Dead Man's Folly - Agatha Christie [50]
‘You think her body is somewhere on the estate?’
‘Yes, M. Poirot, I do. They’ll find it once they search around. Mind you, with about sixty-five acres of woodland here, it’ll take some finding, if it’s been dragged into the bushes or tumbled down a slope into the trees. What they need is bloodhounds,’ said Mrs Masterton, looking, as she spoke, exactly like a bloodhound herself. ‘Bloodhounds! I shall ring up the Chief Constable myself and say so.’
‘It is very possible that you are right, Madame,’ said Poirot. It was clearly the only thing one could say to Mrs Masterton.
‘Of course I’m right,’ said Mrs Masterton; ‘but I must say, you know, it makes me very uneasy because the fellow is somewhere about. I’m calling in at the village when I leave here, telling the mothers to be very careful about their daughters – not let ’em go about alone. It’s not a nice thought, M. Poirot, to have a killer in our midst.’
‘A little point, Madame. How could a strange man have obtained admission to the boathouse? That would need a key.’
‘Oh, that,’ said Mrs Masterton, ‘that’s easy enough. She came out, of course.’
‘Came out of the boathouse?’
‘Yes. I expect she got bored, like girls do. Probably wandered out and looked about her. The most likely thing, I think, is that she actually saw Hattie Stubbs murdered. Heard a struggle or something, went to see and the man, having disposed of Lady Stubbs, naturally had to kill her too. Easy enough for him to take her back to the boathouse, dump her there and come out, pulling the door behind him. It was a Yale lock. It would pull to, and lock.’
Poirot nodded gently. It was not his purpose to argue with Mrs Masterton or to point out to her the interesting fact which she had completely overlooked, that if Marlene Tucker had been killed away from the boathouse, somebody must have known enough about the murder game to put her back in the exact place and position which the victim was supposed to assume. Instead, he said gently:
‘Sir George Stubbs is confident that his wife is still alive.’
‘That’s what he says, man, because he wants to believe it. He was very devoted to her, you know.’ She added, rather unexpectedly, ‘I like George Stubbs in spite of his origins and his city background and all that, he goes down very well in the county. The worst that can be said about him is that he’s a bit of a snob. And after all, social snobbery’s harmless enough.’
Poirot said somewhat cynically:
‘In these days, Madame, surely money has become as acceptable as good birth.’
‘My dear man, I couldn’t agree with you more. There’s no need for him to be a snob – only got to buy the place and throw his money about, and we’d all come and call! But actually, the man’s liked. It’s not only his money. Of course Amy Folliat’s had something to do with that. She has sponsored them, and mind you, she’s got a lot of influence in this part of the world. Why, there have been Folliats here since Tudor times.’
‘There have always been Folliats at Nasse House,’ Poirot murmured to himself.
‘Yes.’ Mrs Masterton sighed. ‘It’s sad, the toll taken by the war. Young men killed in battle – death duties and all that. Then whoever comes into a place can’t afford to keep it up and has to sell –’
‘But Mrs Folliat, although she has lost her home, still lives on the estate.’
‘Yes. She’s made the Lodge quite charming too. Have you been inside it?’
‘No, we parted at the door.’
‘It wouldn’t be everybody’s cup of tea,’ said Mrs Masterton. ‘To live at the lodge of your old home and see strangers in possession. But to do Amy Folliat justice I don’t think she