Chapter 23 Chapter Twenty-Three

"I heard you were here, M. Poirot," said Inspector Maulton. The two of them were walking on the courtyard balcony. "I came with Chief Inspector Barwell of Marchfield. Dr. Rabbi called to tell him about Mrs. Leo Abernethy, and he came down here to investigate. The doctor thinks it's not innocent." "And you, my friend," inquired Poirot, "how come you have come here too? This is a thousand miles from Berkshire." "I want to ask a few questions... and the people I want to ask these questions seem to gather here, which is very convenient." He paused, and then said, "Your masterpiece?"

"Yes, my masterpiece." "And Mrs. Leo Abernether was knocked out." "You shouldn't blame me for that. If she'd come to me...but she didn't. Instead, she went far and wide to call her lawyer in London." "And just as I was about to confide in him... collapsed!" "As you said... collapsed to the ground!" "And what did she say to him?" "Very little. She's only had a chance to tell him that she's looking at herself in the mirror." "Ah! Well," said Inspector Maulton philosophically, "women do." Suddenly he looked at Poirot sharply. "Is this instructive to you?"

"Yes, I think I know what she was going to tell him then." "You're an amazing guesser, aren't you? Always have been. Well, what's she going to tell him?" "Excuse me, are you investigating the death of Richard Abernether?" "As far as the mission is concerned, no. In fact, of course, if there is any connection with Mrs. Lansquenet's murder..." "It is related, but my friend, I ask you to give me a few more hours. Then I shall know that what I conjecture...is only a conjecture, and you know...whether it is correct, if it is..."

"If it's correct, how?" "Then I can put a specific piece of evidence into your hands." "Of course we can," said Inspector Morton feelingly.He cast a sidelong glance at Poirot. "What are you keeping?" "No, not at all. As the piece of evidence I suspect may not actually exist. I have only deduced its existence from fragments of conversation. I may," said Poirot, in a tone of utter insincerity, "a guess." wrong." Morton smiled. "But it doesn't happen to you often, does it?" "It doesn't happen very often. Although I admit that... yes, I have to admit... it happened to me."

"I should say I'd love to hear that from you . . . guessing right sometimes can be tedious." "I don't think so," said Poirot firmly. Inspector Morton laughed. "Then you are asking me not to ask those people questions for the time being." "No, no, not at all. Go ahead with your plan. I suppose you don't want to arrest anyone?" Morton shook his head. "It's still early. We'll have to get the inspector's approval first... We're still a long way from here. No, just asking someone to give an account of where we were that day... just to be on the safe side, maybe."

"I understand, Mrs. Bankes?" "You're smart, aren't you? Yes. She was there that day. Her car was parked in the quarry." "No one actually saw her drive that car?" "No." The Inspector went on, "You know, to her disadvantage, she never mentioned where she was that day. She'd have to explain it." "She has a knack for explanations," said Poirot dryly. "Yes. Clever young woman. A little too clever, perhaps." "It's never wise to be too clever. That's how the murderer was caught. Has anything more been found about George Crosfield?"

"Nothing special. He was a very general type. The trains, the buses were full of young people like him. People had a hard time remembering where they were on a day or noticing for a week or so afterward. someone." He paused, then went on: "We've got a rather queer piece of information... from the abbot of a certain convent. She had two nuns going out from house to house. It seems they went to Mrs. Lansquenet's cottage the day before she was killed, But they knocked and slammed the doorbell and there was no answer. No wonder... She was up north for Abernethel's funeral and Miss Gilchrist was on leave to Bournemouth Going on a tour. Problem is they said 'someone was in the house' and they said they heard groans and groans. I asked if they misremembered the date, it was a day later, but the dean was pretty sure it was the day she said .Because they are recorded in a book. Did someone run in to find something while both women were away? I don't pay much attention to their so-called moans. Even nuns can add embellishment, and it happens The place of the murder is of course reminiscent of groans. The question is, is there anyone in the villa who shouldn't be there? If so, who? All the Abernethis were at the funeral."

Poirot asked a seemingly irrelevant question: "Those nuns who were collecting donations in that area, did they try again the next day?" "Actually they went again . . . after about a week. Actually on the day of the investigative court, I believe." "That fits," said Hercule Poirot. "That fits perfectly." Inspector Morton looked at him. "Why are you so interested in nuns?" "They have been obsessively attracting my attention. I suppose it will not escape your attention, Mr. Inspector. The day the nun returns is the day the poisoned wedding cake is delivered to the villa."

"You don't think...that's an absurd idea?" "My ideas have never been absurd," said Hercule Poirot sharply. "Now, my friend, I shall leave you to conduct your interviews and investigate the attack on Mrs. Abernethy. I must go to Richard Abernethy's niece myself." "You've got to be careful what you say to Mrs Bankes." "I don't mean Mrs. Bankes. I mean Richard Abernether's niece." Poirot saw Rosamund sitting on a bench looking down at a stream of water from a waterfall flowing through thick heather. "I hope I have not disturbed Ophelia (the heroine of Shakespeare's Hamlet)," said Poirot, sitting down beside her. "Maybe, you are trying to figure out this role?"

"I've never acted in Shakespeare," said Rosamund. "Except for playing Jessica once in , a crappy role." "Yet not without pathos. 'Sound music never pleases me.' What a burden she was, poor Jessica, the hated and scorned daughter of the Jew. When she carried her father's gold, How much she must have doubted herself when running to her lover. Jessica with gold is one person... Jessica without gold may be another." Rosamund turned to look at him. "I thought you were gone," she said accusingly.She looked down at her watch. "It's past twelve o'clock."

"I missed the train," said Poirot. "why?" "You think there's a reason?" "I suppose so. You're pretty punctual, aren't you? If you want to catch a certain train, I'm sure you'll catch it." "Your judgment is admirable. Do you know, ma'am, that I have been sitting in that little arbor in the hope that you might come to me?" Rosamund watched him. "Why should I go? You said goodbye to us in the study." "That's right. So there's nothing...you want to tell me?" "No," Rosamund shook her head. "I have a lot of things to think about. Important things." "I see." "I don't think so much often," Rosamone said. "It seems like a waste of time. But it's important and I think a person should plan for the life they want to live." "Is that what you're doing?" "Uh, yes...I'm trying to make up my mind about something." "About your husband?" "you could put it that way." Poirot waited a moment, then said: "Inspector Mawton has just arrived here," he continued, anticipating Rosamund's question. "He's the police officer in charge of Mrs. Lansquenet's death. He's here to give you all an account of the day she was killed." Your respective whereabouts." "I understand, Alibi." Rosamund said happily. Her beautiful face was teasing. "That's enough for Mike," she said. "He thought I didn't know he was going on a tryst with a woman that day." "how do you know?" "It was obvious from the way he said he was going to have lunch with Oscar. It was so nonchalant, you know, that his nose twitched a little bit, like it always does when he's lying." "I'm so glad I didn't marry you, ma'am!" "Then, of course, I called Oscar for confirmation," Rosamund continued. "Men always tell such stupid lies." "I am afraid he is not a very faithful husband?" asked Poirot at the risk. Rosamund, however, did not protest. "no." "But you don't mind?" "Well, in a way, it's pretty fun," said Rosamund, "I mean, having a husband that all the other women want to take away from you. I hate being married to a man that nobody wants A man like... Poor Susan. Really, Greg is a real disgusting person!" Poirot studied her. "And what if someone really ... took your husband away?" "She can't," said Rosamund. "It can't be done now," she added. "what do you mean……" "They can't do it now with Uncle Richard's money. Mike's on the heels of those guys, in a way...that Suriel Denton woman almost hooked him...wanted Keeping him... but for Mike it's always been acting first. He's going to be able to make a big difference now... put out his own play. Make it yourself. He's ambitious, you know, and he's really good at it. Unlike me .I love acting—but I'm an amateur, even though I'm in good shape. No, I don't worry about Mike anymore. Because it's my money, you know." She met Poirot's eyes calmly.How strange, he thought, that Richard Abernether's niece and niece should be equally in love with two men who could not reciprocate their affection.But Rosamund is beautiful, and Susan is charming and sexually attractive.Susan needs, and harbors the illusion that Greg loves her.Rosamund, on the other hand, had clear eyes and no hallucinations, but knew what she wanted. "The thing is," said Rosamund. "I have to make a big decision... about the future. Mike doesn't know yet." A smile spread across her face. "He found out that I didn't go shopping that day, and he was deeply suspicious of Ruijing Park." "What's the matter in Ruijing Park?" Poirot looked puzzled. "I went there, you know, after walking around Harley Street. Just went there for a walk and thought. Of course Mike thought if I went there it would be to date some guy!" Rosamund laughed happily, and said: "He doesn't like it at all!" "But why shouldn't you go to Regin Park?" asked Poirot. "You mean, just go for a walk?" "Yes. Haven't you walked there before?" "Never been. Why should I go? What is there to do in Ruijing Park?" Poirot looked at her and said: "It's nothing to you..." He went on to say: "I think, ma'am, you must give up that green malachite table to your cousin Susan." Rosamund's eyes widened. "Why, that's what I want." "I know. I know. But you...you'll keep your husband, and poor Susan, she'll lose hers." "Losing him? You mean Greg would run away with another woman? I can't believe he would. He looks so unlovable." "Infidelity is not the only factor in losing a husband, ma'am." "You don't mean...?" Rosamund stared at him. "You don't think Greg poisoned Uncle Richard, Aunt Cora and knocked out Aunt Helen? That's ridiculous. Even I know better than that." "So, who did it?" "George, of course. George's a badass, you know, and he's involved in some sort of foreign exchange scandal... I've heard from some friends of mine in Monte Carlo. I think Uncle Richard must know about it and was going to Take him out of the will." Rosamund went on to say triumphantly: "I always knew it was George."