The Complete Tommy & Tuppence Collection

by Agatha Christie

  ‘Yes, he knew his stuff, as you might say. He wasn’t much of a worker because he was old, you know, and he didn’t like stooping. Got lumbago a lot, so he couldn’t do as much as he’d have liked to do.’

  ‘He was very nice and very helpful,’ said Tuppence firmly. ‘And he knew a lot about things here, and the people, and told us a lot.’

  ‘Ah. He knew a lot, he did. A lot of his family, you know, worked before him. They lived round about and they’d known a good deal of what went on in years gone by. Not of their own knowledge, as you might say but–well, just hearing what went on. Well, ma’am, I won’t keep you. I just came up to have a few words and say how much obliged I was.’

  ‘That’s very nice of you,’ said Tuppence. ‘Thank you very much.’

  ‘You’ll have to get someone else to do a bit of work in the garden, I expect.’

  ‘I expect so,’ said Tuppence. ‘We’re not very good at it ourselves. Do you–perhaps you–’ she hesitated, feeling perhaps she was saying the wrong thing at the wrong moment–‘perhaps you know of someone who would like to come and work for us.’

  ‘Well, I can’t say I do offhand, but I’ll keep it in mind. You never know. I’ll send along Henry–that’s my second boy, you know–I’ll send him along and let you know if I hear of anyone. Well, good day for now.’

  ‘What was Isaac’s name? I can’t remember,’ said Tommy, as they went into the house. ‘I mean, his surname.’

  ‘Oh, Isaac Bodlicott, I think.’

  ‘So that’s a Mrs Bodlicott, is it?’

  ‘Yes. Though I think she’s got several sons, boys and a girl and they all live together. You know, in that cottage half-way up the Marshton Road. Do you think she knows who killed him?’ said Tuppence.

  ‘I shouldn’t think so,’ said Tommy. ‘She didn’t look as though she did.’

  ‘I don’t know how you’d look,’ said Tuppence. ‘It’s rather difficult to say, isn’t it?’

  ‘I think she just came to thank you for the flowers. I don’t think she had the look of someone who was–you know–revengeful. I think she’d have mentioned it if so.’

  ‘Might. Might not,’ said Tuppence.

  She went into the house looking rather thoughtful.

  Chapter 8

  Reminiscences about an Uncle

  The following morning Tuppence was interrupted in her remarks to an electrician who had come to adjust portions of his work which were not considered satisfactory.

  ‘Boy at the door,’ said Albert. ‘Wants to speak to you, madam.’

  ‘Oh. What’s his name?’

  ‘Didn’t ask him, he’s waiting there outside.’

  Tuppence seized her garden hat, shoved it on her head and came down the stairs.

  Outside the door a boy of about twelve or thirteen was standing. He was rather nervous, shuffling his feet.

  ‘Hope it’s all right to come along,’ he said.

  ‘Let me see,’ said Tuppence, ‘you’re Henry Bodlicott, aren’t you?’

  ‘That’s right. That was my–oh, I suppose he was by way of being an uncle, the one I mean whose inquest was on yesterday. Never been to an inquest before, I haven’t.’

  Tuppence stopped herself on the brink of saying ‘Did you enjoy it?’ Henry had the look of someone who was about to describe a treat.

  ‘It was quite a tragedy, wasn’t it?’ said Tuppence. ‘Very sad.’

  ‘Oh well, he was an old one,’ said Henry. ‘Couldn’t have expected to last much longer I don’t think, you know. Used to cough something terrible in the autumn. Kept us all awake in the house. I just come along to ask if there’s anything as you want done here. I understood–as a matter of fact Mom told me–as you had some lettuces ought to be thinned out now and I wonder if you’d like me to do it for you. I know just where they are because I used to come up sometimes and talk to old Izzy when he was at work. I could do it now if you liked.’

  ‘Oh, that’s very nice of you,’ said Tuppence. ‘Come out and show me.’

  They moved into the garden together and went up to the spot designated.

  ‘That’s it, you see. They’ve been shoved in a bit tight and you’ve got to thin ’em out a bit and put ’em over there instead, you see, when you’ve made proper gaps.’

  ‘I don’t really know anything about lettuces,’ Tuppence admitted. ‘I know a little about flowers. Peas, Brussels sprouts and lettuces and other vegetables I’m not very good at. You don’t want a job working in the garden, I suppose, do you?’

  ‘Oh no, I’m still at school, I am. I takes the papers round and I do a bit of fruit picking in the summer, you know.’

  ‘I see,’ said Tuppence. ‘Well, if you hear of anyone and you let me know, I’ll be very glad.’

  ‘Yes, I will do that. Well, so long, mum.’

  ‘Just show me what you’re doing to the lettuces. I’d like to know.’

  She stood by, watching the manipulations of Henry Bodlicott.

  ‘Now that’s all right. Yes, nice ones, these, aren’t they? Webb’s Wonderful, aren’t they? They keep a long time.’

  ‘We finished the Tom Thumbs,’ said Tuppence.

  ‘That’s right. Those are the little early ones, aren’t they? Very crisp and good.’

  ‘Well, thank you very much,’ said Tuppence.

  She turned away and started to walk towards the house. She noted she’d lost her scarf and turned back. Henry Bodlicott, just starting for home, stopped and came across to her.

  ‘Just the scarf,’ said Tuppence. ‘Is it–oh, there it is on that bush.’

  He handed it to her, then stood looking at her, shuffling his feet. He looked so very worried and ill at ease that Tuppence wondered what was the matter with him.

  ‘Is there anything?’ she said.

  Henry shuffled his feet, looked at her, shuffled his feet again, picked his nose and rubbed his left ear and then moved his feet in a kind of tattoo.

  ‘Just something I–I wondered if you–I mean–if you wouldn’t mind me asking you–’

  ‘Well?’ said Tuppence. She stopped and looked at him enquiringly.

  Henry got very red in the face and continued to shuffle his feet.

  ‘Well, I didn’t like to–I don’t like to ask, but I just wondered–I mean, people have been saying–they said things…I mean, I hear them say…’

  ‘Yes?’ said Tuppence, wondering what had upset Henry, what he could have heard concerning the lives of Mr and Mrs Beresford, the new tenants of The Laurels. ‘Yes, you’ve heard what?’

  ‘Oh, just as–as how it’s you is the lady what caught spies or something in the last war. You did it, and the gentleman too. You were in it and you found someone who was a German spy pretending to be something else. And you found him out and you had a lot of adventures and in the end it was all cleared up. I mean, you were–I don’t know what to call it–I suppose you were one of our Secret Service people and you did that and they said as you’d been wonderful. Of course, some time ago now but you was all mixed up with something–something about nursery rhymes too.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Tuppence. ‘Goosey Goosey Gander was the one in question.’

  ‘Goosey Goosey Gander! I remember that. Gosh, years ago, it was. Whither will you wander?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Tuppence. ‘Upstairs, downstairs, in my lady’s chamber. There he found an old man who wouldn’t say his prayers and he took him by the left leg and threw him down the stairs. At least, I think that’s right but it may be a different nursery rhyme I’ve tacked on to it.’

  ‘Well, I never,’ said Henry. ‘Well, I mean, it’s rather wonderful to have you living here just like anyone else, isn’t it? But I don’t know why the nursery rhymes were in it.’

  ‘Oh there was a kind of code, a cypher,’ said Tuppence.

  ‘You mean it had to be sort of read and all that?’ said Henry.

  ‘Something of the kind,’ said Tuppence. ‘Anyway, it was all found out.’

 
‘Well now, isn’t that wonderful,’ said Henry. ‘You don’t mind if I tell my friend, do you? My chum. Clarence, his name is. Silly name, I know. We all laugh at him for it. But he’s a good chap, he is and he’ll be ever so thrilled to know as we’ve got you really living amongst us.’

  He looked at Tuppence with the admiration of an affectionate spaniel.

  ‘Wonderful!’ he said again.

  ‘Oh, it was a long time ago,’ said Tuppence. ‘In the 1940s.’

  ‘Was it fun, or were you ever so frightened?’

  ‘Bits of both,’ said Tuppence. ‘Mostly, I think, I was frightened.’

  ‘Oh well, I expect as you would be, too. Yes, but it’s odd as you should come here and get mixed up in the same sort of thing. It was a naval gentleman, wasn’t it? I mean as called himself an English commander in the Navy, but he wasn’t really. He was a German. At least, that’s what Clarence said.’

  ‘Something like that,’ said Tuppence.

  ‘So perhaps that’s why you come here. Because, you know, we had something here once–well it was a very, very long time ago–but it was the same thing, as you might say. He was a submarine officer. He sold plans of submarines. Mind you, it’s only stories as I’ve heard people say.’

  ‘I see,’ said Tuppence. ‘Yes. No, it’s not the reason we came here. We just came here because it’s a nice house to live in. I’ve heard these same rumours going about only I don’t know exactly what happened.’

  ‘Well, I’ll try and tell you some time. Of course, one doesn’t always know what’s right or not but things aren’t always known properly.’

  ‘How did your friend Clarence manage to know so much about it?’

  ‘Well, he heard from Mick, you know. He used to live a short time up by where the blacksmith used to be. He’s been gone a long time, but he heard a lot from different people. And our uncle, old Isaac, he knew a good deal about it. He used to tell us things sometimes.’

  ‘So he did know a good deal about it all?’ said Tuppence.

  ‘Oh yes. That’s why I wondered, you know, when he was coshed the other day if that could be the reason. That he might have known a bit too much and–he told it all to you. So they did him in. That’s what they do nowadays. They do people in, you know, if they know too much of anything that’s going to involve them with the police or anything.’

  ‘You think your Uncle Isaac–you think he knew a good deal about it?’

  ‘Well, I think things got told him, you know. He heard a lot here and there. Didn’t often talk of it but sometimes he would. Of an evening, you know, after smoking a pipe or hearing me and Clarrie talk and my other friend, Tom Gillingham. He used to want to know, too, and Uncle Izzy would tell us this, that and the other. Of course we didn’t know if he was making it up or not. But I think he’d found things and knew where some things were. And he said if some people knew where they were there might be something interesting.’

  ‘Did he?’ said Tuppence. ‘Well, I think that’s very interesting to us also. You must try and remember some of the things he said or suggested some time because, well, it might lead to finding out who killed him. Because he was killed. It wasn’t an accident, was it?’

  ‘We thought at first it must have been an accident. You know, he had a bit of a heart or something and he used to fall down now and again or get giddy or have turns. But it seems–I went to the inquest, you know–as though he’d been done in deliberate.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Tuppence, ‘I think he was done in deliberate.’

  ‘And you don’t know why?’ said Henry.

  Tuppence looked at Henry. It seemed to her as though she and Henry were for the moment two police dogs on the same scent.

  ‘I think it was deliberate, and I think that you, because he was your relation, and I too, would like to know who it was who did such a cruel and wicked thing. But perhaps you do know or have some idea already, Henry.’

  ‘I don’t have a proper idea, I don’t,’ said Henry. ‘One just hears things and I know people that Uncle Izzy says–said–now and then had got it in for him for some reason and he said that was because he knew a bit too much about them and about what they knew and about something that happened. But it’s always someone who’s been dead so many years ago that one can’t really remember it or get at it properly.’

  ‘Well,’ said Tuppence, ‘I think you’ll have to help us, Henry.’

  ‘You mean you’ll let me sort of be in it with you? I mean, doing a bit of finding out any time?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Tuppence, ‘if you can hold your tongue about what you find out. I mean, tell me, but don’t go talking to all your friends about it because that way things would get around.’

  ‘I see. And then they might tell the coshers and go for you and Mr Beresford, mightn’t they?’

  ‘They might,’ said Tuppence, ‘and I’d rather they didn’t.’

  ‘Well, that’s natural,’ said Henry. ‘Well, see here, if I come across anything or hear anything I’ll come up and offer to do a bit of work here. How’s that? Then I can tell you what I know and nobody’d hear us and–but I don’t know anything right at the moment. But I’ve got friends.’ He drew himself up suddenly and put on an air clearly adopted from something he’d seen on television. ‘I know things. People don’t know as I know things. They don’t think I’ve listened and they don’t think I’d remember, but I know sometimes–you know, they’ll say something and then they’ll say who else knows about it and then they’ll–well, you know, if you keep quiet you get to hear a lot. And I expect it’s all very important, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Tuppence, ‘I think it’s important. But we have to be very careful, Henry. You understand that?’

  ‘Oh, I do. Of course I’ll be careful. Careful as you know how. He knew a lot about this place, you know,’ went on Henry. ‘My Uncle Isaac did.’

  ‘About this house, you mean, or this garden?’

  ‘That’s right. He knew some of the stories about it, you know. Where people were seen going and what they did with things maybe, and where they met people. Where there were hiding-places and things. He used to talk sometimes, he did. Of course Mom, she didn’t listen much. She’d just think it was all silly. Johnny–that’s my older brother–he thinks it’s all nonsense and he didn’t listen. But I listened and Clarence is interested in that sort of thing. You know, he liked those kind of films and all that. He said to me, “Chuck, it’s just like a film.” So we talked about it together.’

  ‘Did you ever hear anyone talked about whose name was Mary Jordan?’

  ‘Ah yes, of course. She was the German girl who was a spy, wasn’t she? Got naval secrets out of naval officers, didn’t she?’

  ‘Something of that kind, I believe,’ said Tuppence, feeling it safer to stick to that version, though in her mind apologizing to the ghost of Mary Jordan.

  ‘I expect she was very lovely, wasn’t she? Very beautiful?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know,’ said Tuppence, ‘because, I mean, she probably died when I was about three years old.’

  ‘Yes, of course, it would be so, wouldn’t it? Oh, one hears her talked about sometimes.’

  II

  ‘You seem very excited and out of breath, Tuppence,’ said Tommy as his wife, dressed in her garden clothes, came in through the side door, panting a little as she came.

  ‘Well,’ said Tuppence, ‘I am in a way.’

  ‘Not been overdoing it in the garden?’

  ‘No. Actually I haven’t been doing anything at all. I’ve just been standing by the lettuces talking, or being talked to–whichever way you put it–’

  ‘Who’s been talking to you?’

  ‘A boy,’ said Tuppence. ‘A boy.’

  ‘Offering to help in the garden?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Tuppence. ‘That would be very nice too, of course. No. Actually, he was expressing admiration.’

  ‘Of the garden?’

  ‘No,’ said Tuppence, ‘of me.’

>   ‘Of you?’

  ‘Don’t look surprised,’ said Tuppence, ‘and oh, don’t sound surprised either. Still, I admit these bonnes bouches come in sometimes when you least expect them.’

  ‘Oh. What is the admiration of–your beauty or your garden overall?’

  ‘My past,’ said Tuppence.

  ‘Your past!’

  ‘Yes. He was fairly thrilled to think I had been the lady, as he put it, who had unmasked a German spy in the last war. A false naval commander, retired, who was nothing of the kind.’

  ‘Good gracious,’ said Tommy. ‘N or M again. Dear me, shan’t we ever be able to live that down?’

  ‘Well, I’m not very sure I want to live it down,’ said Tuppence. ‘I mean, why should we? If we’d been a celebrated actress or actor we’d quite like to be reminded of it.’

  ‘I see the point,’ said Tommy.

  ‘And I think it might be very useful with what we’re trying to do here.’

  ‘If he’s a boy, how old did you say he was?’

  ‘Oh, I should think about ten or twelve. Looks ten but he’s twelve, I think. And he has a friend called Clarence.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

  ‘Well, nothing at the moment,’ said Tuppence, ‘but he and Clarence are allies and would like, I think, to attach themselves to our service. To find out things or to tell us things.’

  ‘If they’re ten or twelve, how can they tell us things or remember things we want to know?’ said Tommy. ‘What sort of things did he say?’

  ‘Most of his sentences were short,’ said Tuppence, ‘and consisted of mainly “well, you know”, or “you see, it was like this”, or “yes, and then you know”. Anyway, “you know” was always a component part of everything he said.’

  ‘And they were all things you didn’t know.’

  ‘Well, they were attempts at explaining things he’d heard about.’

  ‘Heard about from whom?’

  ‘Well, not first-hand knowledge, as you’d say, and I wouldn’t say second-hand knowledge. I think it might go up to third-hand, fourth-hand, fifth-hand, sixth-hand knowledge. It consisted also of what Clarence had heard and what Clarence’s friend, Algernon, had heard. What Algernon said Jimmy had heard–’