Chapter 18 17

(seventeen) Sitting in a room in the police station, Nigel met Inspector Sharp's determined eyes nervously.He had just stammered a little to finish the sentence. "You understand, Mr. Chapman, that what you just told us is something very serious? Really very serious." "Of course I understand. If it didn't feel urgent to me, I wouldn't come here to tell you." "You say Miss Lane can't remember when she last saw a bottle of mesocarbonate with morphine in it?" "She's all confused herself. The more she thinks about it, the less sure she is. She says I've confused her. She was quietly trying to remember when I came to see you."

"We'll go down to Hickory Road right away at last." While the inspector was talking, the telephone on the table rang, and the police officer who had been recording Nigel's words reached for the receiver. "It's Miss Lane," he said as he listened. "Speak to Mr. Chapman." Nigel leaned over the table and took the receiver. "Patricia? I'm Nigel." The girl's voice came, eager, breathless, and flustered. "Nigel. I think I figured it out! I mean, I think I know now who must have--you know--taken it from my handkerchief drawer, I mean--you know, only one person--"

The sound cuts off. "Patricia. Hello? Are you still there? Who is it?" "I can't tell you now. Will you come over later?" The receiver was close enough for the officer and inspector to hear the conversation between them, and the inspector responded to Nigel's questioning glances with a nod. "Tell her to come over right away," he said. "We'll be right there," said Nigel, "and we're on our way now." "Oh! OK, I'll wait in my room." "See you later, Patricia." Hardly a word was spoken on the short drive to Hickory Road.Sharp wondered to himself if this might finally be a breakthrough.Will Patricia Lane provide definitive evidence, or is this purely her speculation?Evidently she had remembered something that seemed important to her.He figured she was calling from the hall, so she had to be careful what she said.So many people walking around there at this hour of the evening.

Nigel opened the gate of 26 Hickory Road with his key, and they went in one by one. Through the open door of the saloon, Sharp could see the red-haired Ryan Bateson, buried in some books. Nigel led the way upstairs and down the passage to Patricia's room.He knocked on the door and walked in. "Hi, Patricia. Let's-" His words stopped and he took a long breath.He stood motionless.Sharp looked over his shoulder and saw the scene in front of him. Patricia Lane collapsed in a heap on the floor. The Inspector gently pushed Nigel aside, stepped forward, and crouched beside the girl.He lifted his head, took his pulse, and carefully put her head back in place.He stood up, his face grim and stiff.

"No?" said Nigel in a high, unnatural voice. "No!" "Yes, Mr. Chapman, she is dead." "No, Patricia can't die! My dear silly Patricia. How—" "use this." Just as simple, a temporary weapon.A marble paperweight stuffed into a wool sock. "Hit to the back of the head. A very effective weapon. I don't think even know how, Mr. Chapman, if that's any comfort to you." Nigel sat trembling on the bed.He said: "That's one of my socks...she's going to mend it..." Suddenly, he began to cry, and he cried like a child—crying without restraint.

Sharp continued his field speculation. "Someone she knew quite well. Someone took a sock and stuffed the paperweight in. You recognize the paperweight, Mr. Chapman?" He rolled up his socks to reveal the paperweight. Nigel, still weeping, watched. "Patricia always puts her on the table, a purple lion." He buried his face in the palms of his hands. "Patricia--oh, Patricia! What am I supposed to do without you!" Suddenly he sat up straight and brushed back his unkempt hair. "I'm going to kill the person who did this! I'm going to kill him! A murderous pig!"

"Calm down, Mr. Chapman. Yes, yes, I know how you feel. Inhumane." "Patricia never hurt anyone..." Inspector Sharp comforted him and got him out of the room.Then he went back to the bedroom by himself.He leaned over to check on the dead girl.Very gently he took something from her fingers. Geronimo, dripping sweat down his brow, looked from face to face with startled black eyes. "I don't see a thing, I don't hear a thing, I tell you. I don't know a thing. I'm in the kitchen with Marielle. I put the minestrone soup on the fire, I cut the cheese--"

Sharp interrupted him. "No one's accusing you. We're just trying to get some timing out of the way. Has anyone been in or out of this house in the past hour?" "I don't know. How do I know." "But you can see people coming and going from the kitchen window pretty well, can't you?" "Perhaps? Yes." "Then tell us." "In moments like these, they're in and out all the time." "Who was in the house from six until six-thirty-five when we arrived?" "Everybody's there except Mr. Nigel and Mrs. Hubbard."

"When did they go out?" "Mrs. Hubbard went out before tea-time, and hasn't come back yet." "continue." "Mr. Nigel went out about half an hour ago, exactly about six o'clock—looking very disturbed. He just came back with you—" "Yes, that's right." "Miss Valerie, she was going out at six o'clock. The clock struck six, and I heard it. She looked good in a cocktail dress, and she hasn't come back yet." "Is everyone else here?" "Yes, sir. All at home." Sharp looked down at his notebook.It recorded the time Patricia called.Eight minutes after six o'clock, no more and no less.

"Everyone else here, in this house? Didn't anyone come back during that time?" "Miss Sally only. She went out to post letters--" "Do you know when she died?" Geronimo frowned. "She came back when the news was on." "So, after six o'clock?" "Yes, sir." "Which part of the news is on the radio?" "I don't remember, sir. It's just before the sports news, because when it comes to the sports news, we turn off the radio." Sharp smiled wryly.What a wide range.Only Nigel Chapman, Valerie Holmes and Mrs. Hubbard could be excluded.This meant lengthy and tiring interviews.Who's in the saloon and who's leaving?Also, when?Who can testify for whom?In addition to the large number of students, those Asian and African students have no sense of time, which makes this task even more difficult.

However, it must be done. The atmosphere in Mrs. Hubbard's room was not pleasant. Mrs. Hubbard, still in her evening clothes, sat on the sofa with her beautiful round face full of anxiety and tension.Inspector Sharpe and Sergeant Copp sat at a small table. "I think she called from here," said Sharpe. "Around six-eight, a few people left or entered the saloon, at least that's what they said--and no one saw, noticed. , or heard someone using the telephone in the hall. Of course, they don't tell the time reliably, and these people don't look like they look at the clock. But I think, anyway, if she wanted to call the police, she would go in Call here. You're out, Mrs. Hubbard, but I suppose you didn't lock the door?" Mrs. Hubbard shook her head. "Mrs. Nicoletis's door is always locked, but I never lock it—" "So there's Patricia Lane coming in here on the phone, anxious to say something that comes to her mind. And then, while she's talking, the door opens and someone pokes in or walks in. Patricia Cia, caught in a dilemma, hung up the phone. Was it because she recognized the intruder as the one she was about to mention? Or was it just a matter of caution? It could be both. Personally, I think it's the first hypothesis. " Mrs. Hubbard nodded sharply. "Whoever that person is may have followed her here, or eavesdropped outside the door first, and then came in to stop Patricia from continuing." "Then--" Sharp's face darkened, "The man went back to her room with Patricia, and talked to her in a fairly normal, leisurely manner. Patricia may have accused her of taking the bicarbonate, and the other man may have made a reasonable explanation of." Mrs. Hubbard said suddenly: "Why did you say her?" "Strange stuff--the pronouns! When we found the body, Nigel Chapman said, I'm going to kill the man who did this. I'm going to kill him. He, you noticed he said male Kid him. Nigel Chapman apparently believed the killer was a man. It could be because he associates atrocities with men. Or he could be pointing the arrow of suspicion at a certain man, a certain man. If The latter, we have to find out why he thinks so. Personally though, I think it's a woman." "why?" "That's why. Somebody went back to Patricia's room with Patricia--someone she felt quite comfortable with. That meant it was another girl. Men weren't allowed to go to the girl's room floor." Upstairs, unless there is a special reason. Is that so, Mrs. Hubbard?" "True, it's not necessarily a strict rule, but it's generally known." "The other side of the house, except for the first floor, is completely isolated from this side. Assuming that the earlier conversation between Nigel and Patricia was overheard, the person who overheard it was, by all likelihood, a woman." of." "Yes, I see what you mean. Some girls seem to spend most of their time eavesdropping on other people's conversations." She blushed and added apologetically: "It's a bit too harsh to say that. In fact, although these houses are built solidly, they are divided, compartmented, and the material of the compartments is as thin as a layer of paper. You can't help but hear other people's conversations. I must admit, Like Jane, she did a lot of spying. She was that type. And, of course, Genevieve stopped when Nigel told Patricia that his father murdered his mother. Footsteps, eavesdrop if you can." The inspector nodded.He had heard the testimony of Sally Finch, Jean Tomlinson, and Genevieve.He said: "Who lives in the rooms next to Patricia's room?" "One side is Genevieve's—but that's the original solid wall. The other side, closer to the landing, is Elizabeth Johnston's. It's just a partition wall." "That narrows it down a bit," said the Inspector. "The French girl overheard the latter part of the conversation, and it was Sally Finch who was overhearing there earlier, before she went out to post the letter." "But the fact that the two girls were there to hear through automatically rules out the possibility that anyone else could have been there, except for very brief periods. There was one exception, and that was Elizabeth Johnston, if she In her bedroom, she could hear everything through the partition wall, despite the fact that she was obviously in the saloon when Sally Finch went out to post the letter." "She didn't stay in the saloon all the time?" "No, at one point she went back upstairs to get a book she'd forgotten. As usual, no one could say when." "It could be any one of them," said Mrs. Hubbard resignedly. "From what they've said, it's true--even if we have a little special evidence." He took a small folded paper bag from his pocket. Sharp smiled. "What's that?" asked Mrs. Hubbard. "A few strands of hair—I got them out of Patricia Lane's fingers." "what do you mean--" There was a knock on the door. "Come in," said the inspector. The door opened, and it was Mr. Akibombo.There was a smile on his dark face. "Please," he said. Inspector Sharp said impatiently: "What's up, uh-" "Please, I think I have something to say. Something of the first importance to explain the tragic events."