The Christie Affair(95)
For now I clasped her hand to bid her goodbye then crept to the top of the stairs in my stockinged feet, carrying my shoes. When I peered down, I saw Archie follow his wife into the library. Once inside, Agatha might tell Archie how I’d targeted him, seduced him, for the sole reason that I believed their daughter to be mine. That I had, during this time apart, been locked in a romantic and carnal embrace the likes of which he and I had never approached. That I’d known nearly all along where his wife was and hadn’t told him. That I’d committed one murder and abetted another. Which of these actions, I wondered, would he find most egregious?
And why should I ever worry for a moment about what he would forgive? When Archie left Sunday’s Corner, driving away with that bundled baby he’d bought and paid for, taking her home like a diamond to bestow upon his wife. Did he ever for one second give a single thought to that child’s mother?
I had to take this chance. I flew past poor, stunned Chilton, and the gaping Leeches, and the consternated Mr Lippincott, through the hotel door. Once outside I put on my shoes and slid behind the wheel of Chilton’s borrowed police car. Whatever his next destination he would have to go on foot. I drove clumsily, determined to arrive back at the manor before time returned with its brutal roar.
Luckily, Simon Leech pulled Lippincott into the drawing room before the police chief could give Chilton the lambasting that was clearly brewing. Chilton seized upon the opportunity.
‘Mrs Leech,’ he said, as the proprietress marched from the dining room to the front desk, ‘may I have a word?’
The mind is a remarkable thing, its exterior and interior layers. The way Chilton was able to conduct himself, speaking words he hardly heard, while his mind could only concentrate on the horror of it – that this husband, who oozed arrogance like a honeycomb oozed honey, would abscond with Agatha.
‘You must help me,’ he said to Mrs Leech. ‘At least by withholding contradiction. Listen. Agatha Christie has been here at the Bellefort all this while, registered under the name Mrs Genevieve O’Dea. She has been taking curing baths and massages and keeping to herself.’
‘Absolutely not. As a point of honour, Mr Chilton, I never lie.’ Mrs Leech folded her arms, her voice sounding all the more musical. The words comforted Chilton. Anyone who says I never lie has by that very statement told at least one.
‘Have I had a chance to tell you?’ Chilton said. ‘I’ve concluded my investigation. Of the Marston incident. And I’m determined there’s no murderer at large.’
Leech and Lippincott emerged from the drawing room in time to hear this pronouncement. Mrs Leech blinked slowly, absorbing whether a bargain was being offered.
‘No need for word to get out,’ he went on, confirming her suspicions. ‘As there’s no danger to the public and never has been. Mrs Marston killed her husband and then herself.’
‘There.’ Mr Leech clapped, with an expression that couldn’t have been jollier. ‘Just as Sam thought all along, eh? We’ll keep that unpleasantness nice and quiet. And the Christie woman stopping here, we’ll keep nice and loud. Business will be booming, Isabelle, just you wait.’
Mrs Leech let out a stream of breath. As her husband turned to say something to his cousin, Chilton whispered, ‘It will help Miss O’Dea and her young man a great deal.’
Finally, Mrs Leech nodded, acquiescing. She preferred the idea of lying to help Nan to lying to save her hotel’s reputation. ‘I knew she was a Miss and not a Mrs,’ she whispered back. ‘I have a sixth sense for that sort of thing. I do hope she’ll marry that sad, handsome fellow. I love a happy ending, Mr Chilton.’
‘So do we all,’ Chilton said. ‘So do we all.’
The library door opened, and Archie and Agatha emerged. Chilton had never wanted anything so badly as to catch her eye in that moment, but she kept her gaze steadily to the floor, like a child who’d been properly chastised.
‘Mrs Christie,’ Chilton said, trying to regulate his voice into an official capacity. ‘Perhaps you’d better return to your room, so we can conduct an interview.’
‘She’ll do no such thing,’ Archie said. ‘This case is solved. There’s been no crime. Only a misunderstanding. There’s no need for any more police, we’ve had quite enough of that to last our lifetime.’
Chilton wondered if he himself had ever spoken with such certainty. It pained him to note that when Archie turned to his wife he spoke much more softly.
‘Agatha, darling. Go collect your things. We need to be on our way before the newspapers get wind of your discovery. I’m afraid you’ll have rather a to-doing with them in the next weeks.’
Still without a look at Chilton, Agatha climbed the stairs to my room. Chilton took a step, as if to follow her, but Lippincott caught him by the sleeve.
Upstairs in my hotel room, Agatha looked around, as if the place where our identities overlapped could betray anything about me, or herself, that she didn’t already know. Her eyes landed on a flash of lilac, a shawl thrown across the chair by the table. She picked it up sat down. The paper and pen I’d bought sat on the desk, unused. Agatha took up both, printing words so that her hand would not be recognizable, then folded the piece of paper in half and wrote ‘Inspector Chilton’ in large block letters. She didn’t worry someone else might find and read it. She knew he’d be here searching for clues the moment she left the hotel.