a knock-out blow. But the referee’s been counting a good long time now. I’m a man, after all. I like women. I don’t want to marry again—not in the least. Well, that’s all right. I’ve had to be discreet—but I’ve had my good times all right. Poor Addie hasn’t. Addie’s a really nice woman. She’s the kind of woman men want to marry, not to sleep with. Give her half a chance and she would marry again—and be very happy and make the chap happy too. But old Jeff saw her always as Frank’s wife—and hypnotized her into seeing herself like that. He doesn’t know it, but we’ve been in prison. I broke out, on the quiet, a long time ago. Addie broke out this summer—and it gave him a shock. It split up his world. Result—Ruby Keene.”
Irrepressibly he sang:
“But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
“Come and have a drink, Clithering.”
It was hardly surprising, Sir Henry reflected, that Mark Gaskell should be an object of suspicion to the police.
Thirteen
I
Dr. Metcalf was one of the best-known physicians in Danemouth. He had no aggressive bedside manner, but his presence in the sick room had an invariably cheering effect. He was middle-aged, with a quiet pleasant voice.
He listened carefully