Christie, Agatha - A Pocket Full of Rye by Christie Agatha

Author:Christie, Agatha [Christie, Agatha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins US
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

I

“I’m sorry, Miss Fortescue, to bother you again, but I want to be quite, quite clear about this. As far as we know you were the last person—or rather the last person but one—to see Mrs. Fortescue alive. It was about twenty past five when you left the drawing room?”

“About then,” said Elaine, “I can’t say exactly.” She added defensively: “One doesn’t look at clocks the whole time.”

“No, of course not. During the time that you were alone with Mrs. Fortescue after the others had left, what did you talk about?”

“Does it matter what we talked about?”

“Probably not,” said Inspector Neele, “but it might give me some clue as to what was in Mrs. Fortescue’s mind.”

“You mean—you think she might have done it herself?”

Inspector Neele noticed the brightening on her face. It would certainly be a very convenient solution as far as the family was concerned. Inspector Neele did not think it was true for a moment. Adele Fortescue was not to his mind a suicidal type. Even if she had poisoned her husband and was convinced the crime was about to be brought home to her, she would not, he thought, have ever thought of killing herself. She would have been sure optimistically that even if she were tried for murder she would be sure to be acquitted. He was not, however, averse to Elaine Fortescue’s entertaining the hypothesis. He said, therefore, quite truthfully:

“There’s a possibility of it at least, Miss Fortescue. Now perhaps you’ll tell me just what your conversation was about?”

“Well, it was really about my affairs.” Elaine hesitated.

“Your affairs being . . . ? ” he paused questioningly with a genial expression.

“I—a friend of mine had just arrived in the neighbourhood, and I was asking Adele if she would have any objection to—to my asking him to stay here at the house.”

“Ah. And who is this friend?”

“It’s a Mr. Gerald Wright. He’s a schoolmaster. He—he’s staying at the Golf Hotel.”

“A very close friend, perhaps?”

Inspector Neele gave an avuncular beam which added at least fifteen years to his age.

“We may expect an interesting announcement shortly, perhaps?”

He felt almost compunction as he saw the awkward gesture of the girl’s hand and the flush on her face. She was in love with the fellow all right.

“We—we’re not actually engaged and of course we couldn’t have it announced just now, but—well, yes I think we do—I mean we are going to get married.”

“Congratulations,” said Inspector Neele pleasantly. “Mr. Wright is staying at the Golf Hotel, you say? How long has he been there?”

“I wired him when Father died.”

“And he came at once. I see,” said Inspector Neele.

He used this favourite phrase of his in a friendly and reassuring way.

“What did Mrs. Fortescue say when you asked her about his coming here?”

“Oh, she said, all right, I could have anybody I pleased.”

“She was nice about it then?”

“Not exactly nice. I mean, she said—”

“Yes, what else did she say?”

Again Elaine flushed.

“Oh, something stupid about my being able to do a lot better for myself now.

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