Towards Zero - Agatha Christie [43]
“You can’t go nearer than that?”
“I’d rather not. All sorts of factors to take into account. We don’t hang people on rigor mortis nowadays. Not earlier than ten, not later than midnight.”
“And she was hit with this niblick?”
The doctor glanced over at it.
“Presumably. Luck, though, that the murderer left it behind. I couldn’t have deduced a niblick from the wound. As it happens the sharp edge of the club didn’t touch the head—it was the angled back of the club that must have hit her.”
“Wouldn’t that have been rather difficult to do?” asked Leach.
“If it had been done on purpose, yes,” agreed the doctor. “I can only suppose, that by a rather odd chance, it just happened that way.”
Leach was raising his hands, instinctively trying to reconstruct the blow.
“Awkward,” he commented.
“Yes,” said the doctor thoughtfully. “The whole thing was awkward. She was struck, you see, on the right temple—but whoever did it must have stood on the right-hand side of the bed—facing the head of the bed—there’s no room on the left, the angle from the wall is too small.”
Leach pricked up his ears.
“Left-handed?” he queried.
“You won’t get me to commit myself on that point,” said Lazenby. “Far too many snags. I’ll say, if you like, that the easiest explanation is that the murderer was left-handed—but there are other ways of accounting for it. Suppose, for instance, the old lady had turned her head slightly to the left just as the man hit. Or he may have previously moved the bed out, stood on the left of it and afterwards moved the bed back.”
“Not very likely—that last.”
“Perhaps not, but it might have happened. I’ve had some experience in these things, and I can tell you, my boy, deducing that a murderous blow was struck left-handed is full of pitfalls.”
Detective Sergeant Jones, from the floor, remarked, “This golf club is the ordinary right-handed kind.”
Leach nodded. “Still, it mayn’t have belonged to the man who used it. It was a man, I suppose, doctor?”
“Not necessarily. If the weapon was that heavy niblick a woman could have landed a terrible swipe with it.”
Superintendent Battle said in his quiet voice:
“But you couldn’t swear that that was the weapon, could you, doctor?”
Lazenby gave him a quick interested glance.
“No. I can only swear that it might have been the weapon, and that presumably it was the weapon. I’ll analyse the blood on it, make sure that it’s the same blood group—also the hairs.”
“Yes,” said Battle approvingly. “It’s always as well to be thorough.”
Lazenby asked curiously:
“Got any doubts about that golf club yourself, Superintendent?”
Battle shook his head.
“Oh no, no. I’m a simple man. Like to believe the things I see with my eyes. She was hit with something heavy—that’s heavy. It has blood and hair on it, therefore presumably her blood and hair. Ergo—that was the weapon used.”
Leach asked: “Was she awake or asleep when she was hit?”
“In my opinion, awake. There’s astonishment on her face. I’d say—this is just a private personal opinion—that she didn’t expect what was going to happen. There’s no sign of any attempt to fight—and no horror or fear. I’d say offhand that either she had just woken up from sleep and was hazy and didn’t take things in—or else she recognized her assailant as someone who could not possibly wish to harm her.”
“The bedside lamp was on and nothing else,” said Leach thoughtfully.
“Yes, that cuts either way. She may have turned it on when she was suddenly woken up by someone entering her room. Or it may have been on already.”
Detective Sergeant Jones rose to his feet. He was smiling appreciatively.
“Lovely set of prints on that club,” he said. “Clear as anything!”
Leach gave a deep sigh.
“That ought to simplify things.”
“Obliging chap,” said Dr. Lazenby. “Left the weapon—left his fingerprints on it—wonder he didn’t leave his visiting card!”
“It might be,” said Superintendent Battle, “that he just lost his head. Some do.”
The doctor nodded.
“True enough. Well, I must go and look after my other patient.”
“What patient?” Battle sounded