Sparkling Cyanide - Agatha Christie [79]
‘If you ask me,’ said the chief inspector, dropping several lumps of sugar into his black brew and stirring it, ‘this case will never be brought to trial. We’ll never get the evidence.’
‘You think not?’ asked Race.
Kemp shook his head and took an approving sip of his tea.
‘The only hope was to get evidence concerning the actual purchasing or handling of cyanide by one of those five. I’ve drawn a blank everywhere. It’ll be one of those cases where you know who did it, and can’t ever prove it.’
‘So you know who did it?’ Anthony regarded him with interest.
‘Well, I’m pretty certain in my own mind. Lady Alexandra Farraday.’
‘So that’s your bet,’ said Race. ‘Reasons?’
‘You shall have ’em. I’d say she’s the type that’s madly jealous. And autocratic, too. Like that queen in history—Eleanor of Something, that followed the clue to Fair Rosamund’s Bower and offered her the choice of a dagger or a cup of poison.’
‘Only in this case,’ said Anthony, ‘she didn’t offer Fair Rosemary any choice.’
Chief Inspector Kemp went on:
‘Someone tips Mr Barton off. He becomes suspicious—and I should say his suspicions were pretty definite. He wouldn’t have gone so far as actually buying a house in the country unless he wanted to keep an eye on the Farradays. He must have made it pretty plain to her—harping on this party and urging them to come to it. She’s not the kind to Wait and See. Autocratic again, she finished him off! That, you say so far, is all theory and based on character. But I’ll say that the only person who could have had any chance whatever of dropping something into Mr Barton’s glass just before he drank would be the lady on his right.’
‘And nobody saw her do it?’ said Anthony.
‘Quite. They might have—but they didn’t. Say, if you like, she was pretty adroit.’
‘A positive conjurer.’
Race coughed. He took out his pipe and began stuffing the bowl.
‘Just one minor point. Granted Lady Alexandra is autocratic, jealous and passionately devoted to her husband, granted that she’d not stick at murder, do you think she is the type to slip incriminating evidence into a girl’s handbag? A perfectly innocent girl, mind, who has never harmed her in any way? Is that in the Kidderminster tradition?’
Inspector Kemp squirmed uneasily in his seat and peered into his teacup.
‘Women don’t play cricket,’ he said. ‘If that’s what you mean.’
‘Actually, a lot of them do,’ said Race, smiling. ‘But I’m glad to see you look uncomfortable.’
Kemp escaped from his dilemma by turning to Anthony with an air of gracious patronage.
‘By the way, Mr Browne (I’ll still call you that, if you don’t mind), I want to say that I’m very much obliged to you for the prompt way you brought Miss Marle along this evening to tell that story of hers.’
‘I had to do it promptly,’ said Anthony. ‘If I’d waited I should probably not have brought her along at all.’
‘She didn’t want to come, of course,’ said Colonel Race.
‘She’s got the windup badly, poor kid,’ said Anthony. ‘Quite natural, I think.’
‘Very natural,’ said the inspector and poured himself out another cup of tea. Anthony took a gingerly sip of coffee.
‘Well,’ said Kemp. ‘I think we relieved her mind—she went off home quite happily.’
‘After the funeral,’ said Anthony, ‘I hope she’ll get away to the country for a bit. Twenty-four hours’ peace and quiet away from Auntie Lucilla’s non-stop tongue will do her good, I think.’
‘Aunt Lucilla’s tongue has its uses,’ said Race.
‘You’re welcome to it,’ said Kemp. ‘Lucky I didn’t think it necessary to have a shorthand report made when I took her statement. If I had, the poor fellow would have been in hospital with writer’s cramp.’
‘Well,’ said Anthony. ‘I daresay you’re right, chief inspector, in saying that the case will never come to trial—but that’s a very