Agatha Christie - Death in the Clouds

"Who do you think did it?"

"Well, there's Clancy, of course. He's in a queer way. Goes about muttering to himself. He's got something on his mind."

"The plot of a new book, perhaps."

"It may be that – and it may be something else. But try as I may, I can't get a line on motive. I still think CL 52 in the black book is Lady Horbury, but I can't get anything out of her. She's pretty hardboiled, I can tell you."

Poirot smiled to himself. Japp went on:

"The stewards – well, I can't find a thing to connect them with Giselle."

"Doctor Bryant?"

"I think I'm on to something there. Rumors about him and a patient. Pretty woman – nasty husband – takes drugs or something. If he's not careful he'll be struck off by the medical council. That fits in with RT 362 well enough, and I don't mind telling you that I've got a pretty shrewd idea where he could have got the snake venom from. I went to see him and he gave himself away rather badly over that. Still, so far it is all surmise, no facts. Facts aren't any too easy to get at in this case. Ryder seems all square and aboveboard; says he went to raise a loan in Paris and couldn't get it, gave names and addresses, all checked up. I've found out that the firm was nearly in Queer Street about a week or two ago, but they seem to be just pulling through. There you are again, unsatisfactory. The whole thing is a muddle."

"There is no such thing as muddle – obscurity, yes, but muddle can exist only in a disorderly brain."

"Use any word you choose. The result's the same. Fournier's stumped too. I suppose you've got it all taped out, but you'd rather not tell!"

"You mock yourself at me. I have not got it all taped out. I proceed, a step at a time, with order and method, but there is still far to go."

"I can't help feeling glad to hear that. Let's hear about these orderly steps."

Poirot smiled.

"I make a little table, so." He took a paper from his pocket. "My idea is this: A murder is an action performed to bring about a certain result."

"Say that again slowly."

"It is not difficult."

"Probably not, but you make it sound so."

"No, no. it is very simple. Say you want money; you get it when an aunt dies. Bien. You perform an action – this is to kill the aunt – and get the result – inherit the money."

"I wish I had some aunts like that," sighed Japp. "Go ahead. I see your idea. You mean there's got to be a motive."

"I prefer my own way of putting it. An action is performed – the action being murder. What now are the results of that action? By studying the different results, we should get the answer to our conundrum. The results of a single action may be very varied; that particular action affects a lot of different people. Eh bien, I study today – three weeks after the crime – the result in eleven different cases."

He spread out the paper.

Japp leaned forward with some interest and read over Poirot's shoulder.

Miss Grey. Result – temporary improvement. Increased salary.

Mr Gale. Result – bad. Loss of practice.

Lady Horbury. Result – good, if she's CL 52.

Miss Kerr. Result – bad, since Giselle's death makes it more unlikely Lord Horbury will get the evidence to divorce his wife.

"H'm." Japp interrupted his scrutiny. "So you think she's keen on his lordship? You are a one for nosing out love affairs."

Poirot smiled. Japp bent over the chart once more.

Mr Clancy. Result – good. Expects to make money by book dealing with the murder.

Doctor Bryant. Result – good if RT 362.

Mr Ryder. Result – good, owing to small amount of cash obtained through articles on murder which tided firm over delicate time. Also good if Ryder is XVB 724.

M. Dupont. Result – unaffected.

M. Jean Dupont. Result – the same.

Mitchell. Result – unaffected.

Davis. Result – unaffected.

"And you think that's going to help you?" asked Japp skeptically. "I can't see that writing down 'I don't know. I don't know. I can't tell,' makes it any better."

"It gives one a clear classification," explained Poirot. "In four cases – Mr Clancy, Miss Grey, Mr Ryder and, I think I may say, Lady Horbury – there is a result on the credit side. In the cases of Mr Gale and Miss Kerr there is a result on the debit side; in four cases there is no result at all, so far as we know, and in one – Doctor Bryant – there is either no result or a distinct gain."

"And so?" asked Japp.

"And so," said Poirot, "we must go on seeking."

"With precious little to go upon," said Japp gloomily. "The truth of it is that we're hung up until we can get what we want from Paris. It's the Giselle side that wants going into. I bet I could have got more out of that maid than Fournier did."

"I doubt it, my friend. The most interesting thing about this case is the personality of the dead woman. A woman without friends, without relations – without, as one might say, any personal life. A woman who was once young, who once loved and suffered, and then with a firm hand pulled down the shutter – all that was over! Not a photograph, not a souvenir, not a knickknack. Marie Morisot became Madame Giselle, money lender."

"Do you think there is a clue in her past?"

"Perhaps."

"Well, we could do with it! There aren't any clues in this case."

"Oh, yes, my friend, there are."

"The blowpipe, of course."

"No, no, not the blowpipe."

"Well, let's hear your ideas of the clues in the case."

Poirot smiled.

"I will give them titles, like the names of Mr Clancy's stories! The Clue of the Wasp. The Clue in the Passenger's Baggage. The Clue of the Extra Coffee Spoon."

"You're potty," said Japp kindly. And added:

"What's this about a coffee spoon?"

"Madame Giselle had two spoons in her saucer."

"That's supposed to mean a wedding."

"In this case," said Poirot, "it meant a funeral."

When Norman Gale, Jane and Poirot met for dinner on the night after the blackmailing incident, Norman was relieved to hear that his services as Mr Robinson were no longer required.

"He is dead, the good Mr Robinson," said Poirot. He raised his glass. "Let us drink to his memory."

"R.I.P.," said Norman with a laugh.

"What happened?" asked Jane of Poirot.

He smiled at her.

"I found out what I wanted to know."

"Was she mixed up with Giselle?"

"Yes."

"That was pretty clear from my interview with her," said Norman.

"Quite so," said Poirot. "But I wanted a full and detailed story."

"And you got it?"

"I got it."

They both looked at him inquiringly, but Poirot, in a provoking manner, began to discuss the relationship between a career and a life.

"There are not so many round pegs in square holes one might think. Most people, in spite of what they tell you choose the occupation that they secretly desire. You will hear a man say who works in an office, 'I should like to explore, to rough it in far countries.' But you will find that he likes reading the fiction that deals with that subject, but that he himself prefers the safety and moderate comfort of an office stool."

"According to you," said Jane, "my desire for foreign travel isn't genuine. Messing about with women's heads is my true vocation. Well, that isn't true."

Poirot smiled at her.

"You are young still. Naturally, one tries this, that and the other, but what one eventually settles down into is the life one prefers."

"And suppose I prefer being rich?"

"Ah, that, it is more difficult!"

"I don't agree with you," said Gale. "I'm a dentist by chance, not choice. My uncle was a dentist; he wanted me to come in with him, but I was all for adventure and seeing the world. I chucked dentistry and went off to farm in South Africa. However, that wasn't much good; I hadn't had enough experience. I had to accept the old man's offer and come and set up business with him."