"I gather it came from St. Catherine's Hospital, where she works. But surely that makes it seem more like suicide?" "It was intended to, no doubt," said the Inspector.
"But who else could possibly have got that poison except Celia?" "Quite a lot of people," said Inspector Sharpe, "if they were determined to do so. Even you, yourself, Miss Tomlinson," he said, "might have managed to help yourself to it if you had wished to do so." "Really, Inspector Sharpe!" Jean's tones were sharp with indi nation.
"Well, you visited the Dispensary fairly often, didn't you, Miss Tomlinson?" "I went in there to see Mildred Carey, yes.
But naturally I would never have dreamed of tampering with the poison cupboard." "But you could have done so?" "I certainly couldn't have done anything of the kind!" "Oh, come now, Miss Tomlinson. Say that your friend was busy packing up the ward baske greater-than ts and the other girl was at the Outpatients window. There are frequent times when there are only two dispensers in the front room. You could have wandered casually round the back of the shelves of bottles that run across the middle of the floor. You could have nipped a hottle out of the cupboard and into your pocket, and neither of the two dispensers would have dreamed of what you had done." "I resent what you say very much, Inspector Sharpe. It's-it's a-disgraceful accusation." "But it's not an accusation, Miss Tomlinson.
It's nothing of the kind. You mustn't misunderstand me.
You said to me that it wasn't possible for you to do such a thing, and I'm trying to show you that it was possible. I'm not suggesting for a moment that you did do so. After all," he added, "why should you?" "Quite so. You don't seem to rearise, Inspector Sharpe, that I was a friend of Celia's." "Quite a lot of people get poisoned by their friends.
There's a certain question we have to ask ourselves sometimes.
'When is a friend not a friend?" "There was no disagreement between me and Celia, nothing of the kind. I liked her very much." "Had you any reason to suspect it was she who had been responsible for these thefts in the house?" "No, indeed. I was never so surprised in my life. I always thought Celia had high principles. I wouldn't have dreamed of her doing such a thin,." "Of course," said Sharpe, watching her carefully, "kleptomaniacs can't really help themselves, can they?" Jean Tomlinson's lips pursed themselves together even more closely. Then she opened them and spoke.
"I can't say I can quite subscribe to that idea, Inspector Sharpe. I'm old-fashioned in my views and believe that stealing is stealin,." "You think that Celia stole things because, frankly, she wanted to take them?" "Certainly I db." "Plain dishonest, in fact?" "I'm afraid so." "Ah!" said Inspector Sharpe, shaking his head.
"That's bad." "Yes, it's always upsetting when you feel you're disappointed in anyone." "There was a question, I understand, of our being called in-the police, I, mean." "Yes. That would have been the right thing to do, in my opinion." "Perliandps you think it ought to have been done anyway?" "I think it would have been the right thing. Yes, I don't think, you know, people ought to be allowed to get away with these things." "With calling oneself a kleptomaniac when one is really a thief, do you mean?" "Well, more or less, yes-that is what I mean." "Instead of which everything was ending happily and Miss Austin had wedding bells ahead." "Of course, one isn't surprised at anything Colin Mcationabb does," said Jean Tomlinson viciously. "I'm sure he's an atheist and a most disbelieving, mocking, unpleasant young man. He's rude to everybody. It's my opinion that he's a Communist!" "Ah!" said Inspeetor Sharpe. "Bad!" He shook his head.
"He backed up Celia, I think, because he hasn't got any proper feeling about property.
He probably thinks everyone should help themselves to everything they want." "Still, at any rate," said Inspector Sharpe, "Miss Austin did own up." "After she was found out. Yes," said Jean, sharply.
"Who found her out?" "That Mr.-what-was-his-name Poirot, who came." "But why do you think he found her out, Miss Tomlinson? He didn't say so. He just advised calling in the police." "He must have shown her that he knew. She obviously knew the game was up and rushed off to confess." "What about the ink on Elizabeth Johnston's papers?
Did she confess to that?" "I really don't know. I suppose so." "You suppose wrong," said Sharpe. "She denied most vehemently that she had anythin, to do with that." "Well, perhaps that may be so. I must say it doesn't seem very likely." "You think it is more likely that it was Nigel Chapman?" "No, I don't think Nigel would do that either.
I think it's much more likely to be Mr.
Akibombo." "Really? Why should he do it?" "Jealousy. All these coloured people are very jealous of each other and very hysterical." "That's interesting, Miss Tomlinson. When was the last time you saw Celia Austin?" "After dinner on Friday night."" "Who went up to bed first? Did she or did you?" "I did's "You did not go to her room or see her after you'd left the Common Room?" "No." "And you've no idea who could have introduced morphia into her coffee?-if it was given that way?" "No idea at all." "You never saw this morphia lying about the house or in anyone's room?" "No. No, I don't think so." "You don't think so? What do you mean by that, Miss Tomlinson?" "Well, I just wondered. There was that silly bet, you know." "What bet?" "One-oh, two or three of the boys were arguing-was "What were they arguing about?" "Murder, and ways of doing it. Poisoning in particular." "Who was concerned in the discussion?" "Well, I think Colin and Nigel started it, and then Len Bateson chipped in and Patricia was there too-was "Can you remember, as closely as possible, what was said on that occasion-how the argument went?" Jean Tomlinson reflected a few moments.
"Well, it started, I think, with a discussion on murdering by poison, sayin, that the difficulty was to get bold of the poison, that the murderer was usually traced by either the sale of the poison or having an opportunity to get it, and Niel said that wasn't at all necessary. He said that he could think of three distinct ways by which anyone could get hold of poison, and nobody would ever know they bad it. Len Bateson said then that he was talking through his hat.
Niel said no he wasn't, and he was quite prepared to prove it. Pat said that of course Nigel was quite ri lit. She said that either Len or Colin could probably help themselves to poison any time they liked from a hospital, and so could Celia, he said.
And Niel said that wasn't what he meant at all.
He said it would be noticed if Celia took anything from the Dispensary. Sooner or later they'd look for it and find it gone. And Pat said no, not if she took the bottle and emptied some stuff out and filled it up with somethin, else. Colin laughed then and said there'd be very serious complaints from the patients one of these days, in that case. But Nigel said of course he didn't mean special opportunities. He said that he himself, who hadn't got any particular access, either as a doctor or dispenser, could jolly well get three different kinds of poison by three different methods. Len Bateson said, 'All right, then, but what are your methods?" and Nigel said, 'I shall't tell you, now, but I'm prepared to bet you that within three weeks I can produce. samples of three deadly poisons here," and Len Bateson said he'd bet him a fiver he couldn't do it." "Well?" said Inspector Sharpe, when Jean stopped. "Well, nothing more came of it, I think, for some time and then, one evening, in the Common Room, Nigel said, "Now then, chaps, look here-I'm as good as my word," and he threw down three things on the table. He had a tube of hyoscine tablets, and a bottle of tincture digitalin and a tiny bottle of morphine tartrate." The Inspector said sharply, "Morphine tartrate. Any label on it?" "Yes, it had St. Catherine's Hospital on it. I do remember that because, naturally, it caught my eye." "And the others?" "I didn't notice. They were nott hospital stores, I should say." "What happened next?" "Well, of course, there was a lot of talk and jawing, and Len Bateson said, 'Come now, if you'd done a murder this would be traced to you soon enough," and Nigel said, "Not a bit of it. I'm a layman, I've no connection with any clinic or hospital and nobody will connect me for one moment with these. I didn't buy them over the counter," and Colin Mcationabb took his pipe out of his teeth and said, "No, you'd certainly not be able to do th
at. There's no chemist would sell you those three things without a doctor's prescription." Anyway, they argued a bit but in the end Len said heea'd pay up. He said, 'I can't do it now, because I'm a bit short of cash, but there's no doubt about it; Nigel's proved his point," and then he said, "Vast are we going to do with the guilty spoils?" Nigel grinned and said we'd better get rid of them before any accidents occurred, so they emptied out the tube and threw the tablets on the fire and emptied out the powder from the morphine tartrate and threw that on the fire too. The tincture of digitalis they poured down the lavatory." "And the bottles?" "I don't know what happened to the bottles should think they probably were just thrown into the waste paper basket." "But the poison itself was destroyed?" "Yes, I'm sure of that. I saw it." "And that was-whenough?" "About, oh just over a fortnight ago I think." "I see. Thank you, Miss Tomlinson." Jean lingered, clearly wanting to be told more.
"D'you think it might be important?" "It might be. One can't tell." Inspector Sharpe remained brooding for a few moments. Then he had Nigel Chapman in again.
"I've just had a rather interesting statement from Miss Jean Tomlinson," he said.
"Ah! Who's dear Jean been poisoning your mind against? Me?" "She's been talking about poison, and in connec-don with you, Mr. Chapman." "Poison and me? What on earth?" "Do you deny that some weeks ago you had a wager with Mr. Ba-teson about methods of obtaining poison in some way that could not be traced to you?" "Oh, that!" Nigel was suddenly enlightened.
"Yes, of course! Funny I never thought of that.
I don't even remember Jean being there. But you don't think it could have any possible significance, do you?" "Well, one doesn't know. You admit the fact, then?" "Oh, yes, we were arguing on the subject.
Colin and Len were being very superior and high-handed about it so I told them that with a little ingenuity anyone could get hold of a suitable supply of poison-in fact I said I could think of three distinct ways of doing it, and I'd prove my point, I said, by putting them into practice." "Which you then proceeded to do?" "Which I then proceeded to do, Inspector." "And what were those three methods, Mr.
Chapman?" Nigel put his head a Ettle on one side.
"Aren't you asking me to incriminate myself?" he said. "Surely you ought to warn me?" "It hasn't come to warning you yet, Mr.
Chapman, but, of course, there's no need for you to incriminate yourself, as you put it. In fact you're perfectly entitled to refuse my questions if you like to do so." "I don't know that I want to refuse." Nigel considered for a moment or two, a slight smile playing round his lips.
"Of course," he said, "what I did was, no doubt, against the law. You could haul me in for it if you Eked. On the other hand, this is a murder case and if it's got any bearing on poor little Celia's death I suppose I ought to tell you." "That would certainly be the sensible point of view to take." "All right then. I'll talk." "What were these three methods?" "Well." Nigel leant back in his chair.
"One's always reading in the papers, isn't one, about doctors losing dangerous drugs from a car? People are being warned about it?" "Yes." "Well, it occurred to me that one very simple method would be to go down to the country, follow a G.P. about on his rounds, when occasion offered-just open the car, look in the doctor's case, and extract what you wanted. You see, in these country districts, the doctor doesn't always take his case into the house. It depends what sort of patient he's going to see." "Well?" "Well, that's all. That's to say that's all for method number one. I had to sleuth three doctors until I had found a suitably careless one. When I did, it was simplicity itself. The car was left outside a farmhouse in a rather lonely spot. I opened the door, looked at the case, took out a tube of hyoscine hydrobromide, and that was that." "Ah! And method number two?" "That entailed just a little pumping of dear Celia, as a matter of fact. She was quite unsuspicious.
I told you she was a stupid girl, she had no idea what I was doing. I simply talked a bit about the mumbo jumbo Latin of doctors" prescriptions, and asked her to write me out a prescription in the way a doctor writes it, for tincture digitalin. She obliged quite unsuspecting. All I had to do' after that was to find a doctor in the classified directory, living in a far off district of Lo.ndon, add his initials or sli litly illegible signature. I then took it to a chemist in a busy part of London, who would not be likely to be familiar with that particular doctor's signature, and I received the prescription made up without any difficulty at all. Digitatin is prescribed in quite large quantities for heart cases and I had written out the prescription on hotel notepaper." "Very ingenious," said Inspector Sharpe, drily.
"I am incriminating myself! I can hear it in your voice." "And the third method?" Niel did not reply at once. Then he said, "Look here. What exactly am I letting myself in for?" "The theft of drugs from an unlocked car is larceny," said Inspector Sharpe. "Forging a prescription Nigel interrupted him.
"Not exactly forging, is it? I mean, I didn't obtain any money by it, and it wasn't actually an imitation of any doctor's signature. I mean, if I write a prescription and write H. R. Jarlies on it, you can't say I'm forging any particular Dr. James's name, can you?" He went on with rather a wry smile.
"You see what I mean. I'm sticking my neck out. If you like to turn nasty over this-well-I'm obviously for it. On the other hand, if. . ." "Yes, Mr. Chapman, on the other hand?" Nigel said with a sudden passion, "I don't like murder. It's a beastly, horrible thing. Celia, poor little devil, didn't deserve to be murdered. I want to help.
But does it help? I can't see that it does.
Telling you my peccadilloes, I mean." "The police have a good deal of latitude, Mr.
Chapman. It's up to them to look upon certain happenings as a light-hearted prank of an irresponsible nature. I accept your assurance that you want to help in the solving of this girl's murder. Now please go on, and tell me about your third method." "Well," said Nigel, "we're comino, fairly near the bone now. It was a bit more risky than the other two, but at the same time it was a great deal more fun. You see, I'd been to visit Celia once or twice in her Dispensary. I knew the lay of the land there . . ." "So you were able to pinch the bottle out of the cupboard?" "No, no, nothing as simple as that. That wouldn't have been fair from my point of view. And, incidentally, if it had been a real murder-that is, if I had been stealing the poison for the purpose of murder-it would probably be remembered that I had been there. Actually, I hadn't been in Celia's Dispensary for about six months. No, I knew that Celia always went into the back room at eleven fifteen for what you might call lelevenses," that is, a cup of coffee and a biscuit. The girls went in turn, two at a time. There was a new girl there who had only just come and she certainly wouldn't know me by sight. So what I did was this.
I strolled into the Dispensary with a white coat on and a stethoscope round my neck. There was only the new girl there and she was busy at the Outpatients" hatch. I strolled in, went along to the poison cupboard, took out a bottle, strolled round the end of the partition, said to the girl, "What strength adrenalin do you keep?" She told me and I nodded, then I asked her if she had a couple of veganin as I had a terrific hangover. I swallowed them down and strolled out again. She never had the least suspicion that I wasn't somebody's houseman or a medical student. It was child's play. Celia never even knew I'd been there." "A stethoscope," said Inspector Sharpe curiously.
"Where did you get a stethoscope?" Nigel grinned suddenly.
"It was Len Bateson's," he said. "I pinched it." "From this house?" "Yes.
"So that explains the theft of the stethoscope. That was not Celia's doing." "Good Lord, no! Can't see a kleptomaniac stealing a stethoscope, can you?" "What did you do with it afterwards?" "Well, I had to pawn it," said Nigel apologetically.
"Wasn't that a little hard on Bateson?" "Very hard on him. But without explaining my methods, which I didn't mean to do, I couldn't ten him about it. However," added Nigel cheerfully, "I took him out not long after and gave him a hell of a party one evening." "You're a very irresponsible young man," s
aid Inspector Sharpe.
"You should have seen their faces," said Nigel, his grin widening, "when I threw down those three lethal preparations on the table and told them I had managed to pinch them without anybody being wise as to who took them." "What you're telling me is"" said the Inspector, "that you had three means of poisoning someone by three dim erent poisons and that in each case the poison could not have been traced to you." Nigel nodded.
"That's fair enough," he said. "And given the circumstances it's not a very pleasant thin, to admit.
But the c, point is, that the poisons were all disposed of at least a fortni lit a,eaeao or loner." "That is what you think, Mr. Chapman, but it may not really be so." Nigel stared at him.
"What do you mean?" "You had these things in your possession, how long?" Niel considered.
C, "Well, the tube of hyoscine about ten days, I suppose. The morphine tartrate, about four days.
The tincture digitalin I'd only got that very afternoon." "And where did you keep these things-the hyoscine hydrobromide and the morphine tartrate, that is to say?" "In the drawer of my chest-of-drawers, pushed-to the back under my socks." "Did anyone know you had it there?" "No. No, I'm sure they didn't." There had been, however, a faint hesitation in his voice which Inspector Sharpe noticed, but for the moment he did not press the point.
Agatha Christie - Hickory Dickory Death Page 9