Agatha Christie - Murder in Mesopotamia

I must confess I was glad of my cup of tea when we got to Dr Reilly’s house. M. Poirot, I noticed, put five lumps of sugar in his.

Stirring it carefully with his teaspoon he said: ‘And now we can talk, can we not? We can make up our minds who is likely to have committed the crime.’

‘Lavigny, Mercado, Emmott or Reiter?’ asked Dr Reilly.

‘No, no – that was theory number three. I wish to concentrate now on theory number two – leaving aside all question of a mysterious husband or brother-in-law turning up from the past. Let us discuss now quite simply which member of the expedition had the means and opportunity to kill Mrs Leidner, and who is likely to have done so.’

‘I thought you didn’t think much of that theory.’

‘Not at all. But I have some natural delicacy,’ said Poirot reproachfully. ‘Can I discuss in the presence of Dr Leidner the motives likely to lead to the murder of his wife by a member of the expedition? That would not have been delicate at all. I had to sustain the fiction that his wife was adorable and that everyone adored her!

‘But naturally it was not like that at all. Now we can be brutal and impersonal and say what we think. We have no longer to consider people’s feelings. And that is where Nurse Leatheran is going to help us. She is, I am sure, a very good observer.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ I said.

Dr Reilly handed me a plate of hot scones – ‘To fortify yourself,’ he said. They were very good scones.

‘Come now,’ said M. Poirot in a friendly, chatty way. ‘You shall tell me, ma soeur, exactly what each member of the expedition felt towards Mrs Leidner.’

‘I was only there a week, M. Poirot,’ I said.

‘Quite long enough for one of your intelligence. A nurse sums up quickly. She makes her judgments and abides by them. Come, let us make a beginning. Father Lavigny, for instance?’

‘Well, there now, I really couldn’t say. He and Mrs Leidner seemed to like talking together. But they usually spoke French and I’m not very good at French myself though I learnt it as a girl at school. I’ve an idea they talked mainly about books.’

‘They were, as you might say, companionable together – yes?’

‘Well, yes, you might put it that way. But, all the same, I think Father Lavigny was puzzled by her and – well – almost annoyed by being puzzled, if you know what I mean.’

And I told him of the conversation I had had with him out on the dig that first day when he had called Mrs Leidner a ‘dangerous woman’.

‘Now that is very interesting,’ M. Poirot said. ‘And she – what do you think she thought of him?’

‘That’s rather difficult to say, too. It wasn’t easy to know what Mrs Leidner thought of people. Sometimes, I fancy, he puzzled her. I remember her saying to Dr Leidner that he was unlike any priest she had ever known.’

‘A length of hemp to be ordered for Father Lavigny,’ said Dr Reilly facetiously.

‘My dear friend,’ said Poirot. ‘Have you not, perhaps, some patients to attend? I would not for the world detain you from your professional duties.’

‘I’ve got a whole hospital of them,’ said Dr Reilly.

And he got up and said a wink was as good as a nod to a blind horse, and went out laughing.

‘That is better,’ said Poirot. ‘We will have now an interesting conversation tete-a-tete. But you must not forget to eat your tea.’

He passed me a plate of sandwiches and suggested my having a second cup of tea. He really had very pleasant, attentive manners.

‘And now,’ he said, ‘let us continue with your impressions. Who was there who in your opinion did not like Mrs Leidner?’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘it’s only my opinion and I don’t want it repeated as coming from me.’

‘Naturally not.’

‘But in my opinion little Mrs Mercado fairly hated her!’

‘Ah! And Mr Mercado?’

‘He was a bit soft on her,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t think women, apart from his wife, had ever taken much notice of him. And Mrs Leidner had a nice kind way of being interested in people and the things they told her. It rather went to the poor man’s head, I fancy.’

‘And Mrs Mercado – she was not pleased?’

‘She was just plain jealous – that’s the truth of it. You’ve got to be very careful when there’s a husband and wife about, and that’s a fact. I could tell you some surprising things. You’ve no idea the extraordinary things women get into their heads when it’s a question of their husbands.’

‘I do not doubt the truth of what you say. So Mrs Mercado was jealous? And she hated Mrs Leidner?’

‘I’ve seen her look at her as though she’d have liked to kill her – oh, gracious!’ I pulled myself up. ‘Indeed, M. Poirot, I didn’t mean to say – I mean, that is, not for one moment–’

‘No, no. I quite understand. The phrase slipped out. A very convenient one. And Mrs Leidner, was she worried by this animosity of Mrs Mercado’s?’

‘Well,’ I said, reflecting, ‘I don’t really think she was worried at all. In fact, I don’t even know whether she noticed it. I thought once of just giving her a hint – but I didn’t like to. Least said soonest mended. That’s what I say.’

‘You are doubtless wise. Can you give me any instances of how Mrs Mercado showed her feelings?’

I told him about our conversation on the roof.

‘So she mentioned Mrs Leidner’s first marriage,’ said Poirot thoughtfully. ‘Can you remember – in mentioning it – did she look at you as though she wondered whether you had heard a different version?’

‘You think she may have known the truth about it?’

‘It is a possibility. She may have written those letters – and engineered a tapping hand and all the rest of it.’

‘I wondered something of the same kind myself. It seemed the kind of petty revengeful thing she might do.’

‘Yes. A cruel streak, I should say. But hardly the temperament for cold-blooded, brutal murder unless, of course–’

He paused and then said: ‘It is odd, that curious thing she said to you. “I know why you are here.” What did she mean by it?’

‘I can’t imagine,’ I said frankly.

‘She thought you were there for some ulterior reason apart from the declared one. What reason? And why should she be so concerned in the matter. Odd, too, the way you tell me she stared at you all through tea the day you arrived.’

‘Well, she’s not a lady, M. Poirot,’ I said primly.

‘That, ma soeur, is an excuse but not an explanation.’

I wasn’t quite sure for the minute what he meant. But he went on quickly.

‘And the other members of the staff?’

I considered.

‘I don’t think Miss Johnson liked Mrs Leidner either very much. But she was quite open and above-board about it. She as good as admitted she was prejudiced. You see, she’s very devoted to Dr Leidner and had worked with him for years. And of course, marriage does change things – there’s no denying it.’

‘Yes,’ said Poirot. ‘And from Miss Johnson’s point of view it would be an unsuitable marriage. It would really have been much more suitable if Dr Leidner had married her.’

‘It would really,’ I agreed. ‘But there, that’s a man all over. Not one in a hundred considers suitability. And one can’t really blame Dr Leidner. Miss Johnson, poor soul, isn’t so much to look at. Now Mrs Leidner was really beautiful – not young, of course – but oh! I wish you’d known her. There was something about her… I remember Mr Coleman saying she was like a thingummyjig that came to lure people into marshes. That wasn’t a very good way of putting it, but – oh, well – you’ll laugh at me, but there was something about her that was – well – unearthly.’