Unexpected Guest - Agatha Christie [32]
Taking her arm briefly, Farrar led her further away from the house. ‘Do you know that Angell is setting out to blackmail me?’ he asked her.
‘Angell?’ cried Laura, incredulously. ‘Angell is?’
‘Yes. He obviously knows about us–and he also knows, or at any rate pretends to know, that I was here last night.’
Laura gasped. ‘Do you mean he saw you?’
‘He says he saw me,’ Farrar retorted.
‘But he couldn’t have seen you in that fog,’ Laura insisted.
‘He’s got some story,’ Farrar told her, ‘about coming down to the pantry and doing something to the shutter outside the window, and seeing me pass on my way home. He also says he heard a shot, not long before that, but didn’t think anything of it.’
‘Oh my God!’ Laura gasped. ‘How awful! What are we going to do?’
Farrar made an involuntary gesture as though he were about to comfort Laura with an embrace, but then, glancing towards the house, thought better of it. He gazed at her steadily. ‘I don’t know yet what we’re going to do,’ he told her. ‘We’ll have to think.’
‘You’re not going to pay him, surely?’
‘No, no,’ Farrar assured her. ‘If one starts doing that, it’s the beginning of the end. And yet, what is one to do?’ He passed a hand across his brow. ‘I didn’t think anyone knew I came over yesterday evening,’ he continued. ‘I’m certain my housekeeper didn’t. The point is, did Angell really see me, or is he pretending he did?’
‘Supposing he does go to the police?’ Laura asked, tremulously.
‘I know,’ murmured Farrar. Again, he ran his hand across his brow. ‘One’s got to think–think carefully.’ He began to walk to and fro. ‘Either bluff it out–say he’s lying, that I never left home yesterday evening–’
‘But there are the fingerprints,’ Laura told him.
‘What fingerprints?’ asked Farrar, startled.
‘You’ve forgotten,’ Laura reminded him. ‘The fingerprints on the table. The police have been thinking that they’re MacGregor’s, but if Angell goes to them with this story, then they’ll ask to take your fingerprints, and then–’
She broke off. Julian Farrar now looked very worried. ‘Yes, yes, I see,’ he muttered. ‘All right, then. I’ll have to admit that I came over here and–tell some story. I came over to see Richard about something, and we talked–’
‘You can say he was perfectly all right when you left him,’ Laura suggested, speaking quickly.
There was little trace of affection in Farrar’s eyes as he looked at her. ‘How easy you make it sound!’ he retorted, hotly. ‘Can I really say that?’ he added sarcastically.
‘One has to say something!’ she told him, sounding defensive.
‘Yes, I must have put my hand there as I bent over to see–’ He swallowed, as the scene came back to him.
‘So long as they believe the prints are MacGregor’s,’ said Laura, eagerly.
‘MacGregor! MacGregor!’ Farrar exclaimed angrily. He was almost shouting now. ‘What on earth made you think of cooking up that message from the newspaper and putting it on Richard’s body? Weren’t you taking a terrific chance?’
‘Yes–no–I don’t know,’ Laura cried in confusion.
Farrar looked at her with silent revulsion. ‘So damned cold-blooded,’ he muttered.
‘We had to think of something,’ Laura sighed. ‘I–I just couldn’t think. It was really Michael’s idea.’
‘Michael?’
‘Michael–Starkwedder,’ Laura told him.
‘You mean he helped you?’ Farrar asked. He sounded incredulous.
‘Yes, yes, yes!’ Laura cried impatiently. ‘That’s why I wanted to see you–to explain to you–’
Farrar came up close to her. His tone was icily jealous as he asked, firmly, ‘What’s Michael’–he emphasized Starkwedder’s Christian name with a cold anger–‘what’s Michael Starkwedder doing in all this?’
‘He came in and–and found me there,’ Laura told him. ‘I’d–I’d got the gun in my hand and–’
‘Good God!’ Farrar exclaimed with distaste, moving away from her. ‘And somehow you persuaded him–’
‘I think he persuaded me,’ Laura murmured sadly. She moved closer to him. ‘Oh, Julian–’ she began.
Her arms were about to go around his neck, but he pushed her away slightly. ‘I’ve told you, I’ll do anything I can,’ he assured her. ‘Don’t think I won’t–but–’
Laura