Unexpected Guest - Agatha Christie [40]
‘No, it does not,’ Mrs Warwick replied firmly.
Starkwedder made a deprecatory gesture. ‘You must forgive my frankness–’ he began, only to be interrupted by Mrs Warwick, who asked with more than a touch of asperity in her voice, ‘Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?’
‘Yes, I think I do,’ he replied. ‘You’re telling me that it’s possible for a mother to kill her son.’ He walked over to the sofa and leaned across it as he continued. ‘And you’re telling me–specifically–that it’s possible that you killed your son.’ He paused, and looked at her steadily. ‘Is that a theory,’ he asked, ‘or am I to understand it as a fact?’
‘I am not confessing to anything,’ Mrs Warwick answered. ‘I am merely putting before you a certain point of view. An emergency might arise at a time when I was no longer here to deal with it. And in the event of such a thing happening, I want you to have this, and to make use of it.’ She took an envelope from her pocket and handed it to him.
Starkwedder took the envelope, but remarked, ‘That’s all very well. However, I shan’t be here. I’m going back to Abadan to carry on with my job.’
Mrs Warwick made a gesture of dismissal, clearly regarding the objection as insignificant. ‘You won’t be out of touch with civilization,’ she reminded him. ‘There are newspapers, radio and so on in Abadan, presumably.’
‘Oh yes,’ he agreed. ‘We have all the civilized blessings.’
‘Then please keep that envelope. You see whom it’s addressed to?’
Starkwedder glanced at the envelope. ‘The Chief Constable. Yes. But I’m not at all clear what’s really in your mind,’ he told Mrs Warwick. ‘For a woman, you’re really remarkably good at keeping a secret. Either you committed this murder yourself, or you know who did commit it. That’s right, isn’t it?’
She looked away from him as she replied, ‘I don’t propose to discuss the matter.’
Starkwedder sat in the armchair. ‘And yet,’ he persisted, ‘I’d like very much to know exactly what is in your mind.’
‘Then I’m afraid I shan’t tell you,’ Mrs Warwick retorted. ‘As you say, I am a woman who can keep her secrets well.’
Deciding to try a different tack, Starkwedder said, ‘This valet fellow–the chap who looked after your son–’ He paused as though trying to remember the valet’s name.
‘You mean Angell,’ Mrs Warwick told him. ‘Well, what about Angell?’
‘Do you like him?’ asked Starkwedder.
‘No, I don’t, as it happens,’ she replied. ‘But he was efficient at his job, and Richard was certainly not easy to work for.’
‘I imagine not,’ Starkwedder remarked. ‘But Angell put up with these difficulties, did he?’
‘It was made worth his while,’ was Mrs Warwick’s wry response.
Starkwedder again began to pace about the room. Then he turned to face Mrs Warwick and, trying to draw her out, asked, ‘Did Richard have anything on him?’
The old lady looked puzzled for a moment. ‘On him?’ she repeated. ‘What do you mean? Oh, I see. You mean, did Richard know something to Angell’s discredit?’
‘Yes, that’s what I mean,’ Starkwedder affirmed. ‘Did he have a hold over Angell?’
Mrs Warwick thought for a moment before replying. Then, ‘No, I don’t think so,’ she said.
‘I was just wondering–’ he began.
‘You mean,’ Mrs Warwick broke in, impatiently, ‘did Angell shoot my son? I doubt it. I doubt that very much.’
‘I see. You’re not buying that one,’ Starkwedder remarked. ‘A pity, but there it is.’
Mrs Warwick suddenly got to her feet. ‘Thank you, Mr Starkwedder,’ she said. ‘You have been very kind.’
She gave him her hand. Amused at her abruptness, he shook hands with her, then went to the door and opened it. After a moment she left the room. Starkwedder closed the door after her, smiling. ‘Well, I’m damned!’ he exclaimed to himself, as he looked again at the envelope. ‘What a woman!’
Hurriedly, he put the envelope into his pocket, as Miss Bennett came into the room looking upset and preoccupied. ‘What