Taken at the Flood - Agatha Christie [71]
‘Leading you to Mrs Jeremy?’
‘The likeness led me to Mrs Jeremy. A very distinctive cast of countenance, the Trenton profile. To permit myself a little play on words, as Charles Trenton the dead man is the right shape. But there are still questions to which we require answers. Why did David Hunter permit himself to be blackmailed so readily? Is he the kind of man who lets himself be blackmailed? One would say very decidedly, no. So he too acts out of character. Then there is Rosaleen Cloade. Her whole behaviour is incomprehensible — but there is one thing I should like to know very much. Why is she afraid? Why does she think that something will happen to her now that her brother is no longer there to protect her? Someone — or something has given her that fear. And it is not that she fears losing her fortune — no, it is more than that. It is for her life that she is afraid…’
‘Good Lord, M. Poirot, you don’t think — ’
‘Let us remember, Spence, that as you said just now, we are back where we started. That is to say, the Cloade family are back where they started. Robert Underhay died in Africa. And Rosaleen Cloade’s life stands between them and the enjoyment of Gordon Cloade’s money — ’
‘Do you honestly think that one of them would do that?’
‘I think this. Rosaleen Cloade is twenty-six, and though mentally somewhat unstable, physically she is strong and healthy. She may live to be seventy, she may live longer still. Forty-four years, let us say. Don’t you think, Superintendent, that forty-four years may be too long for someone to contemplate?’
Chapter 12
When Poirot left the police station he was almost at once accosted by Aunt Kathie. She had several shopping-bags with her and came up to him with a breathless eagerness of manner.
‘So terrible about poor Major Porter,’ she said. ‘I can’t help feeling that his outlook on life must have been very materialistic. Army life, you know. Very narrowing, and though he had spent a good deal of his life in India, I’m afraid he never took advantage of the spiritual opportunities. It would be all pukka and chota hazri and tiffin and pig-sticking — the narrow Army round. To think that he might have sat as a chela at the feet of some guru! Ah, the missed opportunities, M. Poirot, how sad they are!’
Aunt Kathie shook her head and relaxed her grip on one of the shopping-bags. A depressed-looking bit of cod slipped out and slithered into the gutter. Poirot retrieved it and in her agitation Aunt Kathie let a second bag slip, whereupon a tin of golden syrup began a gay career rolling along the High Street.
‘Thank you so much, M. Poirot.’ Aunt Kathie grasped the cod. He ran after the golden syrup. ‘Oh, thank you — so clumsy of me — but really I have been so upset. That unfortunate man — yes, it is sticky, but really I don’t like to use your clean handkerchief. Well, it’s very kind of you — as I was saying, in life we are in death — and in death we are in life — I should never be surprised to see the astral body of any of my dear friends who have passed over. One might, you know, just pass them in the street. Why — only the other night I — ’
‘You permit?’ Poirot rammed the cod firmly into the depths of the bag. ‘You were saying — yes?’
‘Astral bodies,’ said Aunt Kathie. ‘I asked, you know, for twopence — because I only had halfpennies. But I thought at the time the face was familiar — only I couldn’t place it. I still can’t — but I think now it must be someone who has Passed Over — perhaps some time ago — so that my remembrance was very uncertain. It is wonderful the way people are sent to one in one’s need — even if it’s only a matter of pennies for telephones. Oh, dear, quite a queue at Peacocks — they must have got either trifle or Swiss roll! I hope I’m not too late!’
Mrs Lionel Cloade plunged across the road and joined herself to the tail end of a queue of grim-faced women outside the confectioner’s shop.
Poirot went on down the High Street. He did not turn in at the Stag. Instead he bent his steps towards the White House.