Hallowe'en Party - Agatha Christie [64]
She paused for breath.
‘Well, I can’t help you, I’m afraid, in any way.’
‘You have helped me a great deal,’ said Poirot. ‘What happened to the foreign girl who is said to have run away?’
‘Didn’t go far, in my opinion. “Ding dong dell, pussy’s in the well.” That’s what I’ve always thought, anyway.’
Chapter 17
‘Excuse me, Ma’am, I wonder if I might speak to you a minute.’
Mrs Oliver, who was standing on the verandah of her friend’s house looking out to see if there were any signs of Hercule Poirot approaching—he had notified her by telephone that he would be coming round to see her about now—looked round.
A neatly attired woman of middle age was standing, twisting her hands nervously in their neat cotton gloves.
‘Yes?’ said Mrs Oliver, adding an interrogation point by her intonation.
‘I’m sorry to trouble you, I’m sure, Madam, but I thought—well, I thought…’
Mrs Oliver listened but did not attempt to prompt her. She wondered what was worrying the woman so much.
‘I take it rightly as you’re the lady who writes stories, don’t I? Stories about crimes and murders and things of that kind.’
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Oliver, ‘I’m the one.’
Her curiosity was now aroused. Was this a preface for a demand for an autograph or even a signed photograph? One never knew. The most unlikely things happened.
‘I thought as you’d be the right one to tell me,’ said the woman.
‘You’d better sit down,’ said Mrs Oliver.
She foresaw that Mrs Whoever-it-was—she was wearing a wedding ring so she was a Mrs—was the type who takes some time in getting to the point. The woman sat down and went on twisting her hands in their gloves.
‘Something you’re worried about?’ said Mrs Oliver, doing her best to start the flow.
‘Well, I’d like advice, and it’s true. It’s about something that happened a good while ago and I wasn’t really worried at the time. But you know how it is. You think things over and you wish you knew someone you could go and ask about it.’
‘I see,’ said Mrs Oliver, hoping to inspire confidence by this entirely meretricious statement.
‘Seeing the things what have happened lately, you never do know, do you?’
‘You mean –?’
‘I mean what happened at the Hallowe’en party, or whatever they called it. I mean it shows you there’s people who aren’t dependable here, doesn’t it? And it shows you things before that weren’t as you thought they were. I mean, they mightn’t have been what you thought they were, if you understand what I mean.’
‘Yes?’ said Mrs Oliver, adding an even greater tinge of interrogation to the monosyllable. ‘I don’t think I know your name,’ she added.
‘Leaman. Mrs Leaman. I go out and do cleaning to oblige ladies here. Ever since my husband died, and that was five years ago. I used to work for Mrs Llewellyn-Smythe, the lady who lived up at the Quarry House, before Colonel and Mrs Weston came. I don’t know if you ever knew her.’
‘No,’ said Mrs Oliver, ‘I never knew her. This is the first time I have been down to Woodleigh Common.’
‘I see. Well, you wouldn’t know much about what was going on perhaps at that time, and what was said at that time.’
‘I’ve heard a certain amount about it since I’ve been down here this time,’ said Mrs Oliver.
‘You see, I don’t know anything about the law, and I’m worried always when it’s a question of law. Lawyers, I mean. They might tangle it up and I wouldn’t like to go to the police. It wouldn’t be anything to do with the police, being a legal matter, would it?’
‘Perhaps not,’ said Mrs Oliver, cautiously.
‘You know perhaps what they said at the time about the codi—I don’t know, some word like codi. Like the fish I mean.