Cards on the Table (SB) (Superintendent Battle 3)

“I should never have thought he went in for winter sports,” said Battle, surprised.

“He only skated. He was a marvellous skater. Lots of figures and tricks.”

“Yes, that sounds more like him. And did you see much of him after that?”

“Well—a fair amount. He asked me to parties and things like that. They were rather fun.”

“But you didn’t like him himself?”

“No, I thought he was a shivery kind of man.”

Battle said gently:

“But you’d no special reason for being afraid of him?”

Anne Meredith raised wide limpid eyes to his.

“Special reason? Oh, no.”

“That’s all right, then. Now about tonight. Did you leave your seat at all?”

“I don’t think so. Oh, yes, I may have done once. I went round to look at the others’ hands.”

“But you stayed by the bridge table all the time?”

“Yes.”

“Quite sure, Miss Meredith?”

The girl’s cheeks flamed suddenly.

“No—no, I think I walked about.”

“Right. You’ll excuse me, Miss Meredith, but try and speak the truth. I know you’re nervous, and when one’s nervous one’s apt to—well, to say the thing the way you want it to be. But that doesn’t really pay in the end. You walked about. Did you walk over in the direction of Mr. Shaitana?”

The girl was silent for a minute, then she said:

“Honestly—honestly—I don’t remember.”

“Well, we’ll leave it that you may have done. Know anything about the other three?”

The girl shook her head.

“I’ve never seen any of them before.”

“What do you think of them? Any likely murderers amongst them?”

“I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. It couldn’t be Major Despard. And I don’t believe it could be the doctor—after all, a doctor could kill anyone in much easier ways. A drug—or something like that.”

“Then, if it’s anyone, you think it’s Mrs. Lorrimer.”

“Oh, I don’t. I’m sure she wouldn’t. She’s so charming—and so kind to play bridge with. She’s so good herself, and yet she doesn’t make one feel nervous, or point out one’s mistakes.”

“Yet you left her name to the last,” said Battle.

“Only because stabbing seems somehow more like a woman.”

Battle did his conjuring trick. Anne Meredith shrank back.

“Oh, horrible. Must I—take it?”

“I’d rather you did.”

He watched her as she took the stiletto gingerly, her face contracted with repulsion.

“With this tiny thing—with this—”

“Go in like butter,” said Battle with gusto. “A child could do it.”

“You mean—you mean”—wide, terrified eyes fixed themselves on his face—“that I might have done it? But I didn’t. Why should I?”

“That’s just the question we’d like to know,” said Battle. “What’s the motive? Why did anyone want to kill Shaitana? He was a picturesque person, but he wasn’t dangerous, as far as I can make out.”

Was there a slight indrawing of her breath—a sudden lifting of her breast?

“Not a blackmailer, for instance, or anything of that sort?” went on Battle. “And anyway, Miss Meredith, you don’t look the sort of girl who’s got a lot of guilty secrets.”

For the first time she smiled, reassured by his geniality.

“No, indeed I haven’t. I haven’t got any secrets at all.”

“Then don’t worry, Miss Meredith. We shall have to come round and ask you a few more questions, I expect, but it will be all a matter of routine.”

He got up.

“Now off you go. My constable will get you a taxi; and don’t you lie awake worrying yourself. Take a couple of aspirins.”

He ushered her out. As he came back Colonel Race said in a low, amused voice:

“Battle, what a really accomplished liar you are! Your fatherly air was unsurpassed.”

“No good dallying about with her, Colonel Race. Either the poor kid is dead scared—in which case it’s cruelty, and I’m not a cruel man; I never have been—or she’s a highly accomplished little actress, and we shouldn’t get any further if we were to keep her here half the night.”

Mrs. Oliver gave a sigh and ran her hands freely through her fringe until it stood upright and gave her a wholly drunken appearance.

“Do you know,” she said, “I rather believe now that she did it! It’s lucky it’s not in a book. They don’t really like the young and beautiful girl to have done it. All the same, I rather think she did. What do you think, M. Poirot?”

“Me, I have just made a discovery.”

“In the bridge scores again?”

“Yes, Miss Anne Meredith turns her score over, draws lines and uses the back.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means she has the habit of poverty or else is of a naturally economical turn of mind.”

“She’s expensively dressed,” said Mrs. Oliver.

“Send in Major Despard,” said Superintendent Battle.

Seven

FOURTH MURDERER?

Despard entered the room with a quick springing step—a step that reminded Poirot of something or someone.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting all this while, Major Despard,” said Battle. “But I wanted to let the ladies get away as soon as possible.”

“Don’t apologize. I understand.”

He sat down and looked inquiringly at the superintendent.

“How well did you know Mr. Shaitana?” began the latter.

“I’ve met him twice,” said Despard crisply.

“Only twice?”

“That’s all.”

“On what occasions?”

“About a month ago we were both dining at the same house. Then he asked me to a cocktail party a week later.”

“A cocktail party here?”

“Yes.”

“Where did it take place—this room or the drawing room?”

“In all the rooms.”

“See this little thing lying about?”

Battle once more produced the stiletto.

Major Despard’s lip twisted slightly.

r /> “No,” he said. “I didn’t mark it down on that occasion for future use.”

“There’s no need to go ahead of what I say, Major Despard.”

“I beg your pardon. The inference was fairly obvious.”

There was a moment’s pause, then Battle resumed his inquiries.

“Had you any motive for disliking Mr. Shaitana?”

“Every motive.”

“Eh?” The superintendent sounded startled.

“For disliking him—not for killing him,” said Despard. “I hadn’t the least wish to kill him, but I would thoroughly have enjoyed kicking him. A pity. It’s too late now.”

“Why did you want to kick him, Major Despard?”

“Because he was the sort of Dago who needed kicking badly. He used to make the toe of my boot fairly itch.”

“Know anything about him—to his discredit, I mean?”

“He was too well dressed—he wore his hair too long—and he smelt of scent.”

“Yet you accepted his invitation to dinner,” Battle pointed out.

“If I were only to dine in houses where I thoroughly approved of my host I’m afraid I shouldn’t dine out very much, Superintendent Battle,” said Despard drily.

“You like society, but you don’t approve of it?” suggested the other.

“I like it for very short periods. To come back from the wilds to lighted rooms and women in lovely clothes, to dancing and good food and laughter—yes, I enjoy that—for a time. And then the insincerity of it all sickens me, and I want to be off again.”

“It must be a dangerous sort of life that you lead, Major Despard, wandering about in these wild places.”

Despard shrugged his shoulders. He smiled slightly.

“Mr. Shaitana didn’t lead a dangerous life—but he is dead, and I am alive!”

“He may have led a more dangerous life than you think,” said Battle meaningly.

“What do you mean?”

“The late Mr. Shaitana was a bit of a Nosey Parker,” said Battle.

The other leaned forward.

“You mean that he meddled with other people’s lives—that he discovered—what?”

“I really meant that perhaps he was the sort of man who meddled—er—well, with women.”

Major Despard leant back in his chair. He laughed, an amused but indifferent laugh.