Caribbean Mystery - Agatha Christie [31]
“Yes. She said she had done it out of pity—that Gail was suffering—that she had begged Lucky to get something that would end it all.”
“A mercy killing! I see. And you believed that?”
Edward Hillingdon was silent a moment—then he said:
“No—I didn’t really—not deep down—I accepted it because I wanted to believe it—because I was infatuated with Lucky.”
“And afterwards—when she married Greg—did you still believe it?”
“I’d made myself believe it by then.”
“And Greg—how much did he know about it all?”
“Nothing at all.”
“That I find hard to believe!”
Edward Hillingdon broke out—
“Evelyn, I’ve got to get free of it all! That woman taunts me still with what I did. She knows I don’t care for her any longer. Care for her?—I’ve come to hate her—But she makes me feel I’m tied to her—by the thing we did together—”
Evelyn walked up and down the room—then she stopped and faced him.
“The entire trouble with you, Edward, is that you are ridiculously sensitive—and also incredibly suggestible. That devil of a woman has got you just where she wants you by playing on your sense of guilt—And I’ll tell you this in plain Bible terms, the guilt that weighs on you is the guilt of adultery—not murder—you were guilt-stricken about your affair with Lucky—and then she made a cat’s-paw of you for her murder scheme, and managed to make you feel you shared her guilt. You don’t.”
“Evelyn….” He stepped towards her—
She stepped back a minute—and looked at him searchingly.
“Is this all true, Edward—Is it? Or are you making it up?”
“Evelyn! Why on earth should I do such a thing?”
“I don’t know,” said Evelyn Hillingdon slowly—“It’s just perhaps—because I find it hard to trust—anybody. And because—Oh! I don’t know—I’ve got, I suppose, so that I don’t know the truth when I hear it.”
“Let’s chuck all this—Go back home to England.”
“Yes—We will—But not now.”
“Why not?”
“We must carry on as usual—just for the present. It’s important. Do you understand, Edward? Don’t let Lucky have an inkling of what we’re up to—”
Thirteen
EXIT VICTORIA JOHNSON
The evening was drawing to a close. The steel band was at last relaxing its efforts. Tim stood by the dining room looking over the terrace. He extinguished a few lights on tables that had been vacated.
A voice spoke behind him. “Tim, can I speak to you a moment?”
Tim Kendal started.
“Hallo, Evelyn, is there anything I can do for you?”
Evelyn looked round.
“Come to this table here, and let’s sit down a minute.”
She led the way to a table at the extreme end of the terrace. There were no other people near them.
“Tim, you must forgive me talking to you, but I’m worried about Molly.”
His face changed at once.
“What about Molly?” he said stiffly.
“I don’t think she’s awfully well. She seems upset.”
“Things do seem to upset her rather easily just lately.”
“She ought to see a doctor, I think.”
“Yes, I know, but she doesn’t want to. She’d hate it.”
“Why?”
“Eh? What d’you mean?”
“I said why? Why should she hate seeing a doctor?”
“Well,” said Tim rather vaguely, “people do sometimes, you know. It’s—well, it sort of makes them feel frightened about themselves.”
“You’re worried about her yourself, aren’t you, Tim?”
“Yes. Yes, I am rather.”
“Isn’t there anyone of her family who could come out here to be with her?”
“No. That’d make things worse, far worse.”
“What is the trouble—with her family, I mean?”
“Oh, just one of those things. I suppose she’s just highly strung and—she didn’t get on with them—particularly her mother. She never has. They’re—they’re rather an odd family in some ways and she cut loose from them. Good thing she did, I think.”
Evelyn said hesitantly—“She seems to have had blackouts, from what she told me, and to be frightened of people. Almost like persecution mania.”
“Don’t say that,” said Tim angrily. “Persecution mania! People always say that about people. Just because she—well—maybe she’s a bit nervy. Coming out here to the West Indies. All the dark faces. You know, people are rather queer, sometimes, about the West Indies