Free Spider's Web by Agatha Christie Page B

two police officers, a stocky, grey-haired man, followed Clarissa into the room, while his colleague remained standing by the hall door. “This is Inspector Lord,” Clarissa declared. “And – ” She turned back to the younger officer, a dark-haired man in his twenties with the build of a footballer. “I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?” she asked.
    The Inspector answered for him. “That's Constable Jones,” he announced. Addressing the three men, he continued, “I'm sorry to intrude, gentlemen, but we have received information that a murder has been committed here.”
    Clarissa and her friends all spoke simultaneously. “What?” Hugo shouted. “A murder!” Jeremy exclaimed. “Good heavens,” Sir Rowland cried, as Clarissa said, “Isn't it extraordinary?” They all sounded completely astonished.
    “Yes, we had a telephone call at the station,” the Inspector told them. Nodding to Hugo, whom he apparently knew by sight, he added, “Good evening, Mr. Birch.”
    “Er – good evening, Inspector,” Hugo mumbled.
    “It looks as though somebody's been hoaxing you, Inspector,” Sir Rowland suggested.
    “Yes,” Clarissa agreed. “We've been playing bridge here all evening.”
    The others nodded in support, and Clarissa asked, “Who did they say had been murdered?”
    “No names were mentioned,” the Inspector informed them. “The caller just said that a man had been murdered at Copplestone Court, and would we come along immediately. They rang off before any additional information could be obtained.”
    “It must have been a hoax,” Clarissa declared, adding virtuously, “What a wicked thing to do.”
    Hugo tut-tutted, and the Inspector replied, “You'd be surprised, madam, at the potty things people do.”
    He paused, glancing at each of them in turn, and then continued, addressing Clarissa. “Well now, according to you, nothing out of the ordinary has happened here this evening?” Without waiting for an answer, he added, “Perhaps I'd better see Mr. Hailsham-Brown as well.”
    “He's not here,” Clarissa told the Inspector. “I don't expect him back until late tonight.”
    “I see,” he replied. “Who is staying in the house at present?”
    “Sir Rowland Delahaye, and Mr. Warrender,” said Clarissa, indicating them in turn. She added, “And Mr. Birch, whom you already know, is here for the evening.”
    Sir Rowland and Jeremy murmured acknowledgements. “Oh, and yes,” Clarissa went on as though she had just remembered, “my little stepdaughter.” She emphasised “little.” “She's in bed and asleep.”
    “What about servants?” the Inspector wanted to know.
    “There are two of them. A married couple. But it's their night out, and they've gone to the cinema in Maidstone.”
    “I see,” said the Inspector, nodding his head gravely.
    The door from the hall suddenly opened and Elgin the butler entered, almost colliding with the Constable, who was still keeping guard there. After a quick questioning look at the Inspector, Elgin addressed Clarissa. “Would you be wanting anything, madam?” he asked.
    Clarissa looked startled. “I thought you were at the pictures, Elgin,” she exclaimed, as the Inspector gave her a sharp glance.
    “We returned almost immediately, madam,” Elgin explained. “My wife was not feeling well.” Sounding embarrassed, he added delicately, “Er – gastric trouble. It must have been something she ate.” Looking from the Inspector to the Constable, he asked, “Is anything... wrong?”
    “What's your name?” the Inspector asked him.
    “Elgin, sir,” the butler replied. “I'm sure I hope there's nothing – ”
    He was interrupted by the Inspector. “Someone rang up the police station and said that a murder had been committed here.”
    “A murder?” Elgin gasped.
    “What do you know about that?”
    “Nothing. Nothing at all, sir.”
    “It wasn't you who rang up, then?” the Inspector asked him.
    “No, indeed not.”
    “When