The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side mm-8

by Agatha Christie

  'No, of course it isn't,' said Miss Marple, 'because it hasn't happened. What you have to account for is if one person did see something why didn't that person say so?'

  'I'm listening.'

  'Possibility One,' said Miss Marple, her cheeks going pink with animation. 'The person who saw it didn't realise what they had seen. That would mean, of course, that it would have to be rather a stupid person. Someone, let us say, who can use their eyes but not their brain. The sort of person who, if you asked them. 'Did you see anyone put anything in Marina Gregg's glass?" would answer, "Oh, no," but if you said "Did you see anyone put their hand over the top of Marina Gregg's glass" would say "Oh, yes, of course I did."'

  Haydock laughed. 'I admit,' he said, 'that one never quite allows for the moron in our midst. All right, I grant you Possibility One. The moron saw it, the moron didn't grasp what the action meant. And the second possibility?'

  'This one's far-fetched, but I do think it's just a possibility. It might have been a person whose action in putting something in a glass was natural.'

  'Wait, wait, explain that a little more clearly.'

  'It seems to me nowadays,' said Miss Marple, 'that people are always adding things to what they eat and drink. In my young days it was considered to be very bad manners to take medicines with one's meals. It was on a par with blowing your nose at the dinner table. It just wasn't done. If you had to take pills or capsules, or a spoonful of something, you went out of the room to do so. That's not the case now. When staying with my nephew Raymond, I observed some of his guests seemed to arrive with quite a quantity of little bottles of pills and tablets. They take them with food, or before food, or after food. They keep aspirins and such things in their handbags and take them the whole time – with cups of tea or with their after-dinner coffee. You understand what I mean?'

  'Oh, yes,' said Dr Haydock, 'I've got your meaning now and it's interesting. You mean that someone -' he stopped. 'Let's have it in your own words.'

  'I meant,' said Miss Marple, 'that it would be quite possible, audacious but possible, for someone to pick up that glass which as soon as it was in his or her hand, of course, would be assumed to be his or her own drink and to add whatever was added quite openly. In that case, you see, people wouldn't think twice of it.'

  'He – or she – couldn't be sure of that, though,' Haydock pointed out.

  'No,' agreed Miss Marple, 'it would be a gamble, a risk – but it could happen. And then,' she went on, 'there's the third possibility.'

  'Possibility One, a moron,' said the doctor. 'Possibility Two, a gambler – what's Possibility Three?'

  'Somebody saw what happened, and has held their tongue deliberately.'

  Haydock frowned. 'For what reason?' he asked. 'Are you suggesting blackmail? If so -'

  'If so,' said Miss Marple, 'it's a very dangerous thing to do.'

  'Yes, indeed.' He looked sharply at the placid old lady with the white fleecy garment on her lap. 'Is the third possibility the one you consider the most probable one?'

  'No,' said Miss Marple, 'I wouldn't go so far as that. I have, at the moment, insufficient grounds. Unless,' she added carefully, 'someone else gets killed.'

  'Do you think someone else is going to get killed?'

  'I hope not,' said Miss Marple, 'I trust and pray not. But it so often happens, Doctor Haydock. That's the sad and frightening thing. It so often happens.'

  Chapter 17

  Ella put down the telephone receiver, smiled m herself and came out of the public telephone box. She was pleased with herself.

  'Chief-Inspector God Almighty Craddock!' she said to herself. 'I'm twice as good as he is at the job. Variations on the theme off "Fly, all is discovered!"'

  She pictured to herself with a good deal of pleasure the reactions recently suffered by the person at the other end of the line. That faint menacing whisper coming through the receiver. 'I saw you…'

  She laughed silently, the corners of her mouth curving up in a feline cruel line. A student of psychology might have watched her with some interest. Never until the last few days had she had this feeling of power. She was hardly aware herself of how much the heady intoxication of it affected her…

  She passed the East Lodge and Mrs Bantry, busy as usual in the garden, waved a hand to her.

  'Damn that old woman,' thought Ella. She could feel Mrs Bantry's eyes following her as she walked up the drive.

  A phrase came into her head for no particular reason. The pitcher goes to the well once too often…

  Nonsense. Nobody could suspect that it was she who had whispered those menacing words…

  She sneezed.

  'Damn this hay-fever,' said Ella Zielinsky.

  When she came into her office, Jason Rudd was standing by the window.

  He wheeled round.

  'I couldn't think where you were.'

  'I had to go and speak to the gardener. There were -' she broke off as she caught sight of his face.

  She asked sharply: 'What is it?'

  His eyes seemed set deeper in his face than ever. All the gaiety of the clown was gone. This was a man under strain. She had seen him under strain before but never looking like this.

  She said again: 'What is it?'

  He held a sheet of paper out to her. 'It's the analysis of that coffee. The coffee that Marina complained about and wouldn't drink.'

  'You sent it to be analysed?' She was startled. 'But you poured it away down the sink. I saw you.'

  His wide mouth curled up in a smile. 'I'm pretty good at sleight of hand, Ella,' he said. 'You didn't know that, did you? Yes, I poured most of it away but I kept a little and I took it along to be analysed.'

  She looked down at the paper in her hand.

  'Arsenic.' She sounded incredulous.

  'Yes, arsenic.'

  'So Marina was right about it tasting bitter?'

  'She wasn't right about that. Arsenic has no taste. But her instinct was quite right.'

  '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 that 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…

  Chapter 18

  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 Fern, 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 Fern 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 eye-witness, did you? That's all for now – very soon you will be told what you have to do.'

  Craddock uttered an ejaculation of astonishment.

  'Surprising, was it not, Mr Craddock? I will assure you categorically that the accusation was entirely unfounded. I did not put tablets in anybody's glass. I defy anyone to prove that I did. The suggestion is utterly absurd. But it would seem, would it not, that Miss Zielinsky was embarking on blackmail.'

  'You recognized her voice?'

  'You cannot recognize a whisper. But it was Ella Zielinsky all right.'

  'How do you know?'

  'The whisperer sneezed heavily before ringing off. I knew that Miss Zielinsky suffered from hay fever.'

  'And you think – what?'

  'I think that Miss Zielinsky got hold of the wrong person at her first attempt. It seems to me possible that she was more successful later. Blackmail can be a dangerous game.'

  Craddock pulled himself together.

  'I must thank you for your statement, Mr Fenn. As a matter of form, I shall have to check upon your movements today.'

  'Naturally. My chauffeur will be able to give you precise information.'

  Craddock rang off and repeated what Fenn had said. Cornish whistled.

  'Either that lets him out completely. Or else -'

  'Or else it's a magnificent piece of bluff. It could be. He's the kind of man who has the nerve for it. If there's the least chance that Ella Zielinsky left a record of her suspicions, then this taking of the bull by the horns is a magnificent bluff.'

  'And his alibi?'

  'We've come across some very good faked alibis in our time,' said Craddock. 'He could afford to pay a good sum for one.'

  II

  It was past midnight when Giuseppe returned to Gossington. He took a taxi from Much Benham, as the last train on the branch line to St Mary Mead had gone.

  He was in very good spirits. He paid off the taxi at the gate, and took a short cut through the shrubbery. He opene
d the back door with his key. The house was dark and silent. Giuseppe shut and bolted the door. As he turned to the stair which led to his own comfortable suite of bed and bath, he noticed that there was a draught. A window open somewhere, perhaps. He decided not to bother. He went upstairs smiling and fitted a key into his door. He always kept his suite locked. As he turned the key and pushed the door open, he felt the pressure of a hard round thing in his back. A voice said, 'Put your hands up and don't scream.'

  Giuseppe threw his hands up quickly. He was taking no chances. Actually there was no chance to take.

  The trigger was pressed – once – twice.

  Giuseppe fell forward…

  Bianca lifted her head from her pillow.

  Was that a shot… She was almost sure she had heard a shot… She waited some minutes. Then she decided she had been mistaken and lay down again.

  Chapter 19

  I

  'It's too dreadful,' said Miss Knight. She put down her parcels and gasped for breath.

  'Something has happened?' asked Miss Marple.

  'I really don't like to tell you about it, dear, I really don't. It might be a shock to you.'

  'If you don't tell me,' said Miss Marple, 'somebody else will.'

  'Dear, dear, that's true enough,' said Miss Knight. 'Yes, that's terribly true. Everybody talks too much, they say. And I'm sure there's a lot in that. I never repeat anything myself. Very careful I am.'

  'You were saying,' said Miss Marple, 'that something rather terrible had happened?'

  'It really quite bowled me over,' said Miss Knight. 'Are you sure you don't feel the draught from that window, dear?'

  'I like a little fresh air,' said Miss Marple.

  'Ah, but we mustn't catch cold, must we?' said Miss Knight archly. 'I'll tell you what. I'll just pop out and make you a nice egg-nog. We'd like that, wouldn't we?'

  'I don't know whether you would like it,' said Miss Marple. 'I should be delighted for you to have it if you would like it.'

  'Now, now,' said Miss Knight, shaking her finger, 'so fond of our joke, aren't we?'

  'But you were going to tell me something,' said Miss Marple.