The Sittaford Mystery - Agatha Christie [24]
‘Must have been a shock to your mistress,’ he observed.
The girl seemed a little vague about that, he noticed.
‘She didn’t see much of him,’ was her answer.
‘Shut the door and come here,’ said Inspector Narracott.
He was anxious to try the effect of a surprise attack.
‘Did the telegram say that it was murder?’ he asked.
‘Murder!’
The girl’s eyes opened wide, a mixture of horror and intense enjoyment in them. ‘Murdered was he?’
‘Ah!’ said Inspector Narracott, ‘I thought you hadn’t heard that. Mr Kirkwood didn’t want to break the news too abruptly to your mistress, but you see, my dear—what is your name, by the way?’
‘Beatrice, sir.’
‘Well, you see, Beatrice, it will be in the evening papers tonight.’
‘Well, I never,’ said Beatrice. ‘Murdered. ’orrible, isn’t it? Did they bash his head in or shoot him or what?’
The Inspector satisfied her passion for detail, then added casually, ‘I believe there was some idea of your mistress going over to Exhampton yesterday afternoon. But I suppose the weather was too bad for her.’
‘I never heard anything about it, sir,’ said Beatrice. ‘I think you must have made a mistake. The mistress went out in the afternoon to do some shopping and then she went to the Pictures.’
‘What time did she get in?’
‘About six o’clock.’
So that let Mrs Gardner out.
‘I don’t know much about the family,’ he went on in a casual tone. ‘Is Mrs Gardner a widow?’
‘Oh, no, sir, there’s master.’
‘What does he do?’
‘He doesn’t do anything,’ said Beatrice staring. ‘He can’t. He’s an invalid.’
‘An invalid, is he? Oh, I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard.’
‘He can’t walk. He lies in bed all day. Got a nurse always in the house we have. It isn’t every girl what stays on with an ’ospital nurse in the house the whole time. Always wanting trays carried up and pots of tea made.’
‘Must be very trying,’ said the Inspector soothingly. ‘Now, will you go and tell your mistress, please, that I am here from Mr Kirkwood of Exhampton?’
Beatrice withdrew, and a few minutes later the door opened and a tall, rather commanding woman came into the room. She had an unusual-looking face, broad about the brows, and black hair with a touch of grey at the temples, which she wore combed straight back from her forehead. She looked at the Inspector inquiringly.
‘You have come from Mr Kirkwood at Exhampton?’
‘Not exactly, Mrs Gardner. I put it that way to your maid. Your brother, Captain Trevelyan, was murdered yesterday afternoon and I am Divisional Inspector Narracott in charge of the case.’
Whatever else Mrs Gardner might be she was certainly a woman of iron nerve. Her eyes narrowed and she drew in her breath sharply, then motioning the Inspector to a chair and sitting down herself she said:
‘Murdered! How extraordinary! Who in the world would want to murder Joe?’
‘That is what I’m anxious to find out, Mrs Gardner.’
‘Of course. I hope I shall be able to help you in some way, but I doubt it. My brother and I have seen very little of each other in the last ten years. I know nothing of his friends or of any ties he has formed.’
‘You’ll excuse me, Mrs Gardner, but had you and your brother quarrelled?’
‘No—not quarrelled. I think estranged would be a better word to describe the position between us. I don’t want to go into family details, but my brother rather resented my marriage. Brothers, I think, seldom approve of their sisters’ choice, but usually, I fancy, they conceal it better than my brother did. My brother, as perhaps you know, had a large fortune left him by an aunt. Both my sister and myself married poor men. When my husband was invalided out of the army after the war with shell shock, a little financial assistance would have been a wonderful relief—would have enabled me to give him an expensive course of treatment which was otherwise denied to him. I asked my brother for a loan which he refused. That, of course, he was perfectly entitled to do. But since then we have met at very rare intervals, and hardly corresponded at all.’
It was a clear succinct statement.
An intriguing personality,