Elephants Can Remember - Christie Agatha (книги бесплатно читать без txt) 📗
But she did ask me to be godmother to one of her children.
You. Since your mother and father were living abroad, I saw very little of them for many years. I saw you occasionally." "Yes. You used to take me out from school. I remember that. Gave me some specially good feeds, too. Lovely food you gave me." "You were an unusual child. You liked caviar." "I still do," said Celia, "though I don't get it offered to me very often." "I was shocked to read this mention of things in the paper.
Very little was said. I gathered it was a kind of open verdict.
No particular motive. Nothing to show. No accounts of quarrel, there was no suggestion of there having been an attack from outside. I was shocked by it," said Mrs. Oliver, "and then I forgot it. I wondered once or twice what could have led to it, but as I was not in the country-I was doing a tour at the time, in America as I've said-the whole thing passed out of my mind. It was some years later when I next saw you and naturally I did not speak of it to you." "No," said Celia, "I appreciate that." "All through life," Mrs. Oliver said, "one comes across very curious things that happen to friends or to acquaintances.
With friends, of course, very often you have some idea of what led to-whatever the incident might be. But if it's a long time since you've heard them discussed or talked to them, you are quite in the dark and there is nobody that you can show too much curiosity to about the occasion." "You were always very nice to me," said Celia. "You sent me nice presents, a particularly nice present when I was twenty-one, I remember." "That's the time when girls need some extra cash in hand," said Mrs. Oliver, "because there are so many things they want to do and have just then." "Yes, I always thought you were an understanding person and not-well, you know what some people are like. Always questioning, and asking things and wanting to know all about you. You never asked questions. You used to take me out to shows, or give me nice meals, and talk to me as though, well, as though everything was all right and you were just a distant relation of the family. I've appreciated that. I've known so many nosey-parkers in my life." "Yes. Everyone comes up against that sooner or later," said Mrs. Oliver. "But you see now what upset me at this particular party. It seems an extraordinary thing to be asked to do by a complete stranger like Mrs. Burton-Cox. I couldn't imagine why she should want to know. It was no business of hers, surely. Unless-" "You thought it was, unless it was something to do with my marrying Desmond. Desmond is her son," "Yes, I suppose it could have been, but I couldn't see how, or what business it was of hers." "Everything's her business. She's nosey-in fact she's what you said she was, an odious woman." "But I gather Desmond isn't odious." "No. No, I'm very fond of Desmond and Desmond is fond of me. I don't like his mother." "Does he like his mother?" "I don't really know," said Celia. "I suppose he might like her-anything's possible, isn't it? Anyway, I don't want to get married at present. I don't feel like it. And there are a lot of-oh, well, difficulties, you know there are a lot of fors and againsts. It must have made you feel rather curious," said Celia. "I mean, why Mrs. Nosey Cox should have asked you to try and worm things out of me and then run along and spill it all to her- Are you asking me that particular question, by the way?" "You mean, am I asking you whether you think or know that your mother killed your father or your father killed your mother, or whether it was a double suicide? Is that what you mean?" "Well, I suppose it is, in a way. But I think I have to ask you also, if you were wanting to ask me that, whether you were doing so with the idea of giving Mrs. Burton-Cox the information you obtained, in case you did receive any information from me." "No," said Mrs. Oliver. "Quite decidedly no. I shouldn't dream of telling the odious woman anything of the sort. I shall tell her quite firmly that it is not any business of hers or of mine, and that I have no intention of obtaining information from you and retailing it to her." "Well, that's what I thought," said Celia. "I thought I could trust you to that extent. I don't mind telling you what I do know. Such as it is." "You needn't. I'm not asking you for it." "No. I can quite see that. But I'll give you the answer all the same. The answer is-nothing." "Nothing," said Mrs. Oliver thoughtfully.
"No. I wasn't there at the time. I mean, I wasn't in the house at the time. I can't remember now quite where I was. I think I was at school in Switzerland, or else I was staying with a school friend during the school holidays. You see, it's all rather mixed up in my mind by now." "I suppose," said Mrs. Oliver doubtfully, "it wouldn't be likely that you would know. Considering your age at the time." "I'd be interested," said Celia, "to know just what you feel about that. Do you think it would be likely for me to know all about it? Or not to know?" "Well, you said you weren't in the house. If you'd been in the house at the time then, yes, I think it would be quite likely that you might know something. Children do. Teen-agers do. People of that age know a lot, they see a lot, they don't talk about it very often. But they do know things that the outside world wouldn't know, and they do know things that they wouldn't be willing, shall we say, to tell to police inquirers." "No. You're being quite sensible. I wouldn't've known. I don't think I did know. I don't think I had any idea. What did the police think? You don't mind my asking you that, I hope, because I should be interested. You see, I never read any account of the inquest or anything like that or the inquiry into it." "I think they thought it was a double suicide, but I don't think they ever had any inkling as to the reason for it." "Do you want to know what I think?" "Not if you don't want me to know," said Mrs. Oliver.
"But I expect you are interested. After all, you write crime stories about people who kill themselves or kill each other, or who have reasons for things. I should think you would be interested." "Yes, I'll admit that," said Mrs. Oliver. "But the last thing I want to do is to offend you by seeking for information which is no business of mine to know." "Well, I wondered," said Celia. "I've often wondered from time to time why, and how, but I knew very little about things. I mean, about how things were going on at home. The holidays before that I had been away on exchange on the continent, so I hadn't seen my mother and father really very recently. I mean, they'd come out to Switzerland and taken me out from school once or twice, but that was all. They seemed much as usual, but they seemed older. My father, I think, was ailing. I mean, getting feebler. I don't know if it was heart or what it was. One doesn't really think about that.
My mother, too, she was going rather nervy. Not hypochondriac, but a little inclined to fuss over her health. They were on good terms, quite friendly. There wasn't anything that I noticed. Only sometimes one would, well, sometimes one gets ideas. One doesn't think they're true or necessarily right at all, but one just wonders if-" "I don't think we'd better talk about it any more," said Mrs. Oliver. "We don't need to know or find out. The whole thing's over and done with. The verdict was quite satisfactory.
No means to show, or motive, or anything like that. But there was no question of your father having deliberately killed your mother or of your mother having deliberately killed your father." "If I thought which was most likely," said Celia, "I would think my father killed my mother. Because, you see, it's more natural for a man to shoot anyone, I think. To shoot a woman for whatever reason it was. I don't think a woman, or a woman like my mother, would be so likely to shoot my father.
If she wanted him dead, I should think she might have chosen some other method. But I don't think either of them wanted the other one dead." "So it could have been an outsider." "Yes, but what does one mean by an outsider?" said Celia.
