"Was he in the habit of taking any medicines in the morning? Salts? A tonic? Some digestive remedy?"
"No, nothing of that kind."
"Did you have breakfast with him also?"
"No. I do not take meals with the family."
"Who was at breakfast?"
"Mrs Fortescue. Miss Fortescue. Mrs Val Fortescue. Mr Percival Fortescue, of course, was away."
"And Mrs and Miss Fortescue ate the same things for breakfast?"
"Mrs Fortescue has only coffee, orange juice and toast, Mrs Val and Miss Fortescue always eat a hearty breakfast. Besides eating scrambled eggs and cold ham, they would probably have a cereal as well. Mrs Val drinks tea, not coffee."
Inspector Neele reflected for a moment. The opportunities seemed at least to be narrowing down. Three people and three people only had had breakfast with the deceased, his wife, his daughter and his daughter-in-law. Either of them might have seized an opportunity to add taxine to his cup of coffee. The bitterness of the coffee would have masked the bitter taste of the taxine. There was the early morning tea, of course, but Bernsdorff had intimated that the taste would be noticeable in tea. But perhaps, first thing in the morning, before the senses were alert... He looked up to find Mary Dove watching him.
"Your questions about tonic and medicines seem to me rather odd. Inspector," she said. "It seems to imply that either there was something wrong with a medicine, or that something had been added to it. Surely neither of those processes could be described as food poisoning."
Neele eyed her steadily.
"I did not say - definitely - that Mr Fortescue died of food poisoning."
"But some kind of poisoning. In fact - just poisoning."
She repeated softly "Poisoning..."
She appeared neither startled nor dismayed, merely interested. Her attitude was of one sampling a new experience.
In fact she said as much, remarking after a moment's reflection: "I have never had anything to do with a poisoning case before."
"It's not very pleasant," Neele informed her dryly.
"No - I suppose not..."
She thought about it for a moment and then looked up at him with a sudden smile.
"I didn't do it," she said. "But I suppose everybody will tell you that!"
"Have you any idea who did do it, Miss Dove?"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Frankly, he was an odious man. Anybody might have done it."
"But people aren't poisoned just for being 'odious,' Miss Dove. There usually has to be a pretty solid motive."
"Yes, of course."
She was thoughtful.
"Do you care to tell me something about the household here?"
She looked up at him. He was a little startled to find her eyes cool and amused.
"This isn't exactly a statement you're asking me to make, is it? No, it couldn't be, because your Sergeant is busy upsetting the domestic staff. I shouldn't like to have what I say read out in court - but all the same I should rather like to say it - unofficially. Off the record, so to speak?"
"Go ahead then. Miss Dove. I've no witness, as you've already observed."
She leaned back, swinging one slim foot and narrowing her eyes.
"Let me start by saying that I've no feeling of loyalty to my employers. I work for them because it's a job that pays well and I insist that it should pay well."
"I was a little surprised to find you doing this type of job. It struck me that with your brains and education -"
"I ought to be confined in an office? Or compiling files in a Ministry? My dear Inspector Neele, this is the perfect racket. People will pay anything - anything - to be spared domestic worries. To find and engage a staff is a thoroughly tedious job. Writing to agencies, putting in advertisements, interviewing people, making arrangements for interviews, and finally keeping the whole thing running smoothly - it takes a certain capacity which most of these people haven't got."
"And suppose your staff when you've assembled it, runs out on you? I've heard of such things."
Mary smiled.
"If necessary, I can make the beds, dust the rooms, cook a meal and serve it without anyone noticing the difference. Of course I don't advertise that fact. It might give rise to ideas. But I can always be sure of tiding over any little gap. But there aren't often gaps. I work only for the extremely rich who will pay anything to be comfortable. I pay top prices and so I get the best of what's going."
"Such as the butler?"
She threw him an amused, appreciative glance.
"There's always that trouble with a couple. Crump stays because of Mrs Crump, who is one of the best cooks I've ever come across. She's a jewel and one would put up with a good deal to keep her. Our Mr Fortescue likes his food - liked, I should say. In this household nobody has any scruples and they have plenty of money. Butter, eggs, cream, Mrs Crump can command what she likes. As for Crump, he just makes the grade. His silver's all right, and his waiting at table is not too bad. I keep the key of the wine cellar and a sharp eye on the whisky and gin, and supervise his valeting."
Inspector Neele raised his eyebrows.
"The admirable Miss Crichton."
"I find one must know how to do everything oneself. Then - one need never do it. But you wanted to know my impressions of the family."
"If you don't mind."
"They are really all quite odious. The late Mr Fortescue was the kind of crook who is always careful to play safe. He boasted a great deal of his various smart dealings. He was rude and overbearing in manner and was a definite bully. Mrs Fortescue, Adele - was his second wife and about thirty years younger than he was. He came across her at Brighton. She was a manicurist on the lookout for big money. She is very good looking - a real sexy piece, if you know what I mean."
Inspector Neele was shocked but managed not to show it. A girl like Mary Dove ought not to say such things, he felt.
The young lady was continuing composedly:
"Adele married him for his money, of course, and his son, Percival, and his daughter, Elaine, were simply livid about it. They're as nasty as they can be to her, but very wisely she doesn't care or even notice. She knows she's got the old man where she wants him. Oh dear, the wrong tense again. I haven't really grasped yet that he's dead..."
"Let's hear about the son."
"Dear Percival? Val as his wife calls him. Percival is a mealy-mouthed hypocrite. He's prim and sly and cunning. He's terrified of his father and has always let himself be bullied, but he's quite clever at getting his own way. Unlike his father he's mean about money. Economy is one of his passions. That's why he's been so long about finding a house of his own. Having a suite of rooms here saved his pocket."
"And his wife?"
"Jennifer's meek and seems very stupid. But I'm not so sure. She was a hospital nurse before her marriage - nursed Percival through pneumonia to a romantic conclusion. The old man was disappointed by the marriage. He was a snob and wanted Percival to make what he called a 'good marriage.' He despised poor Mrs Val and snubbed her. She dislikes - disliked him a good deal, I think. Her principal interests are shopping and the cinema, her principal grievance is that her husband keeps her short of money."
"What about the daughter?"
"Elaine? I'm rather sorry for Elaine. She's not a bad sort. One of those great schoolgirls who never grow up. She plays games quite well, and runs Guides and Brownies and all that sort of thing. There was some sort of affair not long ago with a disgruntled young schoolmaster, but Father discovered the young man had communistic ideas and came down on the romance like a ton of bricks."
"She hasn't got the spirit to stand up to him?"
"She had. It was the young man who ratted. A question of money yet again, I fancy. Elaine is not particularly attractive, poor dear."
"And the other son?"
"I've never seen him. He's attractive, by all accounts, and a thoroughly bad lot. Some little matter of a forged cheque in the past. He lives in East Africa."
"And was estranged from his father."
"Yes, Mr Fortescue couldn't cut him off with a shilling because he'd already made him a junior partner in the firm, but he held no communication with him for years, and in fact if Lance was ever mentioned, he used to say 'Don't talk to me of that rascal. He's no son of mine.' All the same -"
"Yes, Miss Dove?"
Mary said slowly: "All the same, I shouldn't be surprised if old Fortescue hadn't been planning to get him back here."
"What makes you think that?"
"Because, about a month ago, old Fortescue had a terrific row with Percival - he found out something that Percival had been doing behind his back - I don't know what it was - and he was absolutely furious. Percival suddenly stopped being the white-headed boy. He's been quite different lately, too."
"Mr Fortescue was quite different?"
"No. I mean Percival. He's gone about looking worried to death."
"Now what about servants? You've already described the Crumps. Who else is there?"
"Gladys Martin is the parlourmaid or waitress, as they like to call themselves nowadays. She does the downstairs rooms, lays the table, clears away and helps Crump wait at table. Quite a decent sort of girl but very nearly half-witted. The adenoidal type."
Neele nodded.
"The housemaid is Ellen Curtis. Elderly, very crabbed, and very cross, but has been in good service and is a first-class housemaid. The rest is outside help - odd women who come in."
"And those are the only people living here?"
"There's old Miss Ramsbottom."
"Who is she?"
"Mr Fortescue's sister-in-law - his first wife's sister. His wife was a good deal older than he was and her sister again was a good deal older than her - which makes her well over seventy. She has a room of her own on the second floor - does her own cooking and all that, with just a woman coming in to clean. She's rather eccentric and she never liked her brother-in-law, but she came here while her sister was alive and stayed on when she died. Mr Fortescue never bothered about her much. She's quite a character, though, is Aunt Effie."
"And that is all."
"That's all."
"So we come to you. Miss Dove."
"You want particulars? I'm an orphan. I took a secretarial course at the St Alfred's Secretarial College. I took a job as shorthand typist, left it and took another, decided I was in the wrong racket, and started on my present career. I have been with three different employers. After about a year or eighteen months I get tired of a particular place and move on. I have been at Yewtree Lodge just over a year. I will type out the names and addresses of my various employers and give them, with a copy of my references to Sergeant - Hay, is it? Will that be satisfactory?"
"Perfectly, Miss Dove." Neele was silent for a moment, enjoying a mental image of Miss Dove tampering with Mr Fortescue's breakfast. His mind went back farther, and he saw her methodically gathering yew berries in a little basket. With a sigh he returned to the present and reality. "Now, I would like to see the girl - er Gladys - and then the housemaid, Ellen." He added as he rose, "By the way. Miss Dove, can you give me any idea why Mr Fortescue would be carrying loose grain in his pocket?"
"Grain?" She stared at him with what appeared to be genuine surprise.
"Yes - grain. Does that suggest something to you. Miss Dove?"
"Nothing at all."
"Who looked after his clothes?"
"Crump."
"I see. Did Mr Fortescue and Mrs Fortescue occupy the same bedroom?"
"Yes. He had a dressing-room and bath, of course, and so did she..." Mary glanced down at her wrist-watch. "I really think that she ought to be back very soon now."
The Inspector had risen. He said in a pleasant voice:
"Do you know one thing. Miss Dove? It strikes me as very odd that even though there are three golf courses in the immediate neighbourhood, it has yet not been possible to find Mrs Fortescue on one of them before now?"
"It would not be so odd. Inspector, if she did not actually happen to be playing golf at all."
Mary's voice was dry. The Inspector said sharply:
"I was distinctly informed that she was playing golf."
"She took her golf clubs and announced her intention of doing so. She was driving her own car, of course."
He looked at her steadily, perceiving the inference.
"Who was she playing with? Do you know?"
"I think it possible that it might be Mr Vivian Dubois."
Neele contented himself by saying: "I see."
"I'll send Gladys in to you. She'll probably be scared to death." Mary paused for a moment by the door, then she said:
"I should hardly advise you to go too much by all I've told you. I'm a malicious creature."
She went out. Inspector Neele looked at the closed door and wondered. Whether actuated by malice or not, what she had told him could not fail to be suggestive. If Rex Fortescue had been deliberately poisoned, and it seemed almost certain that that was the case, then the set up at Yewtree Lodge seemed highly promising. Motives appeared to be lying thick on the ground.
Chapter 5
The girl who entered the room with obvious unwillingness was an unattractive, frightened looking girl, who managed to look faintly sluttish in spite of being tall and smartly dressed in a claret-coloured uniform.
She said at once, fixing imploring eyes upon him.
"I didn't do anything. I didn't really. I don't know anything about it."
"That's all right," said Neele heartily. His voice had changed slightly. It sounded more cheerful and a good deal commoner in intonation. He wanted to put the frightened rabbit Gladys at her ease.
"Sit down here," he went on. "I just want to know about breakfast this morning."
