The Mirror Crack'd - Agatha Christie [60]
‘But perhaps Marina Gregg did not think so?’
‘Oh, naturally she did not think so. She would always think that anything like that was personal.’
‘She actually told certain friends of hers that she was afraid of you, I believe?’
‘Did she? How childish. I expect she enjoyed the sensation.’
‘You think there was no need for her to be afraid of you?’
‘Of course not. Whatever personal disappointment I might have had, I soon put it behind me. I’ve always gone on the principle that where women are concerned there are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it.’
‘A very satisfactory way to go through life, Mr Fenn.’
‘Yes, I think it is.’
‘You have a wide knowledge of the moving picture world?’
‘I have financial interests in it.’
‘And therefore you are bound to know a lot about it?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘You are a man whose judgement would be worth listening to. Can you suggest to me any person who is likely to have such a deep grudge against Marina Gregg that they would be willing to do away with her?’
‘Probably a dozen,’ said Ardwyck Fenn, ‘that is to say, if they hadn’t got to do anything about it personally. If it was a mere matter of pressing a button in a wall, I dare say there’d be a lot of willing fingers.’
‘You were there that day. You saw her and talked to her. Do you think that amongst any of the people who were around you in that brief space of time — from when you arrived to the moment when Heather Badcock died — do you think that amongst them you can suggest — only suggest, mind you, I’m asking you for nothing more than a guess — anyone who might poison Marina Gregg?’
‘I wouldn’t like to say,’ said Ardwyck Fenn.
‘That means that you have some idea?’
‘It means that I have nothing to say on that subject. And that, Chief-Inspector Craddock, is all you’ll get out of me.’
Chapter 15
Dermot Craddock looked down at the last name and address he had written down in his note-book. The telephone number had been rung twice for him but there had been no response. He tried it now once more. He shrugged his shoulders, got up and decided to go and see for himself.
Margot Bence’s studio was in a cul-de-sac off the Tottenham Court Road. Beyond the name on a plate on the side of a door, there was little to identify it, and certainly no form of advertising. Craddock groped his way to the first floor. There was a large notice here painted in black on a white board. ‘Margot Bence, Personality Photographer. Please enter.’
Craddock entered. There was a small waiting-room but nobody in charge of it. He stood there hesitating, then cleared his throat in a loud and theatrical manner. Since that drew no attention he raised his voice.
‘Anybody here?’
He heard a flap of slippers behind a velvet curtain, the curtain was pushed aside and a young man with exuberant hair and a pink and white face, peered round it.
‘Terribly sorry, my dear,’ he said. ‘I didn’t hear you. I had an absolutely new idea and I was just trying it out.’
He pushed the velvet curtain farther aside and Craddock followed him into an inner room. This proved to be unexpectedly large. It was clearly the working studio. There were cameras, lights, arc-lights, piles of drapery, screens on wheels.
‘Such a mess,’ said the young man, who was almost as willowy as Hailey Preston. ‘But one finds it very hard to work, I think, unless one does get into a mess. Now what were you wanting to see us about?’
‘I wanted to see Miss Margot Bence.’
‘Ah, Margot. Now what a pity. If you’d been half an hour earlier you’d have found her here. She’s gone off to produce some photographs of models for Fashion Dream. You should have rung up, you know, to make an appointment. Margot’s terribly busy these days.’
‘I did ring up. There was no reply.’
‘Of course,’ said the young man. ‘We took the receiver off. I remember now. It disturbed us.’ He smoothed down a kind of lilac smock that he was wearing. ‘Can I do anything for you? Make an