A Murder Is Announced by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online Page B

anything. Very temperamental you’ll find her. Mittel Europa refugee of some kind.”
    â€œDifficult, is she?”
    â€œSir!” said Sergeant Fletcher, with intense feeling.
    Craddock smiled.
    Fletcher resumed his report.
    â€œLighting system is quite in order everywhere. We haven’t spotted yet how he operated the lights. It was just the one circuit went. Drawing room and hall. Of course, nowadays the wall brackets and lamps wouldn’t all be on one fuse—but this is an old-fashioned installation and wiring. Don’t see how he could have tampered with the fusebox because it’s out by the scullery and he’d have had to go through the kitchen, so the maid would have seen him.”
    â€œUnless she was in it with him?”
    â€œThat’s very possible. Both foreigners—and I wouldn’t trust her a yard—not a yard.”
    Craddock noticed two enormous frightened black eyes peering out of a window by the front door. The face, flattened against the pane, was hardly visible.
    â€œThat her there?”
    â€œThat’s right, sir.”
    The face disappeared.
    Craddock rang the front doorbell.
    After a long wait the door was opened by a good-looking young woman with chestnut hair and a bored expression.
    â€œDetective-Inspector Craddock,” said Craddock.
    The young woman gave him a cool stare out of very attractive hazel eyes and said:
    â€œCome in. Miss Blacklock is expecting you.”
    The hall, Craddock noted, was long and narrow and seemed almost incredibly full of doors.
    The young woman threw open a door on the left, and said: “Inspector Craddock, Aunt Letty. Mitzi wouldn’t go to the door. She’s shut herself up in the kitchen and she’s making the most marvellous moaning noises. I shouldn’t think we’ll get any lunch.”
    She added in an explanatory manner to Craddock: “She doesn’t like the police,” and withdrew, shutting the door behind her.
    Craddock advanced to meet the owner of Little Paddocks.
    He saw a tall active-looking woman of about sixty. Her grey hair had a slight natural wave and made a distinguished setting for an intelligent, resolute face. She had keen grey eyes and a square determined chin. There was a surgical dressing on her left ear. She wore no makeup and was plainly dressed in a well-cut tweed coat and skirt and pullover. Round the neck of the latter she wore, rather unexpectedly, a set of old-fashioned cameos—a Victorian touch which seemed to hint at a sentimental streak not otherwise apparent.
    Close beside her, with an eager round face and untidy hair escaping from a hair net, was a woman of about the same age whom Craddock had no difficulty in recognizing as the “Dora Bunner—companion” of Constable Legg’s notes—to which the latter had added an off-the-record commentary of “Scatty!”
    Miss Blacklock spoke in a pleasant well-bred voice.
    â€œGood morning, Inspector Craddock. This is my friend, Miss Bunner, who helps me run the house. Won’t you sit down? You won’t smoke, I suppose?”
    â€œNot on duty, I’m afraid, Miss Blacklock.”
    â€œWhat a shame!”
    Craddock’s eyes took in the room with a quick, practised glance. Typical Victorian double drawing room. Two long windows in this room, built-out bay window in the other … chairs … sofa … centre table with a big bowl of chrysanthemums—another bowl in window—all fresh and pleasant without much originality. The only incongruous note was a small silver vase with dead violets in it on a table near the archway into the further room. Since he could not imagine Miss Blacklock tolerating dead flowers in a room, he imagined it to be the only indication that something out of the way had occurred to distract the routine of a well-run household.
    He said:
    â€œI take it, Miss Blacklock, that this is the room in which the—incident