Evil Under the Sun by Agatha Christie

changed into tennis kit as I had a date to play tennis at twelve. We'd booked the court the day before.”
    “Who was we?”
    “Mrs Redfern, Miss Darnley, Mr Gardener and myself. I came down at twelve o'clock and went up to the court. Miss Darnley was there and Mr Gardener. Mrs Redfern arrived a few minutes later. We played tennis for an hour. Just as we came into the hotel afterwards I - I - got the news.”
    “Thank you. Captain Marshall. Just as a matter of form, is there any one who can corroborate the fact that you were typing in your room between - er - ten minutes to eleven and ten minutes to twelve?”
    Kenneth Marshall said with a faint smile: “Have you got some idea that I killed my own wife? Let me see now. The chambermaid was about doing the rooms. She must have heard the typewriter going. And then there are the letters themselves. With all this upset I haven't posted them. I should imagine they are as good evidence as anything.”
    He took three letters from his pocket. They were addressed, but not stamped. He said: “Their contents, by the way, are strictly confidential. But when it's a case of murder, one is forced to trust in the discretion of the police. They contain lists of figures and various financial statements. I think you will find that if you put one of your men on to type them out, he won't do it in much under an hour.” He paused. “Satisfied, I hope?”
    Weston said smoothly: “It is no question of suspicion. Every one on the island will be asked to account for his or her movements between a quarter to eleven and twenty minutes to twelve this morning.”
    Kenneth Marshall said: “Quite.”
    Weston said: “One more thing, Captain Marshall. Do you know anything about the way your wife was likely to have disposed of any property she had?”
    “You mean a will? I don't think she ever made a will.”
    “Her solicitors are Barkett, Markett & Applegood, Bedford Square. They saw to all her contracts, etc. But I'm fairly certain she never made a will. She said once that doing a thing like that would give her the shivers.”
    “In that case, if she has died intestate, you, as her husband, succeed to her property.”
    “Yes, I suppose I do.”
    “Had she any near relatives?”
    “I don't think so. If she had, she never mentioned them. I know that her father and mother died when she was a child and she had no brothers or sisters.”
    “In any case, I suppose, she had nothing very much to leave?”
    Kenneth Marshall said coolly: “On the contrary. Only two years ago, Sir Robert Erskine, who was an old friend of hers, died and left her a good deal of his fortune. It amounted, I think, to about fifty thousand pounds.”
    Inspector Colgate looked up. An alertness came into his glance. Up to now he had been silent. Now he asked: “Then actually. Captain Marshall, your wife was a rich woman?”
    Kenneth Marshall shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose she was really.”
    “And you still say she did not make a will?”
    “You can ask the solicitors. But I'm pretty certain she didn't. As I tell you, she thought it unlucky.” There was a pause, then Marshall added: “Is there anything further?”
    Weston shook his head. “Don't think so - eh, Colgate? No. Once more, Captain Marshall, let me offer you all my sympathy in your loss.”
    Marshall blinked. He said jerkily: “Oh - thanks.” He went out.
    The three men looked at each other. Weston said: “Cool customer. Not giving anything away, is he? What do you make of him, Colgate?”
    The Inspector shook his head. “It's difficult to tell. He's not the kind that shows anything. That sort makes a bad impression in the witness box, and yet it's a bit unfair on them really. Sometimes they're as cut up as anything and yet can't show it. That kind of manner made the jury bring in a verdict of Guilty against Wallace. It wasn't the evidence. They just couldn't believe that a man could lose his wife and talk and act so coolly about it.”
    Weston turned