Hallowe'en Party - Agatha Christie [46]
‘You were also, I believe, in charge of the legal affairs of Mrs Llewellyn-Smythe?’
‘The aunt, yes. Remarkable woman really. She came here to live after her health broke down, so as to be near her nephew and his wife. Bought that white elephant of a place, Quarry House. Paid far more than it was worth—but money was no object to her. She was very well off. She could have found a more attractive house, but it was the quarry itself that fascinated her. Got a landscape gardener on to it, fellow quite high up in his profession, I believe. One of those handsome, long-haired chaps, but he had ability all right. He did well for himself in this quarry garden work. Got himself quite a reputation over it, illustrated in Homes and Gardens and all the rest of it. Yes, Mrs Llewellyn-Smythe knew how to pick people. It wasn’t just a question of a handsome young man as a protégé. Some elderly women are foolish that way, but this chap had brains and was at the top of his profession. But I’m wandering on a bit. Mrs Llewellyn-Smythe died nearly two years ago.’
‘Quite suddenly.’
Fullerton looked at Poirot sharply.
‘Well, no, I wouldn’t say that. She had a heart condition and doctors tried to keep her from doing too much, but she was the sort of woman that you couldn’t dictate to. She wasn’t a hypochondriac type.’ He coughed and said, ‘But I expect we are getting away from the subject about which you came to talk to me.’
‘Not really,’ said Poirot, ‘although I would like, if I may, to ask you a few questions on a completely different matter. Some information about one of your employees, by name Lesley Ferrier.’
Mr Fullerton looked somewhat surprised. ‘Lesley Ferrier?’ he said. ‘Lesley Ferrier. Let me see. Really you know, I’d nearly forgotten his name. Yes, yes, of course. Got himself knifed, didn’t he?’
‘That is the man I mean.’
‘Well, I don’t really know that I can tell you much about him. It took place some years ago. Knifed near the Green Swan one night. No arrest was ever made. I daresay the police had some idea who was responsible, but it was mainly, I think, a matter of getting evidence.’
‘The motive was emotional?’ inquired Poirot.
‘Oh yes, I should think certainly so. Jealousy, you know. He’d been going steady with a married woman. Her husband had a pub. The Green Swan at Woodleigh Common. Unpretentious place. Then it seems young Lesley started playing around with another young woman—or more than one, it was said. Quite a one for the girls, he was. There was a bit of trouble once or twice.’
‘You were satisfied with him as an employee?’
‘I would rather describe it as not dissatisfied. He had his points. He handled clients well and was studying for his articles, and if only he’d paid more attention to his position and keeping up a good standard of behaviour, it would have been better instead of mixing himself up with one girl after another, most of whom I am apt in my old-fashioned way to consider as considerably beneath him in station. There was a row one night at the Green Swan, and Lesley Ferrier was knifed on his way home.’
‘Was one of the girls responsible, or would it be Mrs Green Swan, do you think?’
‘Really, it is not a case of knowing anything definite. I believe the police considered it was a case of jealousy—but–’ He shrugged his shoulders.
‘But you are not sure?’
‘Oh, it happens,’ said Mr Fullerton. ‘“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” That is always being quoted in Court. Sometimes it’s true.’
‘But I think I discern that you yourself are not at all sure that that was the case here.’
‘Well, I should have preferred rather more evidence, shall we say. The police would have preferred rather more evidence, too. Public prosecutor threw it out, I believe.’
‘It could have been something quite different?’
‘Oh yes. One could propound several theories. Not a very stable character, young Ferrier. Well brought up. Nice mother—a widow. Father not so satisfactory. Got himself out of several