Dead Man's Folly by Agatha Christie

the woodlands as much as I should have thought they would. People tend to herd together very much at these affairs, don’t you think so, Inspector?”
    The inspector said that that was probably so.
    â€œThough, I think,” said Miss Brewis, with sudden memory, “that there was someone in the Folly.”
    â€œThe Folly?”
    â€œYes. A small white temple arrangement. It was put up just a year or two ago. It’s to the right of the path as you go down to the boathouse. There was someone in there. A courting couple, I suspect. Someone was laughing and then someone said, ‘Hush.’”
    â€œYou don’t know who this courting couple was?”
    â€œI’ve no idea. You can’t see the front of the Folly from the path. The sides and back are enclosed.”
    The inspector thought for a moment or two, but it did not seem likely to him that the couple—whoever they were—in the Folly were important. Better find out who they were, perhaps, because they in their turn might have seen someone coming up from or going down to the boathouse.
    â€œAnd there was no one else on the path? No one at all?” he insisted.
    â€œI see what you’re driving at, of course,” said Miss Brewis. “I can only assure you that I didn’t meet anyone. But then, you see, I needn’t have. I mean, if there had been anyone on the path who didn’t want me to see them, it’s the simplest thing in the world just to slip behind some of the rhododendron bushes. The path’s ordered on both sides with shrubs and rhododendron bushes. If anyone who had no business to be there heard someone coming along the path, they could slip out of sight in a moment.”
    The inspector shifted on to another tack.
    â€œIs there anything you know about this girl yourself, that could help us?” he asked.
    â€œI really know nothing about her,” said Miss Brewis. “I don’t think I’d ever spoken to her until this affair. She’s one of the girls I’ve seen about—I know her vaguely by sight, but that’s all.”
    â€œAnd you know nothing about her—nothing that could be helpful?”
    â€œI don’t know of any reason why anyone should want to murder her,” said Miss Brewis. “In fact it seems to me, if you know what I mean, quite impossible that such a thing should have happened. I can only think that to some unbalanced mind, the fact that she was to be the murdered victim might have induced the wish to make her a real victim. But even that sounds very far-fetched and silly.”
    Bland sighed.
    â€œOh, well,” he said, “I suppose I’d better see the mother now.”
    Mrs. Tucker was a thin, hatchet-faced woman with stringyblonde hair and a sharp nose. Her eyes were reddened with crying, but she had herself in hand now, and was ready to answer the inspector’s questions.
    â€œDoesn’t seem right that a thing like that should happen,” she said. “You read of these things in the papers, but that it should happen to our Marlene—”
    â€œI’m very, very sorry about it,” said Inspector Bland gently. “What I want you to do is to think as hard as you can and tell me if there is anyone who could have had any reason to harm the girl?”
    â€œI’ve been thinking about that already,” said Mrs. Tucker, with a sudden sniff. “Thought and thought, I have, but I can’t get anywhere. Words with the teacher at school Marlene had now and again, and she’d have her quarrels now and again with one of the girls or boys, but nothing serious in any way. There’s no one who had a real down on her, nobody who’d do her a mischief.”
    â€œShe never talked to you about anyone who might have been an enemy of any kind?”
    â€œShe talked silly often, Marlene did, but nothing of that kind. It was all makeup and hairdos, and what she’d like to do to her face