Evil Under the Sun

Linda Marshall came into the room clumsily, knocking against the doorpost. She was breathing quickly and the pupils of her eyes were dilated. She looked like a startled young colt. Colonel Weston felt a kindly impulse towards her.

He thought:

‘Poor kid-she’s nothing but a kid after all. This must have been a pretty bad shock to her.’

He drew up a chair and said in a reassuring voice. 

‘Sorry to put you through this, Miss-Linda, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, Linda.’

Her voice had that indrawn breathy quality that is often characteristic of schoolgirls. Her hands rested helplessly on the table in front of him-pathetic hands, big and red, with large bones and long wrists. Weston thought:

‘A kid oughtn’t to be mixed up in this sort of thing.’

He said reassuringly.

‘There’s nothing very alarming about all this. We just want you to tell us anything you know that might be useful, that’s all.’

Linda said:

‘You mean-about Arlena?’

‘Yes. Did you see her this morning at all?’

The girl shook her head.

‘No. Arlena always gets down rather late. She has breakfast in bed.’

Hercule Poirot said:

‘And you, Mademoiselle?’

‘Oh, I get up. Breakfast in bed’s sostuffy.’

Weston said:

‘Will you tell us what you did this morning?’

‘Well, I had a bathe first and then breakfast, and then I went with Mrs Redfern to Gull Cove.’ 

Weston said:

‘What time did you and Mrs Redfern start?’

‘She said she’d be waiting for me in the hall at half-past ten. I was afraid I was going to be late, but it was all right. We started off at about three minutes to the half-hour.’

Poirot said:

‘And what did you do at Gull Cove?’

‘Oh, I oiled myself and sunbathed and Mrs Redfern sketched. Then, later, I went into the sea and Christine went back to the hotel to get changed for tennis.’

Weston said, keeping his voice quite casual:

‘Do you remember what time that was?’

‘When Mrs Redfern went back to the hotel? Quarter to twelve.’

‘Sure of that time-quarter to twelve?’

Linda, opening her eyes wide, said:

‘Ohyes. I looked at my watch.’

‘The watch you have on now?’

Linda glanced down at her wrist.

‘Yes.’

Weston said:

‘Mind if I see?’

She held out her wrist. He compared the watch with his own and with the hotel clock on the wall.

He said, smiling: 

‘Correct to a second. And after that you had a bathe?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you got back to the hotel-when?’

‘Just about one o’clock. And-and then-I heard-about Arlena…’

Her voice changed.

Colonel Weston said:

‘Did you-er-get on with your stepmother all right?’

She looked at him for a minute without replying. Then she said:

‘Oh yes.’

Poirot asked:

‘Did you like her, Mademoiselle?’

Linda said again:

‘Oh yes.’ She added: ‘Arlena was quite kind to me.’

Weston said with rather uneasy facetiousness.

‘Not the cruel stepmother, eh?’

Linda shook her head without smiling.

Weston said:

‘That’s good. That’s good. Sometimes, you know, there’s a bit of difficulty in families-jealousy-all that. Girl and her father great pals and then she resents it a bit when he’s all wrapped up in the new wife. You didn’t feel like that, eh?’

Linda stared at him. She said with obvious sincerity: 

‘Oh no.’

Weston said:

‘I suppose your father was-er-very wrapped up in her?’

Linda said simply:

‘I don’t know.’

Weston went on:

‘All sorts of difficulties, as I say, arise in families. Quarrels-rows-that sort of thing. If husband and wife get ratty with each other, that’s a bit awkward for a daughter too. Anything of that sort?’

Linda said clearly:

‘Do you mean, did Father and Arlena quarrel?’

‘Well-yes.’

Weston thought to himself:

‘Rotten business-questioning a child about her father. Why is one a policeman? Damn it all, it’s got to be done, though.’

Linda said positively:

‘Oh no.’ She added: ‘Father doesn’t quarrel with people. He’s not like that at all.’

Weston said:

‘Now, Miss Linda, I want you to think very carefully. Have you any idea at all who might have killed your stepmother? Is there anything you’ve ever heard or anything you know that could help us on that point?’

Linda was silent a minute. She seemed to be giving the question a serious unhurried consideration. She said at last.

‘No, I don’t know who could have wanted to kill Arlena.’ She added: ‘Except, of course, Mrs Redfern.’

Weston said:

‘You think Mrs Redfern wanted to kill her? Why?’

Linda said:

‘Because her husband was in love with Arlena. But I don’t think she would really want tokill her. I mean she’d just feel that she wished she was dead-and that isn’t the same thing at all, is it?’

Poirot said gently:

‘No, it is not at all the same.’

Linda nodded. A queer sort of spasm passed across her face. She said:

‘And anyway, Mrs Redfern could never do a thing like that-kill anybody. She isn’t-she isn’tviolent, if you know what I mean.’

Weston and Poirot nodded. The latter said: