Free The Clocks by Agatha Christie

course not. You’ve got to be careful. I know that,’ said Miss Waterhouse. ‘Not like some of the people around here. They’d say anything. I wonder some aren’t had up for libel all the time.’
    ‘Slander,’ corrected Sergeant Lamb, speaking for the first time.
    Miss Waterhouse looked at him in some surprise, as though not aware before that he had an entity of his own and was anything other than a necessary appendage to Inspector Hardcastle.
    ‘I’m sorry I can’t help you, I really am,’ said Miss Waterhouse.
    ‘I’m sorry too,’ said Hardcastle. ‘A person of your intelligence and judgement with a faculty of observation would have been a very useful witness to have.’
    ‘I wish I had seen something,’ said Miss Waterhouse.
    For a moment her tone was as wistful as a young girl’s.
    ‘Your brother, Mr James Waterhouse?’
    ‘James wouldn’t know anything,’ said Miss Waterhouse scornfully. ‘He never does. And anyway he was at Gainsford and Swettenhams in the High Street. Oh no, James wouldn’t be able to help you. As I say, he doesn’t come back to lunch.’
    ‘Where does he lunch usually?’
    ‘He usually has sandwiches and coffee at the Three Feathers. A very nice respectable house. They specialize in quick lunches for professional people.’
    ‘Thank you, Miss Waterhouse. Well, we mustn’t keep you any longer.’
    He rose and went out into the hall. Miss Waterhouse accompanied them. Colin Lamb picked up the golf club by the door.
    ‘Nice club, this,’ he said. ‘Plenty of weight in the head.’ He weighed it up and down in his hand. ‘I see you are prepared, Miss Waterhouse, for any eventualities.’
    Miss Waterhouse was slightly taken aback.
    ‘Really,’ she said, ‘I can’t imagine how that club came to be there.’
    She snatched it from him and replaced it in the golf bag.
    ‘A very wise precaution to take,’ said Hardcastle.
    Miss Waterhouse opened the door and let them out.
    ‘Well,’ said Colin Lamb, with a sigh, ‘we didn’t get much out of her, in spite of you buttering her up so nicely all the time. Is that your invariable method?’
    ‘It gets good results sometimes with a person of her type. The tough kind always respond to flattery.’
    ‘She was purring like a cat that has been offered a saucer of cream in the end,’ said Colin. ‘Unfortunately, it didn’t disclose anything of interest.’
    ‘No?’ said Hardcastle.
    Colin looked at him quickly. ‘What’s on your mind?’
    ‘A very slight and possibly unimportant point. Miss Pebmarsh went out to the post office and the shops but she turned left instead of right, and that telephone call, according to Miss Martindale, was put through about ten minutes to two.’
    Colin looked at him curiously.
    ‘You still think that in spite of her denial she might have made it? She was very positive.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Hardcastle. ‘She was very positive.’
    His tone was non-committal.
    ‘But if she did make it, why?’
    ‘Oh, it’s all why,’ said Hardcastle impatiently. ‘Why, why? Why all this rigmarole? If Miss Pebmarsh made that call, why did she want to get the girl there? If it was someone else, why did they want to involve Miss Pebmarsh? We don’t know anything yet. If that Martindale woman had known Miss Pebmarsh personally, she’d have known whether it was her voice or not, or at any rate whether it was reasonably like Miss Pebmarsh’s. Oh well, we haven’t got much from Number 18. Let’s see whether Number 20 will do us any better.’?

The Clocks

CHAPTER 8
    In addition to its number, 20, Wilbraham Crescent had a name. It was called Diana Lodge. The gates had obstacles against intruders by being heavily wired on the inside. Rather melancholy speckled laurels, imperfectly trimmed, also interfered with the efforts of anyone to enter through the gate.
    ‘If ever a house could have been called The Laurels, this one could,’ remarked Colin Lamb. ‘Why call it Diana Lodge, I wonder?’
    He looked