Cat Among the Pigeons - Agatha Christie [60]
“I hope you’ll find her alive,” said Miss Bulstrode grimly. “We seem to be up against someone who isn’t too scrupulous about human life.”
“They wouldn’t have troubled to kidnap her if they’d meant to do away with her,” said Adam. “They could have done that here easily enough.”
He felt that the last words were unfortunate. Miss Bulstrode gave him a look.
“So it seems,” she said dryly.
The telephone rang. Miss Bulstrode took up the receiver.
“Yes?”
She motioned to Inspector Kelsey.
“It’s for you.”
Adam and Miss Bulstrode watched him as he took the call. He grunted, jotted down a note or two, said finally: “I see. Alderton Priors. That’s Wallshire. Yes, we’ll cooperate. Yes, Super. I’ll carry on here, then.”
He put down the receiver and stayed a moment lost in thought. Then he looked up.
“His Excellency got a ransom note this morning. Typed on a new Corona. Postmark Portsmouth. Bet that’s a blind.”
“Where and how?” asked Adam.
“Crossroads two miles north of Alderton Priors. That’s a bit of bare moorland. Envelope containing money to be put under stone behind A.A. box there at 2 a.m. tomorrow morning.”
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand.” He shook his head. “Sounds amateurish to me.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Miss Bulstrode.
Inspector Kelsey looked at her. He was a different man. Official reticence hung about him like a cloak.
“The responsibility isn’t mine, madam,” he said. “We have our methods.”
“I hope they’re successful,” said Miss Bulstrode.
“Ought to be easy,” said Adam.
“Amateurish?” said Miss Bulstrode, catching at a word they had used. “I wonder….”
Then she said sharply:
“What about my staff? What remains of it, that is to say? Do I trust them, or don’t I?”
As Inspector Kelsey hesitated, she said,
“You’re afraid that if you tell me who is not cleared, I should show it in my manner to them. You’re wrong. I shouldn’t.”
“I don’t think you would,” said Kelsey. “But I can’t afford to take any chances. It doesn’t look, on the face of it, as though any of your staff can be the person we’re looking for. That is, not so far as we’ve been able to check up on them. We’ve paid special attention to those who are new this term—that is Mademoiselle Blanche, Miss Springer and your secretary, Miss Shapland. Miss Shapland’s past is completely corroborated. She’s the daughter of a retired general, she has held the posts she says she did and her former employers vouch for her. In addition she has an alibi for last night. When Miss Vansittart was killed, Miss Shapland was with a Mr. Dennis Rathbone at a nightclub. They’re both well known there, and Mr. Rathbone has an excellent character. Mademoiselle Blanche’s antecedents have also been checked. She has taught at a school in the north of England and at two schools in Germany, and has been given an excellent character. She is said to be a first-class teacher.”
“Not by our standards,” sniffed Miss Bulstrode.
“Her French background has also been checked. As regards Miss Springer, things are not quite so conclusive. She did her training where she says, but there have been gaps since in her periods of employment which are not fully accounted for.
“Since, however, she was killed,” added the Inspector, “that seems to exonerate her.”
“I agree,” said Miss Bulstrode dryly, “that both Miss Springer and Miss Vansittart are hors de combat as suspects. Let us talk sense. Is Mademoiselle Blanche, in spite of her blameless background, still a suspect merely because she is still alive?”
“She could have done both murders. She was here, in the building, last night,” said Kelsey. “She says she went to bed early and slept and heard nothing until the alarm was given. There’s no evidence to the contrary. We’ve got nothing