exactly where he was last night.”
“A little over-anxious do you think?” asked Daventry.
“That's very difficult to tell. There are people, you know, who are naturally nervous about their own safety, about being mixed up with anything. It isn't necessarily because they have any guilty knowledge. On the other hand it might be just that.”
“What about opportunity? Nobody's really got much of an alibi, what with the band and the dancing and the coming and going. People are getting up, leaving their tables, coming back. Women go to powder their noses. Men take a stroll. Dyson could have slipped away. Anybody could have slipped away. But he does seem rather anxious to prove that he didn't.” He looked thoughtfully down at the paper. “So Mrs. Kendal was rearranging knives on the table,” he said. “I rather wonder if he dragged that in on purpose.”
“Did it sound like it to you?”
The other considered. “I think it's possible.”
Outside the room where the two men were sitting, a noise had arisen. A high voice was demanding admittance shrilly. “I've got something to tell. I've got something to tell. You take me in to where the gentlemen are. You take me in to where the policeman is.”
A uniformed policeman pushed open the door.
“It's one of the cooks here,” he said, “very anxious to see you. Says he's got something you ought to know.”
A frightened dark man in a cook's cap pushed past him and came into the room. It was one of the minor cooks. A Cuban, not a native of St. Honorй. “I tell you something. I tell you,” he said. “She come through my kitchen, she did, and she had a knife with her. A knife, I tell you. She had a knife in her hand. She come through my kitchen and out of the door. Out into the garden. I saw her.”
“Now calm down,” said Daventry, “calm down. Who are you talking about?”
“I tell you who I'm talking about. I'm talking about the boss's wife. Mrs Kendal. I'm talking about her. She have a knife in her hand and she go out into the dark. Before dinner that was-and she didn't come back”
A Caribbean Mystery
Chapter 15
INQUIRY CONTINUED
“Can we have a word with you, Mr. Kendal?”
“Of course.” Tim looked up from his desk. He pushed some papers aside and indicated chairs. His face was drawn and miserable. “How are you getting on? Got any forwarder? There seems to be a doom in this place. People are wanting to leave, you know, asking about air passages. Just when it seemed everything was being a success. Oh lord, you don't know what it means, this place, to me and to Molly. We staked everything on it.”
“It's very hard on you, I know,” said Inspector Weston. “Don't think that we don't sympathise.”
“If it all could be cleared up quickly,” said Tim. “This wretched girl Victoria- Oh! I oughtn't to talk about her like that. She was quite a good sort, Victoria was. But-but there must be some quite simple reason, some kind of intrigue, or love affair she had. Perhaps her husband-”
“Jim Ellis wasn't her husband, and they seemed a settled sort of couple.”
“If it could only be cleared up quickly,” said Tim again. “I'm sorry. You wanted to talk to me about something, ask me something.”
“Yes. It was about last night. According to medical evidence Victoria was killed some time between 10.30 P.M. and midnight. Alibis under the circumstances that prevail here, are not very easy to prove. People are moving about, dancing, walking away from the terrace, coming back. It's all very difficult.”
“I suppose so. But does that mean that you definitely consider Victoria was killed by one of the guests here?”
“Well, we have to examine that possibility, Mr. Kendal. What I want to ask you particularly about, is a statement made by one of your cooks.”
“Oh? Which one? What does he say?”
“He's a Cuban, I understand.”
“We've got two Cubans and a Puerto Rican.”
“This man Enrico states that your wife passed through the
“A little over-anxious do you think?” asked Daventry.
“That's very difficult to tell. There are people, you know, who are naturally nervous about their own safety, about being mixed up with anything. It isn't necessarily because they have any guilty knowledge. On the other hand it might be just that.”
“What about opportunity? Nobody's really got much of an alibi, what with the band and the dancing and the coming and going. People are getting up, leaving their tables, coming back. Women go to powder their noses. Men take a stroll. Dyson could have slipped away. Anybody could have slipped away. But he does seem rather anxious to prove that he didn't.” He looked thoughtfully down at the paper. “So Mrs. Kendal was rearranging knives on the table,” he said. “I rather wonder if he dragged that in on purpose.”
“Did it sound like it to you?”
The other considered. “I think it's possible.”
Outside the room where the two men were sitting, a noise had arisen. A high voice was demanding admittance shrilly. “I've got something to tell. I've got something to tell. You take me in to where the gentlemen are. You take me in to where the policeman is.”
A uniformed policeman pushed open the door.
“It's one of the cooks here,” he said, “very anxious to see you. Says he's got something you ought to know.”
A frightened dark man in a cook's cap pushed past him and came into the room. It was one of the minor cooks. A Cuban, not a native of St. Honorй. “I tell you something. I tell you,” he said. “She come through my kitchen, she did, and she had a knife with her. A knife, I tell you. She had a knife in her hand. She come through my kitchen and out of the door. Out into the garden. I saw her.”
“Now calm down,” said Daventry, “calm down. Who are you talking about?”
“I tell you who I'm talking about. I'm talking about the boss's wife. Mrs Kendal. I'm talking about her. She have a knife in her hand and she go out into the dark. Before dinner that was-and she didn't come back”
A Caribbean Mystery
Chapter 15
INQUIRY CONTINUED
“Can we have a word with you, Mr. Kendal?”
“Of course.” Tim looked up from his desk. He pushed some papers aside and indicated chairs. His face was drawn and miserable. “How are you getting on? Got any forwarder? There seems to be a doom in this place. People are wanting to leave, you know, asking about air passages. Just when it seemed everything was being a success. Oh lord, you don't know what it means, this place, to me and to Molly. We staked everything on it.”
“It's very hard on you, I know,” said Inspector Weston. “Don't think that we don't sympathise.”
“If it all could be cleared up quickly,” said Tim. “This wretched girl Victoria- Oh! I oughtn't to talk about her like that. She was quite a good sort, Victoria was. But-but there must be some quite simple reason, some kind of intrigue, or love affair she had. Perhaps her husband-”
“Jim Ellis wasn't her husband, and they seemed a settled sort of couple.”
“If it could only be cleared up quickly,” said Tim again. “I'm sorry. You wanted to talk to me about something, ask me something.”
“Yes. It was about last night. According to medical evidence Victoria was killed some time between 10.30 P.M. and midnight. Alibis under the circumstances that prevail here, are not very easy to prove. People are moving about, dancing, walking away from the terrace, coming back. It's all very difficult.”
“I suppose so. But does that mean that you definitely consider Victoria was killed by one of the guests here?”
“Well, we have to examine that possibility, Mr. Kendal. What I want to ask you particularly about, is a statement made by one of your cooks.”
“Oh? Which one? What does he say?”
“He's a Cuban, I understand.”
“We've got two Cubans and a Puerto Rican.”
“This man Enrico states that your wife passed through the
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