Murder at the Vicarage - Agatha Christie [75]
‘No refusing about it. You’ve made a mistake, that’s all. You and your meddlesome Marples. I won’t say a word more – not without my solicitor present. I’m going this minute – unless you’re going to arrest me.’
For answer, the Inspector rose and opened the door for her, and with a toss of the head, Miss Cram walked out.
‘That’s the line she takes,’ said Slack, coming back to his chair. ‘Absolute denial. And, of course, the old lady may have been mistaken. No jury would believe you could recognize anyone from that distance on a moonlit night. And, of course, as I say, the old lady may have made a mistake.’
‘She may,’ I said, ‘but I don’t think she did. Miss Marple is usually right. That’s what makes her unpopular.’
The Inspector grinned.
‘That’s what Hurst says. Lord, these villages!’
‘What about the silver, Inspector?’
‘Seemed to be perfectly in order. Of course, that meant one lot or the other must be a fake. There’s a very good man in Much Benham, an authority on old silver. I’ve phoned over to him and sent a car to fetch him. We’ll soon know which is which. Either the burglary was an accomplished fact, or else it was only planned. Doesn’t make a frightful lot of difference either way – I mean as far as we’re concerned. Robbery’s a small business compared with murder. These two aren’t concerned with the murder. We’ll maybe get a line on him through the girl – that’s why I let her go without any more fuss.’
‘I wondered,’ I said.
‘A pity about Mr Redding. It’s not often you find a man who goes out of his way to oblige you.’
‘I suppose not,’ I said, smiling slightly.
‘Women cause a lot of trouble,’ moralized the Inspector.
He sighed and then went on, somewhat to my surprise: ‘Of course, there’s Archer.’
‘Oh!’ I said, ‘You’ve thought of him?’
‘Why, naturally, sir, first thing. It didn’t need any anonymous letters to put me on his track.’
‘Anonymous letters,’ I said sharply. ‘Did you get one, then?’
‘That’s nothing new, sir. We get a dozen a day, at least. Oh, yes, we were put wise to Archer. As though the police couldn’t look out for themselves! Archer’s been under suspicion from the first. The trouble of it is, he’s got an alibi. Not that it amounts to anything, but it’s awkward to get over.’
‘What do you mean by its not amounting to anything?’ I asked.
‘Well, it appear she was with a couple of pals all the afternoon. Not, as I say, that that counts much. Men like Archer and his pals would swear to anything. There’s no believing a word they say. We know that. But the public doesn’t, and the jury’s taken from the public, more’s the pity. They know nothing, and ten to one believe everything that’s said in the witness box, no matter who it is that says it. And of course Archer himself will swear till he’s black in the face that he didn’t do it.’
‘Not so obliging as Mr Redding,’ I said with a smile.
‘Not he,’ said the Inspector, making the remark as a plain statement of fact.
‘It is natural, I suppose, to cling to life,’ I mused.
‘You’d be surprised if you knew the murderers that have got off through the soft-heartedness of the jury,’ said the Inspector gloomily.
‘But do you really think that Archer did it?’ I asked.
It has struck me as curious all along that Inspector Slack never seems to have any personal views of his own on the murder. The easiness or difficulty of getting a conviction are the only points that seem to appeal to him.
‘I’d like to be a bit surer,’ he admitted. ‘A fingerprint now, or a footprint, or seen in the vicinity about the time of the crime. Can’t risk arresting him without something of that kind. He’s been seen round Mr Redding’s house once or twice, but he’d say that was to speak to his mother. A decent body, she is. No, on the whole, I’m for the lady. If I could only get definite proof of blackmail – but you can’t get definite proof of anything in this crime! It’s theory, theory, theory. It’s a sad pity that there’s not a single spinster lady living along your road, Mr Clement. I bet she’d have seen something if there had been.