Murder Is Easy - Agatha Christie [47]
Luke nodded.
“She was with the Hortons at the time of Mrs. Horton’s death?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. She grumbled a lot about that—with two hospital nurses in the house, and all the extra work nurses make, and the trays and one thing and another.”
“She wasn’t with Mr. Abbot, the lawyer, at all?”
“No, sir. Mr. Abbot has a man and wife do for him. Amy did go to see him once at his office, but I don’t know why.”
Luke stored away that small fact as possibly relevant. Since Mrs. Church, however, clearly knew nothing more about it, he did not pursue the subject.
“Any other gentlemen in the town who were friends of hers?”
“Nothing that I’d care to repeat.”
“Come now, Mrs. Church. I want the truth, remember.”
“It wasn’t a gentleman, sir, very far from it. Demeaning herself, that’s what it was, and so I told her.”
“Do you mind speaking more plainly, Mrs. Church?”
“You’ll have heard of the Seven Stars, sir? Not a good-class house, and the landlord, Harry Carter, a low-class fellow and half-seas over most of the time.”
“Amy was a friend of his?”
“She went a walk with him once or twice. I don’t believe there was more in it than that. I don’t indeed, sir.”
Luke nodded thoughtfully and changed the subject.
“Did you know a small boy, Tommy Pierce?”
“What? Mrs. Pierce’s son? Of course I did. Always up to mischief.”
“He ever see much of Amy?”
“Oh, no, sir. Amy would soon send him off with a flea in his ear if he tried any of his tricks on her.”
“Was she happy in her place with Miss Waynflete?”
“She found it a bit dull, sir, and the pay wasn’t high. But of course after she’d been dismissed the way she was from Ashe Manor, it wasn’t so easy to get another good place.”
“She could have gone away, I suppose?”
“To London, you mean?”
“Or some other part of the country?”
Mrs. Church shook her head. She said slowly:
“Amy didn’t want to leave Wychwood—not as things were.”
“How do you mean, as things were?”
“What with Jim and the gentleman at the curio shop.”
Luke nodded thoughtfully. Mrs. Church went on:
“Miss Waynflete is a very nice lady, but very particular about brass and silver and everything being dusted and the mattresses turned. Amy wouldn’t have put up with the fussing if she hadn’t been enjoying herself in other ways.”
“I can imagine that,” said Luke drily.
He turned things over in his mind. He could see no further questions to ask. He was fairly certain that he had extracted all that Mrs. Church knew. He decided on one last tentative attack.
“I dare say you can guess the reason of all these questions. The circumstances of Amy’s death were rather mysterious. We’re not entirely satisfied as to its being an accident. If not, you realize what it must have been.”
Mrs. Church said with a certain ghoulish relish:
“Foul play!”
“Quite so. Now supposing your niece did meet with foul play, who do you think is likely to be responsible for her death?”
Mrs. Church wiped her hands on her apron.
“There’d be a reward, as likely as not, for setting the police on the right track,” she inquired meaningly.
“There might be,” said Luke.
“I wouldn’t like to say anything definite.” Mrs. Church passed a hungry tongue over her thin lips. “But the gentleman at the curio shop is a queer one. You’ll remember the Castor case, sir—and how they found little bits of the poor girl pinned up all over Castor’s seaside bungalow and how they found five or six other poor girls he’d served the same way. Maybe this Mr. Ellsworthy is one of that kind?”
“That’s your suggestion, is it?”
“Well, it might be that way, sir, mightn’t it?”
Luke admitted that it might. Then he said:
“Was Ellsworthy away from here on the afternoon of Derby Day? That’s a very important point.”
Mrs. Church stared.
“Derby Day?”
“Yes—a fortnight ago last Wednesday.”
She shook her head.
“Really, I couldn’t say as to that. He usually was away on Wednesdays—went up to town as often as not. It’s early closing Wednesday, you see.”
“Oh,” said Luke. “Early closing.”
He took his leave of Mrs. Church, disregarding