Evil Under the Sun - Christie Agatha (лучшие книги читать онлайн бесплатно .txt) 📗

‘Then, down to the tennis court, arriving the last, but showing no signs of flurry or haste.

‘And, meanwhile, Patrick has gone to the cave. Arlena has seen nothing and heard very little-a boat-voices-she has prudently remained hidden. But now it is Patrick calling.

‘ “All clear, darling,” and she comes out, and his hands fasten round her neck-and that is the end of poor foolish beautiful Arlena Marshall…’

His voice died away.

For a moment there was silence, then Rosamund Darnley said with a little shiver: 

‘Yes, you make one see it all. But that’s the story from the other side. You haven’t told us howyou came to get at the truth?’

Hercule Poirot said:

‘I told you once that I had a very simple mind. Always, from the beginning, it seemed to me thatthe most likely person had killed Arlena Marshall. And the most likely person was Patrick Redfern. He was the type,par excellence -the type of man who exploits women like her-and the type of the killer-the kind of man who will take a woman’s savings and cut her throat into the bargain. Who was Arlena going to meet that morning? By the evidence of her face, her smile, her manner, her words to me-Patrick Redfern. And therefore, in the very nature of things, it should be Patrick who killed her.

‘But at once I came up, as I told you, against impossibility. Patrick Redfern could not have killed her since he was on the beach and in Miss Brewster’s company until the actual discovery of the body. So I looked about for other solutions-and there were several. She could have been killed by her husband-with Miss Darnley’s connivance. (They too had both lied as to one point which looked suspicious.) She could have been killed as a result of her having stumbled on the secret of the dope smuggling. She could have been killed, as I said, by a religious maniac, and she could have been killed by her stepdaughter. The latter seemed to me at one time to be the real solution. Linda’s manner in her very first intervew with the police was significant. An interview that I had with her later assured me of one point. Linda considered herself guilty.’

‘You mean she imagined that she had actually killed Arlena?’

Rosamund’s voice was incredulous.

Hercule Poirot nodded.

‘Yes. Remember-she is really little more than a child. She read that book on witchcraft and she half believed it. She hated Arlena. She deliberately made the wax doll, cast her spell, pierced it to the heart, melted it away-and that very day Arlena dies. Older and wiser people than Linda have believed fervently in magic. Naturally, she believed that it was all true-that by using magic she had killed her stepmother.’

Rosamund cried:

‘Oh, poor child, poor child. And I thought-I imagined-something quite different-that she knew something which would-’

Rosamund stopped. Poirot said:

‘I know what it was you thought. Actually your manner frightened Linda still further. She believed that her action had really brought about Arlena’s death and that you knew it. Christine Redfern worked on her too, introducing the idea of the sleeping tablets to her mind, showing her the way to a speedy and painless expiation of her crime. You see, once Captain Marshall was proved to have an alibi, it was vital for a new suspect to be found. Neither she nor her husband knew about the dope smuggling. They fixed on Linda to be the scapegoat.’

Rosamund said:

‘What a devil!’

Poirot nodded.

‘Yes, you are right. A cold-blooded and cruel woman. For me, I was in great difficulty. Was Linda guilty only of the childish attempt at witchcraft, or had her hate carried her still further-to the actual act? I tried to get her to confess to me. But it was no good. At that moment I was in grave uncertainty. The Chief Constable was inclined to accept the dope smuggling explanation. I couldn’t let it go at that. I went over the facts again very carefully. I had, you see, a collection of jig-saw puzzle pieces, isolated happenings-plain facts. The whole must fit into a complete and harmonious pattern. There were the scissors found on the beach-a bottle thrown from a window-a bath that no one would admit to having taken-all perfectly harmless occurrences in themselves, but rendered significant by the fact that no one would admit to them. Therefore, theymust be of significance. Nothing about them fitted in with the theories of either Captain Marshall’s or Linda’s, or of a dope gang’s being responsible. And yet theymust have meaning. I went back again to my first solution-that Patrick Redfern had committed the murder. Was there anything in support of that? Yes, the fact that a very large sum of money was missing from Arlena’s account. Who had got that money? Patrick Redfern of course. She was the type of woman easily swindled by a handsome young man-but she was not at all the type of woman to be blackmailed. She was far too transparent, not good enough at keeping a secret. The blackmailer story had never rung true to my mind. And yet therehad been that conversation overheard-ah, but overheard by whom?Patrick Redfern’s wife. It was her story-unsupported by any outside evidence. Why was it invented? The answer came to me like lightning. To account for the absence of Arlena’s money!

‘Patrick and Christine Redfern. The two of them were in it together. Christine hadn’t got the physical strength to strangle her or the mental make up. No, it was Patrick who had done it-but that was impossible! Every minute of his time was accounted for until the body was found.

‘Body-the word stirred something in my mind-bodies lying on the beach-all alike. Patrick Redfern and Emily Brewster had got to the Cove and seena body lying there. A body-suppose it was not Arlena’s body but somebody else’s? The face was hidden by the great Chinese hat.

‘But therewas only one dead body-Arlena’s. Then, could it be-alive body-someone pretending to be dead? Could it be Arlena herself, inspired by Patrick to play some kind of a joke. I shook my head-no, too risky. A live body-whose? Was there any woman who would help Redfern? Of course-his wife. But she was a white-skinned delicate creature. Ah yes, but suntan can be applied out of bottles-bottles-I had one of my jig-saw pieces. Yes, and afterwards, of course, a bath-to wash that tell-tale stain off before she went out to play tennis. And the scissors? Why, to cut up that duplicate cardboard hat-an unwieldy thing that must be got out of the way, and in the haste the scissors were left behind-the one thing that the pair of murderers forgot.

‘But where was Arlena all the time? That again was perfectly clear. Either Rosamund Darnley or Arlena Marshall had been in the Pixy’s Cave, the scent they both used told me that. It was certainly not Rosamund Darnley. Then it was Arlena, hiding till the coast should clear.

‘When Emily Brewster went off in the boat, Patrick had the beach to himself and full opportunity to commit the crime. Arlena Marshall was killed after a quarter to twelve, but the medical evidence was only concerned with the earliest possible time the crime could have been committed. That Arlena was dead at a quarter to twelve was what was told to the doctor, not what he told the police.

‘Two more points had to be settled. Linda Marshall’s evidence gave Christine Redfern an alibi. Yes, but that evidence depended on Linda Marshall’s wristwatch. All that was needed was to prove that Christine had had two opportunities of tampering with the watch. I found those easily enough. She had been alone in Linda’s room that morning-and there was an indirect proof. Linda was heard to say that she was “afraid she was going to be late”, but when she got down it was only twenty-five past ten by the lounge clock. The second opportunity was easy-she could alter the watch back again as soon as Linda turned her back and went down to bathe.

‘Then there was the question of the ladder. Christine had always declared she had no head for heights. Another carefully prepared lie.

‘I had my mosaic now-each piece beautifully fitted into its place. But, unfortunately, I had no definite proof. It was all in my mind.

‘It was then that an idea came to me. There was an assurance-a slickness about the crime. I had no doubt that in the future Patrick Redfern would repeat his crime. What about the past? It was remotely possible that this was not his first killing. The method employed, strangulation, was in harmony with his nature-a killer for pleasure as well as for profit. If he was already a murderer I was sure that he would have used the same means. I asked Inspector Colgate for a list of women victims of strangulation. The result filled me with joy. The death of Nellie Parson found strangled in a lonely copse might or might not be Patrick Redfern’s work-it might merely have suggested choice of locality to him, but in Alice Corrigan’s death I found exactly what I was looking for. In essence the same method. Juggling with time-a murder committed not, as is the usual way,before it is supposed to have happened, butafterwards. A body supposedly discovered at a quarter past four. A husband with an alibi up to twenty-five past four.

‘What really happened? It was said that Edward Corrigan arrived at the Pine Ridge, found his wife not there,and went out andwalked up and down. Actually, of course, he ran full speed to the rendezvous, Caesar’s Grove (which you will remember was quite nearby), killed her and returned to the cafe. The girl hiker who reported the crime was a most respectable young lady, games mistress in a well-known girls’ school. Apparently she had no connection with Edward Corrigan. She had to walk some way to report the death. The police surgeon only examined the body at a quarter to six. As in this case the time of death was accepted without question.

‘I made one final test. I must know definitely if Mrs Redfern was a liar. I arranged our little excursion to Dartmoor. If anyone has a bad head for heights, they are never comfortable crossing a narrow bridge over running water. Miss Brewster, a genuine sufferer, showed giddiness. But Christine Redfern, unconcerned, ran across without a qualm. It was a small point, but it was a definite test. If she had told one unnecessary lie-then all the other lies were possible. In the meantime Colgate had got the photograph identified by the Surrey Police. I played my hand in the only way I thought likely to succeed. Having lulled Patrick Redfern into security, I turned on him and did my utmost to make him lose his self-control. The knowledge that he had been identified with Corrigan caused him to lose his head completely.’