Spider's Web

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Spider's Web Page 6

by Agatha Christie


  Clarissa shook her head impatiently. ‘I told him that he and Miranda were not going to get Pippa, and he went away.’

  ‘But he came back?’

  ‘Obviously,’ said Clarissa.

  ‘How?’ Sir Rowland asked her. ‘When?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Clarissa answered. ‘I just came into the room, as I said, and I found him–like that.’ She gestured towards the sofa.

  ‘I see,’ said Sir Rowland, moving back to the body on the floor and leaning over it. ‘I see. Well, he’s dead all right. He’s been hit over the head with something heavy and sharp.’ He looked around at the others. ‘I’m afraid this isn’t going to be a very pleasant business,’ he continued, ‘but there’s only one thing to be done.’ He went across to the telephone as he spoke. ‘We must ring up the police and–’

  ‘No,’ Clarissa exclaimed sharply.

  Sir Rowland was already lifting the receiver. ‘You ought to have done it at once, Clarissa,’ he advised her. ‘Still, I don’t suppose they’ll blame you much for that.’

  ‘No, Roly, stop,’ Clarissa insisted. She ran across the room, took the receiver from him, and replaced it on its rest.

  ‘My dear child–’ Sir Rowland expostulated, but Clarissa would not let him continue. ‘I could have rung up the police myself if I’d wanted to,’ she admitted. ‘I knew perfectly well that it was the proper thing to do. I even started dialling. Then, instead, I rang you up at the club and asked you to come back here immediately, all three of you.’ She turned to Jeremy and Hugo. ‘You haven’t even asked me why, yet.’

  ‘You can leave it all to us,’ Sir Rowland assured her. ‘We will–’

  Clarissa interrupted him vehemently. ‘You haven’t begun to understand,’ she insisted. ‘I want you to help me. You said you would if I was ever in trouble.’ She turned to include the other two men. ‘Darlings, you’ve got to help me.’

  Jeremy moved to position himself so that he hid the body from her sight. ‘What do you want us to do, Clarissa?’ he asked gently.

  ‘Get rid of the body,’ was her abrupt reply.

  ‘My dear, don’t talk nonsense,’ Sir Rowland ordered her. ‘This is murder.’

  ‘That’s the whole point,’ Clarissa told him. ‘The body mustn’t be found in this house.’

  Hugo gave a snort of impatience. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, my dear girl,’ he exclaimed. ‘You’ve been reading too many murder mysteries. In real life you can’t go monkeying about, moving dead bodies.’

  ‘But I’ve already moved it,’ Clarissa explained. ‘I turned it over to see if he was dead, and then I started dragging it into that recess, and then I realized I was going to need help, and so I rang you up at the club, and while I was waiting for you I made a plan.’

  ‘Including the bridge table, I assume,’ Jeremy observed, gesturing towards the table.

  Clarissa picked up the bridge marker. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘That’s going to be our alibi.’

  ‘What on earth–’ Hugo began, but Clarissa gave him no chance to continue. ‘Two and a half rubbers,’ she announced. ‘I’ve imagined all the hands, and put down the scores on this marker. You three must fill up the others in your own handwriting, of course.’

  Sir Rowland stared at her in amazement. ‘You’re mad, Clarissa. Quite mad,’ he declared.

  Clarissa paid no attention to him. ‘I’ve worked it out beautifully,’ she went on. ‘The body has to be taken away from here.’ She looked at Jeremy. ‘It will take two of you to do that,’ she instructed him. ‘A dead body is very difficult to manage–I’ve found that out already.’

  ‘Where the hell do you expect us to take it to?’ Hugo asked in exasperation.

  Clarissa had already given this some thought. ‘The best place, I think, would be Marsden Wood,’ she advised. ‘That’s only two miles from here.’ She gestured away to the left. ‘You turn off into that side road, just a few yards after you’ve passed the front gate. It’s a narrow road, and there’s hardly ever any traffic on it.’ She turned to Sir Rowland. ‘Just leave the car by the side of the road when you get into the wood,’ she instructed him. ‘Then you walk back here.’

  Jeremy looked perplexed. ‘Do you mean you want us to dump the body in the wood?’ he asked.

  ‘No, you leave it in the car,’ Clarissa explained. ‘It’s his car, don’t you see? He left it here, round by the stables.’

  All three men now wore puzzled expressions. ‘It’s really all quite easy,’ Clarissa assured them. ‘If anybody does happen to see you walking back, it’s quite a dark night and they won’t know who you are. And you’ve got an alibi. All four of us have been playing bridge here.’ She replaced the marker on the bridge table, looking almost pleased with herself, while the men, stupefied, stared at her.

  Hugo walked about in a complete circle. ‘I–I–’ he spluttered, waving his hands in the air.

  Clarissa went on issuing her instructions. ‘You wear gloves, of course,’ she told them, ‘so as not to leave fingerprints on anything. I’ve got them here all ready for you.’ Pushing past Jeremy to the sofa, she took three pairs of gloves from under one of the cushions, and laid them out on an arm of the sofa.

  Sir Rowland continued to stare at Clarissa. ‘Your natural talent for crime leaves me speechless,’ he informed her.

  Jeremy gazed at her admiringly. ‘She’s got it all worked out, hasn’t she?’ he declared.

  ‘Yes,’ Hugo admitted, ‘but it’s all damned foolish nonsense just the same.’

  ‘Now, you must hurry,’ Clarissa ordered them vehemently. ‘At nine o’clock Henry and Mr Jones will be here.’

  ‘Mr Jones? Who on earth is Mr Jones?’ Sir Rowland asked her.

  Clarissa put a hand to her head. ‘Oh dear,’ she exclaimed, ‘I never realized what a terrible lot of explaining one has to do in a murder. I thought I’d simply ask you to help me and you would, and that is all there’d be to it.’ She looked around at all three of them. ‘Oh, darlings, you must.’ She stroked Hugo’s hair. ‘Darling, darling Hugo–’

  ‘This play-acting is all very well, my dear,’ said Hugo, sounding distinctly annoyed, ‘but a dead body is a nasty, serious business, and monkeying about with it could land you in a real mess. You can’t go carting bodies about at dead of night.’

  Clarissa went to Jeremy and placed her hand on his arm. ‘Jeremy, darling, you’ll help me, surely. Won’t you?’ she asked, with urgent appeal in her voice.

  Jeremy gazed at her adoringly. ‘All right, I’m game,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘What’s a dead body or two among friends?’

  ‘Stop, young man,’ Sir Rowland ordered. ‘I’m not going to allow this.’ He turned to Clarissa. ‘Now, you must be guided by me, Clarissa. I insist. After all, there’s Henry to consider, too.’

  Clarissa gave him a look of exasperation. ‘But it’s Henry I am considering,’ she declared.

  Chapter 9

  The three men greeted Clarissa’s announcement in silence. Sir Rowland shook his head gravely, Hugo continued to look puzzled, while Jeremy simply shrugged his shoulders as though giving up all hope of understanding the situation.

  Taking a deep breath, Clarissa addressed all three of them. ‘Something terribly important is happening tonight,’ she told them. ‘Henry’s gone to–to meet someone and bring him back here. It’s very important and secret. A top political secret. No one is supposed to know about it. There was to be absolutely no publicity.’

  ‘Henry’s gone to meet a Mr Jones?’ Sir Rowland queried, dubiously.

  ‘It’s a silly name, I agree,’ said Clarissa, ‘but that’s what they’re calling him. I can’t tell you his real name. I can’t tell you any more about it. I promised Henry I wouldn’t say a word to anybody, but I have to make you see that I’m not just–’ she turned to look at Hugo as she continued, ‘–not just being an idiot and play-acting as Hugo called it.’

  She turned back to Sir Rowland. ‘What sort of effect do you think it will have
on Henry’s career,’ she asked him, ‘if he has to walk in here with this distinguished person–and another very distinguished person travelling down from London for this meeting–only to find the police investigating a murder–the murder of a man who has just married Henry’s former wife?’

  ‘Good Lord!’ Sir Rowland exclaimed. Then, looking Clarissa straight in the eye, he added, suspiciously, ‘You’re not making all this up now, are you? This isn’t just another of your complicated games, intended to make fools of us all?’

  Clarissa shook her head mournfully. ‘Nobody ever believes me when I’m speaking the truth,’ she protested.

  ‘Sorry, my dear,’ said Sir Rowland. ‘Yes, I can see it’s a more difficult problem than I thought.’

  ‘You see?’ Clarissa urged him. ‘So it’s absolutely vital that we get the body away from here.’

  ‘Where’s his car, did you say?’ Jeremy asked.

  ‘Round by the stables.’

  ‘And the servants are out, I gather?’

  Clarissa nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Jeremy picked up a pair of gloves from the sofa. ‘Right,’ he exclaimed decisively. ‘Do I take the body to the car, or bring the car to the body?’

  Sir Rowland held out a hand in a restraining gesture. ‘Wait a moment,’ he advised. ‘We mustn’t rush it like this.’

  Jeremy put the gloves down again, but Clarissa turned to Sir Rowland, crying desperately, ‘But we must hurry.’

  Sir Rowland regarded her gravely. ‘I’m not sure that this plan of yours is the best one, Clarissa,’ he declared. ‘Now, if we could just delay finding the body until tomorrow morning–that would meet the case, I think, and it would be very much simpler. If, for now, we merely moved the body to another room, for instance, I think that might be just excusable.’

  Clarissa turned to address him directly. ‘It’s you I’ve got to convince, isn’t it?’ she told him. Looking at Jeremy, she continued, ‘Jeremy’s ready enough.’ She glanced at Hugo. ‘And Hugo will grunt and shake his head, but he’d do it all the same. It’s you…’

  She went to the library door and opened it. ‘Will you both excuse us for a short time?’ she asked Jeremy and Hugo. ‘I want to speak to Roly alone.’

  ‘Don’t you let her talk you into any tomfoolery, Roly,’ Hugo warned as they left the room. Jeremy gave Clarissa a reassuring smile and a murmured ‘Good luck!’

  Sir Rowland, looking grave, took a seat at the library table.

  ‘Now!’ Clarissa exclaimed, as she sat and faced him on the other side of the table.

  ‘My dear,’ Sir Rowland warned her, ‘I love you, and I will always love you dearly. But, before you ask, in this case the answer simply has to be no.’

  Clarissa began to speak seriously and with emphasis. ‘That man’s body mustn’t be found in this house,’ she insisted. ‘If he’s found in Marsden Wood, I can say that he was here today for a short time, and I can also tell the police exactly when he left. Actually, Miss Peake saw him off, which turns out to be very fortunate. There need be no question of his ever having come back here.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘But if his body is found here,’ she continued, ‘then we shall all be questioned.’ She paused before adding, with great deliberation, ‘And Pippa won’t be able to stand it.’

  ‘Pippa?’ Sir Rowland was obviously puzzled.

  Clarissa’s face was grim. ‘Yes, Pippa. She’ll break down and confess that she did it.’

  ‘Pippa!’ Sir Rowland repeated, as he slowly took in what he was hearing.

  Clarissa nodded.

  ‘My God!’ Sir Rowland exclaimed.

  ‘She was terrified when he came here today,’ Clarissa told him. ‘I tried to reassure her that I wouldn’t let him take her away, but I don’t think she believed me. You know what she’s been through–the nervous breakdown she’s had? Well, I don’t think she could have survived being made to go back and live with Oliver and Miranda. Pippa was here when I found Oliver’s body. She told me she never meant to do it, I’m sure she was telling the truth. It was sheer panic. She got hold of that stick, and struck out blindly.’

  ‘What stick?’ Sir Rowland asked.

  ‘The one from the hall stand. It’s in the recess. I left it there, I didn’t touch it.’

  Sir Rowland thought for a moment, and then asked sharply, ‘Where is Pippa now?’

  ‘In bed,’ said Clarissa. ‘I’ve given her a sleeping pill. She ought not to wake up till morning. Tomorrow I’ll take her up to London, and my old nanny will look after her for a while.’

  Sir Rowland got up and walked over to look down at Oliver Costello’s body behind the sofa. Returning to Clarissa, he kissed her. ‘You win, my dear,’ he said. ‘I apologize. That child musn’t be asked to face the music. Get the others back.’

  He went across to the window and closed it, while Clarissa opened the library door, calling, ‘Hugo, Jeremy. Would you come back, please?’

  The two men came back into the room. ‘That butler of yours doesn’t lock up very carefully,’ Hugo announced. ‘The window in the library was open. I’ve shut it now.’

  Addressing Sir Rowland, he asked abruptly, ‘Well?’

  ‘I’m converted,’ was the equally terse reply.

  ‘Well done,’ was Jeremy’s comment.

  ‘There’s no time to lose,’ Sir Rowland declared. ‘Now, those gloves.’ He picked up a pair and put them on. Jeremy picked up the others, handed one pair to Hugo, and they both put them on. Sir Rowland went over to the panel. ‘How does this thing open?’ he asked.

  Jeremy went across to join him. ‘Like this, sir,’ he said. ‘Pippa showed me.’ He moved the lever and opened the panel.

  Sir Rowland looked into the recess, reached in, and brought out the walking stick. ‘Yes, it’s heavy enough,’ he commented. ‘Weighted in the head. All the same, I shouldn’t have thought–’ He paused.

  ‘What wouldn’t you have thought?’ Hugo wanted to know.

  Sir Rowland shook his head. ‘I should have thought,’ he replied, ‘that it would have to have been something with a sharper edge–metal of some kind.’

  ‘You mean a goddam chopper,’ Hugo observed bluntly.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jeremy interjected. ‘That stick looks pretty murderous to me. You could easily crack a man’s head open with that.’

  ‘Evidently,’ said Sir Rowland, drily. He turned to Hugo, and handed him the stick. ‘Hugo, will you burn this in the kitchen stove, please,’ he instructed. ‘Warrender, you and I will get the body to the car.’

  He and Jeremy bent down on either side of the body. As they did so, a bell suddenly rang. ‘What’s that?’ Sir Rowland exclaimed, startled.

  ‘It’s the front doorbell,’ said Clarissa, sounding bewildered. They all stood petrified for a moment. ‘Who can it be?’ Clarissa wondered aloud. ‘It’s much too early for Henry and–er–Mr Jones. It must be Sir John.’

  ‘Sir John?’ asked Sir Rowland, now sounding even more startled. ‘You mean the Prime Minister is expected here this evening?’

  ‘Yes,’ Clarissa replied.

  ‘Hm.’ Sir Rowland looked momentarily undecided. Then, ‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘Well, we’ve got to do something.’ The bell rang again, and he stirred into action. ‘Clarissa,’ he ordered, ‘go and answer the door. Use whatever delaying tactics you can think of. In the meantime, we’ll clear up in here.’

  Clarissa went quickly out to the hall, and Sir Rowland turned to Hugo and Jeremy. ‘Now then,’ he explained urgently, ‘this is what we do. We’ll get him into that recess. Later, when everyone’s in this room having their pow-wow, we can take him out through the library.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Jeremy agreed, as he helped Sir Rowland lift the body.

  ‘Want me to give you a hand?’ asked Hugo.

  ‘No, it’s all right,’ Jeremy replied. He and Sir Rowland supported Costello’s body under the armpits and carried it into the recess, while Hugo picked up the torch. A moment or two later, Sir Rowland e
merged and pressed the lever as Jeremy hastened out behind him. Hugo quickly slipped under Jeremy’s arm into the recess with the torch and stick. The panel then closed.

  Sir Rowland, after examining his jacket for signs of blood, murmured, ‘Gloves,’ removed the gloves he was wearing, and put them under a cushion on the sofa. Jeremy removed his gloves and did likewise. Then, ‘Bridge,’ Sir Rowland reminded himself, as he hastened to the bridge table and sat.

  Jeremy followed him and picked up his cards. ‘Come along, Hugo, make haste,’ Sir Rowland urged as he picked up his own cards.

  He was answered by a knock from inside the recess. Suddenly realizing that Hugo was not in the room, Sir Rowland and Jeremy looked at each other in alarm. Jeremy got up, rushed to the switch and opened the panel. ‘Come along, Hugo,’ Sir Rowland repeated urgently, as Hugo emerged. ‘Quickly, Hugo,’ Jeremy muttered impatiently, closing the panel again.

  Sir Rowland took Hugo’s gloves from him, and put them under the cushion. The three men took their seats quickly at the bridge table and picked up their cards, just as Clarissa came back into the room from the hall, followed by two men in uniform.

  In a tone of innocent surprise, Clarissa announced, ‘It’s the police, Uncle Roly.’

  Chapter 10

  The older of the two police officers, a stocky, grey-haired man, followed Clarissa into the room, while his colleague remained standing by the hall door. ‘This is Inspector Lord,’ Clarissa declared. ‘And–’ she turned back to the younger officer, a dark-haired man in his twenties with the build of a footballer. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?’ she asked.

  The Inspector answered for him. ‘That’s Constable Jones,’ he announced. Addressing the three men, he continued, ‘I’m sorry to intrude, gentlemen, but we have received information that a murder has been committed here.’

  Clarissa and her friends all spoke simultaneously. ‘What?’ Hugo shouted. ‘A murder!’ Jeremy exclaimed. ‘Good heavens,’ Sir Rowland cried, as Clarissa said, ‘Isn’t it extraordinary?’ They all sounded completely astonished.

 

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