AgathaChristie-HerculePoirotsCasebook

by Hercule Poirot's Casebook (lit)

64

  stamps. On the right of the blotter was a movable calendar

  giving the day of the week, date and month. There was also a

  little glass jar of shot and standing in it a flamboyant green quill

  pen. Poirot seemed interested in the pen. He took it out and

  looked at it but the quill was innocent of ink. It was clearly a

  decoration - nothing more. The silver penholder with the ink-stained

  nib was the one in use. His eyes strayed to the calendar.

  'Tuesday, November fifth,' said Japp. 'Yesterday. That's all

  correcT.'

  He turned to Brett.

  'How long has she been dead?'

  'She was killed at eleven thirty-three yesterday evening,'

  said Brett promptly.

  Then he grinned as he saw Japp's surprised face.

  'Sorry, old boy,' he said. 'Had to do the super doctor of

  ction! As a matter of fact eleven is about as near as I can put

  : - with a margin of about an hour either way.'

  'Oh, I thought the wrist-watch might have stopped - or

  something.'

  'It's stopped all right, but it's stopped at a quarter past four.'

  'And I suppose she couldn't have been killed possibly at a

  quarter past four.'

  'You can put that right out of your mind.'

  Poirot had turned back the cover of the blotter.

  'Good idea,' said Japp. 'But no luck.'

  The blotter showed an innocent white sheet of blotting-

  paper. Poirot turned over the leaves but they were all the same.

  He turned his attention to the waste-paper basket.

  It contained two or three torn-up letters and circulars. They

  were only torn once and were easily reconstructed. An appeal

  for money from some society for assisting ex-service men, an

  invitation to a cocktail party on November 3rd, an appointment

  with a dressmaker. The circulars were an announcement of a

  furricr's sale and a catalogue from a department store.

  'Nothing there,' said Japp.

  'Nc), it is odd ...' said Poirot.

  'You mean they usually leave a letter when it's suicide?'

  65

  'Exactly.'

  'In fact, one more proof that it isn't suicide.'

  He moved away.

  'I'll have my men get to work now. We'd better go down ax,!

  interview this Miss Plenderleith. Coming, Poirot?'

  Poirot still seemed fascinated by the writing-bureau and its

  appointments.

  He left the room, but at the door his eyes went back once

  more to the flaunting emerald quill pen.

  CHAPTER2

  At the foot of the narrow flight of stairs a door gave admission

  to a large-sized living-room - actually the converted stable. In

  this room, the walls of which were finished in a roughened

  plaster effect and on which hung etchings and woodcuts, two

  people were sitting.

  One, in a chair near the fireplace, her hand stretched out To

  the blaze, was a dark efficient-looking young woman of twenv:.-seven

  or eight. The other, an elderly woman of ample

  proportions who carried a string bag, was panting and taikirg

  when the two men entered the room.

  '- and as I said, Miss, such a turn it gave me I nearly dropped

  down where I stood. And to think that this morning of all

  mornings '

  The other cut her short.

  'That will do, Mrs Pierce. These gentlemen are polk

  officers, I think.'

  'Miss Plenderleith?' asked Japp, advancing.

  The girl nodded.

  'That is my name. This is Mrs Pierce who comes in to w.. k

  for us every day.'

  The irrepressible Mrs Pierce broke out again.

  'And as I was saying to Miss Plenderleith, to think that this

  morning of all mornings, my sister's Louisa Maud should have

  been took with a fit and me the only one handy and as I say flesh

  and blood is flesh and blood, and I didn't think Mrs Allen

  would mind, though I never likes to disappoint my ladies -'

  Japp broke in with some dexterity.

  'Quite so, Mrs Pierce. Now perhaps you would take

  Inspector Jameson into the kitchen and give him a brief

  statement.'

  Having then got rid of the voluble Mrs Pierce, who departed

  with Jameson talking thirteen to the dozen, Japp turned his

  attention once more to the girl.

  'I am Chief Inspector Japp. Now, Miss Plenderleith, I

  should like to know all you can tell me about this business.'

  'Certainly. Where shall I begin?'

  Her self-possession was admirable. There were no signs of

  grief or shock save for an almost unnatural rigidity of manner.

  'You arrived this morning at what time?'

  'I think it was just before half-past ten. Mrs Pierce, the old

  liar, wasn't here, I found '

  'Is that a frequent occurrence?'

  Jane Plenderleith shrugged her shoulders.

  'About twice a week she roms up at twelve - or not at all.

  She's supposed to come at nine. Actually, as I say, twice a week

  she either "comes over queer," or else some member of her

  family is overtaken by sickness. All these daily women are like

  that - fail you now and again. She's not bad as they go.'

  'You've had her long?'

  'Just over a month. Our last one pinched things.'

  'Please go on, Miss Plenderleith.'

  'I paid off the taxi, carried in my suitcase, looked round for

  Mrs P., couldn't see her and went upstairs to my room. I tidied

  up a bit then I went across to Barbara - Mrs Allen - and found

  the door locked. I rattled the handle and knocked but could get

  no reply. I came downstairs and rang up the police station.'

  'Pardon? Poirot interposed a quick, deft question. 'It did not

  67

  occur to you to try and break down the door - with the help of

  one of the chauffeurs in the mews, say?'

  Her eyes turned to him - cool, grey-green eyes. Her glance

  seemed to sweep over him quickly and appraisingly.

  'No, I don't think I thought of that. If anything was wrong,

  it seemed to me that the police were the people to send for.'

  'Then you thought - pardon, mademoiselle -that there was

  something wrong?'

  'Naturally.'

  'Because you could not get a reply to your knocks? But

  possibly your friend might have taken a sleeping draught or

  something of that kind '

  'She didn't take sleeping draughts.'

  The reply came sharply.

  'Or she might have gone away and locked her door before

  going?'

  'Why should she lock it? In any case she would have left a

  note for me.'

  'And she did not - leave a note for you? You are quite sure

  of that?'

  'Of course I am sure of it. I should have seen it at once.'

  The sharpness of her tone was accentuated.

  Japp said:

  'You didn't try and look through the keyhole, Miss

  Plenderleith?'

  'No,' said Jane Plenderleith thoughtfully. 'I never thought

  of that. But I couldn't have seen anything, could I? Because the

  key would have been in it?'

  Her inquiring gaze, innocent, wide-eyed, met Japp's. Poirot

  smiled suddenly to himself.

  'You did quite right, of course, Miss Plenderleith,' said
/>
  Japp. 'I suppose you'd no reason to believe that your friend wa

  likely to commit suicide?'

  'Oh, no.'

  'She hadn't seemed worried - or distressed in any way?'

  There was a pause - an appreciable pause before the gi!

  answered.

  68

  'Did you know she had a pistol?'

  Jane Plenderleith nodded.

  'Yes, she had it out in India. She always kept it in a drawer

  her room.'

  'H'm. Got a licence for it?'

  'I imagine so. I don't know for certain.'

  'Now, Miss Plenderleith, will you tell me all you can about

  Mrs Allen, how long you've known her, where her relations are

  in fact.'

  Jane Plenderleith nodded.

  'I've known Barbara about five years. I met her first

  abroad - in Egypt to be exact. She was on her way

  home from India. I'd been at the British School in Athens for

  a bit and was having a few weeks in Egypt before going home.

  were on a Nile cruise together. We made friends, decided

  we liked each other. I was looking at the time for someone to

  share a flat or a tiny house with me. Barbara was alone in the

  world. We thought we'd get on well together.'

  'And you did get on well together?' asked Poirot.

  'Very well. We each had our own friends - Barbara was more

  sodal in her likings - my friends were more of the artistic kind.

  It probably worked better that way.'

  Poirot nodded. Japp went on:

  'What do you know about Mrs Allen's family and her life

  before she met you?'

  Jane Plenderleith shrugged her shoulders.

  'Not very much really. Her maiden name was Armitage, I

  I

  believe.' '

  'Her husband?'

  'I don't fancy that he was anything m write home about. He

  drank, I think. I gather he died a year or two after the marriage.

  There was one child, a little girl, which died when it was three

  years old. Barbara didn't talk much about her husband. I

  believe she married him in India when she was about

  seventeen. Then they went off to Borneo or one of the God69

  forsaken spots you send ne'er-do-wells to - but as it was

  obviously a painful subject I didn't refer to it.'

  'Do you know ffMrs Allen was in any £mancial difficulties?'

  'No, I'm sure she wasn't.'

  'Not in debt - anything of that kind?'

  'Oh, no! I'm sure she wasn't in that kind of a jam.'

  'Now there's another question I must ask - and I hope y.a

  won't be upset about it, Miss Plenderleith. Had Mrs Allen ay

  particular man friend or men friends?'

  Jane Plenderleith answered coolly:

  'Well, she was engaged to be married if that answers your

  question.'

  'What is the name of the man she was engaged to?'

  'Charles Laverton-West. He's M.P. for some ialace in

  Hampshire.'

  'Had she known him long?'

  'A little over a year.'

  'And she has been engaged to him - how long?'

  'Two - no - nearer three months.'

  'As far as you know there has not been any quarrel?'

  Miss Plenderleith shook her head.

  'No. I should have been surprised ffthere had been anything

  of that sort. Barbara wasn't the quarrelling kind.'

  'How long is it since you last saw Mrs Allen?'

  'Friday last, just before I went away for the weekend.'

  'Mrs Allen was remaining in wwn?'

  'Yes. She was going out with her fianc on the Sunday, I

  believe.'

  'And you yourself, where did you spend the weekend?'

  'At Laideils Hall, Laidelis, Essex.'

  'And the name of the people with whom you were staying;'

  'Mr and Mrs Bentinck.'

  'You only left them this morning?'

  'Yes.'

  'You must have left very early?'

  'Mr Bentinck motored me up. He starts early because he ;as

  to get to the city by ten.' 70

  'I see.'

  Japp nodded comprehendingly. Miss Plenderleith's replies

  had all been crisp and convincing.

  Poirot in his turn put a question.

  'What is your own opinion of Mr Laverton-West?'

  The girl shrugged her shoulders.

  'Does that matter?'

  'No, it does not matter, perhaps, but I should like to have

  your opinion.'

  'I don't know that I've thought about him one way or the

  other. He's young - not more than thirty-one or two ambitious

  - a good public speaker - means to get on in the

  world.'

  'That is on the credit side - and on the debit?'

  'Well,' Miss Plenderleith considered for a moment or two.

  'In my opinion he's commonplace - his ideas are not

  particularly original - and he's slightly pompous.'

  'Those are not very serious faults, mademoiselle,' said

  Poimt, smiling.

  'Don't you think so?'

  Her tone was slightly ironic.

  'They might be to you.'

  He was watching her, saw her look a little disconcerted. He

  pursued his advantage.

  'But to Mrs Allen - no, she would not notice them.'

  'You're perfectly right. Barbara thought he was wonderful took

  him entirely at his own valuation.'

  Poirot said gently:

  'You were fond of your friend?'

  He saw the hand clench on her knee, the tightening of the

  line of the jaw, yet the answer came in a matter-of-fact voice

  free from emotion.

  'You are quite right. I was.'

  Japp said:

  'Just one other thing, Miss Plenderleith. You and she didn't

  have a quarrel? There was no upset between you?'

  'None whatever.' 71

  'Not over this engagemem business?'

  'Certainly not. I was glad she was able to be so happy ab.ut

  it.'

  There was a momentary pause, then Japp said:

  'As far as you know, did Mrs Allen have any enemies?'

  This time there was a definite interval before Jane Plenc rleith

  replied. When she did so, her tone had altered v 'v

  slightly.

  'I don't know quite what you mean by enemies?'

  'Anyone, for instance, who would profit by her death?'

  'Oh, no, that would be ridiculous. She had a very snall

  income anyway.'

  'And who inherits that income?'

  Jane Plenderleith's voice sounded mildly surprised as she

  said:

  'Do you know, I really don't know. I shouldn't be surprised

  if I did. That is, if she ever made a will.'

  'And no enemies in any other sense?' Japp slid offto another

  aspect quickly. 'People with a grudge against her?'

  'I don't think anyone had a grudge against her. She was a

  very gentle creature, always anxious to please. She had a really

  sweet, lovable nature.'

  For the lb-St time that hard, matter-of=fact voice broke a

  little. Poirot nodded gently.

  Japp said:

  'So it amounts to this - Mrs Allen has been in good spirits

  lately, she wasn't in any financial difficulty, she was engaged to

  be married and was happy in her engagement. There was

  nothing in the world to make her commit suicide. That's right,

  isn't it?'

  There was a momentary silence before Jane said: />
  'Yes.' Japp rose.

  'Excuse me, I must have a word with Inspector Jameson?

  He left the room.

  Hercule Poirot remained tte d tete with Jane Plenderleith.

  72

  CHAPTER 3

  For a few minutes there was silence.

  Jane Plenderleith shot a swift appraising glance at the little

  man, but after that she stared in front of her and did not speak.

  Yet a consciousness of his presence showed itself in a certain

  nervous tension. Her body was still but not relaxed. When at

  last Poirot did break the silence the mere sound of his voice

  seemed to give her a certain relief. In an agreeable everyday

  voice he asked a question.

  'When did you light the fire, mademoiselle?'

  'The fire?' Her voice sounded vague and rather absentminded.

  'Oh, as soon as I arrived this morning.'

  'Before you went upstairs or afterwards?'

  'Before.'

  'I see. Yes, naturally... And it was already laid - or did you

  have to lay it?'

  'It was laid. I only had to put a match to it.'

  There was a slight impatience in her voice. Clearly she

  suspected him of making conversation. Possibly that was what

  he was doing. At any rate he went on in quiet conversational

  tones.

  'But your friend - in her room I noticed there was a gas fac

  only?'

  Jane Plenderleith answered mechanically.

  'This is the only. coal fire we have - the others are all gas

  fes.'

  'And you cook with gas, too?'

  'I ttdnk everyone does nowadays.'

  'True. It is much labour saving.'

  The little interchange died down. Jane Plenderleith tapped

  on the ground with her shoe. Then she said abruptly:

  'That man - Chief Inspector Japp - is he considered clever?'

  73

  'He is very sound. Yes, he is well thought of. He works hard

  and painstakingly and very little escapes him.'

  'I wonder -' muttered the girl.

  Poirot watched her. His eyes looked very green in

  firelight. He asked quietly:

  'It was a great shock to you, your friend's death?'

  'Terrible.'

  She spoke with abrupt sincerity.

  'You did not expect it - no?'

  'Of course not.'

  "So that it seemed to you at first, perhaps, that it was