Evil Under the Sun

‘Get a doctor-as quick as you possibly can. But I’m afraid-very much afraid-it may be too late.’

He took the letter with his name on it and ripped open the envelope. Inside were a few lines of writing in Linda’s prim schoolgirl hand. 

I think this is the best way out. Ask Father to try and forgive me. I killed Arlena. I thought I should be glad-but I’m not. I am very sorry for everything.

III

They were assembled in the lounge-Marshall, the Redferns, Rosamund Darnley and Hercule Poirot.

They sat there silent-waiting…

The door opened and Dr Neasden came in. He said curtly:

‘I’ve done all I can. She may pull through-but I’m bound to tell you that there’s not much hope.’

He paused. Marshall, his face stiff, his eyes a cold frosty blue, asked:

‘How did she get hold of the stuff?’

Neasden opened the door again and beckoned.

The chambermaid came into the room. She had been crying:

Neasden said:

‘Just tell us again what you saw.’

Sniffing, the girl said:

‘I never thought-I never thought for a minute there was anything wrong-though the young lady did seem rather strange about it.’ A slight gesture of impatience from the doctor started her off again. ‘She was in the other lady’s room. Mrs Redfern’s. Your room, Madam. Over at the washstand, and she took up a little bottle. She did give a bit of a jump when I came in, and I thought it was queer her taking things from your room, but then, of course, it might be something she’d lent you. She just said: “Oh, this is what I’m looking for-” and went out.’

Christine said almost in a whisper.

‘My sleeping tablets.’

The doctor said brusquely:

‘How did she know about them?’

Christine said:

‘I gave her one. The night after it happened. She told me she couldn’t sleep. She-I remember her saying-“Will one be enough?”-and I said, Oh yes, they were very strong-that I’d been cautioned never to take more than two at most.’ Neasden nodded: ‘She made pretty sure,’ he said. ‘Took six of them.’

Christine sobbed again.

‘Oh dear, I feel it’s my fault. I should have kept them locked up.’

The doctor shrugged his shoulders.

‘It might have been wiser, Mrs Redfern.’

Christine said despairingly:

‘She’s dying-and it’s my fault…’

Kenneth Marshall stirred in his chair. He said:

‘No, you can’t blame yourself. Linda knew what she was doing. She took them deliberately. Perhaps-perhaps it was best.’

He looked down at the crumpled note in his hand-the note that Poirot had silently handed to him.

Rosamund Darnley cried out.

‘I don’t believe it. I don’t believe Linda killed her. Surely it’s impossible-on the evidence!’

Christine said eagerly:

‘Yes, shecan’t have done it! She must have got overwrought and imagined it all.’

The door opened and Colonel Weston came in. He said:

‘What’s all this I hear?’

Dr Neasden took the note from Marshall’s hand and handed it to the Chief Constable. The latter read it. He exclaimed incredulously:

‘What? But this is nonsense-absolute nonsense! It’s impossible.’ He repeated with assurance. ‘Impossible! Isn’t it, Poirot?’

Hercule Poirot moved for the first time. He said in a slow sad voice:

‘No, I’m afraid it is not impossible.’

Christine Redfern said:

‘But I was with her, M. Poirot. I was with her up to a quarter to twelve. I told the police so.’

Poirot said:

‘Your evidence gave her an alibi-yes. But what was your evidence based on? It was based onLinda Marshall’s own wristwatch. You do not knowof your own knowledge that it was a quarter to twelve when you left her-you only know that she told you so. You said yourself the time seemed to have gone very fast.’

She stared at him, stricken.

He said:

‘Now, think, Madame, when you left the beach, did you walk back to the hotel fast or slow?’

‘I-well, fairly slowly, I think.’

‘Do you remember much about that walk back?’

‘Not very much, I’m afraid. I-I was thinking.’

Poirot said:

‘I am sorry to ask you this, but will you tell just what you were thinking about during that walk?’

Christine flushed.

‘I suppose-if it is necessary…I was considering the question of-of leaving here. Just going away without telling my husband. I-I was very unhappy just then, you see.’

Patrick Redfern cried:

‘Oh, Christine! I know…I know…’

Poirot’s precise voice cut in.

‘Exactly. You were concerned over taking a step of some importance. You were, I should say, deaf and blind to your surroundings. You probably walked very slowly and occasionally stopped for some minutes whilst you puzzled things out.’

Christine nodded.

‘How clever you are. It was just like that. I woke up from a kind of dream just outside the hotel and hurried in thinking I should be very late, but when I saw the clock in the lounge I realized I had plenty of time.’

Hercule Poirot said again:

‘Exactly.’

He turned to Marshall.