Agatha Christie - Murder in Mesopotamia

‘Did you see anything else, mademoiselle?’

‘Yes. I was not far from the expedition house when I noticed the expedition lorry drawn up in a wadi. I thought it was rather queer. Then I saw Mr Coleman. He was walking along with his head down as though he were searching for something.’

‘Look here,’ burst out Mr Coleman, ‘I–’

Poirot stopped him with an authoritative gesture.

‘Wait. Did you speak to him, Miss Reilly?’

‘No. I didn’t.’

‘Why?’

The girl said slowly: ‘Because, from time to time, he started and looked round with an extraordinary furtive look. It – gave me an unpleasant feeling. I turned my horse’s head and rode away. I don’t think he saw me. I was not very near and he was absorbed in what he was doing.’

‘Look here,’ Mr Coleman was not to be hushed any longer. ‘I’ve got a perfectly good explanation for what – I admit – looks a bit fishy. As a matter of fact, the day before I had slipped a jolly fine cylinder seal into my coat pocket instead of putting it in the antika-room – forgot all about it. And then I discovered I’d been and lost it out of my pocket – dropped it somewhere. I didn’t want to get into a row about it so I decided I’d have a jolly good search on the quiet. I was pretty sure I’d dropped it on the way to or from the dig. I rushed over my business in Hassanieh. Sent a walad to do some of the shopping and got back early. I stuck the bus where it wouldn’t show and had a jolly good hunt for over an hour. And didn’t find the damned thing at that! Then I got into the bus and drove on to the house. Naturally, everyone thought I’d just got back.’

‘And you did not undeceive them?’ asked Poirot sweetly.

‘Well, that was pretty natural under the circumstances, don’t you think?’

‘I hardly agree,’ said Poirot.

‘Oh, come now – don’t go looking for trouble – that’s my motto! But you can’t fasten anything on me. I never went into the courtyard, and you can’t find anyone who’ll say I did.’

‘That, of course, has been the difficulty,’ said Poirot. ‘The evidence of the servants that no one entered the courtyard from outside. But it occurred to me, upon reflection, that that was really not what they had said. They had sworn that no stranger had entered the premises. They had not been asked if a member of the expedition had done so.’

‘Well, you ask them,’ said Coleman. ‘I’ll eat my hat if they saw me or Carey either.’

‘Ah! but that raises rather an interesting question. They would notice a stranger undoubtedly – but would they have even noticed a member of the expedition? The members of the staff are passing in and out all day. The servants would hardly notice their going and coming. It is possible, I think, that either Mr Carey or Mr Coleman might have entered and the servants’ minds would have no remembrance of such an event.’

‘Bunkum!’ said Mr Coleman.

Poirot went on calmly: ‘Of the two, I think Mr Carey was the least likely to be noticed going or coming. Mr Coleman had started to Hassanieh in the car that morning and he would be expected to return in it. His arrival on foot would therefore be noticeable.’

‘Of course it would!’ said Coleman.

Richard Carey raised his head. His deep-blue eyes looked straight at Poirot.

‘Are you accusing me of murder, M. Poirot?’ he asked.

His manner was quite quiet but his voice had a dangerous undertone.

Poirot bowed to him.

‘As yet I am only taking you all on a journey – my journey towards the truth. I had now established one fact – that all the members of the expedition staff, and also Nurse Leatheran, could in actual fact have committed the murder. That there was very little likelihood of some of them having committed it was a secondary matter.

‘I had examined means and opportunity. I next passed to motive. I discovered that one and all of you could be credited with a motive!’

‘Oh! M. Poirot,’ I cried. ‘Not me! Why, I was a stranger. I’d only just come.’

‘Eh bien, ma soeur, and was not that just what Mrs Leidner had been fearing? A stranger from outside?’

‘But – but – Why, Dr Reilly knew all about me! He suggested my coming!’

‘How much did he really know about you? Mostly what you yourself had told him. Imposters have passed themselves off as hospital nurses before now.’

‘You can write to St. Christopher’s,’ I began.

‘For the moment will you silence yourself. Impossible to proceed while you conduct this argument. I do not say I suspect you now. All I say is that, keeping the open mind, you might quite easily be someone other than you pretended to be. There are many successful female impersonators, you know. Young William Bosner might be something of that kind.’

I was about to give him a further piece of my mind. Female impersonator indeed! But he raised his voice and hurried on with such an air of determination that I thought better of it.

‘I am going now to be frank – brutally so. It is necessary. I am going to lay bare the underlying structure of this place.

‘I examined and considered every single soul here. To begin with Dr Leidner, I soon convinced myself that his love for his wife was the mainspring of his existence. He was a man torn and ravaged with grief. Nurse Leatheran I have already mentioned. If she were a female impersonator she was a most amazingly successful one, and I inclined to the belief that she was exactly what she said she was – a thoroughly competent hospital nurse.’

‘Thank you for nothing,’ I interposed.

‘My attention was immediately attracted towards Mr and Mrs Mercado, who were both of them clearly in a state of great agitation and unrest. I considered first Mrs Mercado. Was she capable of murder, and if so for what reasons?

‘Mrs Mercado’s physique was frail. At first sight it did not seem possible that she could have had the physical strength to strike down a woman like Mrs Leidner with a heavy stone implement. If, however, Mrs Leidner had been on her knees at the time, the thing would at least be physically possible. There are ways in which one woman can induce another to go down on her knees. Oh! not emotional ways! For instance, a woman might be turning up the hem of a skirt and ask another woman to put in the pins for her. The second woman would kneel on the ground quite unsuspectingly.

‘But the motive? Nurse Leatheran had told me of the angry glances she had seen Mrs Mercado direct at Mrs Leidner. Mr Mercado had evidently succumbed easily to Mrs Leidner’s spell. But I did not think the solution was to be found in mere jealousy. I was sure Mrs Leidner was not in the least interested really in Mr Mercado – and doubtless Mrs Mercado was aware of the fact. She might be furious with her for the moment, but for murder there would have to be greater provocation. But Mrs Mercado was essentially a fiercely maternal type. From the way she looked at her husband I realized, not only that she loved him, but that she would fight for him tooth and nail – and more than that – that she envisaged the possibility of having to do so. She was constantly on her guard and uneasy. The uneasiness was for him – not for herself. And when I studied Mr Mercado I could make a fairly easy guess at what the trouble was. I took means to assure myself of the truth of my guess. Mr Mercado was a drug addict – in an advanced stage of the craving.

‘Now I need probably not tell you all that the taking of drugs over a long period has the result of considerably blunting the moral sense.

‘Under the influence of drugs a man commits actions that he would not have dreamed of committing a few years earlier before he began the practice. In some cases a man has committed murder – and it has been difficult to say whether he was wholly responsible for his actions or not. The law of different countries varies slightly on that point. The chief characteristic of the drug-fiend criminal is overweening confidence in his own cleverness.