Christine Redfern said:

“But I was with her, M. Poirot. I was with her up to a quarter to twelve. I told the police so.”

Poirot said:

“Your evidence gave her an alibi—yes. But what was your evidence based on? It was based on Linda Marshall’s own wristwatch. You do not know of your own knowledge that it was a quarter to twelve when you left her—you only know that she told you so. You said yourself the time seemed to have gone very fast.”

She stared at him, stricken.

He said:

“Now, think, Madame, when you left the beach, did you walk back to the hotel fast or slow?”

“I—well, fairly slowly, I think.”

“Do you remember much about that walk back?”

“Not very much, I’m afraid. I—I was thinking.”

Poirot said:

“I am sorry to ask you this, but will you tell just what you were thinking about during that walk?”

Christine flushed.

“I suppose—if it is necessary… I was considering the question of—of leaving here. Just going away without telling my husband. I—I was very unhappy just then, you see.”

Patrick Redfern cried:

“Oh, Christine! I know… I know….”

Poirot’s precise voice cut in.

“Exactly. You were concerned over taking a step of some importance. You were, I should say, deaf and blind to your surroundings. You probably walked very slowly and occasionally stopped for some minutes whilst you puzzled things out.”

Christine nodded.

“How clever you are. It was just like that. I woke up from a kind of dream just outside the hotel and hurried in thinking I should be very late, but when I saw the clock in the lounge I realized I had plenty of time.”

Hercule Poirot said again:

“Exactly.”

He turned to Marshall.

“I must now describe to you certain things I found in your daughter’s room after the murder. In the grate was a large blob of melted wax, some burnt hair, fragments of cardboard and paper and an ordinary household pin. The paper and the cardboard might not be relevant, but the other three things were suggestive—particularly when I found tucked away in the bookshelf a volume from the local library here dealing with witchcraft and magic. It opened very easily at a certain page. On that page were described various methods of causing death by moulding in was a figure supposed to represent the victim. This was then slowly roasted till it melte

d away—or alternatively you would pierce the wax figure to the heart with a pin. Death of the victim would ensue. I later heard from Mrs. Redfern that Linda Marshall had been out early that morning and had bought a packet of candles, and had seemed embarrassed when her purchase was revealed. I had no doubt what had happened after that. Linda had made a crude figure of the candle wax—possibly adorning it with a snip of Arlena’s red hair to give the magic force—had then stabbed it to the heart with a pin and finally melted the figure away by lighting strips of cardboard under it.

“It was crude, childish, superstitious, but it revealed one thing: the desire to kill.

“Was there any possibility that there had been more than a desire? Could Linda Marshall have actually killed her stepmother?

“At first sight it seemed as though she had a perfect alibi—but in actuality, as I have just pointed out, the time evidence was supplied by Linda herself. She could easily have declared the time to be a quarter of an hour later than it really was.

“It was quite possible once Mrs. Redfern had left the beach for Linda to follow her up and then strike across the narrow neck of land to the ladder, hurry down it, meet her stepmother there, strangle her and return up the ladder before the boat containing Miss Brewster and Patrick Redfern came in sight. She could then return to Gull Cove, take her bathe and return to the hotel at her leisure.

“But that entailed two things. She must have definite knowledge that Arlena Marshall would be at Pixy Cove and she must be physically capable of the deed.

Tags: Agatha Christie Hercule Poirot Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net