Chapter 13 12

(twelve) Hercule Poirot, who was dictating a letter, paused in the middle of a sentence, and Miss Lemon looked up. "Mr. Poirot?" "I can't concentrate!" Polo waved his hand, "After all, this letter is not important. Miss Li Meng, please call your sister for me." "Yes, Mr. Poirot." After a while, Poirot took the phone from his secretary. "Hey!" "What is it, Mister Poirot?" Mrs. Hubbard looked out of breath. "Mrs. Hubbard, I trust I am not bothering you?" "I'm used to being interrupted," said Mrs. Hubbard.

"Something's disturbing, isn't it?" said Poirot delicately. "Very well said, Mr. Poirot. Exactly. Inspector Sharpe finished questioning all the students yesterday and brought a search warrant today, and Mrs. Nicoletis is pestering me hysterically." Polo clicked his tongue sympathetically. Then he said, "I just wanted to ask you a little question. You gave me a lost and found list -- and some other oddities -- and all I had to ask was that your list was in chronological order. Did you write it down?" "what do you mean?" "I mean, the things on the list are written down in the order in which they disappeared?"

"No, it's not. I'm sorry—I just jot down what comes to mind. I'm so sorry if I misled you." "I should have asked you earlier. But it didn't occur to me at the time that it was important. I have your watch on you now. It begins with an evening shoe, a bracelet, a compact, a diamond ring, a lighter, Stethoscope, etc. You're saying that's not the order that Oh disappeared?" "no." "Do you now remember what the proper sequence is?" "Well, I'm not sure if I can remember now. You know, it was a while ago. I'll have to put my mind to it. Actually, after I talked to my sister, I knew I was going to After you met, I made a list, and I should say I wrote them down in the order I remembered them. I mean, I wrote evening shoes first because it was such a special thing, then bracelets, powder box, lighter and diamond ring, because they are more important items, and it seems that there is a real thief, and then I think of other less important items and add them. I mean Boron powder, light bulbs, and rucksacks. They don't really matter, I just think about it afterward."

"I understand . . . what I want you to do now, ma'am, is to sit down, that is, when you are free . . . " "Perhaps I'll have a little time after I've sedated Mrs. Nicoletis, put her to bed, and calmed Geronimo and Mariel at the same time. What do you want me to do?" "Sit down and try to write down as many events as you can in chronological order." "Of course, Mr. Poirot. The rucksack, that happened first, and the light bulb - I really don't think it has anything to do with anything else - then the bracelet and the compact, no - the evening gift Shoes. You don't want to hear me think about it, though. I'll do my best to list them as you say."

"Thank you, ma'am. I will be very grateful to you." Polo hung up the phone. "I'm so angry with myself," he said to Miss Lemon. "I violated the principles of order. I should have figured out the order in which these thefts happened in the first place." "My God!" said Miss Lemon mechanically. "Would you like to end these letters now, M. Poirot?" However, Polo waved to her impatiently again. As soon as Inspector Sharp returned to Hickory Road with the warrant Saturday morning, he demanded an interview with Mrs. Nicoletis, who used to come to check out with Mrs. Hubbard on Saturdays.He told her what he was going to do.

Mrs. Nicoletis protested vigorously. "But it's an insult!—my students they're going—they're all going. I'm done..." "No, ma'am. I'm sure they'll understand—after all, it's a murder." "It's not murder, it's suicide." "And I'm sure no one will object once I explain it..." Mrs. Hubbard put in a reassuring word. "I'm sure," she said, "everyone will make sense—except," she said thoughtfully, "perhaps Ahmed Ali and Mr. Chandra Lal. " "Bah!" said Mrs. Nicoletis, "who cares about them!"

"Thank you, ma'am," said the Inspector. "Then I'll start here, your living room." As soon as the words were out of the mouth, Mrs. Nicoletis immediately protested strongly. "Search wherever you please," she said, "but here, no! I refuse." "Sorry, Mrs. Nicoletis, but the whole house has to be searched." "That's all right, but not my room. I'm above the law." "No one is above the law. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to step aside." "It's a violation," Mrs. Nicoletis screamed angrily. "You're a nosy fellow. I'll write to everybody. I'll write to my MPs. I'll write to the papers."

"Write to whomever you please, ma'am, and I'm going to search this room." He searched from a large table.A large box of candy, a large pile of papers, and a large pile of assorted junk were the result of his search.He turned to a cupboard in the corner. "It's locked. Give me the key, please?" "Never!" screamed Mrs. Nicoletis. "Never, never, never, never give you the key! You police pig, I spit on you. Bah! Bah! Bah!" "You'd better give me the key," said Inspector Sharpe. "If you don't, then I'll just pry open the cabinet door."

"I won't give you the key! You'd have to rip off my clothes to get the key! And that—would be a scandal." "Bring a chisel, Cope," the Inspector let her say. Nicoletis let out a scream of rage.Inspector Sharp ignored it.Here comes the chisel.Twice the cabinet door was pried open, and a large pile of empty brandy bottles poured out. "Beasts! Pigs! Devils!" cried Mrs. Nicoletis. "Thank you, ma'am," said the Inspector politely. "We're done here." Mrs. Hubbard nimbly replaced the bottle while Mrs. Nicoletis was in hysterics.

A mystery, the mystery of Mrs. Nicoletis's temper, has now been solved. Mrs. Hubbard was pouring a dose of sedative from her personal medicine cabinet in her living room when Poirot called.Putting the receiver back, she went back to Mrs. Nicoletis's room, where she had left her in the living room to stamp her feet and scream. "You drink this," Mrs. Hubbard said. "You'll feel better." "The Gestapo!" said Mrs. Nicoletis, calm now, but tense. "I wouldn't think about it any more if I were you," Mrs. Hubbard reassured her. "The Gestapo!" Mrs. Nicoletis said again. "They're the Gestapo!"

"They've got to do their job," said Mrs. Hubbard. "Is it their business to peep into my private cupboard? I told them, 'That's none of your business,' and I locked it. I put the key in my bosom. If you hadn't been there as a witness, They would shamelessly rip my clothes off. "Oh no, I don't think they would," said Mrs. Hubbard. "That's what you said! They used a chisel to force open my cupboard. It's damage to the house, and I'm responsible for fixing it." "Well, you know, if you don't give them the key..." "Why would I give them the key? It's mine. And it's my private room. And I said to the police, 'No entry,' and they wouldn't listen." "Well, after all, there's a life here, remember. And after a life, one has to endure things that aren't usually pleasant." "I don't believe it's a murder, bah! That little Celia committed suicide. She had a ridiculous love affair, and she poisoned herself. It always happens. They love so foolishly, these girls —As if love is the important thing! One year, two years pass, everything is over, great love! Men are all alike! But these silly girls don't know. They take sleeping pills, disinfectant, They turn on the gas, and then it's too late." "Well," said Mrs. Hubbard, returning to the original subject, after a full circle, "I don't worry any more now." "You're fine. I, I have to worry. I'm not safe anymore." "Safe?" Mrs. Hubbard looked at her in surprise. "This is my private cupboard," said Mrs. Nicoletis stubbornly. "Nobody knows what's in my closet. I don't want people to know. And now they know. I'm very disturbed. They might think — what would they think?" "Who are you referring to?" Mrs. Nicoletis shrugged her large, handsome shoulders and looked sullen. "You don't understand," she said, "but it disturbs me." "You'd better tell me, maybe I can help you." "Thank God, I don't sleep here. These door locks here are all similar, and the keys are connected. Thank God, I don't sleep here." Mrs. Hubbard said: "Mrs. Nicoletis, if you're afraid of something, don't you think it best to tell me?" Mrs. Nicoletis's dark eyes flickered at her once, then looked away. "You said it yourself," she evaded, "that there's been a murder in this house, so it's naturally unsettling. Who might be next? Don't even know who the killer is. It's because the police are so dumb, maybe they've been bribed .” "That's bullshit, you know. But tell me, is there any reason for you to be genuinely anxious . . . Mrs. Nicoletis lost her temper. "Ah, don't you think I have reason to be anxious? You're as clear as ever. You know it all! You're so great, you cook, you manage, you spend money like water Sprinkle money on the food, so the students like you, and now they want to meddle in my affairs! But, this is not okay! I know my affairs, no one can spy on me, you hear that? No, my 'Mrs. Inquisitive'." "Whatever you want," said Mrs. Hubbard exasperated. "You're a spy—I've always known that." "What spy?" "Nothing, there's nothing to pry here. If you think there is, it's because you made it up yourself. If someone makes a lie about me, I'll know who made it up." "If you really want me out of here, all you have to do is say so." "No, you can't leave. I can't. Not now. Not when I'm worrying about the police, or the murder, or whatever. I won't let you leave me." "Oh, well," said Mrs. Hubbard resignedly. "But really, it's hard to know what you really want to do. Sometimes I don't think you know. You'd better get out of my bed and sleep—"