Elephants Can Remember - Agatha Christie [64]
‘Mrs Burton-Cox,’ he said, announcing the name much as though he had been the local churchwarden having his turn at reading the lessons. He might equally have been saying ‘Third verse, fourth chapter, the book of Isaiah.’
‘Mrs Burton-Cox,’ he said again. ‘Married Mr Cecil Aldbury, manufacturer of buttons on a large scale. Rich man. Entered politics, was MP for Little Stansmere. Mr Cecil Aldbury was killed in a car accident four years after their marriage. The only child of the marriage died in an accident shortly afterwards. Mr Aldbury’s estate was inherited by his wife, but was not as much as had been expected since the firm had not been doing well of late years. Mr Aldbury also left quite a considerable sum of money to a Miss Kathleen Fenn, with whom it seemed he had been having intimate relations quite unknown to his wife. Mrs Burton-Cox continued her political career. Some three years after that she adopted a child which had been born to Miss Kathleen Fenn. Miss Kathleen Fenn insisted that the child was the son of the late Mr Aldbury. This, from what I have been able to learn in my enquiries, is somewhat difficult to accept,’ continued Mr Goby. ‘Miss Fenn had had many relationships, usually with gentlemen of ample means and generous dispositions, but after all, so many people have their price, have they not? I’m afraid this is quite a serious bill I may have to send you in.’
‘Continue,’ said Hercule Poirot.
‘Mrs Aldbury, as she then was, agreed to adopt the child. A short while later she married Major Burton-Cox. Miss Kathleen Fenn became, I may say, a most successful actress and pop singer and made a very large amount of money. She then wrote to Mrs Burton-Cox saying she would be willing to take back the adopted child. Mrs Burton-Cox refused. Mrs Burton-Cox has been living quite comfortably since, I understand, Major Burton-Cox was killed in Malaya. He left her moderately well off. A further piece of information I have obtained is that Miss Kathleen Fenn, who died a very short while ago – eighteen months, I think – left a Will by which her entire fortune, which amounted by then to a considerable sum of money, was left to her natural son Desmond, at present known under the name of Desmond Burton-Cox.’
‘Very generous,’ said Poirot. ‘Of what did Miss Fenn die?’
‘My informant tells me that she contracted leukaemia.’
‘And the boy has inherited his mother’s money?’
‘It was left in trust for him to acquire at the age of twenty-five.’
‘So he will be independent, will have a substantial fortune? And Mrs Burton-Cox?’
‘Has not been happy in her investments, it is understood. She has sufficient to live on but not much more.’
‘Has the boy Desmond made a Will?’ asked Poirot.
‘That,’ said Mr Goby, ‘I fear I do not know as yet. But I have certain means of finding out. If I do, I will acquaint you with the fact without loss of time.’
Mr Goby took his leave, absent-mindedly bowing a farewell to the electric fire.
About an hour and a half later the telephone rang.
Hercule Poirot, with a sheet of paper in front of him, was making notes. Now and then he frowned, twirled his moustaches, crossed something out and re-wrote it and then proceeded onward. When the telephone rang he picked up the receiver and listened.
‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘that was quick work. Yes . . . yes, I’m grateful. I really do not know sometimes how you manage these things . . . Yes, that sets out the position clearly. It makes sense of something that did not make sense before . . . Yes . . . I gather . . . yes, I’m listening . . . you are pretty sure that that is the case. He knows he is adopted . . . but he never has been told who his real mother was . . . yes. Yes, I see . . . Very well. You will clear up the