The Hollow - Agatha Christie [40]
‘I gave her some brandy–and a hot-water bottle.’
‘Quite right,’ said Lady Angkatell approvingly. ‘That’s what they tell you in First Aid classes–the hot-water bottle, I mean, for shock–not the brandy; there is a reaction nowadays against stimulants. But I think that is only a fashion. We always gave brandy for shock when I was a girl at Ainswick. Though, really, I suppose, it can’t be exactly shock with Gerda. I don’t know really what one would feel if one had killed one’s husband–it’s the sort of thing one just can’t begin to imagine–but it wouldn’t exactly give one a shock. I mean, there wouldn’t be any element of surprise.’
Henrietta’s voice, icy cold, cut into the placid atmosphere.
She said: ‘Why are you all so sure that Gerda killed John?’
There was a moment’s pause–and Midge felt a curious shifting in the atmosphere. There was confusion, strain and, finally, a kind of slow watchfulness.
Then Lady Angkatell said, her voice quite devoid of any inflection:
‘It seemed–self-evident. What else do you suggest?’
‘Isn’t it possible that Gerda came along to the pool, that she found John lying there, and that she had just picked up the revolver when–when we came upon the scene?’
Again there was that silence. Then Lady Angkatell asked:
‘Is that what Gerda says?’
‘Yes.’
It was not a simple assent. It had force behind it. It came out like a revolver shot.
Lady Angkatell raised her eyebrows, then she said with apparent irrelevancy:
‘There are sandwiches and coffee in the dining-room.’
She broke off with a little gasp as Gerda Christow came through the open door. She said hurriedly and apologetically:
‘I–I really didn’t feel I could lie down any longer. One is–one is so terribly restless.’
Lady Angkatell cried:
‘You must sit down–you must sit down at once.’
She displaced Midge from the sofa, settled Gerda there, put a cushion at her back.
‘You poor dear,’ said Lady Angkatell.
She spoke with emphasis, but the words seemed quite meaningless.
Edward walked to the window and stood there looking out.
Gerda pushed back the untidy hair from her forehead. She spoke in a worried, bewildered tone.
‘I–I really am only just beginning to realize it. You know I haven’t been able to feel–I still can’t feel–that it’s real–that John–is dead.’ She began to shake a little. ‘Who can have killed him? Who can possibly have killed him?’
Lady Angkatell drew a deep breath–then she turned her head sharply. Sir Henry’s door had opened. He came in accompanied by Inspector Grange, who was a large, heavily built man with a down-drooping, pessimistic moustache.
‘This is my wife–Inspector Grange.’
Grange bowed and said:
‘I was wondering, Lady Angkatell, if I could have a few words with Mrs Christow–’
He broke off as Lady Angkatell indicated the figure on the sofa.
‘Mrs Christow?’
Gerda said eagerly:
‘Yes, I am Mrs Christow.’
‘I don’t want to distress you, Mrs Christow, but I would like to ask you a few questions. You can, of course, have your solicitor present if you prefer it–’
Sir Henry put in:
‘It is sometimes wiser, Gerda–’
She interrupted:
‘A solicitor? Why a solicitor? Why should a solicitor know anything about John’s death?’
Inspector Grange coughed. Sir Henry seemed about to speak. Henrietta put in:
‘The inspector only wants to know just what happened this morning.’
Gerda turned to him. She spoke in a wondering voice:
‘It seems all like a bad dream–not real. I–I haven’t been able to cry or anything. One just doesn’t feel anything at all.’
Grange said soothingly:
‘That’s the shock, Mrs Christow.’
‘Yes, yes–I suppose it is. But you see it was all so sudden. I went out from the house and along the path to the swimming pool–’
‘At what time, Mrs Christow?’
‘It was just before one o’clock–about two minutes to one. I know because I looked at that clock. And when I got there–there was John, lying there–and blood on the edge of the concrete.’
‘Did you hear a shot, Mrs Christow?’
‘Yes,–no–I don’t know. I knew Sir Henry and Mr Angkatell were out shooting.