Ordeal by Innocence - Agatha Christie [12]
“I don’t see what I’ve said to amuse you so much.”
“You were so gracious about it!” said Philip. “Like Lady Somebody at the Sale of Work praising the Village Institute’s handiwork.”
Mary said, puzzled: “But it is very nice! You can’t pretend it’s been satisfactory to have had a murderer in the family.”
“Not really in the family.”
“Well, it’s practically the same thing. I mean, it was all very worrying, and made one most uncomfortable. Everybody was so agog and curious. I hated it all.”
“You took it very well,” said Philip. “Froze them with that icy blue gaze of yours. Made them pipe down and look ashamed of themselves. It’s wonderful the way you manage never to show emotion.”
“I disliked it all very much. It was all most unpleasant,” said Mary Durrant, “but at any rate he died and it was over. And now—now, I suppose, it will all be raked up again. So tiresome.”
“Yes,” said Philip Durrant thoughtfully. He shifted his shoulders slightly, a faint expression of pain on his face. His wife came to him quickly.
“Are you cramped? Wait. Let me just move this cushion. There. That better?”
“You ought to have been a hospital nurse,” said Philip.
“I’ve not the least wish to nurse a lot of people. Only you.”
It was said very simply but there was a depth of feeling behind the bare words.
The telephone rang and Mary went to it.
“Hallo … yes … speaking … Oh, it’s you….”
She said aside to Philip: “It’s Micky.”
“Yes … yes, we have heard. Father telephoned … Well, of course … Yes … Yes … Philip says if the lawyers are satisfied it must be all right … Really, Micky, I don’t see why you’re so upset … I’m not aware of being particularly dense … Really, Micky, I do think you—Hallo?… Hallo?…” She frowned angrily. “He’s rung off.” She replaced the receiver. “Really, Philip, I can’t understand Micky.”
“What did he say exactly?”
“Well, he seems in such a state. He said that I was dense, that I didn’t realize the—the repercussions. Hell to pay! That’s the way he put it. But why? I don’t understand.”
“Got the wind up, has he?” said Philip thoughtfully.
“But why?”
“Well, he’s right, you know. There will be repercussions.”
Mary looked a little bewildered.
“You mean that there will be a revival of interest in the case? Of course I’m glad Jacko is cleared, but it will be rather unpleasant if people begin talking about it again.”
“It’s not just what the neighbours say. There’s more to it than that.”
She looked at him inquiringly.
“The police are going to be interested, too!”
“The police?” Mary spoke sharply. “What’s it got to do with them?”
“My dear girl,” said Philip. “Think.”
Mary came back slowly to sit by him.
“It’s an unsolved crime again now, you see,” said Philip.
“But surely they won’t bother—after all this time?”
“A very nice bit of wishful thinking,” said Philip, “but fundamentally unsound, I fear.”
“Surely,” said Mary, “after they’ve been so stupid—making such a bad mistake over Jacko—they won’t want to rake it all up again?”
“They mayn’t want to—but they’ll probably have to! Duty is duty.”
“Oh, Philip, I’m sure you’re wrong. There will just be a bit of talk and then it will all die down.”
“And then our lives will go on happily ever afterwards,” said Philip in his mocking voice.
“Why not?”
He shook his head. “It’s not as simple as that … Your father’s right. We must all get together and have a consultation. Get Marshall down as he said.”
“You mean—go over to Sunny Point?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, we can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not practicable. You’re an invalid and—”
“I’m not an invalid.” Philip spoke with irritation. “I’m quite strong and well. I just happen to have lost the use of my legs. I could go to Timbuctoo with the proper transport laid on.”
“I’m sure it would be very bad for you to go to Sunny Point. Having all this unpleasant business raked up—”
“It’s not my mind that’s affected.”
“—And I don’t see how we can leave the house. There have been so many burglaries lately.”
“Get someone to sleep in.”
“It’s all very well to say that—as though