Sparkling Cyanide - Agatha Christie [71]
‘We’ll be the judge of that,’ said Kemp pleasantly. ‘Just tell me about it.’
‘I’m not acting just at the moment,’ explained Miss West.
Inspector Kemp nearly said ‘Resting’ to show that he knew the proper terms, but restrained himself.
‘But my name is down at the agencies and my picture in Spotlight…That, I understand, is where Mr Barton saw it. He got into touch with me and explained what he wanted me to do.’
‘Yes?’
‘He told me he was having a dinner party at the Luxembourg and that he wanted to spring a surprise on his guests. He showed me a photograph and told me that he wanted me to make up as the original. I was very much the same colouring, he said.’
Illumination flashed across Kemp’s mind. The photograph of Rosemary he had seen on the desk in George’s room in Elvaston Square. That was who the girl reminded him of. She was like Rosemary Barton—not perhaps startlingly so—but the general type and cast of features was the same.
‘He also brought me a dress to wear—I’ve brought it with me. A greyish green silk. I was to do my hair like the photograph (it was a coloured one) and accentuate the resemblance with make-up. Then I was to come to the Luxembourg and go into the restaurant during the first cabaret show and sit down at Mr Barton’s table where there would be a vacant place. He took me to lunch there and showed me where the table would be.’
‘And why didn’t you keep the appointment, Miss West?’
‘Because about eight o’clock that night—someone—Mr Barton—rang up and said the whole thing had been put off. He said he’d let me know next day when it was coming off. Then, the next morning, I saw his death in the papers.’
‘And very sensibly you came along to us,’ said Kemp pleasantly. ‘Well, thank you very much, Miss West. You’ve cleared up one mystery—the mystery of the vacant place. By the way, you said just now—“someone”—and then, “Mr Barton”. Why is that?’
‘Because at first I didn’t think it was Mr Barton. His voice sounded different.’
‘It was a man’s voice?’
‘Oh, yes, I think so—at least—it was rather husky as though he had a cold.’
‘And that’s all he said?’
‘That’s all.’
Kemp questioned her a little longer, but got no further.
When she had gone, he said to the sergeant:
‘So that was George Barton’s famous “plan”. I see now why they all said he stared at the empty chair after the cabaret and looked queer and absent-minded. His precious plan had gone wrong.’
‘You don’t think it was he who put her off?’
‘Not on your life. And I’m not so sure it was a man’s voice, either. Huskiness is a good disguise through the telephone. Oh, well, we’re getting on. Send in Mr Farraday if he’s here.’
Chapter 9
I
Outwardly cool and unperturbed, Stephen Farraday had turned into Great Scotland Yard full of inner shrinking. An intolerable weight burdened his spirits. It had seemed that morning as though things were going so well. Why had Inspector Kemp asked for his presence here with such significance? What did he know or suspect? It could be only vague suspicion. The thing to do was to keep one’s head and admit nothing.
He felt strangely bereft and lonely without Sandra. It was as though when the two faced a peril together it lost half its terrors. Together they had strength, courage, power. Alone, he was nothing, less than nothing. And Sandra, did she feel the same? Was she sitting now in Kidderminster House, silent, reserved, proud and inwardly feeling horribly vulnerable?
Inspector Kemp received him pleasantly but gravely. There was a uniformed man sitting at a table with a pencil and a pad of paper. Having asked Stephen to sit down, Kemp spoke in a strongly formal manner.
‘I propose, Mr Farraday, to take a statement from you. That statement will be written down and you will be asked to read it over and sign it before you leave. At the same time it is my duty to tell you that you are at liberty to refuse to make such a statement and that you are entitled to have your solicitor present if you so desire.’
Stephen was taken aback but did not show it. He forced a wintry smile. ‘That sounds