Chapter 9 8

(Eight) Despite Poirot's disapproval of afternoon tea, he had grown quite used to it by now. George had by this time set out mugs, a pot of chai tea, and, besides the hot brioche, bread, jam, and a large cake topped with raisins. All this pleased Inspector Sharp, who was lying on the back of his chair. "You don't mind if I come over to your place like this? I have an hour to spare before the students go back. I want to ask them all about it, and frankly, I don't expect to do that. You saw the other night I know some of them, and wonder if you can give me any information--about the foreigners."

"You think I'm good at foreigners? But not a single one of them is Belgian." "No more than—oh, I know what you mean! You mean that because you're Belgian, all other nationalities are as foreign to you as they are to me. But that's not true, is it?" I mean you probably know the Continental type better than I do—though not the Indies and West Africans." "Probably the best assistance you can get will come from Mrs. Hubbard. She's been there for a few months, and has been in touch with the young men, and she has a pretty good sense of human nature."

"Yes, she's a very capable woman. I'll rely on her. I'll also have to meet the lady boss of the place. She owns several establishments of the same nature, and several student clubs, as far as I know. Seems like a An unattractive woman." Poirot asked: "Have you ever been to St. Catherine's?" "Yes, the chief pharmacist is very busy. He was shocked and sad when he heard the news." "What did he say to that girl?" "She's been working there for a little over a year and is very popular. He describes her as a slow but very honest girl. That's where she got her morphine from."

"Really? That's interesting--kind of puzzling." "It's morphine tartrate. It's on the top shelf in the drugstore's toxic drug cupboard--along with some less commonly used drugs. Of course, subcutaneous agents are commonly used, and it seems that morphine hydrochloride is more commonly used than morphine tartrate." .As if medicines had a fad like everything else. There were some medicines on the top shelf of that cupboard that were once in vogue, but haven't been used for a few years now." "So the disappearance of a dusty phial won't be immediately noticed?"

"True. Inventory counts are only done at set times. It's been a long time since anyone remembered seeing Morphine Tartrate in it on a drug bill. No one would have noticed that the bottle was missing until it was needed-- Or when taking inventory. Both dispensers have keys to the toxic medicine cabinet and the dangerous medicine cabinet. The medicine cabinet is open when needed. During busy times, someone goes to the medicine cabinet every few minutes, so the cabinet They were left unlocked until the end of the job." "Who else has access to the medicine cabinet but Celia herself?"

"Two other female dispensers, but neither of them has anything to do with Hickory Road. One has been there four years, the other just went a few weeks ago, and used to work at the Devon hospital. Good record. And then There are three senior pharmacists, all of whom have been working at St. Catharines for several years. These are people who have a good reason to be close to the medicine cabinet. Then there is an old woman who sweeps the floors. She works there from nine to ten in the morning. Possibly stealing a bottle from the medicine cabinet while the dispenser is busy, but she has been working in a hospital for several years, and that seems highly unlikely. The lab clerk sends the stock up, and he might do it himself if he gets the chance. Steal a bottle—but all of the above seems highly unlikely."

"Any outsiders entered the pharmacy?" "Many, this and that. For example, they go through the pharmacy on the way to the pharmacist's office--or the clerks of the big drug dealers on the way to the pharmacy department. And, of course, dispensing." Occasionally friends of the clerks go in to see them - not unusual, but it happens." "That makes sense. Has anyone seen Celia Austin lately?" Sharp looked at his notebook. "A girl named Patricia Lane was there last Tuesday. She asked Celia to meet her at the movie theater after the pharmacy closed."

"Patricia Lane," said Poirot thoughtfully. "She was there for about five minutes, she didn't go near the poison cabinet, she just stayed at the outpatient window talking to Celia and another girl. They also remember a black girl who went to -- about two weeks ago -- A very dignified girl. They were, and she took an interest in their work, asked some questions, and took notes. English will be very good." "That's Elizabeth Johnston. She's interested, isn't she?" "It was a free clinic that afternoon. She was interested in this kind of organization, and also in medicine for skin infections and infant diarrhea."

Polo nodded. "Is there anyone else?" "I don't remember it." "Is the doctor going to the pharmacy?" Sharp grinned. "Go anytime. Formally, informally. Sometimes to ask for a special formula, or to see what's in stock." "Go and see what medicines are in stock?" "Yeah, I thought about that. Sometimes they go for advice - about changing some meds that seem to irritate the patient's skin or interfere with digestion. Sometimes they just go in and chat. A lot of young lads go and ask for aspirin or something for hangovers—and, I think, for flirting and cursing with girls every now and then."

Poirot said, "If I remember correctly, there was one or more students on Hickory Road who got involved with St. Catherine's—a big boy with red hair—Bates—Bategate—" "Rain Bateson. Yes, and Colin Macna doing a master's degree there. And then there's a girl, Jane Tomlinson, who is a friend of the senior pharmacist..." "not simple." "It's not easy! Any clerk could poke into the poison closet and no one would ever think about it or remember. We're assuming someone gave Celia Austin morphine , put the morphine bottle and a part of the torn letter paper in her room afterwards, making it look like suicide. But, why?"

Polo shook his head.Sharp continued: "You hinted this morning that someone might be giving Celia Austin an idea of ​​pretending to be a kleptomaniac." Polo moved restlessly. "That was just a hazy idea on my part. It just seemed doubtful if she had the brains to come up with that idea herself." "Then who is it?" "As far as I know, only three students were capable of coming up with the idea. Rain Bateson had the requisite knowledge. He knew that Colin was fascinated by the study of personality disorders. He may have hinted at Celia in jest. ...but I can't believe he's involved in this kind of stuff month after month - unless he has an ulterior motive, or he's someone very different from what he appears on the surface. Nigel Chapman has a bit of a malevolent mind Tendency, mischief. He thinks it's fun, I believe, and has no scruples. He can be said to be a grown-up urchin. The third person that comes to my mind is a young woman named Valerie Holmes. She has brains, Modern in outlook and education, and perhaps enough in psychology to judge Colin's likely reactions. If she likes Celia, she may think it's a legitimate joke to fool Colin." "Rain Bateson, Nigel Chapman, Valerie Hobhouse," Sharp said, jotting down the names. "Thank you for the information. Where are the Indians? One of them is also a medical student." "His mind was completely preoccupied with politics and persecution maniacs," Poirot said. "I don't think he's interested enough to suggest a kleptomaniac to Celia Austin, and I don't think she'll take him up on that suggestion." "Is that all you can do to help me, Mr. Poirot?" said Sharpe, standing up. "That's all I'm afraid. But I think I'm personally interested—that is, if you don't object, my friend?" "not at all." "In my own amateur way, I'm going to do what I can. I think there's only one course of action for me." "What route?" "Talk, talk! All the murderers I've ever met love to talk. From my point of view, the silent strongman rarely commits crimes—and when he does, it's flat, brutal, and totally obvious, but we The clever, cunning murderer -- he's so smug that sooner or later he'll unfortunately slip. Talk to these people, friend, and don't limit yourself to mere inquiries. Encourage them to speak their minds, ask them Help, ask them about their premonitions—but, alas! You don't need me to teach you. I remember you well enough." Sharp smiled mildly. "That's right," he said, "I've always found—er—being approachable—very helpful." Sharp got up to leave. "I think probably every one of them is a possible murderer," he said slowly. "I think so too," said Poirot quietly. "For example, Rainn Bate had a bad temper. He could lose his temper. Valerie Holmes had brains and a shrewd plan. Nigel Chapman was a boyish type who didn't know what was important. There was a French girl there who would kill if enough money was involved. Patricia Lane was the mother type, and mother women are always ruthless. The American girl, Sally Finch, was a Optimistic, but she plays the part better than most. Jane Tomlinson is full of lovely, upstanding dispositions, but we've seen too many murderers with devout devotion. The West Indian girl Elizabeth Johnston was perhaps the brightest mind in that house. She didn't take her love life seriously--and that was dangerous. There was also a charming young man from Africa who might have murderous motives that we couldn't guess. And Colin Macna, the psychologist. How many psychologists might need therapy themselves?" "For the old man's sake, Poirot. You've got my head spinning! Isn't there anyone who doesn't kill?" "I'm often surprised," said Poirot.