Chapter 28 Chapter Twenty Seven

"I'm not going back to Blaser & Skatel," said Maud Williams, "it's a terrible company anyway." "But it serves its purpose." "What do you mean by that, M. Poirot?" "Why did you come to this place?" "I think I know everything. Do you think you know?" "I have a little idea." "What is this great idea?" Poirot looked thoughtfully at Maud's hair. "I've always been very cautious," he said, "at one point I thought that the fair-haired woman Edna saw going to Mrs. Upward's house was Mrs. Carpenter, and she flatly denied going there out of fear. There. Since it was Robin Upward who killed Mrs. Upward, she had been there as Miss Deirdre had been, and there was no greater significance. Still, I don't think she I did go there. Miss Williams, I think the woman Edna saw was you."

"why me?" Her voice is stubborn. Poirot posed another question in rebuttal: "Why are you so interested in Broadshinney? Why? When you used to come here, did you ask Robin Upward for an autograph—you're not the type to ask a celebrity. What did the Upwards know? What was your primary purpose in coming here? How did you know that Eva Kane died in Australia and the name she left England with?" "You're really good at guessing, aren't you? Well, I really have nothing to hide." She opened her handbag, and from an old wallet, she took out a small piece of old newspaper clippings.Above it was the face Poirot had been quite familiar with by now, Eva Kane's smirking face.

There is a line written across the face: She killed my mother. Poirot handed it back to her. "Yes, I think so. Your real name is Craig?" Maud nodded. "I was brought up by relatives - they were all very nice to me. But, when those things happened, I was old enough to forget them. I think about it a lot. Think about the way she behaves. She is so bad Now—the kids know it! My father was just—weak, and obsessed with her. But he took all the blame. For some reason, I always believed she did it. Oh yes, in the matter Afterwards, I knew he was an accomplice—but that's not quite the same thing, is it? I always wanted to find out what was going on with her. When I was a grown man, I hired detectives. They tracked her down to Australia, It was recently reported that she was dead. She left behind a son - who claimed to be Evelyn Hope.

"Ah, it seemed to go that way. But then, I made friends and met a young actor. He mentioned a guy named Evelyn Hope from Australia, but now he calls himself Robin. Upward, a screenwriter. I was intrigued, and one night my friend pointed out Robin Upward to me—he was with his mother. So I thought, anyway , Eva Kane is not dead. On the contrary, she has a lot of money and is as proud as a queen. "I came here with a purpose. I was curious—not just curious. Well, I'll admit, I thought, somehow, I'm going to get even with her, to get back at her... when you bring up the When I read all the circumstances of the James Bentley case, I immediately concluded that Mrs. Upward had killed Mrs. McGinty. Eva Kane did it all over again. I happened to hear it from Michael West, Ro Bing Upward and Mrs. Oliver went to the theatre. I decided to go to Broadshinney and bravely confront the woman. I thought—I don't know what the hell I'm trying to do. I'll tell you— — I carried a pistol with me, I got it in the war. Was it to frighten her? Or was it to — Honestly, I don’t know…

"That's it, I went there. There was no sound in the house, and the door was unlocked. I went in, and you know how I found her. She sat there, dead, purple and swollen. I kept thinking All those things to do seemed silly and grotesque. I know, I never really wanted to kill anyone, and it ended up like this... But, I do realize that to explain where I was What was going on in the house can be very difficult to figure out. It was a cold night and I was wearing gloves so I knew I hadn't left any fingerprints and I didn't think anyone would see me. That's it." She paused After a while, he added hastily: "What are you going to do about this?"

"Nothing," said Hercule Poirot, "I wish you the best of luck in your life, that's all." Death of the Cleaning Lady - Epilogue Death of the Cleaning Lady end Hercule Poirot and Superintendent Spence were sitting in the Villa Hotel celebrating their victory. The coffee was served, and Superintendent Spence leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. "The food here is pretty good," he said contentedly, "maybe a little French, but where else can you get a good steak and baked chips these days?" "I had dinner here the night you first came to see me." Poirot recalled the scene at that time.

"It's been busy since then. I've referred the case to you, M. Poirot. You've done a good job." The faint smile disappeared from his dull face. "Fortunately, the young man didn't Realizing how little evidence we actually have. Ah, a clever lawyer would have overturned the evidence! But he completely lost his mind, gave up fighting back, confessed, and got himself in a corner. How lucky we are!" "It wasn't quite luck," reproached Poirot. "I lured him into the trap, as if you were baiting a fish! He thought I would take the evidence against Mrs. Somerhays very seriously, and my attitude at the time was Serious - when he found out that wasn't the case, he felt so contrasted and psychologically shattered. Plus, he was a coward. I swung that ax and he thought I was trying to smash him. Extreme Fear always brings out the truth."

"You're lucky you weren't frightened by Major Summerhays," said Spence, grinning his teeth. "He was furious, and he struck fast. I was in the middle of the two of you. Did he forgive you?" ?” "Ah yes, we are the most unbreakable friends now. I gave Mrs. Somerhays a cookbook. I also taught her how to make an omelet with my own hands. God, how I suffered in that place ah!" He closed his eyes. "The whole case is so complicated," Spence mused over it, with no interest in Poirot's painful recollection, "which illustrates the old saying that every man has his secrets. Let's say, Mrs. Carpenter was almost arrested on suspicion of murder. If that woman was behaving suspiciously, she was the number one suspect. Why?"

"Why?" asked Poirot curiously. "It's just a bad reputation in the usual way. She was a professional dancer, a lively girl with lots of boyfriends! She wasn't a war widow before she came to live in Broadshinney. It's just what people call her now." 'Popular Wife'. Well, all that would not be tolerated by a sanctimonious self-important guy like Guy Carpenter, so she made up a very different version of him. She was very Sensitive and uneasy, fearful that this will come to light once we start tracing people's lives." He took a sip of his coffee, then chuckled softly.

"Take a look at the Wetherbys again. There's a whole lot of hostility and hatred among the family. The girl is bewildered and disheartened. What's the cause of this? Nothing sinister. It's just about money! For a fortune. " "The reason is so simple!" "The girl had that money--quite a lot of money. It was left to her by one of her aunts. So her mother held her tight, lest she want to marry. Her stepfather hated her because she had money. .to pay the family's bills, and I think he himself was useless and accomplished nothing. A vile and damnable fellow—as for Mrs. Weatherby, she's pure poison in sugar."

"I agree with you," said Poirot, nodding in satisfaction. "Fortunately, the girl has money. This makes it much easier to arrange her marriage to James Bentley." Superintendent Spence looked surprised. "Deirdre Henderson? Going to marry James Bentley? Who said that?" "I said," said Poirot, "that my whole mind was occupied with the matter. Now that our little case is closed, I have too much time on my hands. I will manage the marriage myself. Yet , neither of the parties has any interest in the matter. But they are attracted to each other. Let them take their course and nothing will come of it—but they must count on Hercule Poirot. You will see Yes! This thing will go well!" Spence grinned. "Don't you care about meddling in other people's private affairs?" "My God, you shouldn't have said that," reproached Poirot. "Ah, you made me think so. Anyway, James Bentley is a poor dull fellow." "Of course he's a poor stupid fellow! And now he feels wronged because he's not going to kill him." "He should be on his knees and thanking you," Spence said. "In fact, I should also express my gratitude to you. However, it is obvious that he doesn't think so." "Weird boy." "Although you say so, there are at least two women who are interested in him. The Creator is very unexpected." "I thought you intended Maud Williams to marry him." "He will make his choice," said Poirot, "he will—how do you say it?—choose his soul. But I think he will choose Deirdre Hend Sen. Maud Williams is too vigorous and lively to live with her, and he would be more taciturn and timid." "It's hard to imagine that these two people would want him!" "Creation is really hard to understand." "Anyway, you've got to do your job well. Fit him first—then free that girl from her mother's clutches—that woman will fight you with all her might!" "Victory belongs to the majority." "Belongs to the bearded man, I guess you mean that." Spence growled.Poirot cocked his mustache with complacency, and suggested another glass of brandy. "I don't mind having an extra glass, M. Poirot." Poirot ordered two more glasses. "Ah," said Spence, "I know I have something to tell you. Do you remember the Rendles?" "of course I remember." "Well, when we investigated him, we found a particularly strange thing. It seems that his first wife died in Leeds, where he was opening at the time. The police there received some anonymous letters about him, saying that it was actually He poisoned her. People do say things like that, of course. She had an autopsy by a doctor of high standing who seemed to think her cause of death was clear and undisputed. The only fact was that the couple Taking out life insurance with the other party as a beneficiary, and that's what people usually do... We have nothing to look into, as I said, and yet—I don't know. What do you think?" Poirot thought of Mrs. Rendle's frightened expression.She mentioned the anonymous letter, and her obstinate disbelief of what it said.He remembered her affirmation that his investigation of Mrs. McGinty's murder was a prelude. "I can imagine it's not just the police who get anonymous letters," he said. "Did you send her an anonymous letter, too?" "I think so. When I showed up at Broadshinney, she thought I was after her husband, and that the Mrs. McGinty investigation was just a prelude. Yes—he thought so too. . . . That's right! It was Dr. Rendell who tried to push me under the wheels of the train that night!" "Does he still want to kill this wife and gamble again?" "I don't think she would be so foolish as to name him a beneficiary of her life insurance," said Poirot dryly. "However, if he believes that we are keeping him under close watch, he will probably do so cautiously." "We will do everything we can. We will monitor our amiable doctor closely and make him understand us." Poirot raised his brandy glass. "To Mrs. Oliver," he said. "Why did you suddenly think of her?" "A woman's intuition," said Poirot. There was a silence.Then Spence began slowly: "Robin Upward is in court next week. You know, Poirot, I can't help wondering—" "Dear me! You don't suspect Robin Upward's crimes now, do you? Stop trying to start all over again." Superintendent Spence felt relieved and grinned: "Jesus, no. He's 100 percent a murderer!" He added, "Smug and self-righteous about everything!"