The Mirror Crack'd From Side to Side (Miss Marple 9)
“And we thought she was just being hysterical!”
“She is hysterical! Who wouldn’t be? She has a woman drop dead at her feet practically. She gets threatening notes—one after another—there’s not been anything today, has there?”
Ella shook her head.
“Who plants the damned things? Oh well, I suppose it’s easy enough—all these open windows. Anyone could slip in.”
“You mean we ought to keep the house barred and locked? But it’s such hot weather. There’s a man posted in the grounds, after all.”
“Yes, and I don’t want to frighten her more than she’s frightened already. Threatening notes don’t matter two hoots. But arsenic, Ella, arsenic’s different….”
“Nobody could tamper with food here in the house.”
“Couldn’t they, Ella? Couldn’t they?”
“Not without being seen. No unauthorized person—”
He interrupted.
“People will do things for money, Ella.”
“Hardly murder!”
“Even that. And they mightn’t realize it was murder… The servants….”
“I’m sure the servants are all right.”
“Giuseppe now. I doubt if I’d trust Giuseppe very far if it came to the question of money… He’s been with us some time, of course, but—”
“Must you torture yourself like this, Jason?”
He flung himself down in the chair. He leaned forward, his long arms hanging down between his knees.
“What to do?” he said slowly and softly. “My God, what to do?”
Ella did not speak. She sat there watching him.
“She was happy here,” said Jason. He was speaking more to himself than to Ella. He stared down between his knees at the carpet. If he had looked up, the expression on her face might perhaps have surprised him.
“She was happy,” he said again. “She hoped to be happy and she was happy. She was saying so that day, the day Mrs. What’s-her-name—”
“Bantry?”
“Yes. The day Mrs. Bantry came to tea. She said it was ‘so peaceful.’ She said that at last she’d found a place where she could settle down and be happy and feel secure. My goodness, secure!”
“Happy ever after?” Ella’s voice held a slight tone of irony. “Yes, put like that, it sounds just like a fairy story.”
“At any rate she believed it.”
“But you didn’t,” said Ella. “You never thought it would be like that?”
Jason Rudd smiled. “No. I didn’t go the whole hog. But I did think for a while, a year—two years—there might be a period of calm and content. It might have made a new woman of her. It might have given her confidence in herself. She can be happy, you know. When she is happy she’s like a child. Just like a child. And now—this had to happen to her.”
Ella moved restlessly. “Things have to happen to all of us,” she said brusquely. “That’s the way life is. You just have to take it. Some of us can, some of us can’t. She’s the kind that can’t.”
She sneezed.
“Your hay fever bad again?”
“Yes. By the way, Giuseppe’s gone to London.”
Jason looked faintly surprised.
“To London? Why?”
“Some kind of family trouble. He’s got relations in Soho, and one of them’s desperately ill. He went to Marina about it and she said it was all right, so I gave him the day off. He’ll be back sometime tonight. You don’t mind do you?”
“No,” said Jason, “I don’t mind….”
He got up and walked up and down.
“If I could take her away…now…at once.”
“Scrap the picture? But just think.”
His voice rose.
“I can’t think of anything but Marina. Don’t you understand? She’s in danger. That’s all I can think about.”
She opened her mouth impulsively, then closed it.
She gave another muffled sneeze and rose.
“I’d better get my atomizer.”
She left the room and went to her bedroom, a word echoing in her mind.
Marina… Marina… Marina… Always Marina….
Fury rose up in her. She stilled it. She went into the bathroom and picked up the spray she used.
She inserted the nozzle into one nostril and squeezed.
The warning came a second too late… Her brain recognized the unfamiliar odour of bitter almonds…but not in time to paralyse the squeezing fingers.
Eighteen
I
Frank Cornish replaced the receiver.
“Miss Brewster is out of London for the day,” he announced.
“Is she now?” said Craddock.
“Do you think she—”
“I don’t know. I shouldn’t think so, but I don’t know. Ardwyck Fenn?”
“Out. I left word for him to ring you. And Margot Bence, Personality Photographer, has got an assignment somewhere in the country. Her pansy partner didn’t know where—or said he didn’t. And the butler’s hooked it to London.”
“I wonder,” said Craddock thoughtfully, “if the butler has hooked it for good. I always suspect dying relatives. Why was he suddenly anxious to go to London today?”
“He could have put the cyanide in the atomizer easily enough before he left.”
“Anybody could.”
“But I think he’s indicated. It could hardly be someone from outside.”
“Oh, yes, it could. You’d have to judge your moment. You could leave a car in one of the side drives, wait until everyone is in the dining room, say, and slip in through a window and upstairs. The shrubberies come close up to the house.”
“Damn’ risky.”
“This murderer doesn’t mind taking risks, you know. That’s been apparent all along.”
“We’ve had a man on duty in the grounds.”
“I know. One man wasn’t enough. So long as it was a question of these anonymous letters I didn’t feel so much urgency. Marina Gregg herself is being well guarded. It never occurred to me that anyone else was in danger. I—”
The telephone rang. Cornish took the call.
“It’s the Dorchester. Mr. Ardwyck Fenn is on the line.”
He proffered the receiver to Craddock who took it.
“Mr. Fenn? This is Craddock here.”
“Ah, yes. I heard you had rung me. I have been out all day.”
“I am sorry to tell you, Mr. Fenn, that Miss Zielinsky died this morning—of cyanide poisoning.”
“Indeed? I am shocked to hear it. An accident? Or not an accident?”
“Not an accident. Prussic acid had been put in an atomizer she was in the habit of using.”
“I see. Yes, I see…” There was a short pause. “And why, may I ask, should you ring me about this distressing occurrence?”
“You knew Miss Zielinsky, Mr. Fenn?”
“Certainly I knew her. I have known her for some years. But she was not an intimate friend.”
“We hoped that you could, perhaps, assist us?”
“In what way?”
“We wondered if you could suggest any motive for her death. She is a stranger in this country. We know very little about her friends and associates and the circumstances of her life.”
“I would suggest that Jason Rudd is the person to question about that.”
“Naturally. We have done so. But there might be an off-chance that you might know something about her that he does not.”
“I’m afraid that is not so. I know next to nothing about Ella Zielinsky except that she was a most capable young woman, and first-class at her job. About her private life I know nothing at all.”
“So you have no suggestions to make?”
Craddock was ready for the decisive negative, but to his surprise it did not come. Instead there was a pause. He could hear Ardwyck Fenn breathing rather heavily at the other end.
“Are you still there, Chief-Inspector?”
“Yes, Mr. Fenn. I’m here.?
?
“I have decided to tell you something that may be of assistance to you. When you hear what it is, you will realize that I have every reason to keep it to myself. But I judge that in the end that might be unwise. The facts are these. A couple of days ago I received a telephone call. A voice spoke to me in a whisper. It said—I am quoting now—I saw you… I saw you put the tablets in the glass… You didn’t know there had been an eyewitness, did you? That’s all for now—very soon you will be told what you have to do.”