Agatha Christie – A Murder Is Announced

‘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

I

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.’