A Murder Is Announced mm-5

by Agatha Christie

  'The only thing that did surprise me,' she added thoughtfully, 'was that he gave in so easily. He went away at once without any more argument. It's as though he had never expected to get the money.'

  'Do you think now, looking back on it, that his coming was really by way of a pretext to spy out the land?'

  Miss Blacklock nodded her head vigorously.

  'That's exactly what I do think—now. He made certain remarks as I let him out—about the rooms. He said, "You have a very nice dining-room" (which of course it isn't—it's a horrid dark little room) just as an excuse to look inside. And then he sprang forward and unfastened the front door, said, "Let me." I think now he wanted to have a look at the fastening. Actually, like most people round here, we never lock the front door until it gets dark. Anyone could walk in.'

  'And the side door? There is a side door to the garden, I understand?'

  'Yes. I went out through it to shut up the ducks not long before the people arrived.'

  'Was it locked when you went out?'

  Miss Blacklock frowned.

  'I can't remember?I think so. I certainly locked it when I came in.'

  'That would be about quarter-past six?'

  'Somewhere about then.'

  'And the front door?'

  'That's not usually locked until later.'

  'Then Scherz could have walked in quite easily that way. Or he could have slipped in whilst you were out shutting up the ducks. He'd already spied out the lie of the land and had probably noted various places of concealment—cupboards, etc. Yes, that all seems quite clear.'

  'I beg your pardon, it isn't at all clear,' said Miss Blacklock. 'Why on earth should anyone take all that elaborate trouble to come and burgle this house and stage that silly sort of hold-up?'

  'Do you keep much money in the house, Miss Blacklock?'

  'About five pounds in that desk there, and perhaps a pound or two in my purse.'

  'Jewellery?'

  'A couple of rings and brooches, and the cameos I'm wearing. You must agree with me, Inspector, that the whole thing's absurd.'

  'It wasn't burglary at all,' cried Miss Bunner. 'I've told you so, Letty, all along. It was revenge! Because you wouldn't give him that money! He deliberately shot at you—twice.'

  'Ah,' said Craddock. 'We'll come now to last night. What happened exactly, Miss Blacklock? Tell me in your own words as nearly as you can remember.'

  Miss Blacklock reflected a moment.

  'The clock struck,' she said. 'The one on the mantelpiece. I remember saying that if anything were going to happen it would have to happen soon. And then the clock struck. We all listened to it without saying anything. It chimes, you know. It chimed the two quarters and then, quite suddenly, the lights went out.'

  'What lights were on?'

  'The wall brackets in here and the further room. The standard lamp and the two small reading lamps weren't on.'

  'Was there a flash first, or a noise when the lights went out?'

  'I don't think so.'

  'I'm sure there was a flash,' said Dora Bunner. 'And a cracking noise. Dangerous!'

  'And then, Miss Blacklock?'

  'The door opened—'

  'Which door? There are two in the room.'

  'Oh, this door in here. The one in the other room doesn't open. It's a dummy. The door opened and there he was—a masked man with a revolver. It just seemed too fantastic for words, but of course at the time I just thought it was a silly joke. He said something—I forget what—'

  'Hands up or I shoot!' supplied Miss Bunner, dramatically.

  'Something like that,' said Miss Blacklock, rather doubtfully.

  'And you all put your hands up?'

  'Oh, yes,' said Miss Bunner. 'We all did. I mean, it was part of it.'

  'I didn't,' said Miss Blacklock crisply. 'It seemed so utterly silly. And I was annoyed by the whole thing.'

  'And then?'

  'The flashlight was right in my eyes. It dazzled me. And then, quite incredibly, I heard a bullet whizz past me and hit the wall by my head. Somebody shrieked and then I felt a burning pain in my ear and heard the second report.'

  'It was terrifying,' put in Miss Bunner.

  'And what happened next, Miss Blacklock?'

  'It's difficult to say—I was so staggered by the pain and the surprise. The—the figure turned away and seemed to stumble and then there was another shot and his torch went out and everybody began pushing and calling out. All banging into each other.'

  'Where were you standing, Miss Blacklock?'

  'She was over by the table. She'd got that vase of violets in her hand,' said Miss Bunner breathlessly.

  'I was over here.' Miss Blacklock went over to the small table by the archway. 'Actually it was the cigarette-box I'd got in my hand.'

  Inspector Craddock examined the wall behind her. The two bullet holes showed plainly. The bullets themselves had been extracted and had been sent for comparison with the revolver.

  He said quietly:

  'You had a very near escape, Miss Blacklock.'

  'He did shoot at her,' said Miss Bunner. 'Deliberately at her! I saw him. He turned the flash round on everybody until he found her and then he held it right at her and just fired at her. He meant to kill you, Letty.'

  'Dora dear, you've just got that into your head from mulling the whole thing over and over.'

  'He shot at you,' repeated Dora stubbornly. 'He meant to shoot you and when he'd missed, he shot himself. I'm certain that's the way it was!'

  'I don't think he meant to shoot himself for a minute,' said Miss Blacklock. 'He wasn't the kind of man who shoots himself.'

  'You tell me, Miss Blacklock, that until the revolver was fired you thought the whole business was a joke?'

  'Naturally. What else could I think it was?'

  'Who do you think was the author of this joke?'

  'You thought Patrick had done it at first,' Dora Bunner reminded her.

  'Patrick?' asked the Inspector sharply.

  'My young cousin, Patrick Simmons,' Miss Blacklock continued sharply, annoyed with her friend. 'It did occur to me when I saw this advertisement that it might be some attempt at humour on his part, but he denied it absolutely.'

  'And then you were worried, Letty,' said Miss Bunner. 'You were worried, although you pretended not to be. And you were quite right to be worried. It said a murder is announced—and it was announced—your murder! And if the man hadn't missed, you would have been murdered. And then where should we all be?'

  Dora Bunner was trembling as she spoke. Her face was puckered up and she looked as though she were going to cry.

  Miss Blacklock patted her on the shoulder.

  'It's all right, Dora dear—don't get excited. It's so bad for you. Everything's quite all right. We've had a nasty experience, but it's over now.' She added, 'You must pull yourself together for my sake, Dora. I rely on you, you know, to keep the house going. Isn't it the day for the laundry to come?'

  'Oh, dear me, Letty, how fortunate you reminded me! I wonder if they'll return that missing pillowcase. I must make a note in the book about it. I'll go and see to it at once.'

  'And take those violets away,' said Miss Blacklock. 'There's nothing I hate more than dead flowers.'

  'What a pity. I picked them fresh yesterday. They haven't lasted at all—oh, dear, I must have forgotten to put any water in the vase. Fancy that! I'm always forgetting things. Now I must go and see about the laundry. They might be here any moment.'

  She bustled away, looking quite happy again.

  'She's not very strong,' said Miss Blacklock, 'and excitements are bad for her. Is there anything more you want to know, Inspector?'

  'I just want to know exactly how many people make up your household here and something about them.'

  'Yes, well in addition to myself and Dora Bunner, I have two young cousins living here at present, Patrick and Julia Simmons.'

  'Cousins? Not a nephew and niece?'

  'No. They call
me Aunt Letty, but actually they are distant cousins. Their mother was my second cousin.'

  'Have they always made their home with you?'

  'Oh, dear no, only for the last two months. They lived in the South of France before the war. Patrick went into the Navy and Julia, I believe, was in one of the Ministries. She was at Llandudno. When the war was over their mother wrote and asked me if they could possibly come to me as paying guests—Julia is training as a dispenser in Milchester General Hospital, Patrick is studying for an engineering degree at Milchester University. Milchester, as you know, is only fifty minutes by bus, and I was very glad to have them here. This house is really too large for me. They pay a small sum for board and lodging and it all works out very well.' She added with a smile, 'I like having somebody young about the place.'

  'Then there is a Mrs Haymes, I believe?'

  'Yes. She works as an assistant gardener at Dayas Hall, Mrs Lucas's place. The cottage there is occupied by the old gardener and his wife and Mrs Lucas asked if I could billet her here. She's a very nice girl. Her husband was killed in Italy, and she has a boy of eight who is at a prep school and whom I have arranged to have here in the holidays.'

  'And by way of domestic help?'

  'A jobbing gardener comes in on Tuesdays and Fridays. A Mrs Huggins from the village comes up five mornings a week and I have a foreign refugee with a most unpronouncable name as a kind of lady cook help. You will find Mitzi rather difficult, I'm afraid. She has a kind of persecution mania.'

  Craddock nodded. He was conscious in his own mind of yet another of Constable Legg's invaluable commentaries. Having appended the word 'Scatty' to Dora Bunner, and 'All right' to Letitia Blacklock, he had embellished Mitzi's record with the one word 'Liar'.

  As though she had read his mind Miss Blacklock said:

  'Please don't be too prejudiced against the poor thing because she's a liar. I do really believe that, like so many liars, there is a real substratum of truth behind her lies. I mean that though, to take an instance, her atrocity stories have grown and grown until every kind of unpleasant story that has ever appeared in print has happened to her or her relations personally, she did have a bad shock initially and did see one, at least, of her relations killed. I think a lot of these displaced persons feel, perhaps justly, that their claim to our notice and sympathy lies in their atrocity value and so they exaggerate and invent.'

  She added: 'Quite frankly, Mitzi is a maddening person. She exasperates and infuriates us all, she is suspicious and sulky, is perpetually having "feelings" and thinking herself insulted. But in spite of it all, I really am sorry for her.' She smiled. 'And also, when she wants to, she can cook very nicely.'

  'I'll try not to ruffle her more than I can help,' said Craddock soothingly. 'Was that Miss Julia Simmons who opened the door to me?'

  'Yes. Would you like to see her now? Patrick has gone out. Phillipa Haymes you will find working at Dayas Hall.'

  'Thank you, Miss Blacklock. I'd like to see Miss Simmons now if I may.'

  Chapter 6. Julia, Mitzi and Patrick

  Julia, when she came into the room, and sat down in the chair vacated by Letitia Blacklock, had an air of composure that Craddock for some reason found annoying. She fixed a limpid gaze on him and waited for his questions.

  Miss Blacklock had tactfully left the room.

  'Please tell me about last night, Miss Simmons.'

  'Last night?' murmured Julia with a blank stare. 'Oh, we all slept like logs. Reaction, I suppose.'

  'I mean last night from six o'clock onwards.'

  'Oh, I see. Well, a lot of tiresome people came—'

  'They were?'

  She gave him another limpid stare.

  'Don't you know all this already?'

  'I'm asking the questions, Miss Simmons,' said Craddock pleasantly.

  'My mistake. I always find repetitions so dreary. Apparently you don't?Well, there was Colonel and Mrs Easterbrook, Miss Hinchcliffe and Miss Murgatroyd, Mrs Swettenham and Edmund Swettenham, and Mrs Harmon, the Vicar's wife. They arrived in that order. And if you want to know what they said—they all said the same thing in turn. "I see you've got your central heating on" and "What lovely chrysanthemums!"'

  Craddock bit his lip. The mimicry was good.

  'The exception was Mrs Harmon. She's rather a pet. She came in with her hat falling off and her shoelaces untied and she asked straight out when the murder was going to happen. It embarrassed everybody because they'd all been pretending they'd dropped in by chance. Aunt Letty said in her dry way that it was due to happen quite soon. And then that clock chimed and just as it finished, the lights went out, the door was flung open and a masked figure said, "Stick 'em up, guys," or something like that. It was exactly like a bad film. Really quite ridiculous. And then he fired two shots at Aunt Letty and suddenly it wasn't ridiculous any more.'

  'Where was everybody when this happened?'

  'When the lights went out? Well, just standing about, you know. Mrs Harmon was sitting on the sofa—Hinch (that's Miss Hinchcliffe) had taken up a manly stance in front of the fireplace.'

  'You were all in this room, or the far room?'

  'Mostly, I think, in this room. Patrick had gone into the other to get the sherry. I think Colonel Easterbrook went after him, but I don't really know. We were—well—as I said, just standing about.'

  'Where were you yourself?'

  'I think I was over by the window. Aunt Letty went to get the cigarettes.'

  'On that table by the archway?'

  'Yes—and then the lights went out and the bad film started.'

  'The man had a powerful torch. What did he do with it?'

  'Well, he shone it on us. Horribly dazzling. It just made you blink.'

  'I want you to answer this very carefully, Miss Simmons. Did he hold the torch steady, or did he move it about?'

  Julia considered. Her manner was now definitely less weary.

  'He moved it,' she said slowly. 'Like a spotlight in a dance hall. It was full in my eyes and then it went on round the room and then the shots came. Two shots.'

  'And then?'

  'He whirled round—and Mitzi began to scream like a siren from somewhere and his torch went out and there was another shot. And then the door closed (it does, you know, slowly, with a whining noise—quite uncanny) and there we were all in the dark, not knowing what to do, and poor Bunny squealing like a rabbit and Mitzi going all out across the hall.'

  'Would it be your opinion that the man shot himself deliberately, or do you think he stumbled and the revolver went off accidentally?'

  'I haven't the faintest idea. The whole thing was so stagey. Actually I thought it was still some silly joke—until I saw the blood from Letty's ear. But even if you were actually going to fire a revolver to make the thing more real, you'd be careful to fire it well above someone's head, wouldn't you?'

  'You would indeed. Do you think he could see clearly who he was firing at? I mean, was Miss Blacklock clearly outlined in the light of the torch?'

  'I've no idea. I wasn't looking at her. I was looking at the man.'

  'What I'm getting at is—do you think the man was deliberately aiming at her—at her in particular, I mean?'

  Julia seemed a little startled by the idea.

  'You mean deliberately picking on Aunt Letty? Oh, I shouldn't think so?After all, if he wanted to take a pot shot at Aunt Letty, there would be heaps of more suitable opportunities. There would be no point in collecting all the friends and neighbours just to make it more difficult. He could have shot her from behind a hedge in the good old Irish fashion any day of the week, and probably got away with it.'

  And that, thought Craddock, was a very complete reply to Dora Bunner's suggestion of a deliberate attack on Letitia Blacklock.

  He said with a sigh, 'Thank you, Miss Simmons. I'd better go and see Mitzi now.'

  'Mind her fingernails,' warned Julia. 'She's a tartar!'

  ***

  Craddock, with Fletcher in attenda
nce, found Mitzi in the kitchen. She was rolling pastry and looked up suspiciously as he entered.

  Her black hair hung over her eyes; she looked sullen, and the purple jumper and brilliant green skirt she wore were not becoming to her pasty complexion.

  'What do you come in my kitchen for, Mr Policeman? You are police, yes? Always, always there is persecution—ah! I should be used to it by now. They say it is different here in England, but no, it is just the same. You come to torture me, yes, to make me say things, but I shall say nothing. You will tear off my fingernails, and put lighted matches on my skin—oh, yes, and worse than that. But I will not speak, do you hear? I shall say nothing—nothing at all. And you will send me away to a concentration camp, and I shall not care.'

  Craddock looked at her thoughtfully, selecting what was likely to be the best method of attack. Finally he sighed and said:

  'O.K., then, get your hat and coat.'

  'What is that you say?' Mitzi looked startled.

  'Get your hat and coat and come along. I haven't got my nail-pulling apparatus and the rest of the bag of tricks with me. We keep all that down at the station. Got the handcuffs handy, Fletcher?'

  'Sir!' said Sergeant Fletcher with appreciation.

  'But I do not want to come,' screeched Mitzi, backing away from him.

  'Then you'll answer civil questions civilly. If you like, you can have a solicitor present.'

  'A lawyer? I do not like a lawyer. I do not want a lawyer.'

  She put the rolling pin down, dusted her hands on a cloth and sat down.

  'What do you want to know?' she asked sulkily.

  'I want your account of what happened here last night.'

  'You know very well what happened.'

  'I want your account of it.'