Evil Under the Sun

Chapter 10
The little crowd of people flocked out of the Red Bull. The brief inquest was over - adjourned for a fortnight.

Rosamund Darnley joined Captain Marshall. She said in a low voice:

'That wasn't so bad, was it, Ken?'

He did not answer at once. Perhaps he was conscious of the staring eyes of the villagers, the fingers that nearly pointed to him and only just did not quite do so!

'That's 'im, my dear.' 'See, that's 'er 'usband.' 'That be the 'usband.' 'Look, there 'e goes...'

The murmurs were not loud enough to reach his ears, but he was none the less sensitive to them. This was the modern-day pillory. The Press he had already encountered - self-confident, persuasive young men, adept at battering down his wall of silence of 'Nothing to say' that he had endeavoured to erect. Even the curt monosyllables that he had uttered, thinking that they at least could not lead to misapprehension, had reappeared in his morning's papers in a totally different guise. 'Asked whether he agreed that the mystery of his wife's death could only be explained on the assumption that a homicidal murderer had found his way on to the island, Captain Marshall declared that - ' and so on and so forth.

Cameras had clicked ceaselessly. Now, at this minute, the well-known sound caught his ear. He half turned - a smiling young man was nodding cheerfully, his purpose accomplished.

Rosamund murmured:

'Captain Marshall and a friend leaving the Red Bull after the inquest.'

Marshall winced.

Rosamund said:

'It's no use, Ken! You've got to face it! I don't mean just the fact of Arlena's death - I mean all the attendant beastliness. The staring eyes and gossiping tongues, the fatuous interviews in the papers - and the best way to meet it is to find it funny! Come out with all the old inane cliches and curl a sardonic lip at them.'

He said:

'Is that your way?'

'Yes.' She paused. 'It isn't yours, I know. Protective colouring is your line. Remain rigidly non-active and fade into the background! But you can't do that here - you've no background to fade into. You stand out clear for all to see - like a striped tiger against a white backcloth. The husband of the murdered woman! '

'For God's sake, Rosamund - '

She said gently:

'My dear, I'm trying to be good for you!'

They walked for a few steps in silence. Then Marshall said in a different voice:

'I know you are. I'm not really ungrateful, Rosamund.'

They had progressed beyond the limits of the village. Eyes followed them but there was no one very near. Rosamund Darnley's voice dropped as she repeated a variant of her first remark.

'It didn't really go so badly, did it?'

He was silent for a moment, then he said:

'I don't know.'

'What do the police think?'

'They're non-committal.'

After a minute Rosamund said:

'That little man - Poirot - is he really taking an active interest!'

Kenneth Marshall said:

'Seemed to be sitting in the Chief Constable's pocket all right the other day.'

'I know - but is he doing anything?'

'How the hell should I know, Rosamund?'

She said thoughtfully:

'He's pretty old. Probably more or less ga ga.'

'Perhaps.'

They came to the causeway. Opposite them, serene in the sun, lay the island.

Rosamund said suddenly:

'Sometimes - things seem unreal. I can't believe, this minute, that it ever happened...'

Marshall said slowly:

'I think I know what you mean. Nature is so regardless! One ant the less - that's all it is in Nature!'

Rosamund said:

'Yes - and that's the proper way to look at it really.'

He gave her one very quick glance. Then he said in a low voice:

'Don't worry, my dear. It's all right. It's all right.'

II

Linda came down to the causeway to meet them. She moved with the spasmodic jerkiness of a nervous colt. Her young face was marred by deep black shadows under her eyes. Her lips were dry and rough.

She said breathlessly:

'What happened - what - what did they say?'

Her father said abruptly:

'Inquest adjourned for a fortnight.'

'That means they - they haven't decided?'

'Yes. More evidence is needed.'

'But - but what do they think?'

Marshall smiled a little in spite of himself.

'Oh, my dear child - who knows? And whom do you mean by they? The coroner, the jury, the police, the newspaper reporters, the fishing folk of Leathercombe Bay?'

Linda said slowly:

'I suppose I mean - the police.'

Marshall said dryly:

'Whatever the police think, they're not giving it away at present.'

His lips closed tightly after the sentence. He went into the hotel.

As Rosamund Darnley was about to follow suit, Linda said:

'Rosamund!'

Rosamund turned. The mute appeal in the girl's unhappy face touched her. She linked her arm through Linda's and together they walked away from the hotel, taking the path that led to the extreme end of the island.

Rosamund said gently:

'Try not to mind so much, Linda. I know it's all very terrible and a shock and all that, but it's no use brooding over these things. And it can be only the - horror of it, that is worrying you. You weren't in the least fond of Arlena, you know.'

She felt the tremor that ran through the girl's body as Linda answered:

'No, I wasn't fond of her...'

Rosamund went on:

'Sorrow for a person is different - one can't put that behind one. But one can get over shock and horror by just not letting your mind dwell on it all the time.'

Linda said sharply:

'You don't understand.'

'I think I do, my dear.'

Linda shook her head.

'No, you don't. You don't understand in the least - and Christine doesn't understand either! Both of you have been nice to me, but you can't understand what I'm feeling. You just think it's morbid - that I'm dwelling on it all when I needn't.'

She paused.

'But it isn't that at all. If you knew what I know - '

Rosamund stopped dead. Her body did not tremble - on the contrary it stiffened. She stood for a minute or two, then she disengaged her arm from Linda's.

She said:

'What is it that you know, Linda?'

The girl gazed at her. Then she shook her head.

She muttered:

'Nothing.'

Rosamund caught her by the arm. The grip hurt and Linda winced slightly.

Rosamund said:

'Be careful, Linda. Be damned careful.'

Linda had gone dead white.

She said:

'I am very careful - all the time.'

Rosamund said urgently:

'Listen, Linda, what I said a minute or two ago applies just the same - only a hundred times more so. Put the whole business out of your mind. Never think about it. Forget - forget...You can if you try! Arlena is dead and nothing can bring her back to life...Forget everything and live in the future. And above all, hold your tongue.'

Linda shrank a little. She said:

'You - you seem to know all about it?'

Rosamund said energetically:

'I don't know anything! In my opinion a wandering maniac got on to the island and killed Arlena. That's much the most probable solution. I'm fairly sure that the police will have to accept that in the end. That's what must have happened! That's what did happen!'

Linda said:

'If Father - '

Rosamund interrupted her.

'Don't talk about it.'

Linda said:

'I've got to say one thing. My mother - '

'Well, what about her?'

'She - she was tried for murder, wasn't she?'

'Yes.'

Linda said slowly:

'And then Father married her. That looks, doesn't it, as though Father didn't really think murder was very wrong - not always, that is.'

Rosamund said sharply:

'Don't say things like that - even to me! The police haven't got anything against your father. He's got an alibi - an alibi that they can't break. He's perfectly safe.'

Linda whispered:

'Did they think at first that Father - ?'

Rosamund cried:

'I don't know what they thought! But they know now that he couldn't have done it. Do you understand? He couldn't have done it.'

She spoke with authority, her eyes commanded Linda's acquiescence. The girl uttered a long fluttering sigh.

Rosamund said:

'You'll be able to leave here soon. You'll forget everything - everything!'

Linda said with sudden unexpected violence.

'I shall never forget.'

She turned abruptly and ran back to the hotel. Rosamund stared after her.

III

'There is something I want to know, Madame?'

Christine Redfern glanced up at Poirot in a slightly abstracted manner. She said:

'Yes?'

Hercule Poirot took very little notice of her abstraction. He had noted the way her eyes followed her husband's figure where he was pacing up and down on the terrace outside the bar, but for the moment he had no interest in purely conjugal problems. He wanted information.

He said:

'Yes, Madame. It was a phrase - a chance phrase of yours the other day which roused my attention.'

Christine, her eyes still on Patrick, said:

'Yes? What did I say?'

'It was in answer to a question from the Chief Constable. You described how you went into Miss Linda Marshall's room on the morning of the crime and how you found her absent from it and how she returned there, and it was then that the Chief Constable asked you where she had been.'

Christine said rather impatiently:

'And I said she had been bathing? Is that it?'

'Ah, but you did not say quite that. You did not say "she had been bathing". Your words were, "she said she had been bathing".'

Christine said:

'It's the same thing, surely.'

'No, it is not the same! The form of your answer suggests a certain attitude of mind on your part. Linda Marshall came into the room - she was wearing a bathing-wrap and yet - for some reason - you did not at once assume she had been bathing. That is shown by your words, "she said she had been bathing". What was there about her appearance - was it her manner, or something that she was wearing or something she said - that led you to feel surprised when she said she had been bathing?'

Christine's attention left Patrick and focused itself entirely on Poirot. She was interested. She said:

'That's clever of you. It's quite true, now I remember...I was, just faintly, surprised when Linda said she had been bathing.'

'But why, Madame, why?'

'Yes, why? That's just what I'm trying to remember. Oh yes, I think it was the parcel in her hand.'

'She had a parcel?'

'Yes.'

'You do not know what was in it?'

'Oh yes, I do. The string broke. It was loosely done up in the way they do in the village. It was candles - they were scattered on the floor. I helped her to pick them up.'

'Ah,' said Poirot. 'Candles.'

Christine stared at him. She said:

'You seem excited, M. Poirot.'

Poirot asked:

'Did Linda say why she had bought candles?'

Christine reflected.

'No, I don't think she did. I suppose it was to read by at night - perhaps the electric light wasn't good.'

'On the contrary, Madame, there was a bedside electric lamp in perfect order.'

Christine said:

'Then I don't know what she wanted them for.'

Poirot said:

'What was her manner - when the string broke and the candles fell out of the parcel?'

Christine said slowly:

'She was - upset - embarrassed.'

Poirot nodded his head. Then he asked:

'Did you notice a calendar in her room?'

'A calendar? What kind of a calendar?'

Poirot said:

'Possibly a green calendar - with tear-off leaves.'

Christine screwed up her eyes in an effort of memory.

'A green calendar - rather a bright green. Yes, I have seen a calendar like that - but I can't remember where. It may have been in Linda's room, but I can't be sure.'

'But you have definitely seen such a thing.'

'Yes.'

Again Poirot nodded.

Christine said rather sharply:

'What are you hinting at, M. Poirot? What is the meaning of all this?'

For answer Poirot produced a small volume bound in faded brown calf. He said:

'Have you ever seen this before?'

'Why - I think - I'm not sure - yes, Linda was looking into it in the village lending library the other day. But she shut it up and thrust it back quickly when I came up to her. It made me wonder what it was.'

Silently Poirot displayed the title.

A History of Witchcraft, Sorcery and of the Compounding of Untraceable Poisons.

Christine said:

'I don't understand. What does all this mean?'

Poirot said gravely.

'It may mean, Madame, a good deal.'

She looked at him inquiringly, but he did not go on. Instead he asked:

'One more question, Madame, did you take a bath that morning before you went out to play tennis?'

Christine stared again.

'A bath? No. I would have had no time and, anyway, I didn't want a bath - not before tennis. I might have had one after.'

'Did you use your bathroom at all when you came in?'

'I sponged my face and hands, that's all.'

'You did not turn on the bath at all?'

'No, I'm sure I didn't.'

Poirot nodded. He said:

'It is of no importance.'

IV

Hercule Poirot stood by the table where Mrs Gardener was wrestling with a jig-saw. She looked up and jumped.

'Why, M. Poirot, how very quietly you came up beside me! I never heard you. Have you just come back from the inquest? You know, the very thought of that inquest makes me so nervous, I don't know what to do. That's why I'm doing this puzzle. I just felt I couldn't sit outside on the beach as usual. As Mr Gardener knows, when my nerves are all upset, there's nothing like one of these puzzles for calming me. There now, where does this white piece fit in? It must be part of the fur rug, but I don't seem to see...'

Gently Poirot's hand took the piece from her. He said:

'It fits, Madame, here. It is part of the cat.'

'It can't be. It's a black cat.'

'A black cat, yes, but you see the tip of the black cat's tail happens to be white.'

'Why, so it does! How clever of you! But I do think the people who make puzzles are kind of mean. They just go out of their way to deceive you.'

She fitted in another piece and then resumed.

'You know, M. Poirot, I've been watching you this last day or two. I just wanted to watch you detecting if you know what I mean - not that it doesn't sound rather heartless put like that, as though it were all a game - and a poor creature killed. Oh dear, every time I think of it I get the shivers! I told Mr Gardener this morning I'd just got to get away from here, and now the inquest's over he thinks we'll be able to leave tomorrow, and that's a blessing, I'm sure. But about detecting, I would so like to know your methods - you know, I'd feel privileged if you'd just explain it to me.'

Hercule Poirot said:

'It is a little like your puzzle, Madame. One assembles the pieces. It is like a mosaic - many colours and patterns - and every strange-shaped little piece must be fitted into its own place.'

'Now isn't that interesting? Why, I'm sure you explain it just too beautifully.'

Poirot went on:

'And sometimes it is like that piece of your puzzle just now. One arranges very methodically the pieces of the puzzle - one sorts the colours - and then perhaps a piece of one colour that should fit in with - say, the fur rug, fits in instead in a black cat's tail.'

'Why, if that doesn't sound too fascinating! And are there a great many pieces, M. Poirot?'

'Yes, Madame. Almost everyone here in this hotel has given me a piece for my puzzle. You amongst them.'

'Me?' Mrs Gardener's tone was shrill.

'Yes, a remark of yours, Madame, was exceedingly helpful. I might say it was illuminating.'

'Well, if that isn't too lovely! Can't you tell me some more, M. Poirot?'

'Ah! Madame, I reserve the explanations for the last Chapter.'

Mrs Gardener murmured:

'If that isn't just too bad!'

V

Hercule Poirot tapped gently on the door of Captain Marshall's room. Inside there was the sound of a typewriter.

A curt 'Come in' came from the room and Poirot entered.

Captain Marshall's back was turned to him. He was sitting typing at the table between the windows. He did not turn his head but his eyes met Poirot's in the mirror that hung on the wall directly in front of him. He said irritably:

'Well, M. Poirot, what is it?'

Poirot said quickly:

'A thousand apologies for intruding. You are busy?'

Marshall said shortly: 'I am rather.'

Poirot said:

'It is one little question that I would like to ask you.'

Marshall said:

'My God, I'm sick of answering questions. I've answered the police questions. I don't feel called upon to answer yours.'

Poirot said:

'Mine is a very simple one. Only this. On the morning of your wife's death, did you have a bath after you finished typing and before you went out to play tennis?'

'A bath? No, of course I didn't! I'd had a bathe only an hour earlier!'

Hercule Poirot said:

'Thank you. That is all.'

'But look here. Oh - ' the other paused irresolutely.

Poirot withdrew, gently closing the door.

Kenneth Marshall said:

'The fellow's crazy!'

VI

Just outside the bar Poirot encountered Mr Gardener. He was carrying two cocktails and was clearly on his way to where Mrs Gardener was ensconced with her jig-saw.

He smiled at Poirot in genial fashion.

'Care to join us, M. Poirot?'

Poirot shook his head. He said:

'What did you think of the inquest, Mr Gardener?'

Mr Gardener lowered his voice. He said:

'Seemed kind of indeterminate to me. Your police, I gather, have got something up their sleeves.'

'It is possible,' said Hercule Poirot.

Mr Gardener lowered his voice still further.

'I shall be glad to get Mrs Gardener away. She's a very, very sensitive woman, and this affair has got on her nerves. She's very highly strung.'

Hercule Poirot said:

'Will you permit me, Mr Gardener, to ask you one question?'

'Why, certainly, M. Poirot. Delighted to assist in any way I can.'

Hercule Poirot said:

'You are a man of the world - a man, I think, of considerable acumen. What, frankly, was your opinion of the late Mrs Marshall?'

Mr Gardener's eyebrows rose in surprise. He glanced cautiously round and lowered his voice.

'Well, M. Poirot, I've heard a few things that have been kind of going around, if you get me, especially among the women.' Poirot nodded. 'But if you ask me I'll tell you my candid opinion and that is that that woman was pretty much of a darned fool!'

Hercule Poirot said thoughtfully:

'Now that is very interesting.'

VII

Rosamund Darnley said: 'So it's my turn, is it?'

'Pardon?'

She laughed.

'The other day the Chief Constable held his inquisition. You sat by. Today, I think, you are conducting your own unofficial inquiry. I've been watching you. First Mrs Redfern, then I caught a glimpse of you through the lounge window where Mrs Gardener is doing her hateful jig-saw puzzle. Now it's my turn.'

Hercule Poirot sat down beside her. They were on Sunny Ledge. Below them the sea showed a deep-glowing green. Farther out it was a pale dazzling blue.

Poirot said:

'You are very intelligent, Mademoiselle. I have thought so ever since I arrived here. It would be a pleasure to discuss this business with you.'

Rosamund Darnley said softly:

'You want to know what I think about the whole thing?'

'It would be most interesting.'

Rosamund said:

'I think it's really very simple. The clue is in the woman's past.'

'The past? Not the present?'

'Oh! not necessarily the very remote past. I look at it like this. Arlena Marshall was attractive, fatally attractive, to men. It's possible, I think, that she also tired of them rather quickly. Amongst her - followers, shall we say - was one who resented that. Oh, don't misunderstand me, it won't be someone who sticks out a mile. Probably some tepid little man, vain and sensitive - the kind of man who broods. I think he followed her down here, waited his opportunity and killed her.'

'You mean that he was an outsider, that he came from the mainland?'

'Yes. He probably hid in that cave until he got his chance.'

Poirot shook his head. He said:

'Would she go there to meet such a man as you describe? No, she would laugh and not go.'

Rosamund said:

'She mayn't have known she was going to meet him. He may have sent her a message in some other person's name.'

Poirot murmured:

'That is possible.'

Then he said:

'But you forget one thing, Mademoiselle. A man bent on murder could not risk coming in broad daylight across the causeway and past the hotel. Someone might have seen him.'

'They might have - but I don't think that it's certain. I think it's quite possible that he could have come without anyone noticing him at all.'

'It would be possible, yes, that I grant you. But the point is that he could not count on that possibility.'

Rosamund said:

'Aren't you forgetting something? The weather.'

'The weather?'

'Yes. The day of the murder was a glorious day, but the day before, remember, there was rain and thick mist. Anyone could come on to the island then without being seen. He had only to go down to the beach and spend the night in the cave. That mist, M. Poirot, is important.'

Poirot looked at her thoughtfully for a minute or two. He said:

'You know, there is a good deal in what you have just said.'

Rosamund flushed. She said:

'That's my theory, for what it is worth. Now tell me yours.'

'Ah,' said Hercule Poirot. He stared down at the sea.

'Eh bien, Mademoiselle. I am a very simple person. I always incline to the belief that the most likely person committed the crime. At the very beginning it seemed to me that one person was very clearly indicated.'

Rosamund's voice hardened a little. She said:

'Go on.'

Hercule Poirot went on.

'But you see, there is what you call a snag in the way! It seems that it was impossible for that person to have committed the crime.'

He heard the quick expulsion of her breath. She said rather breathlessly:

'Well?'

Hercule Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

'Well, what do we do about it? That is my problem.' He paused and then went on. 'May I ask you a question?'

'Certainly.'

She faced him, alert and vigilant. But the question that came was an unexpected one.

'When you came in to change for tennis that morning, did you have a bath?'

Rosamund stared at him.

'A bath? What do you mean?'

'That is what I mean. A bath! The receptacle of porcelain, one turns the taps and fills it, one gets in, one gets out and ghoosh - ghoosh - ghoosh, the water goes down the waste-pipe!'

'M. Poirot, are you quite mad?'

'No, I am extremely sane.'

'Well, anyway, I didn't take a bath.'

'Ha!' said Poirot. 'So nobody took a bath. That is extremely interesting.'

'But why should anyone take a bath?'

Hercule Poirot said: 'Why, indeed?'

Rosamund said with some exasperation:

'I suppose this is the Sherlock Holmes touch!'

Hercule Poirot smiled.

Then he sniffed the air delicately.

'Will you permit me to be impertinent, Mademoiselle?'

'I'm sure you couldn't be impertinent, M. Poirot.'

'That is very kind of you. Then may I venture to say that the scent you use is delicious - it has a nuance - a delicate elusive charm.' He waved his hands, and then added in a practical voice, 'Gabrielle, No 8, I think?'

'How clever you are. Yes, I always use it.'

'So did the late Mrs Marshall. It is chic, eh? And very expensive?'

Rosamund shrugged her shoulders with a faint smile.

Poirot said:

'You sat here where we are now, Mademoiselle, on the morning of the crime. You were seen here, or at least your sunshade was seen by Miss Brewster and Mr Redfern as they passed on the sea. During the morning, Mademoiselle, are you sure you did not happen to go down to Pixy Cove and enter the cave there - the famous Pixy's Cave?'

Rosamund turned her head and stared at him.

She said in a quiet level voice:

'Are you asking me if I killed Arlena Marshall?'

'No, I am asking you if you went into the Pixy's Cave?'

'I don't even know where it is. Why should I go into it? For what reason?'

'On the day of the crime, Mademoiselle, somebody had been in that cave who used Gabrielle No 8.'

Rosamund said sharply:

'You've just said yourself, M. Poirot, that Arlena Marshall used Gabrielle No 8. She was on the beach there that day. Presumably she went into the cave.'

'Why should she go into the cave? It is dark there and narrow and very uncomfortable.'

Rosamund said impatiently:

'Don't ask me for reasons. Since she was actually at the cove she was by far the most likely person. I've told you already I never left this place the whole morning.'

'Except for the time when you went into the hotel to Captain Marshall's room.' Poirot reminded her.

'Yes, of course. I'd forgotten that.'

Poirot said:

'And you were wrong, Mademoiselle, when you thought that Captain Marshall did not see you.'

Rosamund said incredulously:

'Kenneth did see me? Did - did he say so?'

Poirot nodded.

'He saw you, Mademoiselle, in the mirror that hangs over the table.'

Rosamund caught her breath. She said:

'Oh! I see.'

Poirot was no longer looking out to sea. He was looking at Rosamund Darnley's hands as they lay folded in her lap. They were well-shaped hands, beautifully moulded with very long fingers.

Rosamund, shooting a quick look at him, followed the direction of his eyes. She said sharply:

'What are you looking at my hands for? Do you think - do you think - ?'

Poirot said:

'Do I think - what, Mademoiselle?'

Rosamund Darnley said:

'Nothing.'

VIII

It was perhaps an hour later that Hercule Poirot came to the top of the path leading to Gull Cove. There was someone sitting on the beach. A slight figure in a red shirt and dark blue shorts.

Poirot descended the path, stepping carefully in his tight smart shoes.

Linda Marshall turned her head sharply. He thought that she shrank a little.

Her eyes, as he came and lowered himself gingerly to the shingle beside her, rested on him with the suspicion and alertness of a trapped animal. He realized, with a pang, how young and vulnerable she was.

She said:

'What is it? What do you want?'

Hercule Poirot did not answer for a minute or two. Then he said:

'The other day you told the Chief Constable that you were fond of your stepmother and that she was kind to you.'

'Well?'

'That was not true, was it, Mademoiselle?'

'Yes, it was.'

Poirot said:

'She may not have been actively unkind - that I will grant. But you were not fond of her - Oh no - I think you disliked her very much. That was very plain to see.'

Linda said:

'Perhaps I didn't like her very much. But one can't say that when a person is dead. It wouldn't be decent.'

Poirot sighed. He said:

'They taught you that at your school?'

'More or less, I suppose.'

Hercule Poirot said:

'When a person has been murdered, it is more important to be truthful than to be decent.'

Linda said:

'I suppose you would say a thing like that.'

'I would say it and I do say it. It is my business, you see, to find out who killed Arlena Marshall.'

Linda muttered:

'I want to forget it all. It's so horrible.'

Poirot said gently:

'But you can't forget, can you?'

Linda said:

'I suppose some beastly madman killed her.'

Hercule Poirot murmured:

'No, I do not think it was quite like that.'

Linda caught her breath. She said:

'You sound - as though you knew?'

Poirot said:

'Perhaps I do know.' He paused and went on: 'Will you trust me, my child, to do the best I can for you in your bitter trouble?'

Linda sprang up. She said:

'I haven't any trouble. There is nothing you can do for me. I don't know what you are talking about.'

Poirot said, watching her:

'I am talking about candles...'

He saw the terror leap into her eyes. She cried:

'I won't listen to you. I won't listen.'

She ran across the beach, swift as a young gazelle and went flying up the zigzag path.

Poirot shook his head. He looked grave and troubled.