The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding - Agatha Christie [33]
‘Une femme fatale.’
‘That’s probably the foreign name for it.’
‘You know her well?’
‘My dear, she’s one of my best friends – and I wouldn’t trust her an inch!’
‘Ah,’ said Poirot and shifted the subject to Commander McLaren.
‘Jock? Old faithful? He’s a pet. Born to be the friend of the family. He and Arnold were really close friends. I think Arnold unbent to him more than to anyone else. And of course he was Margharita’s tame cat. He’d been devoted to her for years.’
‘And was Mr Clayton jealous of him, too?’
‘Jealous of Jock? What an idea! Margharita’s genuinely fond of Jock, but she’s never given him a thought of that kind. I don’t think, really, that one ever would . . . I don’t know why . . . It seems a shame. He’s so nice.’
Poirot switched to consideration of the valet. But beyond saying vaguely that he mixed a very good side car, Linda Spence seemed to have no ideas about Burgess, and indeed seemed barely to have noticed him.
But she was quite quick in the uptake.
‘You’re thinking, I suppose, that he could have killed Arnold just as easily as Charles could? It seems to me madly unlikely.’
‘That remark depresses me, Madame. But then, it seems to me (though you will probably not agree) that it is madly unlikely – not that Major Rich should kill Arnold Clayton – but that he should kill him in just the way he did.’
‘Stiletto stuff ? Yes, definitely not in character. More likely the blunt instrument. Or he might have strangled him, perhaps?’
Poirot sighed.
‘We are back at Othello. Yes, Othello . . . you have given me there a little idea . . .’
‘Have I? What –’ There was the sound of a latchkey and an opening door. ‘Oh, here’s Jeremy. Do you want to talk to him, too?’
Jeremy Spence was a pleasant-looking man of thirty-odd, well groomed, and almost ostentatiously discreet. Mrs Spence said that she had better go and have a look at a casserole in the kitchen and went off, leaving the two men together.
Jeremy Spence displayed none of the engaging candour of his wife. He was clearly disliking very much being mixed up in the case at all, and his remarks were carefully non-informative. They had known the Claytons some time, Rich not so well. Had seemed a pleasant fellow. As far as he could remember, Rich had seemed absolutely as usual on the evening in question. Clayton and Rich always seemed on good terms. The whole thing seemed quite unaccountable.
Throughout the conversation Jeremy Spence was making it clear that he expected Poirot to take his departure. He was civil, but only just so.
‘I am afraid,’ said Poirot, ‘that you do not like these questions?’
‘Well, we’ve had quite a session of this with the police. I rather feel that’s enough. We’ve told all we know or saw. Now – I’d like to forget it.’
‘You have my sympathy. It is most unpleasant to be mixed up in this. To be asked not only what you know or what you saw but perhaps even what you think?’
‘Best not to think.’
‘But can one avoid it? Do you think, for instance, that Mrs Clayton was in it, too. Did she plan the death of her husband with Rich?’
‘Good lord, no.’ Spence sounded shocked and dismayed. ‘I’d no idea that there was any question of such a thing?’
‘Has your wife not suggested such a possibility?’
‘Oh Linda! You know what women are – always got their knife into each other. Margharita never gets much of a show from her own sex – a darned sight too attractive. But surely this theory about Rich and Margharita planning murder – that’s fantastic!’
‘Such things have been known. The weapon, for instance. It is the kind of weapon a woman might possess, rather than a man.’
‘Do you mean the police have traced it to her – They can’t have! I mean –’
‘I know nothing,’ said Poirot truthfully, and escaped hastily.
From the consternation on Spence’s face, he judged that he had left that gentleman something to think about!
VI
‘You will forgive my saying, M. Poirot, that I cannot see how you can be of assistance to me in any way.’
Poirot did not answer. He was looking thoughtfully at the man who had been charged with