Taken at the Flood - Agatha Christie [41]
‘Yes,’ said Rowley doubtfully. ‘He may.’
‘But you don’t think so?’
‘I think,’ said Rowley Cloade, ‘that Round One has gone to David Hunter.’
‘I wonder,’ said Spence. As Rowley went out, Spence picked up the gold lighter and looked at the initials D.H. on it. ‘Expensive bit of work,’ he said to Sergeant Graves. ‘Not mass produced. Quite easily identified. Greatorex or one of those Bond Street places. Have it seen to!’
‘Yes, sir.’
Then the Superintendent looked at the wrist-watch — the glass was smashed and the hands pointed to ten minutes past nine.
He looked at the Sergeant.
‘Got the report on this, Graves?’
‘Yes, sir. Mainspring’s broken.’
‘And the mechanism of the hands?’
‘Quite all right, sir.’
‘What, in your opinion, Graves, does the watch tell us?’
Graves murmured warily, ‘Seems as though it might give us the time the crime was committed.’
‘Ah,’ said Spence, ‘when you’ve been as long in the Force as I have, you’ll be a leetle suspicious of anything so convenient as a smashed watch. It can be genuine — but it’s a well-known hoary old trick. Turn the hands of a watch to a time that suits you — smash it — and out with some virtuous alibi. But you don’t catch an old bird that way. I’m keeping a very open mind on the subject of the time this crime was committed. Medical evidence is: between 8 p.m. and 11 p.m.’
Sergeant Graves cleared his throat.
‘Edwards, second gardener at Furrowbank, says he saw David Hunter coming out of a side door there about 7.30. The maids didn’t know he was down here. They thought he was up in London with Mrs Gordon. Shows he was in the neighbourhood all right.’
‘Yes,’ said Spence. ‘I’ll be interested to hear Hunter’s own account of his doings.’
‘Seems like a clear case, sir,’ said Graves, looking at the initials on the lighter.
‘H’m,’ said the Superintendent. ‘There’s still this to account for.’
He indicated the lipstick.
‘It had rolled under the chest of drawers, sir. Might have been there some time.’
‘I’ve checked up,’ said Spence. ‘The last time a woman occupied that room was three weeks ago. I know service isn’t up to much nowadays — but I still think they run a mop under the furniture once in three weeks. The Stag is kept pretty clean and tidy on the whole.’
‘There’s been no suggestion of a woman being mixed up with Arden.’
‘I know,’ said the Superintendent. ‘That’s why that lipstick is what I call the unknown quantity.’
Sergeant Graves refrained from saying ‘Cherchez la femme.’ He had a very good French accent and he knew better than to irritate Superintendent Spence by drawing attention to it. Sergeant Graves was a tactful young man.
Chapter 17
Superintendent Spence looked up at Shepherd’s Court, Mayfair, before stepping inside its agreeable portal. Situated modestly in the vicinity of Shepherd Market, it was discreet, expensive and inconspicuous.
Inside, Spence’s feet sunk into soft pile carpet, there was a velvet-covered settee and a jardinière full of flowering plants. A small automatic lift faced him, with a flight of stairs at one side of it. On the right of the hall was a door marked Office. Spence pushed it open and went through. He found himself in a small room with a counter, behind which was a table and a typewriter, and two chairs. One was drawn up to the table, the other, a more decorative one, was set at an angle to the window. There was no one visible.
Spying a bell inset on the mahogany counter, Spence pressed it. When nothing happened, he pressed it again. A minute or so later a door in the far wall was opened and a resplendent person in uniform appeared. His appearance was that of a foreign General or possibly Field Marshal, but his speech was of London and uneducated London at that.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Mrs Gordon Cloade.’
‘Third floor, sir. Shall I ring through first?’
‘She’s here, is she?’ said Spence. ‘I had an idea she might be in the country.’
‘No, sir, she’s been here since Saturday last.’
‘And Mr David Hunter?’
‘Mr Hunter