Chapter 14 Chapter Fourteen

"Probably nothing?" said the Superintendent. "There's nothing concrete to gain, sir," Hush said. "However—the time was not entirely wasted." "tell me the story." "Well, our time and some of the main assumptions are still the same. Mrs. Argyle was alive just before seven o'clock and spoke to her husband and Ganda Fern, whom Hester Argyle met downstairs afterwards. She (the three could not have conspired). Jack Argyle has now been proven not to be the murderer, so she was probably killed by her husband between five past seven and half past seven, and at five past seven. Da Fern was killed by her when she passed by her room before going out, or by Hester just before that, or by Kirsty Lindstrom when she came in later—in the It's almost half past seven, say. Durant's polio gave him an alibi, but his wife's alibi rests on his words. She could have gone downstairs between seven and half past seven Kill her mother, if she wants to go and her husband is willing to support her. I don't see why she would kill her though. In fact, as far as I can see, only two people have a real criminal motive. Leo Argyle and Gwenda Fern."

"You think it's one of them—or both?" "I don't think they conspired together. In my opinion it was a spur-of-the-moment crime--not premeditated. Mrs. Argyle went into the study and told the two of them about Jack's threats and demands for money. Let's say, Then Leo went downstairs to talk to her about Jack, or something. The house was quiet, no one was around. He went into her living room. There she was, with her back to him, sitting at the table. And the poker was there, maybe still where Jack had left it after threatening her. These quiet, repressed men do burst out sometimes. Wrap a handkerchief around your hand to keep it from Fingerprints, take that poker and hit her on the head. Pull out a drawer or two to give the impression of searching for money. Then go back upstairs until someone spots her. Or let's say Gwenda Fern Passing by looking at that room before going out on a whim. Jack is the perfect scapegoat, and a marriage to Leo Argyll could open up."

Major Feeney nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. Possibly. And of course they were careful not to announce the engagement too soon. Not until poor Jack was sentenced and convicted. Yes, that seemed reasonable enough. Cases are very monotonous. Husband." With a third person, or a wife with a third person—it's always the same cliché. But what do we do, Hush, gah? What do we do?" "I don't see it, sir," said Hush slowly, "what can we do. We may be sure—but where is the evidence? Nothing stands up in court." "Yes—yes. But are you sure, Hush? Are you sure in your own mind?"

"Not as sure as I'd like," said Inspector Hush sadly. "Ah! why not?" "He's like that—I mean, Mr. Argyle." "Not the kind to murder?" "Not to that extent—not the murder part. It's the kid. I don't see him framing the kid on purpose." "Not his own son, remember. He probably didn't like the kid very much—he might even resent—his wife invested too much affection in him." "That's possible. But he seems to like all the kids. He seems to like them." "Of course," Feeney said thoughtfully. "He knew the kid wasn't going to be hanged ... that might have been different."

"Ah, there may be a point in your point, sir. He may think ten years in prison with no sentence in sight is all it takes, and probably won't do the man any harm." "Where is that young woman—Gwenda Fern?" "If she did it," Hush said, "I don't think she would have any qualms about Jack. Women are ruthless." "But you're quite satisfied that the murderer was one of them?" "Quite satisfied, yes." "That's all?" the police commissioner pressed him. "Yes. Something is wrong. Undercurrent, so to speak."

"Explain, Hu Xu." "What I really want to know is what's on their minds. About each other." "Oh, I see, now I see what you mean. Are you wondering if they themselves know who it is?" "Yes. I'm not sure about that. Did they all know? And did they all agree to keep it a secret? I don't think so. I think they even had different ideas. The Swedish woman—she was nervous. Die. That's probably because she did it. She's at a woman's more or less precarious age. She's probably scared for herself or for someone else. I have the impression, and I could be wrong, for something else someone."

"Leo?" "No, I don't think it's Leo she's worried about. I think it's the younger one—Hester." "Hester, huh? Is there any chance it's Hester?" "There's no superficial motive. But she's a type with maybe a little unbalanced passion." "And Lin Sichu may know a lot more about that girl than we do." "Yes. Then there's the little nigger woman who works at the county library." "She wasn't in the house that night?" "No. But I think she knows something. Who did it, maybe."

"Guess? Or know?" "She's worried. I don't think it's just speculation." He continued: "There was another boy, Michel. He wasn't in the house either, but he drove out and no one was with him. He said he was doing a test drive, right up to the moors and Mingqing slopes. It was just him Said, no one can verify. He probably drove over, entered the house, killed her and drove away. Gwenda Fern said something she didn't say in the original transcript. She said there was a car Past her, just at the entrance of the private road. There were fourteen houses on that road, so it could have been to any house, and no one would remember after two years—but it meant something Maybe that car belonged to Michael."

"Why did he kill his adoptive mother?" "What we know is there's no reason - but in fact there might be." "who knows?" "They all know," Hu Xu said. "But they won't tell us. That is, if they know they're telling us." "I know what you're up to," said Major Feeney. "Who are you going to attack?" "Lindstrom, I think. If I can get past her defenses. I'd also like to find out if she has any grudges against Mrs. Argyle herself." "And the guy with the paralysis," he added. "Philip Durant."

"how is he?" "Oh, I think he's starting to have some thoughts about it all. I don't think he wants me to share, but I might have a way of getting a glimpse of what he's thinking. He's a smart guy, and pretty observant. He might One or two things of considerable interest have been noticed." "Come out, Tina, let's get some fresh air." "Air?" Tina looked up at Michael suspiciously. "But it's so cold, Michel." She shivered a little. "I'm sure you hate fresh air, Tina. That's why you were locked up in that library all day."

Tina smiled. "I don't care about being locked up in the winter. It's nice and warm in the library." Michel looked down at her. "And you're sitting there, huddled up like a cozy kitten in front of a fire. But it's good for you to get out and about. Come on, Tina. I want to go for a walk with you. I want to— — oh, get some fresh air into my lungs and forget about all this nasty police business." Tina rose from her chair lazily and gracefully, like the kitten Michael had just compared her to. She wrapped herself in a fur-collared tweed coat in the hall and went out with him. "You don't even have to wear a coat, Michel?" "No. I never feel cold." "It's cold," Tina said softly. "I really hate winter in this country. I really want to go abroad. I want to go to a place where the sun is always shining and the air is humid and warm." "I just came across an opportunity to go to the Persian Gulf to work," Michel said, "for an oil company, in the trucking business." "are you going?" "No, I don't think... what's so good about it?" They went around the back of the house and started walking down the woods and down a narrow path to the sandy beach by the river below.Halfway there is a shelter from the wind.They did not sit down immediately, but stood in front of the gazebo, gazing at the river. "It's beautiful here, isn't it?" Michel said. Tina looked at the scenery without curiosity. "Yes," she said, "yes, maybe." "But you don't really know, do you?" said Michel, looking at her fondly. "You don't know the beauty here, Tina. You never do." "I don't remember," said Tina, "that you ever admired the beauty of the place during the years we lived here. You were always resentful and longed to go back to London." "That's different," Michel said curtly. "I don't belong here." "That's the problem, isn't it?" Tina said. "You don't belong anywhere." "I don't belong anywhere," Mike said in a blank voice. "Maybe it's true. God, Tina, what a dreadful thought. Do you remember that old song? The one Kirsty used to sing to us, I believe. About a pigeon." "Ou White Dove, O Lovely White Dove, Ou Xuebai White Breasted White Dove. Don't you remember?" Tina shook her head. "Perhaps she sang it to you, but—no, I don't remember." Michel continued, half-talking, half-humming. "Oh my dearest girl, I'm not here. I have no place, no place to live, neither on sea nor shore, but only in your heart." He looked at Tina. "I think it might be true." Tina put a small hand on his arm. "Come on, Michel, sit down. There's no wind here. It's not that cold." He sat down obediently, and she continued: "Do you have to be so unhappy all the time?" "My dear, you don't understand at all." "I know very well," Tina said. "Why can't you forget her, Michel?" "Forget her? Who are you talking about?" "Your mother," Tina said. "Forget about her!" Michel said angrily. "Is it possible to forget after what happened this morning--after those interviews! If someone's been murdered, they won't let you 'forget her'!" "I don't mean that," Tina said. "I mean your real mother." "Why should I miss her? I haven't seen her since I was six years old." "But, Michel, you do miss her, all the time." "Did I tell you so?" "Sometimes this kind of thing goes unsaid," Tina said. Michel turned to look at her. "You quiet, gentle little one. Like a little black cat. I want to stroke all your fur. Nice kitten, beautiful kitten!" His hand touched the sleeve of her coat. Tina sat quietly smiling at him.Mike says: "You don't hate her, Tina? The rest of us do." "It was very heartless," Tina said.She shook her head at him and continued, a little forcefully, "Look what she has given you, all of you. A home, warmth, kindness, good food and drink, fun toys, someone to take care of you and take care of you Be safe and—” "Yes, yes," said Michel impatiently. "Plates of whipped cream and constant stroking of your fur. That's everything you want, isn't it, kitty?" "I appreciate it," Tina said. "None of you are grateful." "Don't you understand, Tina, that it's impossible to be grateful when one is supposed to? In some ways, it's worse, feeling like an obligation to be grateful. I don't want to be brought here. I don't want Luxurious surroundings. I don't want to be taken away from my own home." "You could be bombed," Tina pointed out. "You could be killed." "What does that matter? I don't care to be killed. I'd rather be killed in my own place, with my own loved ones by my side. Where I belong. That's it, you see. We talked back. No There's nothing worse than 'not belonging.' But you kitty, you only care about material things." "Probably right about that," Tina said. "Maybe that's why I feel differently than the rest of you. I don't have that weird sense of resentment that you all seem to have—especially you, Michel. I'm easily grateful because, you know, I don't want to Be me. I don't want to be where I am, I want to escape from myself, I want to be someone else. And she made me someone else, she made me Keri with family and warmth Stina Argyle, safe and secure. I love my mother for everything she gave me." "And your own mother? Don't you think of her?" "Why would I want to? I hardly remember her. I was only three years old, remember, when I came here, I was always afraid--of her, and rowdy with the sailors, and she herself-- I think, now that I'm old enough to properly remember, she must have been drinking most of the time." Tina said indifferently and puzzled. "No, I don't miss her, or remember her. Mrs. Argyle was my mother, and this is my home." "It's so easy for you, Tina," Michel said. "Then why is it hard for you? Because you made it up! It's not Mrs. Argyle you hate, Mike, it's your own mother. Yes, I know I'm telling the truth. And if you kill Argyle Ma'am, if you do this, then it is your own mother you want to kill." "Tina! What the hell are you talking about?" "Now," Tina continued calmly, "you don't have anyone to hate anymore. It makes you feel pretty miserable, doesn't it? But you've got to learn to live without hate, Michel. It may not be easy, but It can be done." "I don't understand what you're talking about. What do you mean I might kill her? You know very well that I wasn't in this area at all that day. I was testing a client's car on Moore Road, Mingqingpo." "Really?" said Tina. She got up and walked forward until she was at a lookout point overlooking the river. "What do you want?" Michel came from behind her. Tina pointed to the sand. "Who are those two people down there?" Michael took a hasty quick glance. "Hester and her doctor boyfriend, I think," he said. "But Tina, what do you mean? For God's sake, don't stand on the edge." "Why—do you want to push me off? You can. I'm small, you know." Michael said fiercely: "Why do you say I might have been here that night?" Tina didn't answer.She turned and started walking back down the path towards the house. "Tina!" Tina said in her calm, gentle voice: "I'm worried, Michael. I'm very worried about Hester and Donald Craig." "Leave Hester and her boyfriend alone." "But I do care about them. I'm afraid Hester is very unhappy." "We're not talking about them." "I'm talking about them. They matter, you know." "Did you always believe, Tina, that I was here the night Mother was killed?" Tina didn't answer. "You didn't say anything at the time." "Why would I say that? No need. I mean, it was so obvious at the time that Jack killed her." "And now it's equally obvious that Jack didn't kill her." Tina nodded. "So what?" Michael asked. "So what?" She didn't answer him, and continued walking back down the path. On the small beach at the headland, Hester fiddled with the sand with the toe of his shoe. "I don't see what there is to talk about," she said. "You've got to talk," Donald Craig said. "I don't understand why ... talking about it never does any good - it never makes things better." "You can at least tell me about this morning." "Nothing," said Hester. "What do you mean—nothing? The police are here, aren't they?" "Oh yes, they are coming." "Okay, so, did they ask you questions?" "Yes," said Hester, "they did." "What kind of question?" "Nothing special," Hester said. "It's exactly the same as ever. Where and what we did, and when we last saw Mother alive. Really, Don, I don't want to talk about it anymore. It's over now gone." "But it's not over, my dearest. That's the problem." "I don't see why you need to make such a fuss," Hester said. "You didn't get involved again." "Honey, I want to help you. Don't you understand?" "Oh, talking about it doesn't help me. I just want to forget. If you'd help me forget, that would make a difference." "Hester, my dearest, it does no good to escape. You must face them." "I was facing them, as you said, all morning." "Hester, I love you. You know that, don't you?" "I suppose so," said Hester. "What do you mean, do you think so?" "I've been asking about it all the time." "But I have to." "I don't know why. You're not a policeman." "Who was the last person to see your mother alive?" "Me," said Hester. "I know, it was just before seven o'clock, wasn't it, just before you came out to meet me." "Just before I set out for Drymouth—to the theater," said Hester. "Oh, I was in that theater, wasn't I?" "Yes, of course you were there." "You did know then that I loved you, didn't you, Hester?" "I wasn't sure then," Hester said. "I'm not even sure I've started falling in love with you." "You have no reason, no reason to get rid of your mother?" "No, not really," said Hester. "What do you mean it's not true?" "I have often thought of killing her," said Hester solemnly. "I used to say 'I wish she was dead, I wish she was dead,'" she added. "I used to dream that I killed her." "How did you kill her in your dream?" For a moment Donald Craig was no longer her lover but a young doctor interested in the matter. "Sometimes I shoot her," said Hester cheerfully, "sometimes I hit her hard on the head." Dr. Craig grunted. "That was only a dream," said Hester. "I'm often very violent in my dreams." "Listen, Hester." The young man took her hand. "You have to tell me the truth. You have to trust me." "I don't understand you," said Hester. "Truth, Hester. I'll tell the truth. I love you—I'll be on your side. If—if you kill her—I think I can find out why. I don't think it's entirely you It's my fault. Do you understand? Of course I'm never going to tell the police. Only you and I know.No one else will suffer.The whole thing would die down for lack of evidence.But I must know. ’ He stressed the last sentence. Hester watched him.Both her eyes are wide open and barely in focus. "What do you want me to tell you?" she said. "I want you to tell me the truth." "You think you already know the truth, don't you? You think—I killed her." "Hester, honey, don't look at me like that." He put his arm around her shoulder and shook her gently. "I'm a doctor. I know what's behind it. I know people can't always be held accountable for what they do. I know who you are - sweet and cute and basically everything's okay. I'll help you, I'll take care You, we'll get married and we'll be happy. You'll never have to feel lost, unwanted, oppressed. We often have reasons to do things out of the blue that most people don't understand." "That's all we say about Jack, don't we?" said Hester. "Never mind Jack. I was thinking of you. I love you so much, Hester, but I have to know the truth." "The truth?" said Hester. A mocking smile gradually emerged from the corner of her upwardly curved mouth. "Please, dear." Hester turned his head away, holding his head high. "Hester!" "Would you believe me if I told you I didn't kill her?" "Of course—I'll believe you." "I don't think you will," said Hester. She turned sharply away from him and started running up the path.He gestured to catch up, then gave up. "Oh, fuck it," Donald Craig said. "Oh fuck!"