Evil Under the Sun (Hercule Poirot 24)
“H’m,” said Weston gloomily. “That seems to let Marshall out. We’ll have to look elsewhere.” He added: “I’ve got to see Miss Darnley again. She’s waiting now.”
Rosamund came in crisply. Her smile held an apologetic nuance.
She said:
“I’m frightfully sorry. Probably it isn’t worth bothering about. But one does forget things so.”
“Yes, Miss Darnley?”
The Chief Constable indicated a chair.
She shook her shapely black head.
“Oh, it isn’t worth sitting down. It’s simply this. I told you that I spent the morning lying out on Sunny Ledge. That isn’t quite accurate. I forgot that once during the morning I went back to the hotel and out again.”
“What time was that, Miss Darnley?”
“It must have been about a quarter past eleven.”
“You went back to the hotel, you said?”
“Yes, I’d forgotten my glare glasses. At first I thought I wouldn’t bother and then my eyes got tired and I decided to go in and get them.”
“You went straight to your room and out again?”
“Yes. At least, as a matter of fact, I just looked in on Ken—Captain Marshall. I heard his machine going and I thought it was so stupid of him to stay indoors typing on such a lovely day. I thought I’d tell him to come out.”
“And what did Captain Marshall say?”
Rosamund smiled rather shamefacedly.
“Well, when I opened the door he was typing so vigorously, and frowning and looking so concentrated, that I just went away quietly. I don’t think he even saw me come in.”
“And that was—at what time, Miss Darnley?”
“Just about twenty past eleven. I noticed the clock in the hall as I went out again.”
IV
“And that puts the lid on it finally,” said Inspector Colgate. “The chambermaid heard him typing up till five minutes to eleven. Miss Darnley saw him at twenty minutes past, and the woman was dead at a quarter to twelve. He says he spent that hour typing in his room, and it seems quite clear that he was typing in his room. That washes Captain Marshall right out.”
He stopped, then looking at Poirot with some curiosity, he asked:
“M. Poirot’s looking very serious over something.”
Poirot said thoughtfully:
“I was wondering why Miss Darnley suddenly volunteered this extra evidence.”
Inspector Colgate cocked his head alertly.
“Think there’s something fishy about it? That it isn’t just a question of ‘forgetting?’”
He considered for a minute or two, then he said slowly:
“Look here, sir, let’s look at it this way. Supposing Miss Darnley wasn’t on Sunny Ledge this morning as she says. That story’s a lie. Now suppose that after telling us her story, she finds that somebody saw her somewhere else or alternatively that someone went to the Ledge and didn’t find her there. Then she thinks up this story quick and comes and tells it to us to account for her absence. You’ll notice that she was careful to say Captain Marshall didn’t see her when she looked into his room.”
Poirot murmured: