AgathaChristie-HerculePoirotsCasebook

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by Hercule Poirot's Casebook (lit)


  uttered an exclamation. From beneath the heavy rep curtains

  there protruded a foot - a woman's foot in a gaping patcn.r

  leather shoe.

  Jimmy went to the curtain.s and drew them sharply apart. In

  208

  recess of the window a woman's huddled body Iy on the

  flor, a sticky dark pool beside it. She was dead, there was no

  doubt of that. Jimmy was attempting to raise her up when

  Donovan stopped him.

  'You'd better not do that. She oughm't to be touched till the

  police come.'

  'The police. Oh, of course. I say, Donovan, what a ghtly

  business. Who do you think she is? Mrs Ernestine Grt?'

  'Looks like it. At any rate, if there's anyone else in the flt

  they're keeping jolly quiet.'

  'What do we do next?' asked Jimmy. 'Run out and get a

  policeman or ring up from Pat's fit?'

  'I should think ringing up would be best. Come on, we

  might as well go out the front door. We can't spend the whole

  night going up and down in that evil-smelliug ·

  Jimmy agreed. Just as they were passing through the door he

  hesitated. 'Look here; do you think one of us ought to stay -just

  to keep an eye on things - till the police come?'

  'Yes, I think you're right. If you'll stay I'll nm up and

  telephone.'

  He ran quickly up the stairs and rang the bell of the flat

  above. Pat came to open it, a very pretty Pat with a flushed face

  ' and a cooking apron on. Her eyes widened in surprise.

  'You? But how - Donovan, what is it? Is anything the matter?'

  He took both her hands in his. 'It's all right, Pat - only we've

  made a rather unpleasant discovery in the flat below. A woman - dead.'

  'Oh!' She gave a little gasp. 'How horrible.. Has she had a fit

  or something?'

  'No. It looks - well - it looks rather as though she had been

  murdered.'

  'Oh, Donovan!'

  'I know. It's pretty beastly.'

  Her hands were still in his. She had left them there - was

  even clinging to him. Darling Pat - how he loved her. Did she

  care at all for him? Sometimes he thought she did. Sometimes

  209

  he was afraid that Jimmy Faulkener- remembrances of Jimmy

  waiting patienfiy below made him start guiltily.

  'Pat, dear, we must telephone to the police.'

  'Monsieur is right,' said a voice behind him. 'And i, the

  meantime, while we are waiting their arrival, perhaps I c: be

  of some slight assistance.'

  They had been standing in the doorway of the flat, anti ao

  they peered out on the landing. A figure was standing on the

  stairs a little way above them. It moved down and into thei

  range of vision.

  They stood staring at the little man with a very fierce

  moustache and an egg-shaped head. He wore a resplendent

  dressing-gown and embroidered slippers. He bowed gallantly

  to Patricia.

  'Mademoiselle!' he said. 'I am, as perhaps you know, the

  tenant of the flat above. I like to be up high - in the air - the

  view over London. I take the flat in the name of Mr O'Connor.

  But I am not an Irishman. I have another name. That is why

  I venture to put myself at your service. Permit me.' With a

  flourish he pulled out a card and handed it to Pat. She read it.

  'M. Hercule Poirot. Oh? She caught her breath. 'The M.

  Poirot! The great detective? And you will really help?'

  'That is my intention, mademoiselle. I nearly offered my

  help earlier in the evening.'

  Pat looked puzzled.

  'I heard you discussing how to gain admission to your flat

  Me, I am very fever at picking locks. I could, without doubt,

  have opened your door for you, but I hesitated to suggest it.

  You would have had the grave suspicions of me.'

  Pat laughed.

  'Now, monsieur,' said Poirot to Donovan. 'Go in, I pray of

  you, and telephone to the police. I will descend to the flat

  below.'

  Pat came down the stairs with him. They found Jimmy on

  guard, and Pat explained Poirot's presence, jimmy, in his turn,

  explained to Poirot his and Donovan's adventures. The

  detective listened attentively.

  210

  'The lift door was unbolted, you sy? You e ino the

  tchcn, but the lihl it would not mrn on.'

  I-Ie direcxed his footsteps o the kitchen as he spoke. His

  fgers pressed the switch. ,

  'Tiens! Voild ce qui est curieux! hesidasthelightfiashedon.

  'It functions perfectly now. I wonder -' He held up a finger to

  ensure silence and listened. A faint sound broke the stillness the

  sound of an unmistakable snore. 'Ah!' said Poirot. 'La charnbre de domestique.'

  He tiptoed across the kitchen into a little pmtry, out of

  which led a door. He opened the door and switched on the

  light. The room was the kind of dog kennel designed by the

  builders of flats to accommodate a human being. The floor

  space was almost entirely occupied by the bed. In the bed was

  a rosy-cheeked girl lying on her back with her mouth wide

  open, snoring placidly.

  Poirot switched off the light and beat a retreat.

  'She will not wake,' he said. 'We will let her sleep till the

  police come.'

  He went back to the sitting-room. Donovan had joined

  them.

  'The police will be here almost immediately, they sy' he

  rid breathlessly. 'We are to touch nothing.'

  Poirot nodded. 'We will not touch,' he said. 'We will look,

  · at is all.'

  He moved into the room. Mildred had come down with

  Donovan, and all four young people stood in the doorway and

  watched him with breathless interest.

  'What I can't understand, sir, is this,' said Donovaa. 'I never

  went near the window - how did the blood come on my hand?'

  'My young friend, the answer to that stares you in the face.

  Of what colour is the tablecloth? Red, is it not? and doubtless

  you did put your band on the table.'

  'Yes, I did. Is that - ? He itopped.

  Poirot nodded. He was bending over the table. He indicated

  with his hand a dark patch on the red.

  'It was here that the crime was committed,' he said solemnly.

  'The body was moved afterwards.'

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  Then he stood uptight and looked slowly round t3,

  He did not move, he handled nothing, but neverth?

  four watching felt as though every object in that rather Crows

  place gave up ks secret to his observant eye.

  Hercule Poirot nodded his head as though satisfied. A 1:

  sigh escaped him. 'I see,' he said.

  'You see what?' asked Donovan curiously.

  'I see,' said Poirot, 'what you doubtless felt - that the ro0

  is overfull of furniture.'

  Donovan smiled ruefully. 'I did go barging about a bit,' 1

  confessed. 'Of course, everything was in a different place

  Pat's room, and I couldn't make it out.'

  'Not everything,' said Poirot.

  Donovan looked at him inq 'mtingly.

  'I mean,' said Poirot apologetically, 'that certain things au

  always fnted. In a block of flats the door, the window,

  fireplace - they are in the sa
me place in the rooms which a

  below each other.'

  'Isn't that rather splitting hairs?' asked Mildred. She w looking at Poirot with faint disapproval.

  'One should always speak with absolute accuracy. That isa

  little - how do you say? - fad of mine.'

  There was the noise of footsteps on the stairs, and three nm

  came in. They were a police inspector, a constable, and

  divisional surgeon. The inspector recognized Poirot and

  greeted him in an almost reverential manner. Then he turned

  to the others.

  'I shall want statements from everyone,' he began, 'but in the

  first place -'

  Poirot interrupted. 'A little suggestion. We will go back to

  the flat upstairs and mademoiselle here shall do what she was

  planning to do - make us an omelette. Me, I have a passion for

  the omelettes. Then, M. l'Inspecteur, when you have finished

  here, you will mount to us and ask questions at your leisure.'

  It was arranged accordingly, and Poirot went up with them.

  'M. Poirot,' said Pat, 'I think you're a perfect dear. And you

  shall have a lovely omelette. I really make omelettes frightfully well.'

  212

  ,That is good. Once, mademoiselle, I loved a beaudful youn

  · 'ri who resembled you greatly - but alas{ - she could

  Enghsh gl ,

  ·

  the best'

  not cook. So perhaps everything was for

  ·

  There was a faint sadness in his voice, and Jimmy Faulkener

  looked at him curiously.

  Once in the flat, however, he exerted himself o please and

  amuse. The grim trsgedy below was almost forgotten.

  The omelette had been consumed iud duly praised by the

  time that Inspector Rice's footsteps were heard, lie cne in

  accompanied by the doctor, having left the constable below.

  'Well, Monsieur PoiroC he said. 'It all seems dear and

  above-board - not much in your line, though we may irmd it

  hard to catch the man. I'd just like to hear how the discovery

  came to be made.'

  Donovan iud Jimmy between them recounted the happen

  ings of the evening. The inspector turned reproachfully to Pat.

  'You shouldn't leave your lift door unboked, miss. You

  really shouldn't.'

  'I shan't again,' said Pat, with a shiver. 'Somebody might

  come in and murder me like that poor woman below.'

  'Ah, but they didn't come in that way, though,' said time

  inspector.

  ·

  ' 'd

  'You will recount to us what you have discovered, yes? sin

  Poirot..

  'I don't know as I ought to - but seeing it's you, IVl.'

  Poirot -'

  'Prc/sSne,' said Poirot. 'And these young people- they

  'The newspapers will get hold of ii, anyway, soon emaoug, h,'

  said the inspeaor. 'There's no real secret about the mater.

  Well, the dead woman's lkirs Grant, ifil right. I hsd the porter

  up to identify her. Woman of shout thirty-five. She was sittin8

  at the table, arid she was shot with an automatic p/stol of small

  calibre, probably by someone sitting opposite her ai table. She

  fell forward, and that's how the bloodstain came on the table.'

  'But wouldn't someone have heard the shot}' asked

  Mildred.

  'The pistol was fined with a silencer. No, you wouldnk hea

  213

  anything. By the way, did you hear the screech the maid let out when we told her her mistress was dead? No. Well, that just

  shows how unlikely it was that anyone would hear the other.'

  'Has the maid no story to tell?' asked Poirot.

  'It was her evening out. She's got her own key. She came in

  about ten o'clock. Everything was quiet. She thought her

  mistress had gone to bed.'

  'She did not look in the sitting-room, then?'

  'Yes, she took the letters in there which had come by the

  evening post, but she saw nothing unusual - any more than Mr

  Faulkener and Mr Bailey did. You see, the murderer had

  concealed the body rather neatly behind the curtains.'

  'But it was a curious thing to do, don't you think?'

  Poirot's voice was very gentle, yet it held something that

  made the inspector look up quickly.

  'Didn't want the crime discovered till he'd had time to make

  .his getaway.'

  'Perhaps, perhaps - but continue with what you were

  saying.'

  'The maid went out at five o'clock. The doctor here put:3 the

  time of death as - roughly - about four to five hours ago. That's

  right, isn't it?'

  The doctor, who was a man of few words, contented hiaself

  with jerking his head afFmnatively.

  'It's a quarter to twelve now. The actual time can, I think, be

  narrowed down to a fairly del'mite hour.'

  He took out a crumpled sheet of paper.

  'We found this in the pocket of the dead woman's dress. You

  needn't be afraid of handling it. There are no f'mgerprint$ on

  it.'

  Poirot smoothed out the sheet. Across it some words were

  printed in small, prim capitals.

  I

  WILL COME TO SEE YOU THIS EVENING AT HALF PAST SEVEN.

  'A compromising document to leave behind,' commuted

  Poirot, as he handed it back.

  214

  'Well, he didn't know she'd got it in her pocket,' said the

  inspector. 'He probably thought she'd destroyed it. We've

  evidence that he was a careful man, though. The pistol she was

  shot with we found under the body - and there again no

  fingerprints. They'd been wiped off very carefully with a silk

  handkerchief.'

  'How do you know,' said Poirot, 'that it was a silk

  handkerchief?.'

  'Because we found it,' said e inspector triumphantly. 'At

  the last, as he was drawing the axrtains, he must have let it fall

  unnoticed.'

  He handed across a big white silk handkerchief - a good-quality

  handkerchief. It did not need the inspector's finger to

  draw Poirot's attention to the mark on it in the centre. It was

  neatly marked and quite legible. Poirot read the name out.

  'John Fraser.'

  'That's it,' said the inspector. 'John Fraser - J.F. in the note.

  We know the name of the man we have to look for, and I dare

  say when we f'md out a little about the dead woman, sntl her

  relations come forward, we shall soon get a line on him.'

  'I wonder,' said Poirot. 'No, mon chef, somehow I do not

  think he will be easy to ['md, your John Fraser. He is a strange

  man - csreful, since he marks his handkerchiefs and wipes the

  pistol with which he has committed the crime - yet careless

  since he loses his handkerchiefand does not search for a letter

  that might incriminate him.'

  'Flurried, that's what he was,' said the inspector.

  'It is possible,' said Poirot. 'Yes, it is possible. And he was

  not seen entering the building?'

  'There are all sorts of people going in and out sll the time.

  These are big blocks. I suppose none of you -' he addressed the

  four collectively -'saw anyone coming out of the flat?'

  Pat shook her head. 'We went out earlier - about seven

  o'clock.'

  'I see.' The inspector rose. Poi
rot accompanied him to the

  door.

  'As a little favour, may I examine the flat below?'

  'Why, certainly, M. Poirot. I know what they think of yon at

  215

  headquarters. I'll leave you a key. I've got two. E

  empty. The maid cleared out to some relatives too

  stay there alone.' ' oo s.

  'I thank you,' said M. Poirot. He went back into ?:¢

  thoughtful.

  'You're not satisfied, M. Poirot?' said Jimmy.

  'No,' said Poirot. 'I am not satisfied.'

  Donovan looked at him curiously. 'What is it that well,

  worries you?

  Poirot did not answer. He remained silent for a minute or

  .two, frowning, as though in thought, then he made a sudden

  mpatent movemem of the shoulders.

  'I will say good night to you, mademoiselle. You must be

  tired. You have had much cooking to do - eh?'

  Pat laughed. 'Only the omelette. I didn't do dinner.

  Donovan and Jimmy came and called for us, and we went out

  to a little place in Soho.'

  'And then without doubt, you went to a theatre?'

  'Yes. The Brown Eyes of Caroline.'

  'Ah!' said Poirot. 'It should have been blue eyes - the blue

  eyes of mademoiselle.,

  He made a sentimental gesture, and then once more wished

  Pat good night, also Mildred, who was staying the night by

  special request, as Pat admitted fnmkiy that she would get the

  horrors if left alone on this Pm'ticular night.

  The two young men accompanied Poirot. When the door

  was shut, md they were preparing to say goodbye to him on le

  landing, Poirot forestalled them.

  'My young friends, you heard me say I was not satisfied?/;h

  b/eh, it is true - I am not. I go now to make some little

  investigations of my own. You would like to accompany me

 

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