Ordeal by Innocence - Agatha Christie [59]
“I know. That was just before seven, wasn’t it, just before you came out to meet me.”
“Just before I came out to go to Drymouth—to the Playhouse,” said Hester.
“Well, I was at the Playhouse, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, of course you were.”
“You did know then, didn’t you, Hester, that I loved you?”
“I wasn’t sure,” said Hester. “I wasn’t even sure then that I was beginning to love you.”
“You’d no reason, had you, no earthly reason for doing away with your mother?”
“No, not really,” said Hester.
“What do you mean by not really?”
“I often thought about killing her,” said Hester in a matter-of-fact voice. “I used to say ‘I wish she was dead, I wish she was dead.’ Sometimes,” she added, “I used to dream that I killed her.”
“In what way did you kill her in your dream?”
For a moment Don Craig was no longer the lover but the interested young doctor.
“Sometimes I shot her,” said Hester cheerfully, “and sometimes I banged her on the head.”
Dr. Craig groaned.
“That was just dreaming,” said Hester. “I’m often very violent in dreams.”
“Listen, Hester.” The young man took her hand in his. “You’ve got to tell me the truth. You’ve got to trust me.”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” said Hester.
“The truth, Hester. I want the truth. I love you—and I’ll stand by you. If—if you killed her I—I think I can find out the reasons why. I don’t think it will have been exactly your fault. Do you understand? Certainly I’d never go to the police about it. It will be between you and me only. Nobody else will suffer. The whole thing will die down for want of evidence. But I’ve got to know.” He stressed the last word strongly.
Hester was looking at him. Her eyes were wide, almost unfocused.
“What do you want me to say to you?” she said.
“I want you to tell me the truth.”
“You think you know the truth already, don’t you? You think—I killed her.”
“Hester, darling, don’t look at me like that.” He took her by the shoulders and shook her gently. “I’m a doctor. I know the reasons behind these things. I know that people can’t always be held responsible for their actions. I know you for what you are—sweet and lovely and essentially all right. I’ll help you. I’ll look after you. We’ll get married, then we’ll be happy. You need never feel lost, unwanted, tyrannized over. The things we do often spring from reasons most people don’t understand.”
“That’s very much what we all said about Jacko, isn’t it?” said Hester.
“Never mind Jacko. It’s you I’m thinking about. I love you so very much, Hester, but I’ve got to know the truth.”
“The truth?” said Hester.
A very slow, mocking smile curved the corners of her mouth upwards.
“Please, darling.”
Hester turned her head and looked up.
“There’s Gwenda calling me. It must be lunch time.”
“Hester!”
“Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t kill her?”
“Of course I’d—I’d believe you.”
“I don’t think you would,” said Hester.
She turned sharply away from him and began running up the path. He made a movement to follow her, then abandoned it.
“Oh, hell,” said Donald Craig. “Oh, hell!”
Fifteen
“But I don’t want to go home just yet,” said Philip Durrant. He spoke with plaintive irritability.
“But, Philip, really, there’s nothing to stay here for, any longer. I mean, we had to come to see Mr. Marshall to discuss the thing, and then wait for the police interviews. But now there’s nothing to stop us going home right away.”
“I think your father’s quite happy for us to stop on for a bit,” said Philip, “he likes having someone to play chess with in the evenings. My word, he’s a wizard at chess. I thought I wasn’t bad, but I never get the better of him.”
“Father can find someone else to play chess with,” said Mary shortly.
“What—whistle someone up from the Women’s Institute?”
“And anyway, we ought to go home,” said Mary. “Tomorrow is Mrs. Carden’s day for doing the brasses.”
“Polly, the perfect housewife!” said Philip laughing. “Anyway, Mrs. Whatsaname can do the brasses without you, can’t she? Or if she can’t, send her a telegram and tell her to let them moulder for another week.”