Hickory Dickory Dock - Agatha Christie [68]
“Everybody else was here, in the house? Nobody came back during that time?”
“Only Miss Sally. She been down to pillar-box with letter and come back in—”
“Do you know what time she came in?”
Geronimo frowned.
“She came back while the news was going on.”
“After six, then?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What part of the news was it?”
“I don’t remember, sir. But before the sport. Because when sport come we switch off.”
Sharpe smiled grimly. It was a wide field. Only Nigel Chapman, Valerie Hobhouse and Mrs. Hubbard could be excluded. It would mean long and exhaustive questioning. Who had been in the common room, who had left it? And when? Who would vouch for who? Add to that, that many of the students, especially the Asiatic and African ones, were constitutionally vague about times, and the task was no enviable one.
But it would have to be done.
III
In Mrs. Hubbard’s room the atmosphere was unhappy. Mrs. Hubbard herself, still in her outdoor things, her nice round face strained and anxious, sat on the sofa. Sharpe and Sergeant Cobb sat at a small table.
“I think she telephoned from in here,” said Sharpe. “Around about six-eight several people left or entered the common room, or so they say—and nobody saw or noticed or heard the hall telephone being used. Of course, their times aren’t reliable, half these people never seem to look at a clock. But I think that anyway she’d come in here if she wanted to telephone the police station. You were out, Mrs. Hubbard, but I don’t suppose you lock your door?”
Mrs. Hubbard shook her head.
“Mrs. Nicoletis always did, but I never do—”
“Well then, Patricia Lane comes in here to telephone, all agog with what’s she’s remembered. Then, whilst she was talking, the door opened and somebody looked in or came in. Patricia stalled and hung up. Was that because she recognised the intruder as the person whose name she was just about to say? Or was it just a general precaution? Might be either. I incline myself to the first supposition.”
Mrs. Hubbard nodded emphatically.
“Whoever it was may have followed her here, perhaps listening outside the door. Then came in to stop Pat from going on.”
“And then—”
Sharpe’s face darkened. “That person went back to Patricia’s room with her, talking quite normally and easily. Perhaps Patricia taxed her with removing the bicarbonate, and perhaps the other gave a plausible explanation.”
Mrs. Hubbard said sharply:
“Why do you say ‘her?’ ”
“Funny thing—a pronoun! When we found the body, Nigel Chapman said, ‘I’ll kill whoever did this. I’ll kill him.’ ‘Him,’ you notice. Nigel Chapman clearly believed the murder was done by a man. It may be because he associated the idea of violence with a man. It may be that he’s got some particular suspicion pointing to a man, to some particular man. If the latter, we must find out his reasons for thinking so. But speaking for myself, I plump for a woman.”
“Why?”
“Just this. Somebody went into Patricia’s room with her—someone with whom she felt quite at home. That points to another girl. The men don’t go to the girls’ bedroom floors unless it’s for some special reason. That’s right, isn’t it, Mrs. Hubbard?”
“Yes. It’s not exactly a hard and fast rule, but it’s fairly generally observed.”
“The other side of the house is cut off from this side, except on the ground floor. Taking it that the conversation earlier between Nigel and Pat was overheard, it would in all probability be a woman who overheard it.”
“Yes, I see what you mean. And some of the girls seem to spend half their time here listening at keyholes.”
She flushed and added apologetically:
“That’s rather too harsh. Actually, although these houses are solidly built, they’ve been cut up and partitioned, and all the new work is flimsy as anything, like paper. You can’t help hearing through it. Jean, I must admit, does do a good deal of snooping. She’s the type. And of course, when Genevieve heard Nigel telling Pat his father had murdered his mother, she stopped and listened for all she was worth.