'And then?'
Gina described the scene between Lewis and Edgar Lawson. It was the same story that Inspector Curry had by now heard many times, but it took an added colour, a new gusto, under Gina's handling. It became drama.
'It was Wally's revolver,' she said. 'Fancy Edgar's having the guts to go and pinch it out of his room. I'd never have believed he'd have the guts.'
'Were you alarmed when they went into the study and Edgar Lawson locked the door?'
'Oh no,' said Gina, opening her enormous brown eyes very wide. 'I loved it. It was so ham, you know, and so madly theatrical. Everything Edgar does is always ridiculous. One can't take him seriously for a moment.'
'He did fire the revolver, though?'
'Yes. We all thought then that he'd shot Lewis after -'
'And did you enjoy that?' Inspector Curry could not refrain from asking.
'Oh no, I was terrified, then. Everyone was, except Grandam. She never turned a hair.'
'That seems rather remarkable.'
'Not really. She's that kind of person. Not quite in this world. She's the sort of person who never believes anything bad can happen. She's sweet.'
'During all this scene, who was in the Hall?'
'Oh we were all there. Except Uncle Christian, of course.'
'Not all, Mrs Hudd. People went in and out.'
'Did they?' asked Gina vaguely.
'Your husband, for instance, went out to fix the lights.'
'Yes. Wally's great at fixing things.'
'During his absence, a shot was heard, I understand. A shot that you all thought came from the Park?'
'I don't remember that... Oh yes, it was just after the lights had come on again and Wally had come back.'
'Did anyone else leave the Hall?'
'I don't think so. I don't remember.'
'Where were you sitting, Mrs Hudd?'
'Over by the window.'
'Near the door to the library?'
'Yes.'
'Did you yourself leave the Hall at all?'
'Leave? With all the excitement? Of course not.'
Gina sounded scandalized by the idea.
'Where were the others sitting?'
'Mostly round the fireplace, I think. Aunt Mildred was knitting and so was Aunt Jane - Miss Marple, I mean. Grandam was just sitting.'
'And Mr Stephen Restarick?'
'Stephen? He was playing the piano to begin with. I don't know where he went later.'
'And Miss Bellever?'
'Fussing about, as usual. She practically never sits down. She was looking for keys or something.'
She said suddenly:
'What's all this about Grandam's tonic? Did the chemist make a mistake in making it up or something?'
'Why should you think that?'
'Because the bottle's disappeared, and Jolly's been fussing round madly looking for it, in no end of a stew. Alex told her the police had taken it away. Did you?'
Instead of replying to the question, Inspector Curry said:
'Miss Bellever was upset, you say?'
'Oh! Jolly always fusses,' said Gina carelessly. 'She likes fussing. Sometimes I wonder how Grandam can stand it.'
'Just one last question, Mrs Hudd. You've no ideas yourself as to who killed Christian Gulbrandsen and why?'
'One of the queers did it, I should think. The thug ones are really quite sensible. I mean they only cosh people so as to rob a till or get money or jewellery - not just for fun. But one of the queers - you know, what they call mentally maladjusted - might do it for fun, don't you think? Because I can't see what other reason there could be for killing Uncle Christian except fun, do you? At least I don't mean fun, exactly - but -'
'You can't think of a motive?'
'Yes, that's what I mean,' said Gina gratefully. 'He wasn't robbed or anything, was he?'
'But you know, Mrs Hudd, the College buildings were locked and barred. Nobody could get out from there without a pass.'
'Don't you believe it,' Gina laughed merrily. 'Those boys could get out from anywhere! They've taught me a lot of tricks.'
'She's a lively one,' said Lake when Gina had departed. 'First time I've seen her close to. Lovely figure, hasn't she. Sort of a foreign figure, if you know what I mean.'
Inspector Curry threw him a cold glance. Sergeant Lake said hastily that she was a merry one. 'Seems to have enjoyed it all, as you might say.'
'Whether Stephen Restarick is right or not about her marriage breaking up, I notice that she went out of her way to mention that Walter Hudd was back in the Great Hall before that shot was heard.'
'Which, according to everyone else, isn't so?'
'Exactly.'
'She didn't mention Miss Bellever leaving the Hall to look for keys, either.'
'No,' said the Inspector thoughtfully, 'she didn't...'
Chapter 14
Mrs Strete fitted into the library very much better than Gina Hudd had done. There was nothing exotic about Mrs Strete. She wore black with an onyx brooch, and she wore a hairnet over carefully arranged grey hair.
She looked, Inspector Curry reflected, exactly as the relict of a Canon of the Established Church should look - which was almost odd, because so few people ever did look like what they really were.
Even the tight line of her lips had an ascetic ecclesiastical flavour. She expressed Christian Endurance, and possibly Christian Fortitude. But not, Curry thought, Christian Charity.
Moreover it was clear that Mrs Strete was offended. 'I should have thought that you could have given me some idea of when you would want me, Inspector. I have been forced to sit around waiting all the morning.'
It was, Curry judged, her sense of importance that was hurt. He hastened to pour oil on the troubled waters.
'I'm very sorry, Mrs Strete. Perhaps you don't quite know how we set about these things. We start, you know, with the less important evidence - get it out of the way, so to speak. It's valuable to keep to the last a person on whose judgment we can rely - a good observer - by whom we can check what has been told us up to date.'
Mrs Strete softened visibly.
'Oh I see. I hadn't quite realized...'
'Now you're a woman of mature judgment, Mrs Strete. A woman of the world. And then this is your home - you're the daughter of the house, and you can tell me all about the people who are in it.'
'I can certainly do that,' said Mildred Strete.
'So you see that when we come to the question of who killed Christian Gulbrandsen, you can help us a great deal.'
'But is there any question? Isn't it perfectly obvious who killed my brother?'
Inspector Curry leant back in his chair. His hand stroked his small neat moustache.
'Well - we have to be careful,' he said. 'You think it's obvious?'
'Of course. That dreadful American husband of poor Gina's. He's the only stranger here. We know absolutely nothing about him. He's probably one of these dreadful American gangsters.'
'But that wouldn't quite account for his killing Christian Gulbrandsen, would it? Why should he?'
'Because Christian had found out something about him. That's what he came here for so soon after his last visit.'
'Are you sure of that, Mrs Strete?'
'Again it seems to me quite obvious. He let it be thought his visit was in connection with the Trust - but that's nonsense. He was here for that only a month ago. And nothing of importance has arisen since. So he must have come on some private business. He saw Walter on his last visit, and he may have recognized him - or perhaps made inquiries about him in the States - naturally he has agents all over the world - and found out something really damaging. Gina is a very silly girl. She always has been. It is just like her to marry a man she knows nothing about - she's always been man mad! A man wanted by the police, perhaps, or a man who's already married, or some bad character in the underworld. But my brother Christian wasn't an easy man to deceive. He came here, I'm sure, to settle the whole business. Expose Walter and show him up for what he is. And so, naturally, Walter shot him.'
Inspector Curry, adding some out-sized whiskers to one of the cats on his blotting pad, said:
'Ye-es.'
'Don't you agree with me that that's what must have happened?'
'It could be - yes,' admitted the Inspector.
'What other solution could there be? Christian had no enemies. What I can't understand is why you haven't already arrested Walter?'
'Well, you see, Mrs Strete, we have to have evidence.'
'You could probably get that easily enough. If you wired to America -'
'Oh yes, we shall check up on Mr Walter Hudd. You can be sure of that. But until we can prove motive, there's not very much to go upon. There's opportunity, of course -'
'He went out just after Christian, pretending the lights had fused -'
'They did fuse.'
'He could easily arrange that.'
'True.'
'That gave him his excuse. He followed Christian to his room, shot him and then repaired the fuse and came back to the Hall.'
'His wife says he came back before you heard the shot from outside.'
'Not a bit of it! Gina would say anything. The Italians are never truthful. And she's a Roman Catholic, of course.'
Inspector Curry side-stepped the ecclesiastical angle.
'You think his wife was in it with him?'
Mildred Strete hesitated for a moment.
'No - no, I don't think that.' She seemed rather disappointed not to think so. She went on: 'That must have been partly the motive - to prevent Gina's learning the truth about him. After all, Gina is his bread and butter.'
'And a very beautiful girl.'
'Oh yes. I've always said Gina is good looking. A very common type in Italy, of course. But if you ask me, it's money that Walter Hudd is after. That's why he came over here and has settled down living on the Serrocolds.'
'Mrs Hudd is very well off, I understand?'
'Not at present. My father settled the same sum on Gina's mother as he did on me. But of course she took her husband's nationality (I believe the law is altered now) and what with the war and his being a Fascist, Gina has very little of her own. My mother spoils her, and her American aunt, Mrs Van Rydock, spent fabulous sums on her and bought her everything she wanted during the war years. Nevertheless, from Walter's point of view, he can't lay his hands on much until my mother's death, when a very large fortune will come to Gina.'
'And to you, Mrs Strete.'
A faint colour came into Mildred Strete's cheek. 'And to me, as you say. My husband and myself always lived quietly. He spent very little money except on books - he was a great scholar. My own money has almost doubled itself. It is more than enough for my simple needs. Still one can always use money for the benefit of others. Any money that comes to me, I shall regard as a sacred trust.'
'But it won't be in a Trust, will it?' said Curry, wilfully misunderstanding. 'It will come to you absolutely.'
'Oh yes - in that sense. Yes, it will be mine absolutely.'
Something in the ring of that last word made Inspector Curry raise his head sharply. Mrs Strete was not looking at him. Her eyes were shining, and her long thin mouth was curved in a triumphant smile.
Inspector said in a considering voice:
'So in your view - and of course you've had ample opportunities of judging - Master Walter Hudd wants the money that will come to his wife when Mrs Serrocold dies. By the way, she's not very strong, is she, Mrs Strete?'
'My mother has always been delicate.'
'Quite so. But delicate people ' often live as long or longer than people who have robust health.'
'Yes, I suppose they do.'
'You haven't noticed your mother's health failing just lately?'
'She suffers from rheumatism. But then one must have something as one grows older. I've no sympathy with people who make a fuss over inevitable aches and pains.'
'Does Mrs Serrocold make a fuss?'
Mildred Strete was silent for a moment. She said at last:
'She does not make a fuss herself, but she is used to being made a fuss of. My stepfather is far too solicitous. And as for Miss Bellever, she makes herself positively ridiculous. In any case, Miss Bellever has had a very bad influence in this house. She came here many years ago, and her devotion to my mother, though admirable in itself, has really become somewhat of an infliction. She literally tyrannizes over my mother. She runs the whole house and takes far too much upon herself. I think it annoys Lewis sometimes. I should never be surprised if he told her to go. She has no tact - no tact whatever, and it is trying for a man to find his wife completely dominated by a bossy woman.'
Inspector Curry nodded his head gently.
'I see... I see...'
He watched her speculatively.
'There's one thing I don't quite get, Mrs Strete. The position of the two Restarick brothers?'
'More foolish sentiment. Their father married my poor mother for her money. Two years afterwards he ran away with a Jugoslavian singer of the lowest morals. He was a very unworthy person. My mother was softhearted enough to be sorry for these two boys. Since it was out of the question for them to spend their holidays with a woman of such notorious morals, she more or less adopted them. They have been hangers-on here ever since. Oh yes, we've plenty of spongers in this house, I can tell you that.'
'Alex Restarick had an opportunity of killing Christian Gulbrandsen. He was in his car alone - driving from the Lodge to the house - what about Stephen?'
'Stephen was in the Hall with us. I don't approve of Alex Restarick - he is getting to look very coarse, and I imagine he leads an irregular life - but I don't really see him as a murderer. Besides, why should he kill my brother?'
