Read Online The A B C Murders by Agatha Christie - Free Book Online

boom,” said Inspector Kelsey encouragingly. “You'll see! You won't be able
     to serve teas fast enough!”
    “Disgusting,” said Miss Men'ion. “Truly disgusting. It makes one despair of human nature.”
    But her eye brightened nevertheless.
    “What can you tell me about the dead girl, Miss Merrion?”
    “Nothing,” said Miss Merrion positively. “Absolutely nothing!”
    “How long had she been working here?”
    “This was the second summer.”
    “You were satisfied with her?”
    “She was a good waitress - quick and obliging.”
    “She was pretty, yes?” inquired Poirot.
    Miss Merrion, in her turn, gave him an “Oh, these foreigners” look.
    “She was a nice, clean-looking girl,” she said distantly.
    “What time did she go off duty last night?” asked Crome.
    “Eight o'clock. We close at eight. We do not serve dinners. There is no demand for them.
     Scrambled eggs and tea (Poirot shuddered) people come in for up to seven o'clock and
     sometimes after, but our rush is over by 6:30.”
    “Did she mention to you how she proposed to spend her evening?”
    “Certainly not,” said Miss Merrion emphatically. “We were not on those terms.”
    “No one came in and called for her? Anything like that?”
    “No.”
    “Did she seem quite her ordinary self? Not excited or depressed?”
    “Really I could not say,” said Miss Merrion aloofly.
    “How many waitresses do you employ?”
    “Two normally, and an extra two after the 20th of July until the end of August.”
    “But Elizabeth Barnard was not one of the extras?”
    “Miss Barnard was one of the regulars.”
    “What about the other one?”
    “Miss Higley? She is a very nice young lady.”
    “Were she and Miss Barnard friends?”
    “Really I could not say.”
    “Perhaps we'd better have a word with her.”
    “Now?”
    “If you please.”
    “I will send her to you,” said Miss Merrion, rising. “Please keep her as short a time as
     possible. This is the morning coffee rush hour.”
    The feline and gingery Miss Merrion left the room.
    “Very refined,” remarked Inspector Kelsey. He mimicked the lady's mincing tone. “Really I
     could not say.”
    A plump girl, slightly out of breath, with dark hair, rosy cheeks and dark eyes goggling
     with excitement, bounced in.
    “Miss Merrion sent me,” she announced breathlessly.
    “Miss Higley?”
    “Yes, that's me.”
    “You knew Elizabeth Barnard?”
    “Oh, yes, I knew Betty. Isn't it awful? It's just too awful! I can't believe it's true.
     I've been saying to the girls all the morning I just can't believe it! 'You know, girls,'
     I said, 'it just doesn't seem real.' Betty! I mean, Betty Barnard, who's been here all
     along, murdered! 'I just can't believe it,' I said. Five or six times I've pinched myself
     just to see if I wouldn't wake up. Betty murdered... It's - well, you know what I mean -
     it doesn't seem real.”
    “You knew the dead girl well?” asked Crome.
    “Well, she's worked here longer than I have. I only came this March. She was here last
     year. She was rather quiet, if you know what I mean. She wasn't one to joke or laugh a
     lot. I don't mean that she was exactly quiet - she'd plenty of fun in her and all that -
     but she didn't - well, she was quiet and she wasn't quiet, if you know what I mean.”
    I will say for Inspector Crome that he was exceedingly patient. As a witness the buxom
     Miss Higley was persistently maddening. Every statement she made was repeated and
     qualified half a dozen times. The net result was meagre in the extreme.
    She had not been on terms of intimacy with the dead girl. Elizabeth Barnard, it could be
     guessed, had considered herself a cut above Miss Higley. She had been friendly in working
     hours, but the gifts had not seen much of her out of them. Elizabeth Barnard had had a
     “friend” - worked in the estate agents near the station. Court & Brunskill. No, he wasn't
     Mr. Court nor Mr. Brunskill. He was a clerk