The Mirror Crack'd - Agatha Christie [66]
‘Are you saying that to make me feel better? I don’t care really. Oh, what the hell, let’s be honest. I do care. I did. She had a magic, you know. Marina! A wonderful calamitous magic that took hold of you. You can hate a person and still mind.’
‘You didn’t tell her who you were?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t tell her. That’s the last thing I’d do.’
‘Did you try and poison her, Miss Bence?’
Her mood changed. She got up and laughed.
‘What ridiculous questions you do ask! But I suppose you have to. It’s part of your job. No. I can assure you I didn’t kill her.’
‘That isn’t what I asked you, Miss Bence.’
She looked at him, frowning, puzzled.
‘Marina Gregg,’ he said, ‘is still alive.’
‘For how long?’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Don’t you think it’s likely, Inspector, that someone will try again, and this time — this time, perhaps — they’ll succeed?’
‘Precautions will be taken.’
‘Oh, I’m sure they will. The adoring husband will look after her, won’t he, and make sure that no harm comes to her?’
He was listening carefully to the mockery in her voice.
‘What did you mean when you said you didn’t ask me that?’ she said, harking back suddenly.
‘I asked you if you tried to kill her. You replied that you didn’t kill her. That’s true enough, but someone died, someone was killed.’
‘You mean I tried to kill Marina and instead I killed Mrs What’s-her-name. If you’d like me to make it quite clear, I didn’t try to poison Marina and I didn’t poison Mrs Badcock.’
‘But you know perhaps who did?’
‘I don’t know anything, Inspector, I assure you.’
‘But you have some idea?’
‘Oh, one always has ideas.’ She smiled at him, a mocking smile. ‘Among so many people it might be, mightn’t it, the black-haired robot of a secretary, the elegant Hailey Preston, servants, maids, a masseur, the hairdresser, someone at the studios, so many people — and one of them mightn’t be what he or she pretended to be.’
Then as he took an unconscious step towards her she shook her head vehemently.
‘Relax, Inspector,’ she said. ‘I’m only teasing you. Somebody’s out for Marina’s blood, but who it is I’ve no idea. Really. I’ve no idea at all.’
Chapter 16
I
At No. 16 Aubrey Close, young Mrs Baker was talking to her husband. Jim Baker, a big good-looking blond giant of a man, was intent on assembling a model construction unit.
‘Neighbours!’ said Cherry. She gave a toss of her black curly head. ‘Neighbours!’ she said with venom.
She carefully lifted the frying pan from the stove, then neatly shot its contents on to two plates, one rather fuller than the other. She placed the fuller one before her husband.
‘Mixed grill,’ she announced.
Jim looked up and sniffed appreciatively.
‘That’s something like,’ he said. ‘What is today? My birthday?’
‘You have to be well nourished,’ said Cherry.
She was looking very pretty in a cerise and white striped apron with little frills on it. Jim Baker shifted the component parts of a strato-cruiser to make room for his meal. He grinned at his wife and asked:
‘Who says so?’
‘My Miss Marple for one!’ said Cherry. ‘And if it comes to that,’ she added, sitting down opposite Jim and pulling her plate towards her, ‘I should say she could do with a bit more solid nourishment herself. That old cat of a White Knight of hers, gives her nothing but carbohydrates. It’s all she can think of! A “nice custard”, a “nice bread and butter pudding”, a “nice macaroni cheese”. Squashy puddings with pink sauce. And gas, gas, gas, all day. Talks her head off she does.’
‘Oh well,’ said Jim vaguely, ‘it’s invalid diet, I suppose.’
‘Invalid diet!’ said Cherry and snorted. ‘Miss Marple isn’t an invalid — she’s just old. Always interfering, too.’
‘Who, Miss Marple?’
‘No. That Miss Knight. Telling me how to do things! She even tries to tell me how to cook! I know a lot more about cooking than she does.’
‘You’re tops for cooking, Cherry,’ said Jim appreciatively.
‘There’s something to cooking,