Towards Zero - Agatha Christie [42]
“Goodness, she’s not dead, is she?”
“Oh no, Mrs. Spicer, because I can hear her breathing, but it’s funny breathing. I think she’s ill or something.”
“Well, I’ll go up and see myself. You take in her ladyship’s tea. Better make a fresh pot. She’ll be wondering what’s happened.”
Alice obediently did as she was told whilst Mrs. Spicer went up to the second floor.
Taking the tray along the corridor, Alice knocked at Lady Tressilian’s door. After knocking twice and getting no answer she went in. A moment later, there was a crash of broken crockery and a series of wild screams, and Alice came rushing out of the room and down the stairs to where Hurstall was crossing the hall to the dining room.
“Oh, Mr. Hurstall—there’ve been burglars and her ladyship’s dead—killed—with a great hole in her head and blood everywhere….”
A FINE ITALIAN HAND…
I
Superintendent Battle had enjoyed his holiday. There were still three days of it to run and he was a little disappointed when the weather changed and the rain fell. Still, what else could you expect in England? And he’d been extremely lucky up to now.
He was breakfasting with Inspector James Leach, his nephew, when the telephone rang.
“I’ll come right along, sir.” Jim put the receiver back.
“Serious?” asked Superintendent Battle. He noted the expression on his nephew’s face.
“We’ve got a murder. Lady Tressilian. An old lady, very well known down here, an invalid. Has that house at Saltcreek that hangs right over the cliff.”
Battle nodded.
“I’m going along to see the old man” (thus disrespectfully did Leach speak of his Chief Constable). “He’s a friend of hers. We’re going along together.”
As he went to the door he said pleadingly:
“You’ll give me a hand, won’t you, Uncle, over this? First case of this kind I’ve had.”
“As long as I’m here, I will. Case of robbery and housebreaking, is it?”
“I don’t know yet.”
II
Half an hour later, Major Robert Mitchell, the Chief Constable, was speaking gravely to uncle and nephew.
“It’s early to say as yet,” he said, “but one thing seems clear. This wasn’t an outside job. Nothing taken, no signs of breaking in. All the windows and doors found shut this morning.”
He looked directly at Battle.
“If I were to ask Scotland Yard, do you think they’d put you on the job? You’re on the spot, you see. And then there’s your relationship with Leach here. That is, if you’re willing. It means cutting the end of your holiday.”
“That’s all right,” said Battle. “As for the other, sir, you’ll have to put it up to Sir Edgar” (Sir Edgar Cotton was Assistant Commissioner) “but I believe he’s a friend of yours?”
Mitchell nodded.
“Yes, I think I can manage Edgar all right. That’s settled, then! I’ll get through right away.”
He spoke into the telephone: “Get me the Yard.”
“You think it’s going to be an important case, sir?” asked Battle.
Mitchell said gravely:
“It’s going to be a case where we don’t want the possibility of making a mistake. We want to be absolutely sure of our man—or woman, of course.”
Battle nodded. He understood quite well that there was something behind the words.
“Thinks he knows who did it,” he said to himself. “And doesn’t relish the prospect. Somebody well-known and popular or I’ll eat my boots!”
III
Battle and Leach stood in the doorway of the well-furnished handsome bedroom. On the floor in front of them a police officer was carefully testing for fingerprints the handle of a golf club—a heavy niblick. The head of the club was bloodstained and had one or two white hairs sticking to it.
By the bed, Dr. Lazenby, who was police surgeon for the district, was bending over the body of Lady Tressilian.
He straightened up with a sigh.
“Perfectly straightforward. She was hit from in front with terrific force. First blow smashed in the bone and killed her, but the murderer struck again to make sure. I won’t give you fancy terms—just the plain horse sense of it.”
“How long has she been dead?” asked Leach.
“I’d put it between