Murder Is Easy - Agatha Christie [59]
“I have not paid special attention to the man. I should say, though, that he is possibly an abnormal type.”
“I’d go a good deal further than that,” said Luke grimly.
“You seriously believe that this man Rivers was murdered?”
“I do. You noticed the grains of sand in the wound?”
Dr. Thomas nodded.
“I looked out for them after your statement. I am bound to say that you were correct.”
“That makes it clear, does it not, that the accident was faked and that the man was killed by a blow from a sandbag—or at any rate was stunned by one.”
“Not necessarily.”
“What do you mean?”
Dr. Thomas leaned back and joined his fingertips together.
“Supposing that this man Rivers had been lying out in a sand-pit during the day—there are several about in this part of the world. That might account for grains of sand in the hair.”
“Man, I tell you he was murdered!”
“You may tell me so,” said Dr. Thomas drily, “but that doesn’t make it a fact.”
Luke controlled his exasperation.
“I suppose you don’t believe a word of what I’m telling you.”
Dr. Thomas smiled, a kindly superior smile.
“You must admit, Mr. Fitzwilliam, that it’s rather a wild story. You assert that this man Ellsworthy has killed a servant girl, a small boy, a drunken publican, my own partner and finally this man Rivers.”
“You don’t believe it?”
Dr. Thomas shrugged his shoulders.
“I have some knowledge of Humbleby’s case. It seems to me quite out of the question that Ellsworthy could have caused his death, and I really cannot see that you have any evidence at all that he did so.”
“I don’t know how he managed it,” confessed Luke, “but it all hangs together with Miss Pinkerton’s story.”
“There again you assert that Ellsworthy followed her up to London and ran her down in a car. Again you haven’t a shadow of proof that happened! It’s all—well—romancing!”
Luke said sharply:
“Now that I know where I am it will be my business to get proofs. I’m going up to London tomorrow to see an old pal of mine. I saw in the paper two days ago that he’d been made Assistant Commissioner of Police. He knows me and he’ll listen to what I have to say. One thing I’m sure of, he’ll order a thorough investigation of the whole business.”
Dr. Thomas stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“Well—no doubt that should be very satisfactory. If it turns out that you’re mistaken—”
Luke interrupted him.
“You definitely don’t believe a word of all this?”
“In wholesale murder?” Dr. Thomas raised his eyebrows. “Quite frankly, Mr. Fitzwilliam, I don’t. The thing is too fantastic.”
“Fantastic, perhaps. But it hangs together. You’ve got to admit it hangs together. Once you accept Miss Pinkerton’s story as true.”
Dr. Thomas was shaking his head. A slight smile came to his lips. “If you knew some of these old maids as well as I do,” he murmured.
Luke rose, trying to control his annoyance.
“At any rate, you’re well named,” he said. “A doubting Thomas, if there ever was one!”
Thomas replied good-humouredly:
“Give me a few proofs, my dear fellow. That’s all I ask. Not just a long melodramatic rigmarole based on what an old lady fancied she saw.”
“What old ladies fancy they see is very often right. My Aunt Mildred was positively uncanny! Have you got any aunts yourself, Thomas?”
“Well—er—no.”
“A mistake!” said Luke. “Every man should have aunts. They illustrate the triumph of guesswork over logic. It is reserved for aunts to know that Mr. A. is a rogue because he looks like a dishonest butler they once had. Other people say reasonably enough that a respectable man like Mr. A. couldn’t be a crook. The old ladies are right every time.”
Dr. Thomas smiled his superior smile again.
Luke said, his exasperation mounting once more:
“Don’t you realize that I’m a policeman myself? I’m not the complete amateur.”
Dr. Thomas smiled and murmured:
“In the Mayang Straits!”
“Crime is crime even in the Mayang Straits.”
“Of course—of course.”
Luke left Dr. Thomas’s surgery in a state of suppressed irritation.
He joined Bridget, who said:
“Well, how did you get on?”
“He didn’t believe me,” said Luke. “Which, when