Ordeal by Innocence. Agatha Christie

now:

      ‘Can you tell me exactly who was in that house on the night Mrs Argyle was killed?’

      Marshall gave him a sharp glance.

      ‘Leo Argyle, of course, and the youngest daughter, Hester. Mary Durrant and her invalid husband were there on a visit. He had just come out of hospital. Then there was Kirsten Lindstrom–whom you probably met–she is a Swedish trained nurse and masseuse who originally came to help Mrs Argyle with her war nursery and has remained on ever since. Michael and Tina were not there–Michael works as a car salesman in Drymouth and Tina has a job in the County Library at Redmyn and lives in a flat there.’

      Marshall paused before going on.

      ‘There was also Miss Vaughan, Mr Argyle’s secretary. She had left the house before the body was discovered.’

      ‘I met her also,’ said Calgary. ‘She seems very–attached to Mr Argyle.’

      ‘Yes–yes. I believe there may shortly be an engagement announced.’ ‘Ah!’

      ‘He has been very lonely since his wife died,’ said the lawyer, with a faint note of reproof in his voice.

      ‘Quite so,’ said Calgary.

      Then he said:

      ‘What about motive, Mr Marshall?’

      ‘My dear Dr Calgary, I really cannot speculate as to that!’

      ‘I think you can. As you have said yourself the facts are ascertainable.’

      ‘There was no direct monetary benefit to anyone. Mrs Argyle had entered into a series of discretionary Trusts, a formula which as you know is much adopted nowadays. These Trusts were in favour of all the children. They are administered by three Trustees, of whom I am one, Leo Argyle is one and the third is an American lawyer, a distant cousin of Mrs Argyle’s. The very large sum of money involved is administered by these three Trustees and can be adjusted so as to benefit those beneficiaries of the Trust who need it most.’

      ‘What about Mr Argyle? Did he profit in a monetary sense by his wife’s death?’

      ‘Not to any great extent. Most of her fortune, as I have told you, had gone into Trusts. She left him the residue of her estate, but that did not amount to a large sum.’

      ‘And Miss Lindstrom?’

      ‘Mrs Argyle had bought a very handsome annuity for Miss Lindstrom some years previously.’ Marshall added irritably, ‘Motive? There doesn’t seem to me a ha’porth of motive about. Certainly no financial motive.’

      ‘And in the emotional field? Was there any special–friction?’

      ‘There, I’m afraid, I can’t help you.’ Marshall spoke with finality. ‘I wasn’t an observer of the family life.’

      ‘Is there anyone who could?’

      Marshall considered for a moment or two. Then he said, almost reluctantly:

      ‘You might go and see the local doctor. Dr–er–MacMaster, I think his name is. He’s retired now, but still lives in the neighbourhood. He was medical attendant to the war nursery. He must have known and seen a good deal of the life at Sunny Point. Whether you can persuade him to tell you anything is up to you. But I think that if he chose, he might be helpful, though–pardon me for saying this–do you think it likely that you can accomplish anything that the police cannot accomplish much more easily?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ said Calgary. ‘Probably not. But I do know this. I’ve got to try. Yes, I’ve got to try.’

      Chapter 5

      The Chief Constable’s eyebrows climbed slowly up his forehead in a vain attempt to reach the receding line of his grey hair. He cast his eyes up to the ceiling and then down again to the papers on his desk.

      ‘It beggars description!’ he said.

      The young man whose business it was to make the right responses to the Chief Constable, said:

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘A pretty kettle of fish,’ muttered Major Finney. He tapped with his fingers on the table. ‘Is Huish here?’ he asked.

      ‘Yes, sir. Superintendent Huish came about five minutes ago.’

      ‘Right,’ said the Chief Constable. ‘Send him in, will you?’

      Superintendent Huish was a tall, sad-looking man. His air of melancholy was so profound that no one would have believed that he could be the life and soul of a children’s party, cracking jokes and bringing pennies out of little boys’ ears, much to their delight. The Chief Constable said:

      ‘Morning, Huish, this is a pretty kettle of fish we’ve got here. What d’you think of it?’

      Superintendent Huish breathed heavily and sat down in the chair indicated.

      ‘It seems as though we made a mistake two years ago,’ he said. ‘This fellow–what’s-his-name–’

      The Chief Constable rustled his papers. ‘Calory–no, Calgary. Some sort of a professor. Absent-minded bloke, maybe? People like that often vague about times and all that sort of thing?’ There was perhaps a hint of appeal in his voice, but Huish did not respond. He said:

      ‘He’s a kind of scientist, I understand.’

      ‘So that you think we’ve got to accept what he says?’

      ‘Well,’ said Huish, ‘Sir Reginald seems to have accepted it, and I don’t suppose there’s anything would get past him.’ This was a tribute to the Director of Public Prosecutions.

      ‘No,’ said Major Finney, rather unwillingly. ‘If the DPP’s convinced, well I suppose we’ve just got to take it. That means opening up the case again. You’ve brought the relevant data with you, have you, as I asked?’

      ‘Yes, sir, I’ve got it here.’

      The superintendent spread out various documents on the table.

      ‘Been over it?’ the Chief Constable asked.

      ‘Yes, sir, I went all over it last night. My memory of it was fairly fresh. After all, it’s not so long ago.’

      ‘Well, let’s have it, Huish. Where are we?’

      ‘Back at the beginning, sir,’ said Superintendent Huish. ‘The trouble is, you see, there really wasn’t any doubt at the time.’

      ‘No,’ said the Chief Constable. ‘It seemed a perfectly clear case. Don’t think I’m blaming you, Huish. I was behind you a hundred per cent.’

      ‘There wasn’t anything else really that we could think,’ said Huish thoughtfully. ‘A call came in that she’d been killed. The information that the boy had been there threatening her, the fingerprint evidence–his fingerprints on the poker, and the money. We picked him up almost at once and there the money was, in his possession.’

      ‘What sort of impression did he make on you at the time?’

      Huish considered. ‘Bad,’ he said. ‘Far too cocky and plausible. Came reeling out with his times and his alibis. Cocky. You know the type. Murderers are usually cocky. Think they’re so clever. Think whatever they’ve done is sure to be all right, no matter how things go for other people. He was a wrong ’un all right.’

      ‘Yes,’ Finney agreed, ‘he was a wrong ’un. All his record goes to prove that. But were you convinced at once that he was a killer?’

      The superintendent considered. ‘It’s not a thing you can be sure about. He was the type, I’d say, that very often ends up as a killer. Like Harmon in 1938. Long record behind him of pinched bicycles, swindled money, frauds on elderly women, and finally he does one woman in, pickles her in acid, gets pleased with himself and starts making a habit of it.