Chapter 6 Chapter Six

Mr Gobbe sat on a chair.He was a small, dry man with indescribably ordinary features, almost non-existent. His eyes were on the clawed legs of an antique table, and he was reporting.He never looked directly at people and spoke. "It's a good thing you gave me your name, M. Poirot," said he; "otherwise, you know, it would have taken a lot of time. As it stands, I've got the main facts—and, besides, I've had a little time to spare. Gossiping...that's always useful. I'll start with the report from Boloden Apartments, okay? " Poirot nodded in gratitude.

"There's a lot of handymen there," reported Mr. Gobbe to the big clock hanging from the chimney. "I started with them, with one or two different young employees. It cost a lot, but it was worth it." ...I don't want to give the impression that there's some special investigation going on! Do I use my initials or my real name?" "You may use your real name in this room," said Poirot. "Miss Claudia Reese Holland is considered a very good lady. Her father is a member of parliament, a very ambitious man whose name is often reported. She is his only daughter and works as a secretary. Very decent girl, No crazy parties, no drinking, no hanging out with Beatles youths, sharing a flat with two other girls. The second girl works at the Wadeburn Gallery on Bond Street and belongs to the art world. Type One, who hangs out with the Chelsea gang and goes around arranging art shows or art shows.

"The third girl is you, a girl who moved in not long ago. The general opinion is that she 'is short of something', and there is something wrong with her head. But this is not very clear. One of the busboys is a gossip, He buys two glasses of wine, and he'll tell you everything: who's a drunk, who's on drugs, who's evading taxes, who's hiding money behind the sink, he knows it all. Not entirely believable, of course. Still, he Says someone fired a shot with a revolver one night." "Filled a shot with a revolver? Was anyone hurt?" "It doesn't seem likely. According to him, one night he heard a gunshot, and he ran out and saw a girl, your girl, standing there with a revolver in her hand. She looked dazed. Then , another girl—actually had both—comes up. Miss Jiali (the art guy) says, 'Norma, what the hell are you doing?' Said: 'Shut up, Frances. Don't be so stupid?' She took the revolver from your girl and said, 'Give me this.' She stuffed the pistol into her handbag and found Mickey There, just walked over and laughed and said, 'You must be startled, aren't you?' Mickey said he was, and she said, 'You don't have to worry about it. We didn't even know this thing was loaded , we were joking around.” Then she said, “Anyway, if anyone asks you, just say it’s okay.” Then she said, “Come on, Norma.” In the elevator, all three of them went up.

"But Mickey said he still had some doubts in his heart. He ran to the patio to have a look." Mr. Gao Bi lowered his eyes and began to read from his notepad: "'I'm telling you, I found something, I did! I found something wet, really, blood, and I ran my fingers over it. I'll tell you what's on my mind. Somebody got shot —a man was shot as he was running away... I ran upstairs and spoke to Miss Holland. I said to her: 'I think someone may have been shot, miss.' I said:' There are drops of blood on the patio.' 'My God,' she said, how could that be!" She said, 'I see, it must be pigeons. ’ Then she said: ‘I’m sorry to frighten you, don’t think about it. ' She slipped a five pound note into my hand.Five pounds, a lot!Of course, I didn't speak again after that. ' "And then, after another whiskey, he said it again. 'I think she must have shot that nasty lad who used to see her. I think she must have had a falling out with him and wanted Kill him, so I thought. But it's better to keep your mouth shut, so I don't have to talk too much. If anyone asks me, I say I don't know what they're asking.'" Mr. Gobbe paused. down.

"Very interesting," said Poirot. "Indeed, but it's not like it's all nonsense, and no one else knows anything except him. It's also said that one night, a group of rogue eunuchs broke into the courtyard and got into a fight—drawing knives or something." "Well, then," said Poirot, "the blood in the courtyard may have come from another source." "Perhaps that girl did get into an argument with her boyfriend and threatened to shoot him. Mickey heard it and mixed things up. Especially—if there's a car coming down at that time of year." Get out on the patio."

"Yes," Hercule Poirot said with a sigh, "it makes sense, then." Mr. Gaobi turned a page of his notepad and chose an audience, this time he chose an electric heater. "Joshua, Resderick Co., Ltd. The family business has a history of more than 100 years and has a good reputation in the city. It was founded by Joshua Resderick in 1850. No. The business took off after World War I, with a substantial increase in overseas investments, mostly in South Africa, West Africa and Australia. Simon and Andrew Resderick are the last generation of the family. The elder brother Simon passed away about a year ago, childless. His wife had not died many years ago. Andrew Resderick seemed to have had a period of instability. Although he was considered very capable, his heart never seemed to be seriously devoted to his career. Later he was married to a woman He left his wife and a five-year-old daughter. He has been to South Africa, Kenya and many other places. No divorce. His wife died two years ago. Handicapped for many years. He travels a lot, wherever he goes. Everywhere seems to be able to make money. Most of them rely on patents to operate the mining industry, and anyone who passes through his hands can make a fortune.

"After his brother died, he seemed to feel that it was time to settle down. He remarried and thought he should return to make up for his daughter's family love. They are currently with uncle Roderick Horsfield. It's only temporary, and his wife is looking for a place all over London. They've got plenty of money, at any price." Poirot sighed. "I know," he said, "what you've described to me is the outline of a successful family. Everyone is rich, everyone is well-connected, well-reputed, well-connected, and well-known and well-known in the business world." ,"

"Unfortunately there was a dark cloud in the clear sky. There was a girl who was said to be 'out of her mind'. This girl was hanging out with a suspicious boyfriend who had more than one probation. She might have tried to poison her stepmother if she hadn't Falling into hallucinations, then she has committed a great crime! Let me tell you, none of this fits the story of the successful family you have heard," Mr. Gao Bi shook his head sadly, and said falteringly: "Every family will have an unworthy child." "This Mrs. Restarick is still very young. I suppose she's not the woman he ran away with?"

"Oh, no, that one broke up with him a long time ago. That woman is really all kinds of evil, and she is a shrew. He is so stupid to be so fascinated by her." Mr. Gao Bi closed the notepad and looked at Bai with questioning eyes. Luo said, "Is there anything else you want me to do?" "Yes. I'd like to know a little more about the late Mrs. Andrew Resderick. She died out and was often in a sanitarium. What kind of sanitarium? A mental institution?" "I understand you, M. Poirot." "Is there a history of mental illness in their family—both families count?"

"I will inquire, M. Poirot." Mr. Gobbe stood up and said: "Then I shall take my leave. Good night." After Mr. Gobbe left, Poirot was still in a state of contemplation, his eyebrows raised and lowered, and he had many questions in his mind, which he couldn't understand. After a while, he called Mrs. Oliver. "I told you," he said, "to be careful. I repeat—you must be very careful." "Watch out for what?" said Mrs. Oliver. "Take care of yourselves, I reckon there may be danger. Danger may happen to anyone who goes to a place where he is not welcome. Murder, I reckon--I would not have it happen to you."

"Have you obtained the information you said might be obtained?" "Yes," said Poirot, "I have a little. Mostly gossip and gossip, but there seems to be something going on at Bollorden's." "What kind of thing?" "There are bloodstains in the courtyard," said Poirot. "Really," said Mrs. Oliver, "it's almost like an old detective title. 'Blood on the Staircase,' I mean a modern title would be 'Take Death' or something. " "It's also possible that there was no blood in the yard, but perhaps it was just the imagination of an imaginative Irish servant." "A broken milk bottle, perhaps," said Mrs. Oliver. "He didn't see it during the night. What's the matter?" Poirot did not answer her question directly. "Is that what the girl meant when she thought she 'might have killed someone'?" "You mean she did shoot somebody?" "We can assume she shot someone, but whatever the intent and purpose, she missed. Just a few drops of blood ... that's all. No body." "Well," said Mrs. Oliver, "it's getting more and more confused. Of course, if the man can get out of the yard, you won't think you've killed him, will you?" "It's hard to say." Poirot said and hung up the phone. "I'm worried," said Claudia Rishi Holland. She poured another cup of coffee from the coffee pot.Frances Jali yawned big.Two girls are having breakfast in the kitchenette of the apartment.Claudia is already dressed and ready to go to work.Frances was still in her nightgown and pajamas, her black hair falling over her eyes. "I'm worried about Norma," Claudia added. Frances yawned. "I wouldn't worry if I were you. I think she'll come back or call sooner or later." "Would it? Tell you, Fran, I can't help but think—" "I don't know why you do that," said Frances, pouring herself some more coffee.She took a sip with a puzzled face. "I mean, Norma's none of our business, is it? I mean we're not taking care of her, or nanny or anything. She's just sharing the flat with us. Why are you making such a fuss all of a sudden?" Maternal love here? I will never worry." "Of course you don't, you never worry about anything, but I'm not in your situation." "What's the difference? Do you mean that you rented this house?" "This, it may be said, is a rather peculiar situation for me." Frances yawned again. "Last night I slept too late," she said. "I went to play at Bethel's, and I was so sad. Maybe I'd like more coffee. Would you like some more? Otherwise, I'll be alone." Drank it all up. Bethel wants us to try a new drug, Emerald Dream, and I don't think it's worth eating that shit." "You're going to be late for work at the gallery," Claudia said. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter, no one notices or cares." "I saw David last night," she went on, "and he's so handsomely dressed, oh, it's so flattering." "Why, you're infatuated with him, too, Fran? He's really nasty." "Oh, I know you think so. You're so rigid, Claudia." "I don't. I just don't dare to follow the type in your art circle. Take all kinds of drugs, sleep all day, or go crazy and fight." Frances looked smug. "I'm not a drug addict, honey - I just want to know what it's like to take those drugs. As for our gang, some of them were pretty good too.David can draw, you know, if he wants to. " "Unfortunately, David doesn't often want to paint, does he?" "You always like to stab him like this, Claudia...you hate him coming to Norma. Speaking of knives..." "How about knives?" "I've been hesitating," Frances said slowly, "whether I should tell you something." Claudia looked at her watch. "I don't have time now," she said. "If you want to tell me something, you can do it tonight. Besides, I'm not in the mood right now. Oh, God," she said, sighing, "I wish I knew what to do." what to do." "Is it Norma?" "Yeah. I don't know if her parents should know that even we don't know where she is..." "That's not enough friends. Poor Norma, if she wants to be alone for a while, what's the matter?" "But, Norma, it's not true—" Claudia didn't say it. "No, she's not, what do you think? Insane. Is that what you mean? Did you call that damn place where she works? Called 'House Bird' or something? Oh, yes , Of course you fought, I remembered." "So, where is she?" Claudia asked, "David didn't say anything last night?" "David doesn't seem to know either. Really, Claudia, what does it matter?" "Of course it has something to do with me," Claudia said, "because my boss happens to be her father. Sooner or later, if something happens to her, they're bound to ask me why I didn't tell them she wasn't home." "That's true, I think they will give you a good meal, but there is no reason, should Norma report to us when she leaves here for a day, two days or even a few nights, she is just our resident It's not your responsibility to take care of her." "Of course not. But Resderick said his daughter was staying with us, and he was glad." "Then every time she doesn't ask for leave to go out, you have to keep nagging? She may have a crush on a new man." "It's David she's into," Croia said. "Do you really think she won't be locked up in David's place?" "Why, I don't think so. You know he doesn't like her very much." "You hope he doesn't like her," said Claudia. "You're fond of David yourself." "Of course not," said Frances sharply. "There's no such thing." "David is really infatuated with her," Claudia said, "otherwise, why would he come here to look for her that day." "But you threw him out again very quickly," said Frances. Maybe it was me." "You're so crazy! He's here to find Norma." "That girl's mind!" said Frances. "Sometimes, I do think there's something wrong with her." "Anyway, I know something is wrong with her. Listen to me, Claudia, I'm going to tell you something right now. You should know. One day my bra strap broke and I was busy with something to go out. I know You don't like people touching your things—" "I don't like people touching my things," Claudia said. "—but Norma didn't care or wouldn't notice. So I went to her room and rummaged in her drawers, and I—I found something. A knife." "A knife?" Claudia said in surprise. "What kind of knife?" "You know the last time there was a fight in the courtyard, right? A group of delinquent teenagers with disheveled hair ran into the courtyard and started fighting with switchblades. Norma came into the house after they ran away." "Yes, yes, I remember." "According to the reporter, a boy was stabbed and ran away. In the drawer of Norma was a switchblade with something on it - it seemed to be dried blood." "Frances! You're talking nonsense here again." "Tell me what you want. I can't be wrong anyway. But how did it end up in Norma's drawer? I'd like to know." "I guess—she might have picked it up." "What—as a souvenir? Then hide it and don't tell us?" "Where did you put the knife?" "I put it back as it is," Frances said slowly, "I, I don't know what else to do... I don't know if I should tell you at the moment. I went to check again yesterday, but it was gone, Ke Laudia. Not even a shadow." "Do you think she sent David to fetch things?" "This, this may also be... Tell you, Claudia, from now on, I must lock the door of my room at night."