She stood in front of the dressing table and stared into the mirror. In the gloomy darkness, she saw herself dressed in a white one-piece dress.
The circles beneath her eyes had become less dark. But since coming to the island, her cheeks had become visibly hollow and she looked pale. Coupled with her dull, dry hair, it even made her doubt whether she was really looking at herself.
Agatha sighed as she brushed her hair. Recalling not only the murders but also her own unseemly behaviour the previous night, she sighed again.
She wanted always to be beautiful and dignified. Always, no matter what happened, no matter where she found herself. She had always prided herself on being such a woman.
But the face she had just washed, looking back at her in the mirror…
It wasn’t beautiful. Not a hint of dignity.
Nothing to save her.
I should use some brighter make-up, Agatha thought as she opened her make-up pouch. Abnormal murders, abnormal circumstances, abnormal ideas. This was the only consolation she had within this maddening, abnormal reality.
Today I won’t use my rose-pink lipstick, but the red one.
She didn’t care how the others looked at her any more. All she had on her mind was what she could see in the mirror.
2
Van was woken by the alarm of his wristwatch.
Ten in the morning? Got to get up.
His shoulders were stiff and his joints hurt. He hadn’t had as much sleep as he’d hoped. He put his fingers to the eyelids of his puffy eyes. He felt nausea in his stomach.
Are the others still asleep?
He sat upright and listened for any noise as he lit a cigarette. He felt dizzy when the smoke reached his lungs. He knew both his body and mind were completely drained.
Will I be able to make it back home safely?
He stared aimlessly into nothing as he thought the case over in his mind.
If he was honest, he was scared. Incredibly afraid. If he could, he would have burst into tears like a little child and run away back home.
A shudder went through his body, after which Van put his cigarette out and got up.
He went out into the hall and noticed that a door to his left, three rooms away, was half open. It was the bathroom, one door before the kitchen.
Someone’s up already, he thought.
But even so, I don’t hear anything. Someone probably went to the toilet and forgot to close the door.
The door opened away from the kitchen. Van approached the door from the right, circling the centre table. He couldn’t hear anything.
He put his left hand on the back of each of the blue chairs that surrounded the table. He could hear the beat of his heart grow louder. As he came closer, he could see more of the bathroom through the half-open door. And then he saw it.
“Ah!”
Van let out a faint cry, as if he was being strangled. He felt his whole body tremble. He was frozen to the spot.
A white figure was lying beyond the door to the bathroom.
A delicate lace one-piece dress. A thin, lifeless arm extended. Black hair spread across the floor. It was the body of Agatha, totally lifeless.
“A…A…”
Van stood still, his right hand to his mouth. In the back of his throat, the impulse to yell out and the urge to throw up were competing. His voice wouldn’t follow his command.
He put a hand on a chair, his body bent double. Then with shaky legs he desperately made his way to Poe’s room.
The violent beating on his door made Poe sit up.
“What? What’s the matter?”
It only took a moment for him to banish sleep, push his blanket away, roll out of bed and rush to the door.
“Who is it? What’s happened?”
There was no answer.
The beating on the door stopped and in its place came a soft whimpering noise. Poe unlocked the door quickly and turned the knob. But something was blocking the door.
“Hello, who’s there?”
He put his body weight against the door and pushed it open with his shoulders. He managed to squeeze into the hall through the gap he made.
It was Van who was leaning against the door. Both hands were pressed against his mouth and his back trembled pitifully.
“What’s the matter, Van? You OK?”
Poe placed his hand on Van’s back. Holding one hand to his mouth, Van pointed with the other hand towards the door of the bathroom adjacent to Poe’s room.
“Hmm?”
The door was half open. He couldn’t see inside from where he was.
“What is it?”
“A-Agatha…”
Van had not even finished what he was trying to say when Poe cried out, removing his hand from Van’s back.
“Agatha? But Van, are you OK?”
Van nodded, still whimpering painfully. Poe reached the bathroom. He peered inside through the half-open door.
“Ellery! Leroux! Wake up! Get up now!” Poe bellowed.
Ellery was awakened by the violent beating on someone’s door.
It wasn’t his door. He had guessed that something had happened when a deep voice cried out.
That’s Poe. That means…
Ellery quickly got out of bed and grabbed his cardigan. His right ankle wrapped in bandages no longer felt as painful as before.
He could still hear Poe. It seemed as if he were talking to Van. Then he then heard him crying out even louder.
“Agatha?”
Even as Ellery put his hand on the doorknob, he could hear Leroux’s and his name being called.
“What’s the matter?” answered Ellery as he opened the door.
Van was on all fours in front of Poe’s room. The door to the right, the door of the bathroom, precisely opposite Ellery’s own, was completely open. Was it Agatha who was lying there face down? Poe was beside her, crouching on one knee.
“Has Agatha been murdered?”
“It appears so.”
Poe turned around to Ellery.
“Van is feeling bad. Help him throw up.”
“Got it.”
Ellery went to Van, helped him get up and took him to the kitchen.
“You haven’t been poisoned, have you?”
“No, I just suddenly… when I found Agatha…” Van groaned, his head over the sink. Ellery rubbed his back.
“Drink some water. Your stomach is all empty now. There’s nothing to throw up.”
“I-I’m all right. I’ll get it myself. You’d better go to the bathroom.”
“OK.”
Ellery turned, left the kitchen, and went to Poe in the bathroom.
“Is she dead, Poe?”
Poe closed his eyes and nodded.
“Poison again. Prussic acid, I think.”
Poe had turned Agatha’s body face upwards. Her eyes were wide open. The expression frozen on her slightly open mouth was one not of pain, but of surprise.
Poe put his hands to her eyelids and closed her eyes, which gave her face an improbably peaceful look. She appeared to have just finished putting on her make-up. Her coloured cheeks gave the illusion of life. Her reds lips seemed as if they would start talking at any moment. The faint, bitter smell hanging in the air was what had led Poe to his suspicion.
“Ah…” Ellery frowned deeply. “So this is the infamous smell of almonds.”
“Yes. Anyway, let’s carry her to her room.”
Van came stumbling from the kitchen just as Poe reached for the body’s shoulders. He put his back to the wall and looked across the hall with a blood-drained face.
“Hey, where’s Leroux?”
“Leroux?”
“Now you mention him…�
�
Ellery and Poe noticed the door to Leroux’s room for the first time and cried out simultaneously.
Attached to the door, the plate with the red characters seemed to be mocking them.
3
“What the!… So Agatha is the fourth victim? Leroux!”
Ellery dashed to the door to Leroux’s room.
“Leroux, Leroux! No use. Door’s locked. Van, don’t you have a master key or something?”
“This isn’t a hotel, you know.”
“Wait.”
Ellery stopped Poe with a wave of his hand.
“The door opens into the hall. It won’t go down easily even if we shoulder-charge it. It’s faster to go outside and break the window.”
“You’re right. Let’s take a chair with us.”
Poe turned to Van.
“You come too.”
“Look, you two,” said Ellery, who was on his way to the front entrance. “The rope tied to the doors has been unfastened.”
He pointed to the double doors that led to the entrance hall. The rope they had tied to the handles last night had been untied and was hanging down.
“Somebody went outside,” said Poe, picking up a chair.
“Perhaps it was Leroux,” suggested Van.
“Who knows what’s going on?” asked Poe.
Ellery shook his head sombrely.
“Anyway, let’s go. There’s nothing we can do until we’ve taken a look inside his room.”
Poe raised the chair and swung it with all his might. The shutters had looked sturdy, but after a few blows they managed to pull them out of the wall, hinges and all, and then break the glass window. After that, it was easy to put their hands through the hole and release the latch. But the handles inside the room had also been tied together with a belt and it took them some effort to untie them.
The window was at Van’s chest level, and he was of average height. Poe, the tallest of them, stood on top of the broken chair and went into the room with a nimble dive surprising for someone of such large build. Ellery went next. Van stood beneath the window, both hands clutching his stomach.
But Leroux was not to be found in his room.
He had gone out and not come back.
The air was damp and sticky. It appeared to have rained during the night. The grass at their feet was moist and soft.
Poe and Ellery jumped down from the window, their shoulders heaving as they panted with exertion.
“Let’s split up and look for him. I’m afraid we might not find him alive, though,” said Ellery. He crouched with one knee on the ground, patting the bandages around his right ankle.
“But your ankle…” Poe started. He’d cut the back of his right hand on some fragments of glass when he’d broken the window.
“I’m fine. I can even run.”
Ellery stood up and took a look at Van. Van was crouching down on the grass, his body shaking.
“Van, you stay here at the entrance until we call for you. You need to calm down first.”
Ellery straightened up and calmly gave out orders.
“Poe, you go down to the inlet. I’ll search around here and the Blue Mansion.”
After Ellery and Poe had run off, Van stood up sluggishly and walked to the entrance of the Decagon House. The sour, bitter taste of what he had just thrown up was still clinging to his tongue and wouldn’t go away. The need to vomit had receded, but he still felt something stuck in his chest.
The sky was lead-grey. There was no wind and it was not cold, yet the shivering of his body underneath his sweater wouldn’t stop.
Van’s tired feet finally brought him to the front entrance. He sat down on the steps, which were wet from the rain, and curled up, hugging his knees. He took several deep breaths. The feeling in his chest finally went away, but his body kept shuddering occasionally. He stared at the melancholy scenery of shadowy pine trees for a while.
“Van! Poe!”
He could hear Ellery’s voice from afar. It came from the right, from the direction of the burnt-down Blue Mansion.
Van got up and, while his legs didn’t seem to respond to his wishes, he still managed to force himself into a brief run. He saw how Poe came sprinting from the direction of the inlet. The two met at the opening in the line of pine trees surrounding the burn site.
“Poe, Van, over here.”
The two went through the arch of pine trees and saw, near the centre of the front garden, the figure of a waving Ellery, wearing a cardigan over his pyjamas. He was standing in a spot just hidden from sight of the Decagon House by some trees.
The two quickly ran over to Ellery, but were rendered breathless when they saw what lay at his feet.
“He’s dead,” Ellery blurted out, shaking his head.
Leroux was lying on the ground. He was dressed in a yellow shirt, jeans and a denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up. Both arms were sticking out in front of him, as if he were pointing towards the Decagon House. His face, on its side, was half buried in the black mud. Near his stretched-out right hand lay his beloved round glasses.
“He was beaten to death. Probably hit on the head with one of the rocks or bricks lying around here,” said Ellery, pointing at the red and black spot on the back of Leroux’s head. An “Ugh” escaped from Van’s lips, and he put his hand to his mouth. He was struggling to avoid throwing up again.
“Poe, would you mind examining the body? I know it’s difficult, but please.”
“Of course.”
Poe kept a hand on his forehead, which was covered by locks of hair, as he bent forward next to the body. He lifted the mud-and blood-covered head slightly and looked into the corpse’s face. Leroux’s round eyes were wide open in surprise. His tongue was sticking out from the corner of his mouth. It might have been from fear or pain, but the expression on Leroux’s face was incredibly distorted.
“Livor mortis,” said Poe in a suppressed voice. “But the spots go away when I press on them. Rigor mortis… Hmm, quite advanced. The stiffening is also affected by the outside temperature, so I can’t say exactly, but, yes, it’s somewhere between five or six hours since he died. So…”
He glanced at his wristwatch.
“He was probably killed between five and six this morning.”
“So at dawn,” Ellery muttered.
“Let’s carry Leroux back to the Decagon House first. We can’t just leave him here like this,” said Poe, and he reached out for the shoulders.
“Ellery, could you carry his legs?”
But Ellery didn’t respond even after being called. He was looking silently at the ground, both hands in the pockets of his cardigan.
“Hey, Ellery.”
Ellery looked up.
“Footprints…” he muttered, and pointed at the ground.
Leroux was lying roughly ten metres from the pine trees in the direction of the Decagon House, in the middle of the Blue Mansion garden. The ground at this spot, as well as all of the burn site, was completely black because of the ash. But the rain last night had made the ash-filled ground very soft and footprints had been left here and there.
“Oh, forget it.”
Ellery crouched and lifted the body’s legs.
“Let’s go. It’s cold.”
The two turned Leroux’s body over and lifted him up. The sound of rolling waves provided a dirge mourning Leroux’s death.
Van picked up Leroux’s dirty glasses. Holding them to his heart, he followed Ellery and Poe on the way back.
4
Arriving at the Decagon House, they first carried Leroux’s body to his room. They found his room key in his jacket pocket. Although his clothes were all covered in mud, they laid him down on the bed.
Van placed the glasses he had picked up on the
bedside table.
“Could you fetch me a basin with some water? And a towel. We should at least clean his face,” said Ellery to Van, as he covered the body with a blanket. Van nodded silently and left the room. He still walked shakily, but he seemed to have recovered from the shock. Ellery and Poe then went to retrieve Agatha’s body from the bathroom. They carried her to her bed, joined her hands on her chest and straightened her dishevelled hair and clothes.
“So it was prussic acid…” Ellery muttered, as he looked at Agatha, who had entered an eternal sleep. “As they say, the smell of almonds.”
“Probably about three hours since she died. So around eight this morning.”
Van returned just as Poe gave his estimate.
“This was lying in front of the washstand. It’s probably Agatha’s,” said Van, as he handed over a black pouch.
“A make-up pouch?”
Ellery took the pouch in his hands, seemed to think of something and started to search its contents.
“Van, this pouch: was it closed when you found it?”
“No, it was open. It was on the floor together with some of the contents.”
“You put them back? Ah, too late now.”
Foundation. Rouge. Hairbrush. Cream. Toner.
“Got it,” said Ellery and he pulled out two tubes of lipstick. He pulled the caps off both sticks and compared the colour of each.
“This one.”
“Don’t put it too close to your nose, it’s dangerous stuff,” said Poe, correctly guessing what was going on in Ellery’s head.
“I know.”
One lipstick was red, the other pink. Ellery carefully took a sniff of the red lipstick, nodded and passed it to Poe.
“You’re right, Ellery. Appears to be coated in poison.”
“Funeral make-up. A white dress for her funeral clothes, and then she was poisoned. Like a princess in a fairy tale.”
Ellery took another sad look at Agatha, then suggested they all leave the room. He closed the door silently as he left.
The Decagon House Murders Page 17
