Pocket Full of Rye - Agatha Christie [65]
Dear Dad,
I’ve talked things over with Pat and I agree to your proposition. It will take me a little time to get things fixed up here, say about the end of October or beginning of November. I’ll let you know nearer the time. I hope we’ll pull together better than we used to do. Anyway, I’ll do my best. I can’t say more. Look after yourself.
Yours, Lance.
“Where did you address this letter, Mr. Fortescue. To the office or Yewtree Lodge?”
Lance frowned in an effort of recollection.
“It’s difficult. I can’t remember. You see it’s almost three months now. The office, I think. Yes, I’m almost sure. Here to the office.” He paused a moment before asking with frank curiosity: “Why?”
“I wondered,” said Inspector Neele. “Your father did not put it on the file here among his private papers. He took it back with him to Yewtree Lodge, and I found it in his desk there. I wondered why he should have done that.”
Lance laughed.
“To keep it out of Percy’s way, I suppose.”
“Yes,” said Inspector Neele, “it would seem so. Your brother, then, had access to your father’s private papers here?”
“Well,” Lance hesitated and frowned, “not exactly. I mean, I suppose he could have looked through them at any time if he liked, but he wouldn’t be. . . .”
Inspector Neele finished the sentence for him.
“Wouldn’t be supposed to do so?”
Lance grinned broadly. “That’s right. Frankly, it would have been snooping. But Percy, I should imagine, always did snoop.”
Inspector Neele nodded. He also thought it probable that Percival Fortescue snooped. It would be in keeping with what the inspector was beginning to learn of his character.
“And talk of the devil,” murmured Lance, as at that moment the door opened and Percival Fortescue came in. About to speak to the inspector he stopped, frowning, as he saw Lance.
“Hallo,” he said. “You here? You didn’t tell me you were coming here today.”
“I felt a kind of zeal for work coming over me,” said Lance, “so here I am ready to make myself useful. What do you want me to do?”
Percival said testily:
“Nothing at present. Nothing at all. We shall have to come to some kind of arrangement as to what side of the business you’re going to look after. We shall have to arrange for an office for you.”
Lance inquired with a grin:
“By the way, why did you get rid of glamorous Grosvenor, old boy, and replace her by Horsefaced Hetty out there?”
“Really, Lance,” Percival protested sharply.
“Definitely a change for the worse,” said Lance. “I’ve been looking forward to the glamorous Grosvenor. Why did you sack her? Thought she knew a bit too much?”
“Of course not. What an ideal!” Percy spoke angrily, a flush mounting his pale face. He turned to the inspector. “You mustn’t pay any attention to my brother,” he said coldly. “He has a rather peculiar sense of humour.” He added: “I never had a very high opinion of Miss Grosvenor’s intelligence. Mrs. Hardcastle has excellent references and is most capable besides being very moderate in her terms.”
“Very moderate in her terms,” murmured Lance, casting his eyes towards the ceiling. “You know, Percy, I don’t really approve of skimping over the office personnel. By the way, considering how loyalty the staff has stood by us during these last tragic weeks, don’t you think we ought to raise their salaries all round?”
“Certainly not,” snapped Percival Fortescue. “Quite uncalled for and unnecessary.”
Inspector Neele noticed the gleam of devilry in Lance’s eyes. Percival, however, was far too much upset to notice it.
“You always had the most extraordinary extravagant ideas,” he stuttered. “In the state in which this firm has been left, economy is our only hope.”
Inspector Neele coughed apologetically.
“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about, Mr. Fortescue,” he said to Percival.
“Yes, Inspector?” Percival switched his attention to Neele.
“I want to put certain suggestions before you, Mr. Fortescue. I understand that for the past six months or longer, possibly a year, your father’s general behaviour and conduct