Crystal be shown in.
Crystal had found something black to wear, although black was the only thing decent about her outfit. It consisted of a short divided skirt and a halter-top that left an expanse of bare, lightly tanned midriff. She sat down and crossed her legs.
‘Your name is Crystal Debenham, and you are how old?’ began Blair.
‘Nineteen.’
‘Job?’
‘Not yet,’ said Crystal huskily.
‘What were your relations with your aunt?’
‘Used to be all right,’ said Crystal laconically. ‘When I was at school, she’d come and take me out for tea and things like that. More than my parents did. She was jolly and good company.’
‘And when did she ask you to come up here?’
‘The morning she went. She’d found out Maria was up here with a group and phoned and asked me to come. So I packed and came. First time I’d seen Auntie since I got back from finishing school in Switzerland.’
‘Do you benefit from your aunt’s will?’
‘Yes, I think I get all of it,’ said Crystal equably.
‘Therefore –’ Blair hunched over the desk – ‘you had a strong motive for wanting rid of her.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t have liked her to leave the money to the old cat’s home or something,’ said Crystal, ‘but Mummy and Daddy are quite rich, so it’s not as if I was lusting after her millions, now was it?’
Blair gave her a look of irritation. ‘What were you doing yesterday evening after dinner?’
She frowned in concentration. ‘Oh, I know – I went upstairs same time as Auntie, went to my room. That’s it.’
‘What did you do in your room?’
‘I painted my toe-nails.’ Crystal opened her eyes to their fullest. ‘That took simply ages because I’d painted them pink and then I thought, I’ve this new orange lipstick, why not paint them orange? So I took off the pink and put on the orange, and then of course I had to do my fingernails.’ She waggled long orange-painted fingernails at him.
‘And you did not see your aunt or hear her go out?’
‘No, heard nothing. Can I go now?’
‘Miss Debenham,’ said Blair, his voice harsh and his accent slipping, ‘yer Auntie was murdered and you don’t seem to give a damn.’
‘Maybe I’m in shock,’ said Crystal, unmoved. ‘But she had become a bit of a pain, slobbering all over her food. Gross!’
‘Are there any witnesses who can testify that you were in your room all the time?’
‘No, although I had the television on. Someone might have heard that.’
‘You could have left that on while you lured your aunt out on to the moors into the quarry and murdered her,’ roared Blair.
Crystal leaned back in her chair, and her voice was silky, ‘Oh, do be so very careful, whatever your name is, before you start accusing me, or it will be me who puts you in the dock.’
Hamish leaned forward and surveyed her with interest. For under that sluttish appearance of hers, Crystal had all the tough arrogance of a privileged background. She was either too stupid to cover up the fact that she expected to inherit her aunt’s money and was not grieving over her death, or she was clever enough to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
Blair looked like a baffled bull. ‘We will be questioning you, Miss Debenham, as soon as we have the forensic reports.’
‘Do that,’ said Crystal languidly and rose and swayed from the room.
Blair struck the desk with his fist. ‘That bitch did it. I’ll stake ma life on it.’
Jenkins, the maître d’hôtel , came in. Blair looked up angrily. ‘We dinnae need you yet.’
‘But I have vital information,’ said Jenkins pompously.
‘Out wi’ it then!’
‘I was passing Mrs Gore’s bedroom earlier in the week and I heard Miss Maria Worth threatening her.’
‘Ho, and whit did she say?’
‘She shouted something like, “If I have to kill you to get rid of you, then I’ll do it.” It appears to be a well-known fact that Miss Worth wished to buy Mrs Gore out and Mrs Gore would
Crystal had found something black to wear, although black was the only thing decent about her outfit. It consisted of a short divided skirt and a halter-top that left an expanse of bare, lightly tanned midriff. She sat down and crossed her legs.
‘Your name is Crystal Debenham, and you are how old?’ began Blair.
‘Nineteen.’
‘Job?’
‘Not yet,’ said Crystal huskily.
‘What were your relations with your aunt?’
‘Used to be all right,’ said Crystal laconically. ‘When I was at school, she’d come and take me out for tea and things like that. More than my parents did. She was jolly and good company.’
‘And when did she ask you to come up here?’
‘The morning she went. She’d found out Maria was up here with a group and phoned and asked me to come. So I packed and came. First time I’d seen Auntie since I got back from finishing school in Switzerland.’
‘Do you benefit from your aunt’s will?’
‘Yes, I think I get all of it,’ said Crystal equably.
‘Therefore –’ Blair hunched over the desk – ‘you had a strong motive for wanting rid of her.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t have liked her to leave the money to the old cat’s home or something,’ said Crystal, ‘but Mummy and Daddy are quite rich, so it’s not as if I was lusting after her millions, now was it?’
Blair gave her a look of irritation. ‘What were you doing yesterday evening after dinner?’
She frowned in concentration. ‘Oh, I know – I went upstairs same time as Auntie, went to my room. That’s it.’
‘What did you do in your room?’
‘I painted my toe-nails.’ Crystal opened her eyes to their fullest. ‘That took simply ages because I’d painted them pink and then I thought, I’ve this new orange lipstick, why not paint them orange? So I took off the pink and put on the orange, and then of course I had to do my fingernails.’ She waggled long orange-painted fingernails at him.
‘And you did not see your aunt or hear her go out?’
‘No, heard nothing. Can I go now?’
‘Miss Debenham,’ said Blair, his voice harsh and his accent slipping, ‘yer Auntie was murdered and you don’t seem to give a damn.’
‘Maybe I’m in shock,’ said Crystal, unmoved. ‘But she had become a bit of a pain, slobbering all over her food. Gross!’
‘Are there any witnesses who can testify that you were in your room all the time?’
‘No, although I had the television on. Someone might have heard that.’
‘You could have left that on while you lured your aunt out on to the moors into the quarry and murdered her,’ roared Blair.
Crystal leaned back in her chair, and her voice was silky, ‘Oh, do be so very careful, whatever your name is, before you start accusing me, or it will be me who puts you in the dock.’
Hamish leaned forward and surveyed her with interest. For under that sluttish appearance of hers, Crystal had all the tough arrogance of a privileged background. She was either too stupid to cover up the fact that she expected to inherit her aunt’s money and was not grieving over her death, or she was clever enough to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
Blair looked like a baffled bull. ‘We will be questioning you, Miss Debenham, as soon as we have the forensic reports.’
‘Do that,’ said Crystal languidly and rose and swayed from the room.
Blair struck the desk with his fist. ‘That bitch did it. I’ll stake ma life on it.’
Jenkins, the maître d’hôtel , came in. Blair looked up angrily. ‘We dinnae need you yet.’
‘But I have vital information,’ said Jenkins pompously.
‘Out wi’ it then!’
‘I was passing Mrs Gore’s bedroom earlier in the week and I heard Miss Maria Worth threatening her.’
‘Ho, and whit did she say?’
‘She shouted something like, “If I have to kill you to get rid of you, then I’ll do it.” It appears to be a well-known fact that Miss Worth wished to buy Mrs Gore out and Mrs Gore would
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