Spider's Web - Agatha Christie [37]
The Inspector carried his huge red book over to the bridge table, and sat consulting it, as Constable Jones commented satirically, ‘Mr Birch was a mine of information, wasn’t he? Mind you, it’s not very nice for a JP to be mixed up in a murder.’
The Inspector began to read aloud. ‘“Delahaye, Sir Rowland Edward Mark, KCB, MVO–”’
‘What have you got there?’ the Constable asked. He peered over the Inspector’s shoulder. ‘Oh, Who’s Who.’
The Inspector went on reading. ‘“Educated Eton–Trinity College–” Um! “Attached Foreign Office–second Secretary–Madrid–Plenipotentiary”.’
‘Ooh!’ the Constable exclaimed at this last word.
The Inspector gave him an exasperated look, and continued, ‘“Constantinople, Foreign Office–special commission rendered–Clubs–Boodles–Whites”.’
‘Do you want him next, sir?’ the Constable asked.
The Inspector thought for a moment. ‘No,’ he decided. ‘He’s the most interesting of the lot, so I’ll leave him till the last. Let’s have young Warrender in now.’
Chapter 15
Constable Jones, standing at the library door, called, ‘Mr Warrender, please.’
Jeremy came in, attempting rather unsuccessfully to look completely at his ease. The Constable closed the door and resumed his seat at the table, while the Inspector half rose and pulled out a chair from the bridge table for Jeremy.
‘Sit down,’ he ordered somewhat brusquely as he resumed his seat. Jeremy sat, and the Inspector asked formally, ‘Your name?’
‘Jeremy Warrender.’
‘Address?’
‘Three hundred and forty, Broad Street, and thirty-four Grosvenor Square,’ Jeremy told him, trying to sound nonchalant. He glanced across at the Constable who was writing all this down, and added, ‘Country address, Hepplestone, Wiltshire.’
‘That sounds as though you’re a gentleman of independent means,’ the Inspector commented.
‘I’m afraid not,’ Jeremy admitted, with a smile. ‘I’m private secretary to Sir Kenneth Thomson, the Chairman of Saxon-Arabian Oil. Those are his addresses.’
The Inspector nodded. ‘I see. How long have you been with him?’
‘About a year. Before that, I was personal assistant to Mr Scott Agius for four years.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said the Inspector. ‘He’s that wealthy businessman in the City, isn’t he?’ He thought for a moment before going on to ask, ‘Did you know this man, Oliver Costello?’
‘No, I’d never heard of him till tonight,’ Jeremy told him.
‘And you didn’t see him when he came to the house earlier this evening?’ the Inspector continued.
‘No,’ Jeremy replied. ‘I’d gone over to the golf club with the others. We were dining there, you see. It was the servants’ night out, and Mr Birch had asked us to dine with him at the club.’
The Inspector nodded his head. After a pause, he asked, ‘Was Mrs Hailsham-Brown invited, too?’
‘No, she wasn’t,’ said Jeremy.
The Inspector raised his eyebrows, and Jeremy hurried on. ‘That is,’ he explained, ‘she could have come if she’d liked.’
‘Do you mean,’ the Inspector asked him, ‘that she was asked, then? And she refused?’
‘No, no,’ Jeremy replied hurriedly, sounding as though he was getting rattled. ‘What I mean is–well, Hailsham-Brown is usually quite tired by the time he gets down here, and Clarissa said they’d just have a scratch meal here, as usual.’
The Inspector looked confused. ‘Let me get this clear,’ he said rather snappily. ‘Mrs Hailsham-Brown expected her husband to dine here? She didn’t expect him to go out again as soon as he came in?’
Jeremy was now quite definitely flustered. ‘I–er–well–er–really, I don’t know,’ he stammered. ‘No–Now that you mention it, I believe she did say he was going to be out this evening.’
The Inspector rose and took a few paces away from Jeremy. ‘It seems odd, then,’ he observed, ‘that Mrs Hailsham-Brown should not have come out to the club with the three of you, instead of remaining here to dine all by herself.’
Jeremy turned on his chair to face the Inspector. ‘Well–er–well–’ he began, and then, gaining confidence, continued quickly, ‘I mean, it was the kid–Pippa, you know. Clarissa wouldn’t have liked to go out and