The Clocks - Christie Agatha (читать книги бесплатно полностью .TXT) 📗

‘And then he drove off again?’

‘Yes. Why do you think it so interesting?’

‘Well, I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I thought perhapshe might have seen something interesting.’

Ingrid flung the door open. She was wheeling a trolley.

‘We eat dinner now,’ she said, nodding brightly.

‘Goody,’ said Geraldine, ‘I’m starving.’

I got up.

‘I must be going now,’ I said. ‘Goodbye, Geraldine.’

‘Goodbye. What about this thing?’ She picked up the fruit knife. ‘It’s not mine.’ Her voice became wistful. ‘I wish it were.’

‘It looks as though it’s nobody’s in particular, doesn’t it?’

‘Would that make it treasure trove, or whatever it is?’

‘Something of the kind,’ I said. ‘I think you’d better hang on to it. That is, hang on to it until someone else claims it. But I don’t think,’ I said truthfully, ‘that anybody will.’

‘Get me an apple, Ingrid,’ said Geraldine.

‘Apple?’

‘Pomme! Apfel!’

She did her linguistic best. I left them to it.

Chapter 26

Mrs Rival pushed open the door of the Peacock’s Arms and made a slightly unsteady progress towards the bar. She was murmuring under her breath. She was no stranger to this particular hostelry and was greeted quite affectionately by the barman.

‘How do, Flo,’ he said, ‘how’s tricks?’

‘It’s not right,’ said Mrs Rival. ‘It’s not fair. No, it’s not right. I know what I’m talking about, Fred, and I say it’s not right.’

‘Of course it isn’t right,’ said Fred, soothingly. ‘What is, I’d like to know? Want the usual, dear?’

Mrs Rival nodded assent. She paid and began to sip from her glass. Fred moved away to attend to another customer. Her drink cheered Mrs Rival slightly. She still muttered under her breath but with a more good-humoured expression. When Fred was near her once more she addressed him again with a slightly softened manner.

‘All the same, I’m not going to put up with it,’ she said. ‘No, I’m not. If there’s one thing I can’t bear, it’s deceit. I don’t stand for deceit, I never did.’

‘Of course you didn’t,’ said Fred.

He surveyed her with a practised eye. ‘Had a good few already,’ he thought to himself. ‘Still, she can stand a couple more, I expect. Something’s upset her.’

‘Deceit,’ said Mrs Rival. ‘Prevari-prevari-well, you know the word I mean.’

‘Sure I know,’ said Fred.

He turned to greet another acquaintance. The unsatisfactory performance of certain dogs came under review. Mrs Rival continued to murmur.

‘I don’t like it and I won’t stand for it. I shall say so. People can’t think they can go around treating me like that. No, indeed they can’t. I mean, it’s not right and if you don’t stick up for yourself, who’ll stick up for you? Give me another, dearie,’ she added in a louder voice.

Fred obliged.

‘I should go home after that one, if I were you,’ he advised.

He wondered what had upset the old girl so much. She was usually fairly even-tempered. A friendly soul, always good for a laugh.

‘It’ll get me in bad, Fred, you see,’ she said. ‘When people ask you to do a thing, they should tell you all about it. They should tell you what it means and what they’re doing. Liars. Dirty liars, that’s what I say. And I won’t stand for it.’

‘I should cut along home, if I were you,’ said Fred, as he observed a tear about to trickle down the mascaraed splendour. ‘Going to come on to rain soon, it is, and rain hard, too. Spoil that pretty hat of yours.’

Mrs Rival gave one faint appreciative smile.

‘I always was fond of cornflowers,’ she said. ‘Oh, dear me, I don’t knowwhat to do, I’m sure.’

‘I should go home and have a nice kip,’ said the barman, kindly.

‘Well, perhaps, but-’

‘Come on, now, you don’t want to spoil that hat.’

‘That’s very true,’ said Mrs Rival. ‘Yes, that’s very true. That’s a very prof-profumed-no I don’t mean that-what do I mean?’

‘Profound remark of yours, Fred.’

‘Thank you very much.’

‘You’re welcome,’ said Fred.

Mrs Rival slipped down from her high seat and went not too steadily towards the door.

‘Something seems to have upset old Flo tonight,’ said one of the customers.

‘She’s usually a cheerful bird-but we all have our ups and downs,’ said another man, a gloomy-looking individual.

‘If anyone had told me,’ said the first man, ‘that Jerry Grainger would come in fifth, way behind Queen Caroline, I wouldn’t have believed it. If you ask me, there’s been hanky-panky. Racing’s not straight nowadays. Dope the horses, they do. All of ’em.’

Mrs Rival had come out of the Peacock’s Arms. She looked up uncertainly at the sky. Yes, perhaps itwas going to rain. She walked along the street, hurrying slightly, took a turn to the left, a turn to the right and stopped before a rather dingy-looking house. As she took out a key and went up the front steps a voice spoke from the area below, and a head poked round a corner of the door and looked up at her.

‘Gentleman waiting for you upstairs.’

‘For me?’

Mrs Rival sounded faintly surprised.

‘Well, if you call him a gentleman. Well dressed and all that, but not quite Lord Algernon Vere de Vere, I would say.’

Mrs Rival succeeded in finding the keyhole, turned the key in it and entered.

The house smelled of cabbage and fish and eucalyptus. The latter smell was almost permanent in this particular hall. Mrs Rival’s landlady was a great believer in taking care of her chest in winter weather and began the good work in mid-September. Mrs Rival climbed the stairs, aiding herself with the banisters. She pushed open the door on the first floor and went in, then she stopped dead and took a step backwards.

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘it’s you.’

Detective Inspector Hardcastle rose from the chair where he was sitting.

‘Good evening, Mrs Rival.’

‘What doyou want?’ asked Mrs Rival with lessfinesse than she would normally have shown.

‘Well, I had to come up to London on duty,’ said Inspector Hardcastle, ‘and there were just one or two things I thought I’d like to take up with you, so I came along on the chance of finding you. The-er-the woman downstairs seemed to think you might be in before long.’

‘Oh,’ said Mrs Rival. ‘Well, I don’t see-well-’

Inspector Hardcastle pushed forward a chair.

‘Do sit down,’ he said politely.

Their positions might have been reversed, he the host and she the guest. Mrs Rival sat down. She stared at him very hard.

‘What did you mean by one or two things?’ she said.

‘Little points,’ said Inspector Hardcastle, ‘little points that come up.’

‘You mean-about Harry?’

‘That’s right.’ 

‘Now look here,’ said Mrs Rival, a slight belligerence coming into her voice; at the same time as an aroma of spirits came clearly to Inspector Hardcastle’s nostrils. ‘I’vehad Harry. I don’t want to think of him any more. I came forward, didn’t I, when I saw his picture in the paper? I came and told you about him. It’s all a long time ago and I don’t want to be reminded of it. There’s nothing more I can tell you. I’ve told you everything I could remember and now I don’t want to hear any more about it.’

‘It’s quite a small point,’ said Inspector Hardcastle. He spoke gently and apologetically.

‘Oh, very well,’ said Mrs Rival, rather ungraciously. ‘What is it? Let’s have it.’

‘You recognized the man as your husband or the man you’d gone through a form of marriage with about fifteen years ago. That is right, is it not?’

‘I should have thought that by this time you would have known exactly how many years ago it was.’

‘Sharper than I thought,’ Inspector Hardcastle said to himself. He went on.

‘Yes, you’re quite right there. We looked it up. You were married on May 15th, 1948.’

‘It’s always unlucky to be a May bride, so they say,’ said Mrs Rival gloomily. ‘It didn’t bring me any luck.’