Murder at the Vicarage - Agatha Christie [20]
‘No,’ I said. ‘You can take it from me that it was something quite different, but I can’t say more at the present juncture.’
He nodded and rose.
‘I’m glad to know. There’s a lot of talk. Too many women in this part of the world. Well, I must get along. I’ve got to see Haydock. He was called out to some case or other, but he ought to be back by now. I don’t mind telling you I’m sorry about Redding. He always struck me as a decent young chap. Perhaps they’ll think out some kind of defence for him. After-effects of war, shell shock, or something. Especially if no very adequate motive turns up. I must be off. Like to come along?’
I said I would like to very much, and we went out together.
Haydock’s house is next door to mine. His servant said the doctor had just come in and showed us into the dining-room, where Haydock was sitting down to a steaming plate of eggs and bacon. He greeted me with an amiable nod.
‘Sorry I had to go out. Confinement case. I’ve been up most of the night, over your business. I’ve got the bullet for you.’
He shoved a little box along the table. Melchett examined it.
‘Point two five?’
Haydock nodded.
‘I’ll keep the technical details for the inquest,’ he said. ‘All you want to know is that death was practically instantaneous. Silly young fool, what did he want to do it for? Amazing, by the way, that nobody heard the shot.’
‘Yes,’ said Melchett, ‘that surprises me.’
‘The kitchen window gives on the other side of the house,’ I said. ‘With the study door, the pantry door, and the kitchen door all shut, I doubt if you would hear anything, and there was no one but the maid in the house.’
‘H’m,’ said Melchett. ‘It’s odd, all the same. I wonder the old lady – what’s her name – Marple, didn’t hear it. The study window was open.’
‘Perhaps she did,’ said Haydock.
‘I don’t think she did,’ said I. ‘She was over at the Vicarage just now and she didn’t mention anything of the kind which I’m certain she would have done if there had been anything to tell.’
‘May have heard it and paid no attention to it – thought it was a car back-firing.’
It struck me that Haydock was looking much more jovial and good-humoured this morning. He seemed like a man who was decorously trying to subdue unusually good spirits.
‘Or what about a silencer?’ he added. ‘That’s quite likely. Nobody would hear anything then.’
Melchett shook his head.
‘Slack didn’t find anything of the kind, and he asked Redding, and Redding didn’t seem to know what he was talking about at first and then denied point blank using anything of the kind. And I suppose one can take his word for it.’
‘Yes, indeed, poor devil.’
‘Damned young fool,’ said Colonel Melchett. ‘Sorry, Clement. But he really is! Somehow one can’t get used to thinking of him as a murderer.’
‘Any motive?’ asked Haydock, taking a final draught of coffee and pushing back his chair.
‘He says they quarrelled and he lost his temper and shot him.’
‘Hoping for manslaughter, eh?’ The doctor shook his head. ‘That story doesn’t hold water. He stole up behind him as he was writing and shot him through the head. Precious little “quarrel” about that.’
‘Anyway, there wouldn’t have been time for a quarrel,’ I said, remembering Miss Marple’s words. ‘To creep up, shoot him, alter the clock hands back to 6.20, and leave again would have taken him all his time. I shall never forget his face when I met him outside the gate, or the way he said, “You want to see Protheroe – oh, you’ll see him all right!” That in itself ought to have made me suspicious of what had just taken place a few minutes before.’
Haydock stared at me.
‘What do you mean – what had just taken place? When do you think Redding shot him?’
‘A few minutes before I got to the house.’
The doctor shook his head.
‘Impossible. Plumb impossible.