A Pocket Full of Rye (Miss Marple 7)

Percival read it and uttered an exclamation of surprise and annoyance. He seemed both incredulous and angry.

“I can’t understand it, I really can’t. I can hardly believe it.”

“It seems to be true, though, Mr. Fortescue. Your brother is arriving from Paris today.”

“But it’s extraordinary, quite extraordinary. No, I really can’t understand it.”

“Your father said nothing to you about it?”

“He certainly did not. How outrageous of him. To go behind my back and send for Lance.”

“You’ve no idea, I suppose, why he did such a thing?”

“Of course I haven’t. It’s all on a par with his behaviour lately—Crazy! Unaccountable. It’s got to be stopped—I—”

Percival came to an abrupt stop. The colour ebbed away again from his pale face.

“I’d forgotten—” he said. “For the moment I’d forgotten that my father was dead—”

Inspector Neele shook his head sympathetically.

Percival Fortescue prepared to take his departure—as he picked up his hat he said:

“Call upon me if there is anything I can do. But I suppose—” he paused—“you will be coming down to Yewtree Lodge?”

“Yes, Mr. Fortescue—I’ve got a man in charge there now.”

Percival shuddered in a fastidious way.

“It will all be most unpleasant. To think such a thing should happen to us—”

He sighed and moved towards the door.

“I shall be at the office most of the day. There is a lot to be seen to here. But I shall get down to Yewtree Lodge this evening.”

“Quite so, sir.”

Percival Fortescue went out.

“Percy Prim,” murmured Neele.

Sergeant Hay who was sitting unobtrusively by the wall looked up and said “Sir?” interrogatively.

Then as Neele did not reply, he asked, “What do you make of it all, sir?”

“I don’t know,” said Neele. He quoted softly, “ ‘They’re all very unpleasant people.’ ”

Sergeant Hay looked somewhat puzzled.

“Alice in Wonderland,” said Neele. “Don’t you know your Alice, Hay?”

“It’s a classic, isn’t it, sir?” said Hay. “Third Programme stuff. I don’t listen to the Third Programme.”

Chapter Ten

I

It was about five minutes after leaving Le Bourget that Lance Fortescue opened his copy of the continental Daily Mail. A minute or two later he uttered a startled exclamation. Pat, in the seat beside him, turned her head inquiringly.

“It’s the old man,” said Lance. “He’s dead.”

“Dead! Your father?”

“Yes, he seems to have been taken suddenly ill at the office, was taken to St. Jude’s Hospital and died there soon after arrival.”

“Darling, I’m so sorry. What was it, a stroke?”

“I suppose so. Sounds like it.”

“Had he ever had a stroke before?”

“No. Not that I know of.”

“I thought people never died from a first one.”

“Poor old boy,” said Lance. “I never thought I was particularly fond of him, but somehow, now that he’s dead. . . .”

“Of course you were fond of him.”

“We haven’t all got your nice nature, Pat. Oh well, it looks as though my luck’s out again, doesn’t it.”

“Yes. It’s odd that it should happen now. Just when you were on the point of coming home.”

He turned his head sharply towards her.

“Odd? What do you mean by odd, Pat?”

She looked at him with slight surprise.

“Well, a sort of coincidence.”

“You mean that whatever I set out to do goes wrong?”

“No, darling, I didn’t mean that. But there is such a thing as a run of bad luck.”

“Yes, I suppose there is.”

Pat said again: “I’m so sorry.”

When they arrived at Heathrow and were waiting to disembark from the plane, an official of the air company called out in a clear voice:

“Is Mr. Lancelot Fortescue abroad?”

“Here,” said Lance.

“Would you just step this way, Mr. Fortescue.”

Lance and Pat followed him out of the plane, preceding the other passengers. As they passed a couple in the last seat, they heard the man whisper to his wife:

“Well-known smugglers, I expect. Caught in the act.”

II

“It’s fantastic,” said Lance. “Quite fantastic.” He stared across the table at Detective Inspector Neele.

Inspector Neele nodded his head sympathetically.

“Taxine—yewberries—the whole thing seems like some kind of melodrama. I dare say this sort of thing seems ordinary enough to you, Inspector. All in the day’s work. But poisoning, in our family, seems wildly far-fetched.”

“You’ve no idea then at all,” asked Inspector Neele, “who might have poisoned your father?”

“Good lord, no. I expect the old man’s made a lot of enemies in business, lots of people who’d like to skin him alive, do him down financially—all that sort of thing. But poisoning? Anyway I wouldn’t be in the know. I’ve been abroad for a good many years and have known very little of what’s going on at home.”

“That’s really what I wanted to ask you about, Mr. Fortescue. I understand from your brother that there was an estrangement between you and your father which had lasted for many years. Would you like to tell me the circumstances that led to your coming home at this time?”

“Certainly, Inspector. I heard from my father, let me see it must be about—yes, six months ago now. It was soon after my marriage. My father wrote and hinted that he would like to let bygones be bygones. He suggested that I should come home and enter the firm. He was rather vague in his terms and I wasn’t really sure that I wanted to do what he asked. Anyway, the upshot was that I came over to England last—yes, last August, just about three months ago. I went down to see him at Yewtree Lodge and he made me, I must say, a very advantageous offer. I told him that I’d have to think about it and I’d have to consult my wife. He quite understood that. I flew back to East Africa, talked it over with Pat. The upshot was that I decided to accept the old boy’s offer. I had to wind up my affairs there, but I agreed to do so before the end of last month. I told him I would wire to him the date of my actual arrival in England.”

Inspector Neele coughed.

“Your arrival back seems to have caused your brother some surprise.”

Lance gave a sudden grin. His rather attractive face lit up with the spirit of pure mischief.

“Don’t believe old Percy knew a thing about it,” he said. “He was away on his holiday in Norway at

the time. If you ask me, the old man picked that particular time on purpose. He was going behind Percy’s back. In fact I’ve a very shrewd suspicion that my father’s offer to me was actuated by the fact that he had a blazing row with poor old Percy—or Val as he prefers to be called. Val, I think, had been more or less trying to run the old man. Well, the old man would never stand for anything of that kind. What the exact row was about I don’t know, but he was furious. And I think he thought it a jolly good idea to get me there and thereby spike poor old Val’s guns. For one thing he never liked Percy’s wife much and he was rather pleased, in a snobbish way, with my marriage. It would be just his idea of a good joke to get me home and suddenly confront Percy with the accomplished fact.”

“How long were you at Yewtree Lodge on this occasion?”

“Oh, not more than an hour or two. He didn’t ask me to stay the night. The whole idea, I’m sure, was a kind of secret offensive behind Percy’s back. I don’t think he even wanted the servants to report upon it. As I say, things were left that I’d think it over, talk about it to Pat and then write him my decision, which I did. I wrote giving him the approximate date of my arrival, and I finally sent him a telegram yesterday from Paris.”

Inspector Neele nodded.

“A telegram which surprised your brother very much.”

“I bet it did. However, as usual, Percy wins. I’ve arrived too late.”

“Yes,” said Inspector Neele thoughtfully, “you’ve arrived too late.” He went on briskly: “On the occasion of your visit last August, did you meet any other members of the family?”

“My stepmother was there at tea.”

“You had not met her previously?”

“No.” He grinned suddenly. “The old boy certainly knew how to pick them. She must be thirty years younger than him at least.”

“You will excuse my asking, but did you resent your father’s remarriage, or did your brother do so?”

Lance looked surprised.

“I certainly didn’t, and I shouldn’t think Percy did either. After all, our own mother died when we were about—oh, ten, twelve years old. What I’m really surprised at is that the old man didn’t marry again before.”