Chapter 15 Chapter Fifteen: Frederica's Abnormality

The appointment with the Chief of Police, which Poirot concocted in a whim to get rid of Mr. Croft's intensely ardent entanglement, seemed beyond reproach in its authenticity.Immediately after lunch, Colonel Weston called on us.He was a tall, good-looking, military man, who paid a fitting tribute to Poirot's past feats.From this point of view, he would probably have Poirot's cooperation and assistance. "It is our great good fortune that you are here, M. Poirot," he said at length. He dreaded having to turn to Scotland Yard, and hoped to solve the case alone and catch the murderer.So Poirot's nearness was a great relief to him.

Poirot, as I can now conclude, had complete confidence in the Colonel. "Strange," said the Colonel. "I've never heard of a case like that. Yes, the girl is safe in the rest house, but you can't keep her there forever." "That's the difficulty, Colonel, and there's only one way out of it." "that is--" "We have to find the perpetrator." "That's not going to be easy." "Ah, I know that." "Clues! Clues and evidence that only the devil can find!" He frowned. "This kind of thing is always so difficult. There is no fixed method to follow. If we can get that pistol—"

"The pistol is most likely at the bottom of the sea—that is, if the murderer is sane." "Ah," said Colonel Weston, "that kind of man is often of a sane nature! You're often amazed at the follies people do. I don't mean in murder cases—we don't have much murder here." Cases come up, I'm glad I can say that--I mean in ordinary criminal cases, you'll be amazed at how negligent and stupid people can be. "They have another idea." "Yes—possibly. If Weiss is the perpetrator, it will be difficult for us to proceed. He is a cautious person and a mature lawyer. He will not expose himself in a short time. If it is the woman, it will be more difficult. It’s easy to handle, and nine times out of ten she will do it again, women are impatient.”

He stood up. "The autopsy will be performed tomorrow morning. The coroner will come to work with us tomorrow. He will not make any noise. At present, we must conduct it in secret, so as not to make a fuss." He turned towards the door and came back abruptly. "My God, I forgot one thing that would interest you so much, and I want to hear your opinion about it." He sat down again, took a crumpled note from his pocket, and handed it to Poirot. "My police found this note when they searched the garden, not far from where you watched the fireworks last night. It was the only interesting thing they found, but it was not all."

Poirot flattened it out, and the writing was large and crooked. "... want the money immediately, or you... it will happen, I warn you." Poirot frowned and read it over and over. "Interesting," he said, "can I have it here?" "Of course, there's no fingerprints on it, and I'd be very glad if you could find anything out of it." Colonel Weston rose again. "I really should be going. The autopsy will start tomorrow, and you won't be called as a witness, but Captain Hastings will be. We don't want the journalists to know that you were involved. "

"I understand. Any news from the family of the unfortunate girl?" "Her father and mother are coming here from Yorkshire today, and they will be here about half-past five. It's a pity, I do feel for them, and they intend to take the body back the next day." He shook his head. "Unpleasant things take no interest in me, M. Poirot." "Who can mention it, Mr. Colonel? It is, as you say, an unpleasant affair." After he had gone, Poirot examined the paper again. "Any important clues?" I asked. He shrugged. "Who can tell? It's a blackmail letter! Someone at our dinner last night was in urgent need of some very unpleasant sum of money, probably a stranger, of course."

He looked at the words with a magnifying glass. "Hastings, does this calligraphy sound familiar to you?" "It reminds me of—ah! There it is—it reminds me of Mrs. Rice's letter!" "Yes," said Poirot slowly, "it is, indeed it is. Odd, but I don't think it is Mrs. Rice's handwriting." There was a knock at the door, and he said, "Come in. " It was Lieutenant Colonel Challenger. "Nothing, just checking," he explained, "I want to know if you guys are making any progress." "True," said Poirot, "now I feel that instead of making progress, I am going backwards, as if I were going backwards."

"Bad. But I don't really believe it, M. Poirot. I've heard all about you, and I know what a character you are. They say you never failed." "That's not true," said Poirot. "I failed in Belgium in 1893. Remember, Hastings—I told you about the case of the box of chocolates." "I remember," I said, smiling, because Poirot, after telling me the story, had instructed me to say to him "the box of chocolates!" Only one minute and fifteen seconds after this instruction, I noticed that he was bragging again, so I said to him: "Chocolate box!"

"Oh," said Challenger, "that was a long time ago, never mind. You're going to get the case out, won't you?" "I can swear it. Hercule Poirot means what he says." "Good! Any ideas?" "I suspect two people." "I guess I shouldn't ask who they are?" "I won't tell you either, I may have turned the wrong idea." "I think, since I wasn't there at the time, I'm not among the suspects, am I?" Challenger said with a wink. Poirot smiled indulgently at the bronzed face in front of him: "You left Devonport at around eight thirty and arrived here at ten past five—twenty minutes after the incident, but from here to Devonport is only thirty miles, and on account of the smoothness of the road you usually cover that distance in an hour, so, you see, your alibi is quite porous."

"Ah I--" "You have to understand that I'm going to find out everything. Your absence, as I said, cannot be proven, but there are other circumstances in your favor besides absence. I think, You must really want to marry Miss Nick!" Challenger blushed. "I've always wanted to marry her," he said hoarsely. "True, however—Miss Nick was engaged to another man, which might have been justification for killing another man, but it was not necessary—he died a hero." "So it's true—Nick is engaged to Michael Seton? The news has been all over town this morning."

"Yeah, it's amusing how fast the word goes. You never suspected it before?" "I know Nick is engaged to someone else - she told me two days ago. But she didn't reveal who that person was." "It's Michael Seton, and I think he's left her a lot of money. Ah! Surely, from your point of view, it's not the right time to kill Nick, and she's weeping for her lover right now." She's runny, but her heart will gradually calm down. She's in her prime, and I think, sir, she's always been very fond of you..." Challenger was silent for a minute or two. "If..." he murmured. Then someone knocked on the door.In came Frederica Rice. "I've been looking for you," she said to Challenger. "They told me you were here, and I wondered if you had my watch back." "Oh, it's back. I went to pick it up this morning." He took the watch out of his pocket and handed it to her.It was an unusual watch--round like a ball, with a pair of black wrinkled straps, and I recall seeing the same watch on Nick Buckley's wrist. "I hope it's going more accurately now." "It's a real nuisance. It keeps going wrong." "It's just for looks, madame, not for use," said Poirot. "Can't we have the best of both worlds?" She looked us over one by one. "Am I interrupting your conversation?" "No ma'am, really, we're just talking casually, not about the murder. We're talking about how fast news spreads, and now everyone knows that Miss Nick has an appointment with the dead flying warrior." marriage?" "So Nick is indeed engaged to Michael Seton!" exclaimed Frederica. "Does that surprise you, ma'am?" "Kind of way, but I don't know why. I know he was interested in Nick last fall, they were hanging out together, and then, after Christmas, their relationship seemed to cool down. As far as I know, they barely see each other .” "It's a secret and they've been keeping it under wraps." "I reckon it's because of old Sir Matthew, who's getting a little old-fashioned, I think." "You have never suspected Miss Nick and Mr. Seton, ma'am? You and Miss are heart-to-heart friends." "Nick is tight-lipped when necessary," murmured Frederica, "but now I see why she's been so nervous lately, oh, I should have guessed it from what she said yesterday. !" "Your young friend is charming, ma'am." "That good boy Jim Lazarus felt the same way," said Challenger, laughing slyly. "Oh! Jim—" She shrugged, but I think she was really upset. She turned to Poirot: "Tell me, M. Poirot, have you—" She stopped, her slender body swayed, her face gradually became paler, as if she was about to faint.Her eyes were fixed on the table. "There is something wrong with you, ma'am." I pushed a chair over and helped her sit down. She shook her head and said vaguely, "I'm fine." She leaned forward and put her face between her hands. she. After a minute she stood up. "What absurdity! George, my dear, don't worry so much, let's talk about the murder. It's a provocative subject, and I wonder if M. Poirot has found his way." "It's too early to tell, madame," said Poirot vaguely. "But you've always formed an opinion—haven't you?" "Possibly. But I need a lot of evidence." "Ah," her voice sounded slurred. Suddenly she stood up. "I have a headache. I need to lie down. Maybe they'll let me see Nick tomorrow." She went out, and Challenger frowned. "You can never read a woman's mind. Nick may like her very much, but I don't believe she likes Nick. However, women's things can't be said, it's 'darling' and 'heart' all the time. , 'baby', but in my heart it is more likely to be 'damn', 'ghost', 'vixen'. Do you want to go out, M. Poirot?" At this time Poirot had stood up and was carefully Dust a speck of dust off the hat. "Yes, I'm going into town." "I have nothing to do, can I go with you?" "Of course. It's a pleasure." We left the room and Poirot apologized and turned back. "My crutch," he said when he came out. Challenger took an imperceptible step back.The cane, with its openwork gold hoop, was indeed a splendid ornament. Poirot went first to the flower shop. "I have to send Miss Nick some flowers," he explained. He picked and picked, and finally settled on a gorgeous golden flower basket containing orange-red carnations.The flower basket and flowers were tied together with a blue ribbon, and a huge bow was tied on the head. The landlady gave him a card, on which he wrote in cursive letters: "Hercule Poirot bows." "I sent her some flowers this morning," said Challenger, "and I want to send her some fruit." "Nothing!" said Poirot. "what?" "I said it was meaningless. Edible things are not allowed in." "Who said this?" "I said it. I made this rule and it has been deeply imprinted in Miss Nick's heart. She understands my intention." "Jesus!" said Challenger. He stared blankly at Poirot. "So it is!" said he, "you're still—frightened!"