IA little later in the day yet another visitor found his way to 16 Blenheim Close. Detective-Sergeant William (Tom)Tiddler.
In reply to his sharp knock on the smart yellow painted door, it was opened to him by a girl of about fifteen. Shehad long straggly fair hair and was wearing tight black pants and an orange sweater.
“Miss Gladys Dixon live here?”
“You want Gladys? You’re unlucky. She isn’t here.”
“Where is she? Out for the evening?”
“No. She’s gone away. Bit of a holiday like.”
“Where’s she gone to?”
“That’s telling,” said the girl.
Tom Tiddler smiled at her in his most ingratiating manner. “May I come in? Is your mother at home?”
“Mum’s out at work. She won’t be in until half past seven. But she can’t tell you anymore than I can. Gladys hasgone off for a holiday.”
“Oh, I see. When did she go?”
“This morning. All of a sudden like. Said she’d got the chance of a free trip.”
“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind giving me her address.”
The fair-haired girl shook her head. “Haven’t got an address,” she said. “Gladys said she’d send us her address assoon as she knew where she was going to stay. As like as not she won’t though,” she added. “Last summer she went toNewquay and never sent us as much as a postcard. She’s slack that way and besides, she says, why do mothers have tobother all the time?”
“Did somebody stand her this holiday?”
“Must have,” said the girl. “She’s pretty hard up at the moment. Went to the sales last week.”
“And you’ve no idea at all who gave her this trip or—er—paid for her going there?”
The fair girl bristled1 suddenly.
“Now don’t get any wrong ideas. Our Gladys isn’t that sort. She and her boyfriend may like to go to the same placefor holidays in August, but there’s nothing wrong about it. She pays for herself. So don’t you get ideas, mister.”
Tiddler said meekly2 that he wouldn’t get ideas but he would like the address if Gladys Dixon should send apostcard.
He returned to the station with the result of his various inquiries3. From the studios, he had learnt that Gladys Dixonhad rung up that day and said she wouldn’t be able to come to work for about a week. He had also learned some otherthings.
“No end of a shemozzle there’s been there lately,” he said. “Marina Gregg’s been having hysterics most days. Saidsome coffee she was given was poisoned. Said it tasted bitter. Awful state of nerves she was in. Her husband took itand threw it down the sink and told her not to make so much fuss.”
“Yes?” said Craddock. It seemed plain there was more to come.
“But word went round as Mr. Rudd didn’t throw it all away. He kept some and had it analysed and it was poison.”
“It sounds to me,” said Craddock, “very unlikely. I’ll have to ask him about that.”
II
Jason Rudd was nervous, irritable4.
“Surely, Inspector5 Craddock,” he said, “I was only doing what I had a perfect right to do.”
“If you suspected anything was wrong with that coffee, Mr. Rudd, it would have been much better if you’d turnedit over to us.”
“The truth of it is that I didn’t suspect for a moment that anything was wrong with it.”
“In spite of your wife saying that it tasted odd?”
“Oh, that!” A faintly rueful smile came to Rudd’s face. “Ever since the date of the fête everything that my wife haseaten or drunk has tasted odd. What with that and the threatening notes that have been coming—”
“There have been more of them?”
“Two more. One through the window down there. The other one was slipped in the letter box. Here they are if youwould like to see them.”
Craddock looked. They were printed, as the first one had been. One ran:
It won’t be long now. Prepare yourself.
The other had a rough drawing of a skull6 and crossbones and below it was written: This means you, Marina.
Craddock’s eyebrows7 rose.
“Very childish,” he said.
“Meaning you discount them as dangerous?”
“Not at all,” said Craddock. “A murderer’s mind usually is childish. You’ve really no idea at all, Mr. Rudd, whosent these?”
“Not the least,” said Jason. “I can’t help feeling it’s more like a macabre8 joke than anything else. It seemed to meperhaps—” he hesitated.
“Yes, Mr. Rudd?”
“It could be somebody local, perhaps, who—who had been excited by the poisoning on the day of the fête.
Someone perhaps, who has a grudge9 against the acting10 profession. There are rural pockets where acting is consideredto be one of the devil’s weapons.”
“Meaning that you think Miss Gregg is not actually threatened? But what about this business of the coffee?”
“I don’t even know how you got to hear about that,” said Rudd with some annoyance11.
Craddock shook his head.
“Everyone’s talked about that. It always comes to one’s ears sooner or later. But you should have come to us. Evenwhen you got the result of the analysis you didn’t let us know, did you?”
“No,” said Jason. “No, I didn’t. But I had other things to think about. Poor Ella’s death for one thing. And now thisbusiness of Giuseppe. Inspector Craddock, when can I get my wife away from here? She’s half frantic12.”
“I can understand that. But there will be the inquests to attend.”
“You do realize that her life is still in danger?”
“I hope not. Every precaution will be taken—”
“Every precaution! I’ve heard that before, I think… I must get her away from here, Craddock. I must.”
III
Marina was lying on the chaise longue in her bedroom, her eyes closed. She looked grey with strain and fatigue13.
Her husband stood there for a moment looking at her. Her eyes opened.
“Was that that Craddock man?”
“Yes.”
“What did he come about? Ella?”
“Ella—and Giuseppe.”
Marina frowned.
“Giuseppe? Have they found out who shot him?”
“Not yet.”
“It’s all a nightmare… Did he say we could go away?”
“He said—not yet.”
“Why not? We must. Didn’t you make him see that I can’t go on waiting day after day for someone to kill me. It’sfantastic.”
“Every precaution will be taken.”
“They said that before. Did it stop Ella being killed? Or Giuseppe? Don’t you see, they’ll get me in the end…There was something in my coffee that day at the studio. I’m sure there was…if only you hadn’t poured it away! Ifwe’d kept it, we could have had it analysed or whatever you call it. We’d have known for sure….”
“Would it have made you happier to know for sure?”
She stared at him, the pupils of her eyes widely dilated14.
“I don’t see what you mean. If they’d known for sure that someone was trying to poison me, they’d have let usleave here, they’d have let us get away.”
“Not necessarily.”
“But I can’t go on like this! I can’t… I can’t… You must help me, Jason. You must do something. I’m frightened.
I’m so terribly frightened… There’s an enemy here. And I don’t know who it is… It might be anyone—anyone. At thestudios—or here in the house. Someone who hates me—but why?… Why?… Someone who wants me dead… Butwho is it? Who is it? I thought—I was almost sure—it was Ella. But now—”
“You thought it was Ella?” Jason sounded astonished. “But why?”
“Because she hated me—oh yes she did. Don’t men ever see these things? She was madly in love with you. I don’tbelieve you had the least idea of it. But it can’t be Ella, because Ella’s dead. Oh, Jinks, Jinks—do help me—get meaway from here—let me go somewhere safe…safe….”
She sprang up and walked rapidly up and down, turning and twisting her hands.
The director in Jason was full of admiration15 for those passionate16, tortured movements. I must remember them, hethought. For Hedda Gabler, perhaps? Then, with a shock, he remembered that it was his wife he was watching.
“It’s all right, Marina—all right. I’ll look after you.”
“We must go away from this hateful house—at once. I hate this house—hate it.”
“Listen, we can’t go away immediately.”
“Why not? Why not?”
“Because,” said Rudd, “deaths cause complications…and there’s something else to consider. Will running away doany good?”
“Of course it will. We’ll get away from this person who hates me.”
“If there’s anyone who hates you that much, they could follow you easily enough.”
“You mean—you mean—I shall never get away? I shall never be safe again?”
“Darling—it will be all right. I’ll look after you. I’ll keep you safe.”
She clung to him.
“Will you, Jinks? Will you see that nothing happens to me?”
She sagged17 against him, and he laid her down gently on the chaise longue.
“Oh, I’m a coward,” she murmured, “a coward…if I knew who it was—and why?… Get me my pills—the yellowones—not the brown. I must have something to calm me.”
“Don’t take too many, for God’s sake, Marina.”
“All right—all right… Sometimes they don’t have any effect anymore…” She looked up in his face.
She smiled, a tender exquisite18 smile.
“You’ll take care of me, Jinks? Swear you’ll take care of me….”
“Always,” said Jason Rudd. “To the bitter end.”
Her eyes opened wide.
“You looked so—so odd when you said that.”
“Did I? How did I look?”
“I can’t explain. Like—like a clown laughing at something terribly sad, that no one else has seen….”
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1
bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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macabre
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| adj.骇人的，可怖的 | |
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grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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