A Pocket Full of Rye

by Agatha Christie

  Inspector Neele was finishing a telephone conversation with Scotland Yard.

  The Assistant Commissioner at the other end said, "We ought to be able to get that information for you-by circularizing the various private sanatoriums. Of course, she may be dead."

  "Probably is. It's a long time ago."

  Old sins cast long shadows. Miss Ramsbottom had said that-said it with significance, too, as though she was giving him a hint.

  "It's a fantastic theory," said the A.C.

  "Don't I know it, sir. But I don't feel we can ignore it altogether. Too much fits in."

  "Yes-yes-rye---blackbirds--the man's Christian name."

  Neele said, "I'm concentrating on the other lines too. Dubois is a possibility. So is Wright. The girl Gladys could have caught sight of either of them outside the side door. She could have left the tea tray in the hall and gone out to see who it was and what they were doing. Whoever it was could have strangled her then and there and carried her body round to the clothesline and put the peg on her nose-"

  "A crazy thing to do in all conscience! A nasty one, too."

  "Yes, sir. That’s what upset the old lady-Miss Marple, I mean. Nice old lady-and very shrewd. She's moved into the house to be near old Miss Ramsbottom, and I've no doubt she'll get to hear anything that's going."

  "What's your next move, Neele?"

  "I've an appointment with the London solicitors. I want to find out a little more about Rex Fortescue's affairs. And though it's old history, I want to hear a little more about the Blackbird Mine."

  Mr. Billingsley, of Billingsley, Horsethorpe & Walters, was an urbane man whose discretion was concealed habitually by a misleadingly forthcoming manner. It was the second interview that Inspector Neele had had with him, and on this occasion. Mr. Billingsley's discretion was less noticeable than it had been on the former one. The triple tragedy at Yewtree Lodge had shaken Mr. Billingsley out of his professional reserve. He was now only too anxious to put all the facts he could before the police.

  "Most extraordinary business, this whole thing," he said. "A most extraordinary business. I don't remember anything like it in all my professional career."

  "Frankly, Mr. Billingsley," said Inspector Neele, "we need all the help we can get."

  "You can count on me, my dear sir. I shall be only too .happy to assist you in every way I can."

  "First let m& ask you how well you knew the late Mr. Fortescue, and how well do you know the affairs of his firm?"

  "I knew Rex Fortescue fairly well. That is to say I've known him for a period of, well, sixteen years, I should say. Mind you, we are not the only firm of solicitors he employed, not by a long way."

  Inspector Neele nodded. He knew that. Billingsley, Horsethorpe & Walters were what one might describe as Rex Fortescue's reputable solicitors. For his less reputable dealings he had employed several different and slightly less scrupulous firms.

  "Now what do you want to know?" continued Mr. Billingsley. "I've told you about his will. Percival Fortescue is the residuary legatee."

  "I'm interested now," said Inspector Neele, "in the will of his widow. On Mr. Fortescue's death she came into the sum of one hundred thousand pounds, I understand?"

  Billingsley nodded Is head.

  "A considerable sum of money," he said, "and I may tell you in confidence, Inspector, that it is one the firm could ill have afforded to pay out."

  "The firm, then, is not prosperous?"

  "Frankly," said Mr. Billingsley, "and strictly between ourselves, it's drifting on the rocks and has been for the last year and a half."

  "For any particular reason?"

  "Why, yes, I should say the reason was Rex Fortescue himself. For the last year Rex Fortescue's been acting like a madman. Selling good stock here, buying speculative stuff there, talking big about it all the time in the most extraordinary way. Wouldn't listen to advice. Percival-the son, you know -he came here urging me to use my influence with his father. He'd tried, apparently, and been swept aside. Well, I did what I could, but Fortescue wouldn't listen to reason. Really, he seems to have been a changed man."

  "But not, I gather, a depressed man," said Inspector Neele.

  "No, no. Quite the contrary. Flamboyant, bombastic."

  Inspector Neele nodded. An idea which had already taken form in his mind was strengthened. He thought he was beginning to understand some of the causes of friction between Percival and his father. Mr. Billingsley was continuing.

  "But it's no good asking me about the wife's will. I didn't make any will for her."

  "No. I know that," said Neele. "I'm merely verifying that she had something to leave. In short, a hundred thousand pounds."

  Mr. Billingsley was shaking his head violently.

  "No, no, my dear sir. You're wrong there."

  "Do you mean the hundred thousand pounds was only left to her for her lifetime?"

  "No-no, it was left to her outright. But there was a clause in the wig governing that bequest. That is to say, Fortescue's wife did not inherit the sum unless she survived him for one month. That, I may say, is a clause fairly common nowadays. It has come into operation owing to the uncertainties of air travel. If two people are killed in an air accident, it becomes exceedingly difficult to say who was the survivor and a lot of curious problems arise."

  Inspector Neele was staring at him.

  "Then Adele Fortescue had not got a hundred thousand pounds to leave. What happened to that money?"

  "It goes back into the firm. Or rather, I should say, it goes to the residuary legatee."

  "And the residuary legatee is Mr. Percival Fortescue."

  "That's right," said Billingsley, "it goes to Percival Fortescue. And with the state the firm's affairs are in," he added unguardedly, "I should say that he'll need it!"

  "The things you policemen want to know," said Inspector Neele's doctor friend.

  "Come on, Bob, spill it."

  "Well, as we're alone together you can't quote me, fortunately! But I should say, you know, that your idea's dead right. General Paralysis of the Insane, by the sound of it an. The family suspected it and wanted to get him to see a doctor. He wouldn't. It acts just in the way you describe. Loss of judgment, megalomania, violent fits of irritation and anger, boastfulness, delusions of grandeur of being a great financial genius. Anyone suffering from that would soon put a solvent firm on the rocks, unless he could be restrained, and that's not so easy to do, especially if the man himself has an idea of what you're after. Yes, I should say it was a bit of luck for your friends that he died."

  "They're no friends of mine," said Neele. He repeated what he had once said before:

  "They're all very unpleasant people ......

  Chapter Nineteen

  IN THE DRAWING ROOM at Yewtree Lodge, the whole Fortescue family was assembled. Percival Fortescue, leaning against the mantelpiece, was addressing the meeting.

  "It's all very well," said Percival. "But the whole position is most unsatisfactory. The police come and go and don't tell us anything. One supposes they're pursuing some line of research. In the meantime, everything's at a standstill. One can't make plans, one can't arrange things for the future."

  "It's all so inconsiderate," said Jennifer. "And so stupid."

  "There still seems to be this ban against anyone leaving the house," went on Percival. "Still, I think among ourselves we might discuss future plans. What about you,

  Elaine? I gather you're going to marry-what's-his-name -Gerald Wright? Have you any idea when?"

  "As soon as possible," said Elaine. Percival frowned.

  "You mean, in about six months' time?"

  "No, I don't. Why should we wait six months?"

  "I think it would be more decent," said Percival.

  "Rubbish," said Elaine. "A month. That's the longest we'll wait."

  "Well, it's for you to say," said Percival. "And what are your plans when you are married, if you have any?"

  "We're thinking of starting a school." />
  Percival shook his head.

  -That's a very risky speculation in these times. What with the shortage of domestic labor, the difficulty of getting an adequate teaching staff-really, Elaine, it sounds all right. But I should think twice about it if I were you."

  "We have thought. Gerald feels that the whole future of this country lies in right education."

  "I am seeing Mr. Billingsley the day after tomorrow," said Percival. "We've got to go into various questions of finance. He was suggesting that you might like to make this money that's been left to you by Father, into a trust for yourself and your children. It's a very sound thing to do nowadays."

  "I don't want to do that," said Elaine. "We shall need the money to start up our school. There's a very suitable house we've heard of for sale. It's in Cornwall. Beautiful grounds and quite a good house. It would have to be built onto a good deal-several wings added."

  "You mean-you mean you're going to take all your money out of the business? Really, Elaine, I don't think you're wise."

  "Much wiser to take it out than leave it in, I should say," said Elaine. "Businesses are going phut all over the place. You said yourself, Val, before Father died, that flags were getting into a pretty bad state."

  "One says that sort of thing," said Percival vaguely, "but I must say, Elaine, to take out all your capital and sink it in the buying, equipping and staffing of a school is crazy. If it's not a success, look what happens? You're left without a penny."

  "It will be a success," said Elaine doggedly.

  "I'm with you." Lance, lying sprawled out in a chair, spoke up encouragingly. "Have a crack at it, Elaine. In my opinion it'll be a damned odd sort of school, but it's what you want to do-you and Gerald. If you lose your money you'll at any rate have had the satisfaction of doing what you wanted to do."

  "Just what one might have expected you to say, Lance," said Percival acidly.

  "I know, I know," said Lance. "I'm the spendthrift prodigal son. But I still think I've had more fun out of life than you have, Percy, old boy."

  "It depends on what you call fun," said Percival acidly. "Which brings us to your own plans, Lance. I suppose you'll be off and back to Kenya-or Canada-or climbing Mount Everest or something fairly fantastic'?"

  "Now what makes you think that?" said Lance.

  "Well, you've never had much use for a stay-at-home life in England, have you?"

  "One changes as one gets older," said Lance. "One settles down. D'you know, Percy my boy, I'm quite looking forward to having a crack at being a sober business man."

  "Do you mean ... ?"

  "I mean I'm coming into the firm with you, old boy."

  Lance grinned. "Oh, you're the senior partner, of course. You've got the lion's share. I'm only a very junior partner. But I have got a holding in it that gives me the right to be in on things, doesn't it?"

  "Well-yes-of course, if you put it that way. But I can assure you, my dear boy, you'll be very, very bored."

  "I wonder now. I don't believe I shall be bored."

  Percival frowned.

  "You don't seriously mean, Lance, that you're coming into the business?"

  "Having a finger in the pie? Yes, that's exactly what I am doing."

  Percival shook his head.

  "Things are in a very bad way, you know. You'll find that out. It's going to be about all we can do to pay out Elaine her share, if she insists on having it paid out."

  "There you are, Elaine," said Lance. "You see how wise you were to insist on grabbing your money while it's there to grab."

  "Really, Lance", Percival spoke angrily, "these jokes of yours are in very bad taste."

  "I do think, Lance, you might be more careful what you say," said Jennifer.

  Sitting a little way away near the window, Pat studied them one by one. If tills was what Lance had meant by twisting Percival's tail, she could see that he was achieving his object. Percival's neat impassivity was quite ruffled. He snapped again, angrily:

  "Are you serious, Lance?"

  'Dead serious."

  "'It won't work, you know. You’ll soon get fed up."

  Not me. Think what a lovely change it'd be for me. A city office, typists running and going. I shall have a blonde secretary like Miss Grosvenor-is it Grosvenor? I suppose you've snaffled her. But I shall get one just the same. 'Yes, Mr. Lancelot, no, Mr. Lancelot. Your tea, Mr. Lancelot."

  "Oh, don't play the fool," snapped Percival.

  "Why are you so angry, my dear brother? Don't you look forward to having me share your city cares?"

  "You haven't the least conception of the mess everything's in."

  "No. You'll have to put me wise to all that."

  First, you've got to understand that for the last six months-no, more, a year-Father's not been himself. He's done the most incredibly foolish digs, financially. Sold out good stock, acquired various wildcat holdings. Sometimes he's really thrown away money hand over fist. Just, one might say, for the fun of spending it."

  "In fact," said Lance, "it's just as well for the family that he bad taxine in his tea."

  "That's a very ugly way of putting it, but in essence you're quite right. It's about the only thing that saved us from bankruptcy. But we shall have to be extremely conservative and go very cautiously for a bit."

  "Lance shook his head.

  "I don't agree with you. Caution never does anyone any good. You must take a few risks, strike out. You must go for something big."

  "I don't agree," said Percy. "Caution and economy. Those are our watchwords."

  "Not mine," said Lance.

  "You're only the junior partner, remember," said Percival.

  "All right, all right. But I've got a little say-so all the same."

  Percival walked up and down the room agitatedly. "It's no good, Lance. I'm fond of you and all that' "Are you?" Lance interpolated. Percival did not appear to hear him.

  ". . . But I really don't think we're going to pull together at all. Our outlooks are totally different."

  "That may be an advantage," said Lance.

  "The only sensible thing," said Percival, "is to dissolve the partnership."

  "You're going to buy me out-is that the idea?"

  "My dear boy, it's the only sensible thing to do, with our ideas so different."

  "If you find it hard to pay Elaine out her legacy, how are you going to manage to pay me my share?"

  "Well, I didn't mean in rash," said Percival. "We could divide up the holdings."

  "With you taking the gilt-edged and me taking the worst of the speculative off you, I suppose?"

  "They seem to be what you prefer," said Percival.

  Lance grinned suddenly.

  "You're right in a way, Percy, old boy. But I can't indulge my own taste entirely. I've got Pat here to think of."

  Both men looked towards her. Pat opened her mouth, then shut it again. Whatever game Lance was playing, it was best that she should not interfere. That Lance was driving at something special, she was quite sure, but she was still a little uncertain as to what his actual object was.

  "Line 'em up, Percy," said Lance, laughing. "Bogus Diamond Mines, Inaccessible Rubies, the Oil Concessions where no oil is. Do you think I'm quite as big a fool as I look?"

  Percival said:

  "Of course, some of these holdings are highly speculative, but remember, they may turn out immensely valuable."

  "Changed your tune, haven't you?" said Lance, grinning." Going to offer me Father's latest wildcat acquisitions as well as the old Blackbird Mine and things of that kind. By the way, has the Inspector been asking you about this Blackbird Mine?"

  Percival frowned.

  "Yes, he did. I can't imagine what he wanted to know about it. I couldn't tell him much. You and I were children at the time. I just remember vaguely that Father went out there and came back saying the whole thing was no good."