Postern of Fate tat-5

by Agatha Christie

  'I see you're quite crime-minded,' said Tuppence,

  'Oh well, you know, you're reading about things like that every day, why this man is supposed to have killed his wife about six months ago, and all that. Well, I mean, that's interesting, isn't it? Because, I mean, some people say that she's still alive. Other people say that he buried her somewhere and nobody's found her. Things like that. Well, a photograph of him might come in useful.'

  'Yes' said Tuppence.

  She felt that though she was getting on good terms with Mr Durrance nothing helpful was coming of it.

  'I don't suppose you'd have any photographs of someone called - I think her name was Mary Jordan. Some name like that. But it was a long time ago. About - oh, I suppose sixty years. I think she died here.'

  'Well it'd be well before my time,' said Mr Durrance. 'Father kept a good many things. You know, he was one of those - hoarders, they call them. Never wanted to throw anything away. Anyone he'd known he'd remember, especially if there was a history about it. Mary Jordan. I seem to remember something about her. Something to do with the Navy, wasn't it, and a submarine? And they said she was a spy, wasn't she? She was half foreign. Had a Russian mother or a German mother - might have been a Japanese mother or something like that.'

  'Yes. I just wondered if you had any pictures of her.'

  'Well, I don't think so. I'll have a look around sometime when I've got a little time. I'll let you know if anything turns up. Perhaps you're a writer, are you?' he said, hopefully.

  'Well,' said Tuppence, 'I don't make a whole-time job of it, but I am thinking of bringing out a rather small book. You know, recalling the times of about anything from a hundred years ago down till today. You know, curious things that have happened including crimes and adventures. And, of course old photographs are very interesting and would illustrate the book beautifully.'

  'Well, I'll do everything I can to help you, I'm sure. Must be quite interesting, what you're doing. Quite interesting to do, I mean.'

  'There were some people called Parkinson, said Tuppence. 'I think they lived in our house once.'

  'Ah, you come from the house up on the hill, don't you? The Laurels or Katmandu - I can't remember what it was called last. Swallow's Nest it was called once, wasn't it? Can't think why.'

  'I suppose there were a lot of swallows nesting in the roof,' suggested Tuppence. 'There still are.'

  'Well, may have been I suppose. But it seems a funny name for a house.'

  Tuppence, having felt that she'd opened relations satisfactorily, though not hoping very much that any result would come of it, bought a few postcards and some flowered notes in the way of stationery, and wished Mr Durrance goodbye, got back to the gate, walked up the drive, then checked herself on the way to the house and went up the side path round it to have one more look at KK. She got near the door. She stopped suddenly, then walked on. It looked as though something like a bundle of clothes was lying near the door. Something they'd pulled out of Mathilde and not thought to look at, Tuppence wondered.

  She quickened her pace, almost running. When she got near the door she stopped suddenly. It was not a bundle of old clothes. The clothes were old enough, and so was the body that wore them. Tuppence bent over and then stood up again steadied herself with a hand on the door.

  'Isaac!' she said. 'Isaac. Poor old Isaac. I believe - oh I do believe that he's dead.'

  Somebody was coming towards her on the path from the house as she called out, taking a step or two.

  'Oh Albert, Albert. Something awful's happened. Isaac, old Isaac. He's lying here and he's dead and I think - I think somebody has killed him.'

  Chapter 7

  THE INQUEST

  The medical evidence had been given. Two passers-by not far from the gate had given their evidence. The family had spoken, giving evidence as to his state of health, any possible people who had had a reason for enmity towards him (one or two youngish adolescent boys who had before now been warned off by him) had been asked to assist the police and had protested their innocence. One or two of his employers had spoken including his latest employer, Mrs Prudence Beresford and her husband, Mr Thomas Beresford. All had been said and done and a verdict had been brought in: Wilful Murder by a person or persons unknown.

  Tuppence came out from the inquest and Tommy put an arm round her as they passed the little group of people waiting outside.

  'You did very well, Tuppence,' he said, as they returned through the garden gate towards the house. 'Very well indeed. Much better than some of those people. You were very clear and you could be heard. The Coroner seemed to me to be very pleased with you.'

  'I don't want anyone to be very pleased with me,' said Tuppence. 'I don't like old Isaac being coshed on the head and killed like that.'

  'I suppose someone might have had it in for him,' said Tommy.

  'Why should they?' said Tuppence.

  'I don't know,' said Tommy.

  'No,' said Tuppence, 'and I don't know either. But I just wondered if it's anything to do with us.'

  'Do you mean - what do you mean, Tuppence?'

  'You know what I mean really,' said Tuppence. 'It's this - this place. Our house. Our lovely new house. And garden and everything. It's as though - isn't it just the right place for us? We thought it was,' said Tuppence.

  'Well, I still do,' said Tommy.

  'Yes,' said Tuppence, 'I think you've got more hope than I have. I've got an uneasy feeling that there's something - something wrong with it all here. Something left over from the past.'

  'Don't say it again,' said Tommy.

  'Don't say what again?'

  'Oh, just those two words.'

  Tuppence dropped her voice. She got nearer to Tommy and spoke almost into his ear.

  'Mary Jordan?'

  'Well, yes. That was in my mind.'

  'And in my mind too, I expect. But I mean, what can anything then have to do with nowadays? What can the past matter?' said Tuppence. 'It oughtn't to have anything to do with - now.'

  'The past oughtn't to have anything to do with the present - is that what you mean? But it does,' said Tommy. 'It does, in queer ways that one doesn't think of. I mean that one doesn't think would ever happen.'

  'A lot of things, you mean, happen because of what there was in the past?'

  'Yes. It's a sort of long chain. The sort of thing you have, with gaps and then with beads on it from time to time.'

  'Jane Finn and all that. Like Jane Finn in our adventures when we were young because we wanted adventures.'

  'And we had them,' said Tommy. 'Sometimes I look back on it and wonder how we got out of it all alive.'

  'And then - other things. You know, when we went into partnership, and we pretended to be detective agents.'

  'Oh that was fun,' said Tommy. 'Do you remember -'

  'No,' said Tuppence, 'I'm not going to remember. I'm not anxious to go back to thinking of the past except - well, except as a stepping-stone, as you might say. No. Well, anyway that gave us practice, didn't it? And then we had the next bit.'

  'Ah,' said Tommy. 'Mrs Blenkinsop, eh?'

  Tuppence laughed.

  'Yes. Mrs Blenkinsop. I'll never forget when I came into that room and saw you sitting there.'

  'How you had the nerve, Tuppence, to do what you did, move that wardrobe or whatever it was, and listen in to me and Mr What's-his-name, talking. And then -'

  'And then Mrs Blenkinsop,' said Tuppence. She laughed too. 'N or M and Goosey Goosey Gander.'

  'But you don't -' Tommy hesitated - 'you don't believe that all those were what you call stepping-stones to this?'

  'Well, they are in a way,' said Tuppence. 'I mean, I don't suppose that Mr Robinson would have said what he did to you if he hadn't had a lot of those things in his mind. Me for one of them.'

  'Very much you for one of them.'

  'But now,' said Tuppence, 'this makes it all different. This, I mean. Isaac. Dead. Coshed on the head. Just inside our garden gate.'

&nb
sp; 'You don't think that's connected with -'

  'One can't help thinking it might be,' said Tuppence. 'That's what I mean. We're not just investigating a sort of detective mystery any more. Finding out, I mean, about the past and why somebody died in the past and things like that. It's become personal. Quite personal, I think. I mean, poor old Isaac being dead.'

  'He was a very old man and possibly that had something to do with it.'

  'Not after listening to the medical evidence this morning. Someone wanted to kill him. What for?'

  'Why didn't they want to kill us if it was anything to do with us?' said Tommy.

  'Well, perhaps they'll try that too. Perhaps, you know, he could have told us something. Perhaps he was going to tell us something. Perhaps he even threatened somebody else that he was going to talk to us, say something he knew about the girl or one of the Parkinsons. Or - or all this spying business in the 1914 war. The secrets that were sold. And then, you see, he had to be silenced. But if we hadn't come to live here and ask questions and wanted to find out, it wouldn't have happened.'

  'Don't get so worked up.'

  'I am worked up. And I'm not doing anything for fun any more. This isn't fun. We're doing something different now, Tommy. We're hunting down a killer. But who? Of course we don't know yet but we can find out. That's not the past, that's now. That's something that happened - what - only days ago, six days ago? That's the present. It's here and it's connected with us and it's connected with this house. And we've got to find out and we're going to find out. I don't know how but we've got to go after all the clues and follow up things. I feel like a dog with my nose to the ground, following a trail. I'll have to follow it here, and you've got to be a hunting dog. Go round to different places. The way you're doing now. Finding out about things. Getting your - whatever you call it - research done. There must be people who know things, not of their own knowledge, but what people have told them. Stories they've heard. Rumours. Gossip.'

  'But, Tuppence, you can't really believe there's any chance of our -'

  'Oh yes I do,' said Tuppence. 'I don't know how or in what way, but I believe that when you've got a real, convincing idea, something that you know is black and bad and evil, and hitting old Isaac on the head was black and evil...' She stopped.

  'We could change the name of the house again,' said Tommy.

  'What do you mean? Call it Swallow's Nest and not The Laurels?'

  A flight of birds passed over their heads. Tuppence turned her head and looked back towards the garden gate. 'Swallow's Nest was once its name. What's the rest of that quotation? The one your researcher quoted. Postern of Death, wasn't it?'

  'No, Postern of Fate.'

  'Fate. That's like a comment on what has happened to Isaac. Postern of Fate - our Garden Gate -'

  'Don't worry so much, Tuppence.'

  'I don't know why,' said Tuppence. 'It's just a sort of idea that came into my mind.'

  Tommy gave her a puzzled look and shook his head.

  'Swallow's Nest is a nice name, really,' said Tuppence. 'Or it could be. Perhaps it will some day.'

  'You have the most extraordinary ideas, Tuppence.'

  'Yet something singeth like a bird. That was how it ended. Perhaps all this will end that way.'

  Just before they reached the house, Tommy and Tuppence saw a woman standing on the doorstep.

  'I wonder who that is,' said Tommy.

  'Someone I've seen before,' said Tuppence. 'I don't remember who at the moment. Oh. I think it's one of old Isaac's family. You know they all lived together in one cottage. About three or four boys and this woman and another one, a girl. I may be wrong, of course.'

  The woman on the doorstep had turned and came towards them.

  'Mrs Beresford, isn't it?' she said, looking up at Tuppence.

  'Yes,' said Tuppence.

  'And - I don't expect you know me. I'm Isaac's daughter-in-law, you know. Married to his son, Stephen, I was. Stephen - he got killed in an accident. One of them lorries. The big ones that go along. It was on one of the M roads, the M1 I think it was. M1 or the M5. No, the M5 was before that. The M4 it could be. Anyway, there it was. Five or six years ago it was. I wanted to - I wanted just to speak to you. You and - you and your husband -' She looked at Tommy. 'You sent flowers, didn't you, to the funeral? Isaac worked in the garden here for you, didn't he?'

  'Yes,' said Tuppence. 'He did work for us here. It was such a terrible thing to have happened.'

  'I came to thank you. Very lovely flowers they was, too. Good ones. Classy ones. A great bunch of them.'

  'We thought we'd like to do it,' said Tuppence, 'because Isaac had been very helpful to us. He'd helped us a lot, you know, with getting into the house. Telling us about things, because we don't know much about the house. Where things were kept, and everything. And he gave me a lot of knowledge about planting things, too, and all that sort of thing.'

  '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. 'Want 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?' He
nry 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 going to 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, mam.'