Chapter 31 Chapter 31 Actresses and Dancers

"It tastes so good." Mr. Joseph Ahrens tasted it with his tongue. He took another swig, put down his glass to catch his breath, licked the foam from his lips, and looked at his master Hercule Poirot with satisfaction. "To me, the best thing is a good roast steak and a good beer. Your hors d'oeuvres and other nonsense don't appeal to me. I'll have applesauce, of course." Ahrens asked for applesauce twice in a row.When he sucks milk like a connoisseur, he turns the conversation from food to important matters. "You want to talk to me about your little case, my dear Poirot. It would be a great pleasure if I could help you in any way."

"It is very kind of you," said Poirot. "I always say to myself: If you want to know about theater, go straight to your old friend Ahrens." "You're right." Ahrens said flattered. "No matter when it happened, past, present or future, I know it all." "Then I know. What I want to ask you now is: Do you know a young lady named Kidd?" "Kidd? Kitty Kidd?" "Yes, Kitty Kidd." "Of course I know her. She sings and dances, and often wears frock coats and plays young men, isn't she?" "Yes, I mean her."

"A very capable person. And earns a lot of money. She's always had theater contracts. She's better known for her drag roles. But she's best at playing distinctive parts in plays." "I have been told that," said Poirot. "She didn't seem to show up in the last period." "No. Disappeared from the stage. The same rich nobleman went to France. I don't believe she'll be on stage again." "When did she leave the stage?" "Please let me think. Oh, about three years ago." "What's the name of her boyfriend? Do you know?"

"He's a noble man. An earl or...wait a minute, yes, a marquis." "You haven't heard from her since then?" "Nothing at all. Possibly hanging out in some well-known health resort. She must have become a Marchioness. If so, all other Marchionesses will have to stay away." "Understood," said Poirot thoughtfully. "Unfortunately, I have nothing more to say, Monsieur Poirot. I am always at your service. You have been of great help to me once." "Don't mention that again," said Poirot, embarrassed. "Your occupation must be interesting."

"It's okay. Sometimes it's better, sometimes it's worse. If you want to keep it going, you have to be careful. Who knows what the audience will like to watch tomorrow?" "At present, as long as it has something to do with dancing, it is very fashionable," said Poirot. "Yes. There's real money being made in dance products these days." "I met a dancer on the Riviera—Millet." "Mirely? Baby. She's a real baby to her admirers as well as to her manager. She can dance, everything. I've never dealt with her personally. But my colleagues Scared her to death. She slapped her manager every two days."

"Yes, that is what I said," said Poirot. "Have character," exclaimed Mr. Ahrens. "People say this kind of woman has character. My wife was a dancing girl when she married me, but she had no character, thank God. Back home, character didn't matter." use." "Totally agree with you, Aarons friend." "Women who are going to get married should be good-tempered and tender-hearted, and they should be able to cook first," Mr. Ahrens said. "It's not long since Mi Lei stepped onto the stage?" "A little over two years at the most. A French duke brought her to the fore. Now she's dealing with a former Prime Minister of Greece. You know, these gentlemen always have some money in the bank."

"Dealing with the Prime Minister of Greece... Oh, that's still news to me," said Poirot, bowing his head thoughtfully. "That means young Mr. Kettering killed his wife for her. Of course I don't know, he's sitting in the classroom anyway. What about her? Just find a substitute. She seems to be successful. Someone Says she wears a gem the size of a pigeon's egg. I never saw how big a pigeon's egg is, but that's what people always write about in novels." "A jewel as big as a pigeon's egg?" asked Poirot himself.His eyes glowed green again like a cat's.

"How interesting." "I heard it from a friend," said Mr. Ahrens. "Probably a painted glass ball. Women, they're all the same anyway, they're amateurs when it comes to gemstones. Mirele tells everyone that that gemstone has a name, 'Fireheart Gem'. " "As far as I know," said Poirot, "the so-called 'Heart of Fire' is only the middle piece of a necklace." "What do you think? It must be a rumor. Mirei's piece is a single gemstone hanging from a platinum necklace. I think it is probably a colored glass ball."

"I don't think so," retorted Poirot mildly. "No, I don't think it's a painted glass ball."