Five Little Pigs - Agatha Christie [67]
I didn’t understand Caroline at all. We all went over to Meredith Blake’s to tea, and Caroline played up marvellously—talking and laughing. Like a fool, I thought she was taking it well. It was awkward my not being able to leave the house, but Amyas would have gone up in smoke if I had. I thought perhaps Caroline would go. It would have made it much easier for us if she had.
I didn’t see her take the coniine. I want to be honest so I think that it’s just possible that she may have taken it as she said she did, with the idea of suicide in her mind.
But I don’t really think so. I think she was one of those intensely jealous and possessive women who won’t let go of anything that they think belongs to them. Amyas was her property. I think she was quite prepared to kill him rather than to let him go—completely and finally—to another woman. I think she made up her mind, right away, to kill him. And I think that Meredith’s happening to discuss coniine so freely just gave her the means to do what she’d already made up her mind to do. She was a very bitter and revengeful woman—vindictive. Amyas knew all along that she was dangerous. I didn’t.
The next morning she had a final showdown with Amyas. I heard most of it from the outside on the terrace. He was splendid—very patient and calm. He implored her to be reasonable. He said he was very fond of her and the child and always would be. He’d do everything he could do to assure their future. Then he hardened up and said: “But understand this. I’m damned well going to marry Elsa—and nothing shall stop me. You and I always agreed to leave each other free. These things happen.”
Caroline said to him: “Do as you please. I’ve warned you.”
Her voice was very quiet, but there was a queer note in it.
Amyas said: “What do you mean, Caroline?”
She said: “You’re mine and I don’t mean to let you go. Sooner than let you go to that girl I’ll kill you….”
Just at that minute, Philip Blake came along the terrace. I got up and went to meet him. I didn’t want him to overhear.
Presently Amyas came out and said it was time to get on with the picture. We went down together to the Battery. He didn’t say much. Just said that Caroline was cutting up rough—but for God’s sake not to talk about it. He wanted to concentrate on what he was doing. Another day, he said, would about finish the picture.
He said: “And it’ll be the best thing I’ve ever done, Elsa, even if it is paid for in blood and tears.”
A little later I went up to the house to get a pullover. There was a chilly wind blowing. When I came back again Caroline was there. I suppose she had come down to make one last appeal. Philip and Meredith Blake were there too.
It was then that Amyas said he was thirsty and wanted a drink. He said there was beer but it wasn’t iced.
Caroline said she’d send him down some iced beer. She said it quite naturally in an almost friendly tone. She was an actress, that woman. She must have known then what she meant to do.
She brought it down about ten minutes later. Amyas was painting. She poured it out and set the glass down beside him. Neither of us were watching her. Amyas was intent on what he was doing and I had to keep the pose.
Amyas drank it down the way he always drank beer, just pouring it down his throat in one draught. Then he made a face and said it tasted foul—but at any rate it was cold.
And even then, when he said that, no suspicion entered my head, I just laughed and said: “Liver.”
When she’d seen him drink it Caroline went away.
It must have been about forty minutes later that Amyas complained of stiffness and pains. He said he thought he must have got a touch of muscular rheumatism. Amyas was always intolerant of any ailment and he didn’t like being fussed over. After saying that he turned it off with a light: “Old age, I suppose. You’ve taken on a creaking old man, Elsa.” I played up to him. But I noticed that his legs moved stiffly and queerly and that he grimaced once or twice. I never dreamt that it wasn’t rheumatism. Presently