Murder is Easy by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online Page A

his bulldogs?” asked Luke.
    “Quite right.”
    “Haven't we seen practically everyone of note in Wychwood this morning?”
    “Practically.”
    “I feel rather intrusive,” said Luke. “I suppose a stranger in an English village is bound to stick out a mile,” he added ruefully, remembering Jimmy Lorrimer's remarks.
    “Major Horton never hides his curiosity very well,” said Bridget. “He did stare rather.”
    “He's the sort of man you could tell was a major anywhere,” said Luke rather viciously.
    Bridget said abruptly, “Shall we sit on the bank a bit? We've got lots of time.”
    They sat on a fallen tree that made a convenient seat. Bridget went on, “Yes, Major Horton is very military; has an orderly-room manner. You'd hardly believe he was the most henpecked man in existence a year ago.”
    “What, that fellow?”
    “Yes. He had the most disagreeable woman for a wife that I've ever known. She had the money, too, and never scrupled to underline the fact in public.”
    “Poor brute - Horton, I mean.”
    “He behaved very nicely to her - always the officer and gentleman. Personally, I wonder he didn't take a hatchet to her.”
    “She wasn't popular, I gather.”
    “Everybody disliked her. She snubbed Gordon and patronized me, and made herself generally unpleasant wherever she went.”
    “But I gather a merciful Providence removed her?”
    “Yes, about a year ago. Acute gastritis. She gave her husband. Doctor Thomas, and two nurses absolute hell, but she died all right. The bulldogs brightened up at once.”
    “Intelligent brutes.”
    There was a silence. Bridget was idly picking at the long grass. Luke frowned at the opposite bank unseeingly. Once again the dreamlike quality of his mission obsessed him. How much was fact, how much imagination? Wasn't it bad for one to go about studying every fresh person you met as a potential murderer? Something degrading about that point of view. “Damn it all,” thought Luke. “I've been a policeman too long.”
    He was brought out of his abstraction with a shock. Bridget's cold clear voice was speaking.
    “Mr. Fitzwilliam,” she said, “just exactly why have you come down here?”

Murder is Easy

Chapter 6
    Luke had been just in the act of applying a match to a cigarette. The unexpectedness of her remark momentarily paralyzed his hand. He remained quite motionless for a second or two; the match burned down and scorched his finger.
    “Damn!” said Luke, as he dropped the match and shook his hand vigorously. “I beg your pardon. You gave me rather a nasty jolt.” He smiled ruefully.
    “Did I?”
    “Yes.” He sighed. “Oh, well, I suppose anyone of real intelligence was bound to see through me. That story of my writing a book on folklore didn't take you in for a moment, I suppose?”
    “Not after I'd once seen you.”
    “Not sufficient brains to write a book? Don't spare my feelings. I'd rather know.”
    “You might write a book, but not that kind of book - old superstitions, delving into the past - not that sort of thing! You're not the kind of man to whom the past means much - perhaps not even the future - only just the present.”
    “H'm. I see.” He made a wry face. “Damn it all, you've made me nervous ever since I got here! You looked so confoundedly intelligent.”
    “I'm sorry,” said Bridget dryly. “What did you expect?”
    “Well, I really hadn't thought about it.”
    But she went on calmly, “A fluffy little person with just enough brains to realize her opportunities and marry her boss?”
    Luke made a confused noise. She turned a cool, amused glance on him. “I quite understand. It's all right. I'm not annoyed.”
    Luke chose effrontery. “Well, perhaps, it was something faintly approaching that. But I didn't think much about it.”
    She said slowly, “No, you wouldn't. You don't cross your fences till you get to them.” She paused a minute, then said: “Why are you down here, Mr. Fitzwilliam?”
    They had returned full