Cards on the Table - Agatha Christie [31]
‘Naturally,’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘I don’t know what you think, but I haven’t the least doubt who did it. That doctor. What was his name? Roberts. That’s it! Roberts. A Welsh name! I never trust the Welsh! I had a Welsh nurse and she took me to Harrogate one day and went home having forgotten all about me. Very unstable. But never mind about her. Roberts did it—that’s the point and we must put our heads together and prove he did.’
Rhoda Dawes laughed suddenly—then she blushed.
‘I beg your pardon. But you’re—you’re so different from what I would have imagined.’
‘A disappointment, I expect,’ said Mrs Oliver serenely. ‘I’m used to that. Never mind. What we must do is prove that Roberts did it!’
‘How can we?’ said Anne.
‘Oh, don’t be so defeatist, Anne,’ cried Rhoda Dawes. ‘I think Mrs Oliver’s splendid. Of course, she knows all about these things. She’ll do just as Sven Hjerson does.’
Blushing slightly at the name of her celebrated Finnish detective, Mrs Oliver said:
‘It’s got to be done, and I’ll tell you why, child. You don’t want people thinking you did it?’
‘Why should they?’ asked Anne, her colour rising.
‘You know what people are!’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘The three who didn’t do it will come in for just as much suspicion as the one who did.’
Anne Meredith said slowly:
‘I still don’t quite see why you come to me, Mrs Oliver?’
‘Because in my opinion the other two don’t matter! Mrs Lorrimer is one of those women who play bridge at bridge clubs all day. Women like that must be made of armourplating—they can look after themselves all right! And anyway she’s old. It wouldn’t matter if anyone thought she’d done it. A girl’s different. She’s got her life in front of her.’
‘And Major Despard?’ asked Anne.
‘Pah!’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘He’s a man! I never worry about men. Men can look after themselves. Do it remarkably well, if you ask me. Besides, Major Despard enjoys a dangerous life. He’s getting his fun at home instead of on the Irrawaddy—or do I mean the Limpopo? You know what I mean—that yellow African river that men like so much. No, I’m not worrying my head about either of those two.’
‘It’s very kind of you,’ said Anne slowly.
‘It was a beastly thing to happen,’ said Rhoda. ‘It’s broken Anne up, Mrs Oliver. She’s awfully sensitive. And I think you’re quite right. It would be ever so much better to do something than just to sit here thinking about it all.’
‘Of course it would,’ said Mrs Oliver. ‘To tell you the truth, a real murder has never come my way before. And, to continue telling the truth, I don’t believe real murder is very much in my line. I’m so used to loading the dice—if you understand what I mean. But I wasn’t going to be out of it and let those three men have all the fun to themselves. I’ve always said that if a woman were the head of Scotland Yard—’
‘Yes?’ said Rhoda, leaning forward with parted lips. ‘If you were head of Scotland Yard, what would you do?’
‘I should arrest Dr Roberts straight away—’
‘Yes?’
‘However, I’m not the head of Scotland Yard,’ said Mrs Oliver, retreating from dangerous ground. ‘I’m a private individual—’
‘Oh, you’re not that,’ said Rhoda, confusedly complimentary.
‘Here we are,’ continued Mrs Oliver, ‘three private individuals—all women. Let us see what we can do by putting our heads together.’
Anne Meredith nodded thoughtfully. Then she said:
‘Why do you think Dr Roberts did it?’
‘He’s that sort of man,’ replied Mrs Oliver promptly.
‘Don’t you think, though—’ Anne hesitated. ‘Wouldn’t a doctor—? I mean something like poison would be so much easier for him.’
‘Not at all. Poison—drugs of any kind would point straight to a doctor. Look how they are always leaving cases of dangerous drugs in cars all over London and getting them stolen. No, just because he was a doctor he’d take special care not to use anything of a medical kind.’
‘I see,’ said Anne doubtfully.
Then she said:
‘But why do you think he wanted to kill Mr Shaitana? Have you any idea?’
‘Idea? I’ve got any amount of ideas. In