Cat Among the Pigeons by Agatha Christie

could see was out of place. “All the same,” he said to himself, “she was up to something.”
    As he came out again, he was confronted unexpectedly by Ann Shapland.
    â€œDo you know where Miss Bulstrode is?” she asked.
    â€œI think she’s gone back to the house, miss. She was talking to Briggs just now.”
    Ann was frowning.
    â€œWhat are you doing in the Sports Pavilion?”
    Adam was slightly taken aback. Nasty suspicious mind she’s got, he thought. He said, with a faint insolence in his voice:
    â€œThought I’d like to take a look at it. No harm in looking, is there?”
    â€œOughtn’t you to be getting on with your work?”
    â€œI’ve just about finished nailing the wire round the tennis court.” He turned, looking up at the building behind him. “This is new, isn’t it? Must have cost a packet. The best of everything the young ladies here get, don’t they?”
    â€œThey pay for it,” said Ann dryly.
    â€œPay through the nose, so I’ve heard,” agreed Adam.
    He felt a desire he hardly understood himself, to wound or annoy this girl. She was so cool always, so self-sufficient. He would really enjoy seeing her angry.
    But Ann did not give him that satisfaction. She merely said:
    â€œYou’d better finish tacking up the netting,” and went back towards the house. Halfway there, she slackened speed and looked back. Adam was busy at the tennis wire. She looked from him to the Sports Pavilion in a puzzled manner.

Eight
M URDER
    I
    O n night duty in Hurst St. Cyprian Police Station, Sergeant Green yawned. The telephone rang and he picked up the receiver. A moment later his manner had changed completely. He began scribbling rapidly on a pad.
    â€œYes? Meadowbank? Yes—and the name? Spell it, please. S-P-R-I-N-G-for greengage?-E-R. Springer. Yes. Yes, please see that nothing is disturbed. Someone’ll be with you very shortly.”
    Rapidly and methodically he then proceeded to put into motion the various procedures indicated.
    â€œMeadowbank?” said Detective Inspector Kelsey when his turn came. “That’s the girls’ school, isn’t it? Who is it who’s been murdered?”
    â€œDeath of a Games Mistress,” said Kelsey, thoughtfully. “Sounds like the title of a thriller on a railway bookstall.”
    â€œWho’s likely to have done her in, d’you think?” said the Sergeant. “Seems unnatural.”
    â€œEven Games Mistresses may have their love lives,” said Detective Inspector Kelsey. “Where did they say the body was found?”
    â€œIn the Sports Pavilion. I suppose that’s a fancy name for the gymnasium.”
    â€œCould be,” said Kelsey. “Death of a Games Mistress in the Gymnasium. Sounds a highly athletic crime, doesn’t it? Did you say she was shot?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThey find the pistol?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œInteresting,” said Detective Inspector Kelsey, and having assembled his retinue, he departed to carry out his duties.
    II
    The front door at Meadowbank was open, with light streaming from it, and here Inspector Kelsey was received by Miss Bulstrode herself. He knew her by sight, as indeed most people in the neighbourhood did. Even in this moment of confusion and uncertainty, Miss Bulstrode remained eminently herself, in command of the situation and in command of her subordinates.
    â€œDetective Inspector Kelsey, madam,” said the Inspector.
    â€œWhat would you like to do first, Inspector Kelsey? Do you wish to go out to the Sports Pavilion or do you want to hear full details?”
    â€œThe doctor is with me,” said Kelsey. “If you will show him and two of my men to where the body is, I should like a few words with you.”
    â€œCertainly. Come into my sitting room. Miss Rowan, willyou show the doctor and the others the way?” She added, “One of my staff is