Five Little Pigs - Agatha Christie [15]
Superintendent Hale paused, refilled his pipe and passed on to Chapter Three.
“Colonel Frere, the Chief Constable, put the case into my hands. The result of the autopsy put the matter beyond any doubt. Coniine, I understand, leaves no definite postmortem appearances, but the doctors knew what to look for, and an ample amount of the drug was recovered. The doctor was of the opinion that it had been administered two or three hours before death. In front of Mr. Crale, on the table, there had been an empty glass and an empty beer bottle. The dregs of both were analysed. There was no coniine in the bottle, but there was in the glass. I made inquiries and learned that although a case of beer and glasses were kept in a small summerhouse in the Battery garden in case Mr. Crale should feel thirsty when painting, on this particular morning Mrs. Crale had brought down from the house a bottle of freshly iced beer. Mr. Crale was busy painting when she arrived and Miss Greer was posing for him, sitting on one of the battlements.
“Mrs. Crale opened the beer, poured it out and put the glass into her husband’s hand as he was standing before the easel. He tossed it off in one draught—a habit of his, I learned. Then he made a grimace, set down the glass on the table, and said: ‘Everything tastes foul to me today!’ Miss Greer upon that laughed and said, ‘Liver!’ Mr. Crale said: ‘Well, at any rate it was cold.’”
Hale paused. Poirot said:
“At what time did this take place?”
“At about a quarter past eleven. Mr. Crale continued to paint. According to Miss Greer, he later complained of stiffness in the limbs and grumbled that he must have got a touch of rheumatism. But he was the type of man who hates to admit to illness of any kind, and he undoubtedly tried not to admit that he was feeling ill. His irritable demand that he should be left alone and the others go up to lunch was quite characteristic of the man, I should say.”
Poirot nodded.
Hale continued.
“So Crale was left alone in the Battery garden. No doubt he dropped down on the seat and relaxed as soon as he was alone. Muscular paralysis would then set in. No help was at hand, and death supervened.”
Again Poirot nodded.
Hale said:
“Well, I proceeded according to routine. There wasn’t much difficulty in getting down to the facts. On the preceding day there had been a set-to between Mrs. Crale and Miss Greer. The latter had pretty insolently described some change in the arrangement of the furniture ‘when I am living here.’ Mrs. Crale took her up, and said, ‘What do you mean? When you are living here.’ Miss Greer replied: ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean, Caroline. You’re just like an ostrich that buries its head in the sand. You know perfectly well that Amyas and I care for each other and are going to be married.’ Mrs. Crale said: ‘I know nothing of the kind.’ Miss Greer then said: ‘Well, you know it now.’ Whereupon, it seems, Mrs. Crale turned to her husband who had just come into the room and said: ‘Is it true, Amyas, that you are going to marry Elsa?’”
Poirot said with interest:
“And what did Mr. Crale say to that?”
“Apparently he turned on Miss Greer and shouted at her: ‘What the devil do you mean by blurting that out? Haven’t you got the sense to hold your tongue?’
“Miss Greer said: ‘I think Caroline ought to recognize the truth.’
“Mrs. Crale said to her husband: ‘Is it true, Amyas?’
“He wouldn’t look at her, it seems, turned his face away and mumbled something.
“She said: ‘Speak out. I’ve got to know.’ Whereupon he said:
“‘Oh, it’s true enough—but I don’t want to discuss it now.’
“Then he flounced out of the room again and Miss Greer said:
“‘You see!’ and went on—with something about its being no good for Mrs. Crale to adopt a dog-in-the-manger