Crooked House - Agatha Christie [66]
“That child seems none the worse for her adventure,” she said. “We must look after her better in future. Still—I suppose now it won’t be necessary?”
She sighed and said:
“I’m glad it’s over. But what an exhibition! If you are arrested for murder, you might at least have some dignity. I’ve no patience with people like Brenda who go to pieces and squeal. No guts, these people. Laurence Brown looked like a cornered rabbit.”
An obscure instinct of pity rose in me.
“Poor devils,” I said.
“Yes—poor devils. She’ll have the sense to look after herself, I suppose? I mean the right lawyers—all that sort of thing.”
It was queer, I thought, the dislike they all had for Brenda, and their scrupulous care for her to have all the advantages for defence.
Edith de Haviland went on:
“How long will it be? How long will the whole thing take?”
I said I didn’t know exactly. They would be charged at the police court and presumably sent for trial. Three or four months, I estimated—and if convicted, there would be the appeal.
“Do you think they will be convicted?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t know exactly how much evidence the police have. There are letters.”
“Love letters—They were lovers then?”
“They were in love with each other.”
Her face grew grimmer.
“I’m not happy about this, Charles. I don’t like Brenda. In the past, I’ve disliked her very much. I’ve said sharp things about her. But now—I do feel that I want her to have every chance—every possible chance. Aristide would have wished that. I feel it’s up to me to see that—that Brenda gets a square deal.”
“And Laurence?”
“Oh, Laurence!” she shrugged her shoulders impatiently. “Men must look after themselves. But Aristide would never forgive us if—” She left the sentence unfinished.
Then she said:
“It must be almost lunch time. We’d better go in.”
I explained that I was going up to London.
“In your car?”
“Yes.”
“H’m. I wonder if you’d take me with you. I gather we’re allowed off the lead now.”
“Of course I will, but I believe Magda and Sophia are going up after lunch. You’ll be more comfortable with them than in my two-seater.”
“I don’t want to go with them. Take me with you, and don’t say much about it.”
I was surprised, but I did as she asked. We did not speak much on the way to town. I asked her where I should put her down.
“Harley Street.”
I felt some faint apprehension, but I didn’t like to say anything. She continued:
“No, it’s too early. Drop me at Debenhams. I can have some lunch there and go to Harley Street afterwards.”
“I hope—” I began and stopped.
“That’s why I didn’t want to go up with Magda. She dramatizes things. Lots of fuss.”
“I’m very sorry,” I said.
“You needn’t be. I’ve had a good life. A very good life.” She gave a sudden grin. “And it’s not over yet.”
Twenty-three
I had not seen my father for some days. I found him busy with things other than the Leonides case, and I went in search of Taverner.
Taverner was enjoying a short spell of leisure and was willing to come out and have a drink with me. I congratulated him on having cleared up the case and he accepted my congratulation, but his manner remained far from jubilant.
“Well, that’s over,” he said. “We’ve got a case. Nobody can deny we’ve got a case.”
“Do you think you’ll get a conviction?”
“Impossible to say. The evidence is circumstantial—it nearly always is in a murder case—bound to be. A lot depends on the impression they make on the jury.”
“How far do the letters go?”
“At first sight, Charles, they’re pretty damning. There are references to their life together when her husband’s dead. Phrases like—‘it won’t be long now.’ Mind you, defence counsel will try and twist it the other way—the husband was so old that of course they could reasonably expect him to die. There’s no actual mention of poisoning—not down in black and white—but there are some passages that could mean that. It depends what judge we get.