Agatha Christie - Hickory Dickory Death

by Hickory Dickory Death (lit)

  "Did you tell anyone what you were doing? Your methods? The way you were going about these things?" "No. At least-no, I didn't." "You said, "at least," Mr. Chapman." "Well, I didn't actually. As a matter of fact, I was going to tell Pat, then I thought she wouldn't approve. She's very strict, Pat is, so I fobbed her off." "You didn't tell her about stealing the stuff from the doctor's car, or the prescriptions, or the morphia from the hospital?" "Actually, I betold her afterwards about the digitalin, that I'd written a. prescription and got a bottle from the chemist, and about masquerading as a doctor at the hospital. I'm sorry to say Pat wasn't amused. I didn't tell her about pinching things from a car. I thought she'd go up in smoke." "Did you tell her you were going to destroy this stuff after you'd won the bet?" "Yes. She was all worried and het up about it.

  Started to insist I take the things back or something like that." "That course of action never occurred to you yourself?" "Good Lord no! That would have been fatal; it would have landed me in no end of a row. No, we three just chucked the stuff on the fire and poured it down the Lou and that was that. No harm done." "You say that, Mr. Chapman, but it's quite possible that harm was done." "How can it have been, If the stuff was chucked away as I tell you?" "Has it ever occurred to you, Mr. Chapman, that someone might have seen where you put those things, or found them perhaps, and that someone might have emptied morphia out of the bottle and replaced it with something else?" "Good Lord no!" Nigel stared at him. "I never thought of anything of that kind. I don't believe it." "But it's a possibility, Mr. Chapman." "But nobody could possibly have known." "I should say," said the Inspector, drily, "that in a place of this kind a great deal more is known than you yourself might believe possible." "Snooping, you mean?" "Yes." "Perhaps you're right there." "Which of the students might normally, at any time, be in your room?" "Well, I share it with Len Bateson. Most of the men here have been in it now and again. Not the girls, of course. The girls aren't supposed to come to the bedroom floors on our side of the house.

  Propriety. Pure living." "They're not supposed to, but they might do so, I suppose?" "Anyone might," said Niel. "In the daytime.

  The afternoon, for instance, there's nobody about." "Does Miss Lane ever come to your room?" "I hope you don't mean that the way it sounds, Inspector. Pat comes to my room sometimes to replace some socks she's been daming. Nothing more than that." "You do realise, Mr. Chapman, that the person who could most easily have taken some of that poison out of the bottle and substituted something else for it, was yourself?" Nigel looked at hird, his face suddenly hard and ha gard.

  "Yes," he said. "I've seen that just a minute and a half ago. I could have done just exactly that. But I'd no reason on earth for putting that girl out of the way, Inspector, and I didn't do it. Still, there it is-I quite realise that you've only got my word for it." THE STORY of the bet and the disposal of the poison was confirmed by Len Bateson and by Colin Mcationabb. Sharpe retained Colin Mcationabb after the others had gone.

  "I don't want to cause you more pain than I can help, Mr. Mcationabb," he said. "I can realize what it means to you for your fianc6e to have been poisoned on the very night of your engagement." "There'll be no need to go into that aspect of it," said Colin Mcationabb, his face immovable.

  "You'll not need to concern yourself with my feelings. Just ask me any questions you like which you think may be useful to you." "It was your considered opinion that Celia Austin's behaviour had a psychological origin?" "There's no doubt about it at all,- said Colin Meationabb. "If you'd like me to go into the theory of the thing . . ." "No, no," said Inspector Sharpe, hastily.

  "I'm taking your word for it as a student of psychology." "Her childhood had been particularly unfortunate. It had set-up an emotional block. . . ." "Quite so, quite so." Inspector Sharpe was desperately anxious to avoid hearing the story of yet another unhappy childhood. Nigel's had been quite enough.

  "You had been attracted to her for some time?" "I would not say precisely that," said Colin, considering the matter conscientiously. "These things sometimes surprise you by the way they dawn upon you suddenly, like. Subconsciously no doubt, I had been attracted, but I was not aware of the fact.

  Since it was not my intention to marry young I had no doubt set up a considerable resistance to the idea in my conscious mind." "Yes. Just so. Celia Austin was happy in her engagement to you? I mean, she expressed no doubts? Uncertainties? There was nothing she felt she ought to tell you?" "She made a very full confession of all she'd been doing. There was nothing more in her mind to worry her." "And you were planning to get married-whenough?" "Not for a considerable time. I'm not in a position, at comthe moment, to support a wife." "Had Celia any enemy here? Anyone who did not like her?" "I can hardly believe so. I've given that point of view a great deal of thought, Inspector.

  Celia was well liked here. I'd say, myself, it was not a personal matter at all which brought about her end." "What do you mean by'not a personal matter'?" "I do no-t wish to be very precise at the moment. It's only a vague kind of idea I have and I'm not clear about it myself." From that position the Inspector could not budge him.

  The last two students to be interviewed were Sally Finch and Elizabeth Johnston. The Inspector took Sally Finch first.

  Sally was an attractive girl with a mop of red hair and eyes that were bright and intelligent. After routine enquiries Sally Finch suddenly took the initiative.

  "D'you know what I'd like to do, Inspector?

  I'd like to tell you just what I think. I personally.

  There's something all wrong about this house, something very wrong indeed. I'm sure of that." "You mean because Celia Austin was poisoned?" "No, I mean before that. I've been feeling it for some time. I didn't like the things that were going on here.

  I didn't like that rucksack which was slashed about and I didn't like Valerie's scarf being cut to pieces.

  I didn't like Black Bess's notes being covered with ink. I was going to get out of here and get out quick. That's what I still mean to do, as soon, that is, as you let us go." Sally nodded her head.

  "You mean you're afraid of something, Miss Finch?" "Yes, I'm afraid. There's something or someone here who's pretty ruthless. The whole place isn't-well, how shall I put it?-it isn't what it seems. No, no, Inspector, I don't mean Communists. I can see that just trembling on your lips. It's not Communists I mean. Perhaps it isn't even criminal. I don't know. But I'll bet you anything you like that awful old woman knows about it all." "What old woman? You mean Mrs. Hubbard?" "No. Not Ma Hubbard. She's a dear. I mean old Nicoletis. That old she-wolf." "That's interesting, Miss Finch. Can you be more definite? About Mrs. Nicoletis, I mean." Sally shook her head.

  "No. That's just what I can't be. All I can tell you is she gives me the creeps every time I pass her. Something queer is going on here, Inspector." "I wish you could be a little more definite." "So do I. You'll be thinking I'm fanciful.

  Well, perhaps I am, but other people feel it comtoo.

  Akibombo does. He's scared. I believe Black Bess does, too, but she wouldn't let on. And I think, Inspector, that Celia knew something about it." "Knew something about what?" "That's just it. What? But there were things she said.

  Said that last day. About clearing everything up. She had owned up to her part in what was going on, but she sort of hinted that there were other thin,eaeaness she knew about and she wanted to get them cleared up too. I think she knew something, Inspector, about someone.

  That's the reason I think she was killed." "But if it was something as serious as that . . .

  Sally interrupted him.

  "I'd say that she had no idea how serious it was. She wasn't bright, you know. She was pretty dumb. She got hold of something but she'd no idea that the something she'd got hold of was dangerous.

  Anyway, that's my hunch for what it's worth." "I see. Thank you. . . . Now the last time you saw Celia Austin was in the Common Room after dinner last night, is that right?" "That's right. At least, actually, I saw her after that." "You saw
her after that? Where? In her room?" "No. When I went up to bed she was going out of the front door just as I came out of the Common Room." "Going out of the front door? Out of the house, do you mean?" "Yes." "That's rather surprising. Nobody else has suggested that." "I daresay they didn't know. She certainly said good night and that she was going up to bed, and if I hadn't seen her I would have assumed that she had gone up to bed." "Whereas, actually, she went upstairs, put on some outdoor thin s and then left the house. is that right?" Sally nodded.

  "And I think she was going outto meet someone." "I see. Someone from outside. Or could it have been one of the students?" "Well it's my hunch that it would be one of the students. You see, if she wanted to speak to somebody privately, there was nowhere very well she could do it in the house. Someone might have suggested that she come out and meet them somewhere outside." "Have you any idea when she got in again?" "No idea whatever." "Would Geronimo know, the man servant?" "He'd know if she came in after eleven o'clock because that's the time he bolts and chains the door. Up to that time anyone can get in with their own key." "Do you know exactly what time it was when you saw her going out of the house?" "I'd say it was about-ten. Perhaps a little past ten, but not much." "I see. Thank you, Miss Finch, for what you've told me." Last of all the Inspector talked to Elizabeth Johnston. He was at once impressed with the quiet capability of the girl. She answered his questions with intelligent decision and then waited for him to proceed.

  "Celia Austin," he said, "pretested vehemently that it was not she who damaged your papers, Miss Johnston. Do you believe her?" "I do not think Celia did that. No." "You don't know who did?" "The obvious answer is Nigel Chapman. But it seems to me a little too obvious. Nigel is intelligent. He would not use his own ink." "And if not Nigel, who then?" "That is more difficult. But I think Celia knew who it was-or at least guessed." "Did she tell you so?" "Not in so many words, but she came to my room on the evening of the day she died, before going down to dinner.

  She came to tell me that though she was responsible for the thefts she had not sabota ed my work. I told her that I accepted that assurance. I asked her if she knew who had done so?" "And what did she say?" "She said," Elizabeth paused a moment, as though to be sure of the accuracy of what she was about to say, "She said, "I can't really be sure, because I don't see why....... It might have been a mistake or an accident....... I'm sure whoever did it is very unhappy about it, and would really like to own up." Celia went on, "There are some things I don't understand, like the electric lighl bulbs the day the police came." Sharpe interrupted.

  "What's tills about the police and electric light bulbs?" "I don't know. All Celia said was: 'I didn't take them out." And then she said: 'I wondered if it had anything to do with the passport?" I said, 'What passport are you talking about?" And she said, 'I think someone might have a forged passport." was The Inspector was silent for a moment or two.

  Here at last some vague pattern seemed to be taking shape. A passport.

  He asked, "What more did she say?" "Nothing more. She just said: 'Anyway I shall know more about it tomorrow." his "She said that, did she? 'I shall know more about it tomorrow." That's a very significant remark, Miss Johnston." "Yes." The Inspector was silent again as he reflected.

  Something about a passport-and a visit from the police.... Before coming to Hickory Road, he had carefully looked up the files. A fairly close eye was kept on hostels which housed foreign students. 26 Hickory Road had a good record. Such details as there were, were meagre and unsuggestive. A West African student wanted by the Sheffield police for living on a woman's earnings; the student in question had been at Hickory Road for a few days and had then gone elsewhere, Eind had in due course been gathered in and since deported. There had been a routine check of all hostels and boarding houses for a Eurasian "wanted to assist the police" in the murder of a publican's wife near Cambridge. That had been cleared up when the young man in question had walked into the police station at Hull and had given himself up for the crime. There had been an inquiry into a student's distribution of subversive pamphlets. All these occurrences had taken place some time ago and could not possibly have had any connection with the death of Celia Austin.

  He sighed and looked up to find Elizabeth Johnston's davit intelligent eyes watching him.

  On an impulse, he said, "Tell me, Miss Johnston, have you ever had a feeling-an impression-of something wrong about this place?" She looked surprised.

  "In what way-wrong?" "I couldn't really say. I'm thinking of something Miss Sally Finch said to me." "Oh-Sally Finch!" There was an intonation in her voice which he found hard to place. He felt interested and went on: "Miss Finch seemed to me a good observer, both shrewd and practical. She was very insistent on there being somethin,-odd about this place-though she found it difficult to define just what it was." Elizabeth said sharply, "That is her American way of thought. They are all the same, these Americans, nervous, apprehensive, suspecting every kind of foolish thing!

  Look at the fools they make of themselves with their witch hunts, their hysterical spy mania, their obsession over communism. Sally Finch is typical." The Inspector's interest grew. So Elizabeth disliked Sally Finch. Why? Because Sally was an American?

  Or did Elizabeth dislike Americans merely because Sally Finch was an American, and hhd she some reason of her own for disliking the attractive red-head? Perhaps it was just simple female jealousy.

  He resolved to try a line of approach that he had sometimes found useful. He said smoothly, "As you may appreciate, Miss Johnston, in an establishment like this, the level of intelligence varies a great deal. Some people-most people, we just ask for facts. But when we come across someone with a high level of intelligence-was He paused. The inference was flattering. Would she respond?

  After a brief pause, she did.

  "I think I understand what you mean, Inspector.

  The intellectual level here is not, as you say, very high. Nigel Chapman has a certain quickness of intellect, but his mind is shallow. Leonard Batesen is a plodderno more. Valerie Hobhouse has a good quality of mind, but her outlook is commercial, and she's too lazy to use her brains on anything worth while. What you want is the detachment of a trained mind." "Such as yours, Miss Johnston." She accepted the tribute without a protest. He realised, with some interest, that behind her modest pleasant manner, here was a young woman who was positively arrogant in her appraisement of her own qualities.

  "I'm inclined to agree with your estimate of your fellow students, Miss Johnston. Chapman is clever but childish. Valerie Hobhouse has brains but a blasd attitude to life. You, as you say, have a trained mind. That's why I'd value your views-the views of a powerful detached intellect." For a moment he was afraid he had overdone it, but he need have had no fears.

  "There is nothing wrong about this place, Inspector. Pay no attention to Sally Finch. This is a decent well run hostel. I am certain that you will find no trace of any subversive activities." Inspector Sharpe felt a little surprised.

  "It wasn't really subversive activities I was thinking about." "Oh-I se" She was a little taken aback.

  "I was linking up what Celia said about a passport. But looking at it impartially and weighing up all the evidence, it seems quite certain to me that the reason for Celia's death was what I should express as a private onesome sex complication, perhaps. I'm sure it had nothing to do with what I might call the hostel as a hostel, or anything "going on" here.

  Nothing, I am sure, is going on. I should be aware of the fact If it were so, my perceptions are very keen." "I see. Well, thank you, Miss Johnston. You've been very kind and helpful." Elizabeth Johnston went out. Inspector Sharpe sat staring at the closed door and Sergeant Cobb had to speak to him twice before he roused himself.

  "Eh?") "I said that's the Iggallyt, sir." "Yes, and what have we got? Precious little. But I'll tell you one thing, Cobb. I'm coming back here tomorrow with a search warrant. We'll go away talking pretty now and they'll think it's all over.

  But there
's some thing going on in this place. Tomorrow I'll turn it upside dowrmot so easy when you don't know what you're looking for, but there's a chance that I'll find something to give me a clue. That's a very interesting girl who just went out. She's got the ego of a neaeaIpoleon, and I strongly suspect that she knows something." HERCULE POIROT, at work upon his correspondence, paused in the middle of a sentence that he was dictating. Mbss Lemon looked up questioningly.

  "Yes, Mr. Poirot?" "My mind wanders!" Poirot waved a hand.

  "After all, this letter is not important. Be so kind, Miss Lemon, as to get me your sister upon the telephone." "Yes, Mr. Poirot." A few moments later Poirot crossed the room and took the receiver from his secretary's hand. was "Allo!" he said.

  "Yes, Mr. Poirot?" Mrs. Hubbard sounded rather breathless.

  "I trust, Mrs. Hubbard, that I am not disturbing you?" "I'm past being disturbed," said Mrs. Hubbard.

  "There have been agitations, yes?" Poirot asked delicately.

  ... That's a very nice way of putting it, Mr.

  Poirot.