Читать книгу Murder in the Mews - Agatha Christie, Georgette Heyer, Mary Westmacott - Страница 14

Major Eustace received the two men with the easy assurance of a man of the world.

His flat was small, a mere pied à terre, as he explained. He offered the two men a drink and when that was refused he took out his cigarette case.

Both Japp and Poirot accepted a cigarette. A quick glance passed between them.

‘You smoke Turkish, I see,’ said Japp as he twirled the cigarette between his fingers.

‘Yes. I’m sorry, do you prefer a gasper? I’ve got one somewhere about.’

‘No, no, this will do me very well.’ Then he leaned forward—his tone changed. ‘Perhaps you can guess, Major Eustace, what it was I came to see you about?’

The other shook his head. His manner was nonchalant. Major Eustace was a tall man, good-looking in a somewhat coarse fashion. There was a puffiness round the eyes—small, crafty eyes that belied the good-humoured geniality of his manner.

He said:

‘No—I’ve no idea what brings such a big gun as a chief inspector to see me. Anything to do with my car?’

‘No, it is not your car. I think you knew a Mrs Barbara Allen, Major Eustace?’

The major leant back, puffed out a cloud of smoke, and said in an enlightened voice:

‘Oh, so that’s it! Of course, I might have guessed. Very sad business.’

‘You know about it?’

‘Saw it in the paper last night. Too bad.’

‘You knew Mrs Allen out in India, I think.’

‘Yes, that’s some years ago now.’

‘Did you also know her husband?’

There was a pause—a mere fraction of a second—but during that fraction the little pig eyes flashed a quick look at the faces of the two men. Then he answered:

‘No, as a matter of fact, I never came across Allen.’

‘But you know something about him?’

‘Heard he was by way of being a bad hat. Of course, that was only rumour.’

‘Mrs Allen did not say anything?’

‘Never talked about him.’

‘You were on intimate terms with her?’

Major Eustace shrugged his shoulders.

‘We were old friends, you know, old friends. But we didn’t see each other very often.’

‘But you did see her that last evening? The evening of November fifth?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I did.’

‘You called at her house, I think.’

Major Eustace nodded. His voice took on a gentle, regretful note.

‘Yes, she asked me to advise her about some investments. Of course, I can see what you’re driving at—her state of mind—all that sort of thing. Well, really, it’s very difficult to say. Her manner seemed normal enough and yet she was a bit jumpy, come to think of it.’

‘But she gave you no hint as to what she contemplated doing?’

‘Not the least in the world. As a matter of fact, when I said goodbye I said I’d ring her up soon and we’d do a show together.’

‘You said you’d ring her up. Those were your last words?’

‘Yes.’

‘Curious. I have information that you said something quite different.’

Eustace changed colour.

‘Well, of course, I can’t remember the exact words.’

‘My information is that what you actually said was, “Well, think it over and let me know.”’

‘Let me see, yes I believe you’re right. Not exactly that. I think I was suggesting she should let me know when she was free.’

‘Not quite the same thing, is it?’ said Japp.

Major Eustace shrugged his shoulders.

‘My dear fellow, you can’t expect a man to remember word for word what he said on any given occasion.’

‘And what did Mrs Allen reply?’

‘She said she’d give me a ring. That is, as near as I can remember.’

‘And then you said, “All right. So long.”’

‘Probably. Something of the kind anyway.’

Japp said quietly:

‘You say that Mrs Allen asked you to advise her about her investments. Did she, by any chance, entrust you with the sum of two hundred pounds in cash to invest for her?’

Eustace’s face flushed a dark purple. He leaned forward and growled out:

‘What the devil do you mean by that?’

‘Did she or did she not?’

‘That’s my business, Mr Chief Inspector.’

Japp said quietly:

‘Mrs Allen drew out the sum of two hundred pounds in cash from her bank. Some of the money was in five-pound notes. The numbers of these can, of course, be traced.’

‘What if she did?’

‘Was the money for investment—or was it—blackmail, Major Eustace?’

‘That’s a preposterous idea. What next will you suggest?’

Japp said in his most official manner:

‘I think, Major Eustace, that at this point I must ask you if you are willing to come to Scotland Yard and make a statement. There is, of course, no compulsion and you can, if you prefer it, have your solicitor present.’

‘Solicitor? What the devil should I want with a solicitor? And what are you cautioning me for?’

‘I am inquiring into the circumstances of the death of Mrs Allen.’

‘Good God, man, you don’t suppose—Why, that’s nonsense! Look here, what happened was this. I called round to see Barbara by appointment—’

‘That was at what time?’

‘At about half-past nine, I should say. We sat and talked—’

‘And smoked?’

‘Yes, and smoked. Anything damaging in that?’ demanded the major belligerently.

‘Where did this conversation take place?’

‘In the sitting-room. Left of the door as you go in. We talked together quite amicably, as I say. I left a little before half-past ten. I stayed for a minute on the doorstep for a few last words—’

‘Last words—precisely,’ murmured Poirot.

‘Who are you, I’d like to know?’ Eustace turned and spat the words at him. ‘Some kind of damned dago! What are you butting in for?’

‘I am Hercule Poirot,’ said the little man with dignity.

‘I don’t care if you are the Achilles statue. As I say, Barbara and I parted quite amicably. I drove straight to the Far East Club. Got there at five and twenty to eleven and went straight up to the card-room. Stayed there playing bridge until one-thirty. Now then, put that in your pipe and smoke it.’

‘I do not smoke the pipe,’ said Poirot. ‘It is a pretty alibi you have there.’

‘It should be a pretty cast iron one anyway! Now then, sir,’ he looked at Japp. ‘Are you satisfied?’

‘You remained in the sitting-room throughout your visit?’

‘Yes.’

‘You did not go upstairs to Mrs Allen’s own boudoir?’

‘No, I tell you. We stayed in the one room and didn’t leave it.’

Japp looked at him thoughtfully for a minute or two. Then he said:

‘How many sets of cuff links have you?’

‘Cuff links? Cuff links? What’s that got to do with it?’

‘You are not bound to answer the question, of course.’

‘Answer it? I don’t mind answering it. I’ve got nothing to hide. And I shall demand an apology. There are these …’ he stretched out his arms.

Japp noted the gold and platinum with a nod.

‘And I’ve got these.’

He rose, opened a drawer and taking out a case, he opened it and shoved it rudely almost under Japp’s nose.

‘Very nice design,’ said the chief inspector. ‘I see one is broken—bit of enamel chipped off.’

‘What of it?’

‘You don’t remember when that happened, I suppose?’

‘A day or two ago, not longer.’

‘Would you be surprised to hear that it happened when you were visiting Mrs Allen?’

‘Why shouldn’t it? I’ve not denied that I was there.’ The major spoke haughtily. He continued to bluster, to act the part of the justly indignant man, but his hands were trembling.

Japp leaned forward and said with emphasis:

‘Yes, but that bit of cuff link wasn’t found in the sitting-room. It was found upstairs in Mrs Allen’s boudoir—there in the room where she was killed, and where a man sat smoking the same kind of cigarettes as you smoke.’

The shot told. Eustace fell back into his chair. His eyes went from side to side. The collapse of the bully and the appearance of the craven was not a pretty sight.

‘You’ve got nothing on me.’ His voice was almost a whine. ‘You’re trying to frame me … But you can’t do it. I’ve got an alibi … I never came near the house again that night …’

Poirot in his turn, spoke.

‘No, you did not come near the house again … You did not need to … For perhaps Mrs Allen was already dead when you left it.’

‘That’s impossible—impossible—She was just inside the door—she spoke to me—People must have heard her—seen her …’

Poirot said softly:

‘They heard you speaking to her … and pretending to wait for her answer and then speaking again … It is an old trick that … People may have assumed she was there, but they did not see her, because they could not even say whether she was wearing evening dress or not—not even mention what colour she was wearing …’

‘My God—it isn’t true—it isn’t true—’

He was shaking now—collapsed …

Japp looked at him with disgust. He spoke crisply.

‘I’ll have to ask you, sir, to come with me.’

‘You’re arresting me?’

‘Detained for inquiry—we’ll put it that way.’

The silence was broken with a long, shuddering sigh. The despairing voice of the erstwhile blustering Major Eustace said:

‘I’m sunk …’

Hercule Poirot rubbed his hands together and smiled cheerfully. He seemed to be enjoying himself.