Death in the Clouds (Hercule Poirot 12)

‘No.’

Stephen said, ‘Must have been rather an unpleasant business for you.’

‘Well, I didn’t exactly enjoy it. But it wasn’t too devastating. The coroner was quite decent.’

Stephen slashed absent-mindedly at the hedge.

‘I say, Venetia, any idea—have you, I mean—as to who did it?’

Venetia Kerr shook her head slowly.

‘No.’ She paused a minute, seeking how best and most tactfully to put into words what she wanted to say. She achieved it at last with a little laugh. ‘Anyway, it wasn’t Cicely or me. That I do know. She’d have spotted me and I’d have spotted her.’

Stephen laughed too.

‘That’s all right, then,’ he said cheerfully.

He passed it off as a joke, but she heard the relief in his voice. So he had been thinking—

She switched her thoughts away.

‘Venetia,’ said Stephen, ‘I’ve known you a long time, haven’t I?’

‘H’m, yes. Do you remember those awful dancing classes we used to go to as children?’

‘Do I not? I feel I can say things to you—’

‘Of course you can.’ She hesitated, then went on in a calm, matter-of-fact tone: ‘It’s Cicely, I suppose?’

‘Yes. Look here, Venetia. Was Cicely mixed up with this woman Giselle in any way?’

Venetia answered slowly.

‘I don’t know. I’ve been in the South of France, remember. I haven’t heard the Le Pinet gossip yet.’

‘What do you think?’

‘Well, candidly, I shouldn’t be surprised.’

Stephen nodded thoughtfully. Venetia said gently:

‘Need it worry you? I mean you live pretty semi-detached lives, don’t you? This business is her affair, not yours.’

‘As long as she’s my wife, it’s bound to be my business too.’

‘Can’t you—er—agree to a divorce?’

‘A trumped-up business, you mean? I doubt if she’d accept it.’

‘Would you divorce her if you had the chance?’

‘If I had a cause I certainly would.’

He spoke grimly.

‘I suppose,’ said Venetia thoughtfully, ‘she knows that.’

‘Yes.’