"I can see. So you started to leave."
"Well, there wasn't anything else to do, was there? He was dead, and while it was his own fault, I didn't want to be connected… It was raining quite hard then, and when I opened the door-I'd left my car on the street that time, very foolishly-there was this sudden great flash of lightning, it lit up everything-"
"Including the police car sitting right outside. And the driver. And its number. Yes, I know all about that too. And several people have identified the gun. It was that extra kill that was your biggest mistake, Miss Ferne… You thought the driver had seen you, and you decided-shall we say-you might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb? So you thought it over, and went back to get the gun, and then you found the car had gone. You spent quite a while hunting it."
She looked down and then up through her lashes, demurely. "I know that whole thing was foolish, I realized it almost as soon as it was over. But I was frightened, and not thinking very clearly-and of course women haven't logical minds, have they? There wasn't any way to be sure I'd really killed him, that was the trouble. It was awful, driving all over looking for that car-I passed several police cars, but I couldn't always read the number, and I was frantic-and then, it was like a miracle, I saw it just ahead, stopped, and the roof light showed up its number, the right one. Seven-four-seven it was. So I went around the block-of course I'd made sure the gun was loaded… You know, I hadn't fired a gun in years, and I was always better with a ride too, but it came back, if you know what I mean. But I couldn't be sure. So then-I was thinking much more clearly by that time, of course-I thought, well, Brooke was leaving anyway, why not just make it look as if he'd gone away? And then it wouldn't matter about the policeman, no one would know Brooke was dead. So I went back, and that time I parked behind the building. I hadn't any trouble getting in, you see, he'd already put that note for the landlady, with the key in it, on the front door. And at first I thought of putting everything, Brooke and the suitcases, into the car, and going down to the beach-but it would have been awfully difficult, being a woman I'm not very strong, of course. And then I thought of that funny trap door. I'd only been to his place once before, you know-he was ashamed of it, I think-but he'd shown it to me then, because I noticed the hinges on the floor, such a funny place, and asked. I think it was clever of me to remember and take the time to bury him. Dead things begin to-to-you know, have an odor, after a while. I didn't think it needed to be very deep, just enough. And it was the oddest thing, very lucky, there was a trowel, just lying there on the couch in the living room-I can't imagine why. Very lucky, because of course you couldn't use a spade down there, there wasn't room. It took ages, after I'd pushed him down there, and I was terribly frightened once when some people came in-I don't know who. They knocked, and I knew the door was unlatched-they might come in-so I just closed the trap and waited. I'd left my purse in the car. I knew there wasn't anything damaging for them to see. They stayed an awfully long time, I could just barely hear the voices, you know. I thought they'd never go-"
"Weren't you," he asked of private curiosity, "at all nervous down there in the dark with a dead man?"
She stared up at him. "I was waiting for them to go, so I could get on with burying him. No, why? You said, about later on, I couldn't face going down again-how silly-it wasn't that, it was my shoes-I'd almost ruined them, quite expensive shoes, and I didn't want to get them dirty again after I'd… And I did think, those things-to plant on someone else, if… I remembered to wear my gloves all the time, except just at first, and I wiped off things I remembered touching then. Only I lost a button from one of them, somewhere-"
"Yes, we have both the button and the glove."
"Oh-have you? You are clever… And, you know, when I slid him down the trap-I have been a little worried about this-there was a lot of money, all in a great roll, fell out of his trouser pocket, and the bankbooks-for the Temple accounts, I mean. I've been worried about those, I didn't know what to do-Martin should have them back, but-Oh, and I kept the money, of course- You needn't say I stole it, the way Brooke did, because you know, I'd spent that much and more on him, it was only fair!… And I cleaned everything up tidily, the last thing-that was after I came back in the cab, of course. I emptied the ashtray and put some scraps of waste paper into the wastepaper basket, an empty pack of cigarettes and tom paper, there on the bureau-"
(Yes, of course, Kingman's note, and Mrs. Bragg emptying the basket.)
"The car was an awful nuisance. Of course it had to go too, and I thought if it was found near the station people would think he'd gone away on a train. That was stupid-I didn't think until I was almost there-I should have left it at the airport, much closer to the apartment, so much easier. I took along the smallest suitcase because I thought that would look to a cab driver as if I'd just got off a train-but then I realized I couldn't take a cab right at the station, in the light. You know," she simpered at him, "people always do look at me, and they'd be bound to remember. So I thought, something to put over my hair, and I put on a lot more make-up too, heavy eyebrows and so on, like that, as a disguise. And, oh, that suitcase was so heavy! I walked and walked, looking for some place I could get a scarf, something like that-but everything was going right for me that night, I found a place open-and you're lying when you say that man, and the driver too, knew I was acting a part! I always said I could do character work, though it's not necessary, of course-I am better, I admit that, at ingenue types. And when I did get back, such a time it took too, I put the note back on the door where it had been, and the key, and-I never thought anyone would find out, and what did it matter? But you were cleverer than I thought-I can't imagine how you came to find him… All the same, I don't think I mind, because I really believe this might be the great turning point for me, you know? Some really useful publicity-and of course a good new agent, someone young-"
"Maybe so, Miss Ferne," said Mendoza. "Thank you very much, I think that's all we'll ask of you right now. You can sign a typed statement later."
"Come on, dear," said the policewoman.
"Oh, may I go now? I must see about a lawyer, I suppose. Goodbye, Lieutenant." As she was led out the door she was saying again, to herself, "Someone young-with the youthful outlook-that's the main thing, the important thing-"
Hackett said angrily, wonderingly, "She never asked about Angel at all. Where she is, how she feels. And, my God, this is going to be tough on Angel… Even without a trial, if the lawyer persuades the Ferne not to try denying that confession-"
"She'll probably try," said Mendoza. "Claim the brutal police forced her to sign it. Rather odd business altogether, but then-as Madame Cara said to me-people are. And, speaking of cliches, that's one we always come back to in our business, don't we?-you look far enough, there's a woman at the bottom of every piece of mischief. For me, nada de eso, thanks. Too dangerous."