Agatha Christie - Hickory Dickory Dock

"Yes, thoroughly competent woman. I'm relying on her. I shall have to see the proprietress of the place, too. She wasn't there this morning.

Owns several of these places, I understand, as well as some of the student clubs. Doesn't seem to be much liked." Poirot said nothing for a moment or two, then he asked, "You have been to St. Catherine's?"

"Yes. The Chief Pharmacist was most helpful. He was much shocked and distressed by the news."

"What did he say of the girl?"

"She'd worked there for just over a year and was well liked. He described her as rather slow, but very conscientious." He paused and then added, "The morphia came from there all right."

"It did? That is interesting-and rather puzzling."

"It was morphine tartrate. Kept in the poison cupboard in the Dispensary. Upper shelf-among drugs that were not often used. The hypodermic tablets, of course, are what are in general use, and it appears that morphine hydrochloride is more often used than the tartrate. There seems to be a kind of fashion in drugs like everything else. Doctors seem to follow one another in prescribing like a lot of sheep. He didn't say that. It was my own thought. There are some drugs in the upper shelf of that cupboard that were once popular, but haven't been prescribed for years."

"So the absence of one small dusty phial would not immediately be noticed?"

"That's right. Stock-taking is only done at regular intervals. Nobody remembers any prescription with morphine tartrate in it for a long time. The absence of the bottle wouldn't be noticed until it was wanted-or until they went over stock. The three dispensers all had keys of the poison cupboard and the Dangerous Drug cupboard. The cupboards are opened as needed, and as on a busy day (which is practically every day) someone is going to the cupboard every few minutes, the cupboard is unlocked and remains unlocked till the end of work."

"Who had access to it, other than Celia herself?"

"The two other women Dispensers, but they have no connection of any kind with Hickory Road. One has been there for four years, the other only came a few weeks ago, was formerly at a Hospital in Devon. Good record. Then there are the three senior pharmacists who have all been at St. Catherine's for years. Those are the people who have what you might call rightful and normal access to the cupboard. Then there's an old woman who scrubs the floors. She's there between nine and ten in the morning and she could have grabbed a bottle out of the cupboard if the girls were busy at the outpatients' hatches, or attending to the ward baskets, but she's been working for the Hospital for years and it seems very unlikely. The lab attendant comes through with stock bottles and he, too, could help himself to a bottle if he watched his opportunity-but none of these suggestions seem at all probable."

"What outsiders come into the Dispensary?" ets' Quite a lot, one way or another. They'd pass through the Dispensary to go to the Chief Pharmacist's office, for instance-or travellers from the big wholesale drug houses would go through it to the manufacturing departments, Then, of course, friends come in occasionally to see one of the dispensers-not a usual thing, but it happens."

"That is better. Who came in recently to see Celia Austin?" Sharpe consulted his notebook.

"A girl called Patricia Lane came in on Tuesday of last week. She wanted Celia to come to meet her at the pictures after the Dispensary closed."

"Patricia Lane," said Poirot thoughtfully.

"She was only there about five minutes and she did not go near the poison cupboard but remained near the Outpatients windows talking to Celia and another girl. They also remember a coloured girl coming two weeks ago-a very superior girl, they said. She was interested in the work and asked questions about it and made notes. Spoke perfect English."

"That would be Elizabeth Johnston. She was interested, was she?"

"It was a Welfare Clinic afternoon. She was interested in the organisation of such things and also in what was prescribed for such ailments as infant diarrhoea and skin infections." Poirot nodded.

"Anyone else?"

"Not that can be remembered."

"Do doctors come to the Dispensary?" Sharpe grinned.

"All the time. Officially and unofficially. Sometimes to ask about a particular formula, or to see what is kept in stock."

"To see what is kept in stock?"

"Yes, I thought of that. Sometimes they ask advice to a substitute for some preparation that seems to irritate a patient's skin or interfere with digestion unduly. Sometimes a physician just strolls in for a chat in a slack moment. A good many of the young chaps come in for veganin or aspirin when they've got a hangover-and occasionally, I'd say, for a flirtatious word or two with one of the girls if the opportunity arises. Human nature is always human nature. You see how it is. Pretty hopeless." Poirot said, "And if I recollect rightly, one or more of the students at Hickory Road is attached to St. Catherine's-a big red-haired boy-Bates-Bateman-"

"Leonard Bateson. That's right. And Colin McNabb is doing a post graduate course there. Then there's a girl, Jean Tomlinson, who works in the physiotherapy department."

"And all of these have probably been quite often in the Dispensary?"

"Yes, and what's more, nobody remembers when because they're used to seeing them and know them by sight. Jean Tomlinson was by way of being a friend of the senior Dispenser-"

"It is not easy," said Poirot.

"I'll say it's not! You see, anyone who was on the staff could take a look in the poison cupboard, say, 'Why on earth do you have so much Liquor Arsenicalis' or something like that. 'Didn't know anybody used it nowadays.' And nobody would think twice about it or remember it." Sharpe pause (i and then said: "What we are postulating is that someone gave Celia Austin morphia and afterwards put the morphia bottle and the torn out fragment of letter in her room to make it look like suicide. But why, Mr. Poirot, why?" Poirot shook his head. Sharpe went on: "You hinted this morning that someone might have suggested the kleptomania idea to CeHa Austin." Poirot moved uneasily.

"That was only a vague idea of mine. It was just that it seemed doubtful if she would have had the wits to think of it herself."

"Then who?"

"As far as I know, only three of the students would have been capable of thinking out such an idea.

Leonard Bateson would have had the requisite knowledge.

He is aware of Colin's enthusiasm for 'maladjusted personalities.' He might have suggested something of the kind to Celia more or less as a joke and coached her in her part. But I cannot really see him conniving at such a thing for month after month unless, that is, he had an ulterior motive, or is a very different person from what he appears to be. (that is always a thing one must take into account.) Nigel Chapman has a mischievous and slightly malicious turn of mind. He'd think it good fun, and I should imagine, would have no scruples whatever.

He is a kind of grown up 'enfant terrible.' The third person I have in mind is a young woman called Valerie Hobhouse. She has brains, is modern in outlook and education, and has probably read enough psychology to judge Colin's probable reartion. If she were fond of Celia, she might think it legitimate fun to make a fool of Colin."

"Leonard Bateson, Nigel Chapman, Valerie Hobhouse," said Sharpe writing down the names. "Thanks for the tip. I'll remember when I'm questioning them. What about the Indians? One of them is a medical student, too."

"His mind is entirely occupied with politics and persecution mania," said Poirot. "I don't think he would be interested enough to suggest kleptomania to Celia Austin and I don't think she would have accepted such advice from him."

"And that's all the help you can give me, Mr. Poirot?" said Sharpe, rising to his feet and buttoning away his notebook.