Agatha Christie - Murder in Mesopotamia

‘Fact One: On Sunday evening Nurse Leatheran finds Miss Johnson in tears, and that same evening Miss Johnson burns a fragment of a letter which nurse believes to be in the same handwriting as that of the anonymous letters.

‘Fact Two: The evening before her death Miss Johnson is found by Nurse Leatheran standing on the roof in a state that nurse describes as one of incredulous horror. When nurse questions her she says, “I’ve seen how someone could come in from outside – and no one would ever guess.” She won’t say any more. Father Lavigny is crossing the courtyard and Mr Reiter is at the door of the photographic-room.

‘Fact Three: Miss Johnson is found dying. The only words she can manage to articulate are “the window – the window–”

‘Those are the facts, and these are the problems with which we are faced:

‘What is the truth of the letters?

‘What did Miss Johnson see from the roof?

‘What did she mean by “the window – the window”?

‘Eh bien, let us take the second problem first as the easiest of solution. I went up with Nurse Leatheran and I stood where Miss Johnson had stood. From there she could see the courtyard and the archway and the north side of the building and two members of the staff. Had her words anything to do with either Mr Reiter or Father Lavigny?

‘Almost at once a possible explanation leaped to my brain. If a stranger came in from outside he could only do so in disguise. And there was only one person whose general appearance lent itself to such an impersonation. Father Lavigny! With a sun helmet, sun glasses, black beard and a monk’s long woollen robe, a stranger could pass in without the servants realising that a stranger had entered.

‘Was that Miss Johnson’s meaning? Or had she gone further? Did she realize that Father Lavigny’s whole personality was a disguise? That he was someone other than he pretended to be?

‘Knowing what I did know about Father Lavigny, I was inclined to call the mystery solved. Raoul Menier was the murderer. He had killed Mrs Leidner to silence her before she could give him away. Now another person lets him see that she has penetrated his secret. She, too, must be removed.

‘And so everything is explained! The second murder. Father Lavigny’s flight – minus robe and beard. (He and his friend are doubtless careering through Syria with excellent passports as two commercial travellers.) His action in placing the blood-stained quern under Miss Johnson’s bed.

‘As I say, I was almost satisfied – but not quite. For the perfect solution must explain everything – and this does not do so.

‘It does not explain, for instance, why Miss Johnson should say “the window”, as she was dying. It does not explain her fit of weeping over the letter. It does not explain her mental attitude on the roof – her incredulous horror and her refusal to tell Nurse Leatheran what it was that she now suspected or knew.

‘It was a solution that fitted the outer facts, but it did not satisfy the psychological requirements.

‘And then, as I stood on the roof, going over in my mind those three points: the letters, the roof, the window, I saw – just as Miss Johnson had seen!

‘And this time what I saw explained everything!’

Poirot looked round. Every eye was now fixed upon him. There had been a certain relaxation – a slackening of tension. Now the tension suddenly returned.

There was something coming…something…

Poirot’s voice, quiet and unimpassioned, went on: ‘The letters, the roof, “the window”…Yes, everything was explained – everything fell into place.

‘I said just now that three men had alibis for the time of the crime. Two of those alibis I have shown to be worthless. I saw now my great – my amazing mistake. The third alibi was worthless too. Not only could Dr Leidner have committed the murder – but I was convinced that he had committed it.’

There was a silence, a bewildered, uncomprehending silence. Dr Leidner said nothing. He seemed lost in his far-away world still. David Emmott, however, stirred uneasily and spoke.

‘I don’t know what you mean to imply, M. Poirot. I told you that Dr Leidner never left the roof until at least a quarter to three. That is the absolute truth. I swear it solemnly. I am not lying. And it would have been quite impossible for him to have done so without my seeing him.’

Poirot nodded.

‘Oh, I believe you. Dr Leidner did not leave the roof. That is an undisputed fact. But what I saw – and what Miss Johnson had seen – was that Dr Leidner could murder his wife from the roof without leaving it.’

We all stared.

‘The window,’ cried Poirot. ‘Her window! That is what I realized – just as Miss Johnson realized it. Her window was directly underneath, on the side away from the courtyard. And Dr Leidner was alone up there with no one to witness his actions. And those heavy stone querns and grinders were up there all ready to his hand. So simple, so very simple, granted one thing – that the murderer had the opportunity to move the body before anyone else saw it… Oh, it is beautiful – of an unbelievable simplicity!

‘Listen – it went like this:

‘Dr Leidner is on the roof working with the pottery. He calls you up, Mr Emmott, and while he holds you in talk he notices that, as usually happens, the small boy takes advantage of your absence to leave his work and go outside the courtyard. He keeps you with him ten minutes, then he lets you go and as soon as you are down below shouting to the boy he sets his plan in operation.

‘He takes from his pocket the plasticine-smeared mask with which he has already scared his wife on a former occasion and dangles it over the edge of the parapet till it taps on his wife’s window.

‘That, remember, is the window giving on the countryside facing the opposite direction to the courtyard.

‘Mrs Leidner is lying on her bed half asleep. She is peaceful and happy. Suddenly the mask begins tapping on the window and attracts her attention. But it is not dusk now – it is broad daylight – there is nothing terrifying about it. She recognizes it for what it is – a crude form of trickery! She is not frightened but indignant. She does what any other woman would do in her place. Jumps off the bed, opens the window, passes her head through the bars and turns her face upward to see who is playing the trick on her.

‘Dr Leidner is waiting. He has in his hands, poised and ready, a heavy quern. At the psychological moment he drops it…

‘With a faint cry (heard by Miss Johnson) Mrs Leidner collapses on the rug underneath the window.

‘Now there is a hole in this quern, and through that Dr Leidner had previously passed a cord. He has now only to haul in the cord and bring up the quern. He replaces the latter neatly, bloodstained side down, amongst the other objects of that kind on the roof.

‘Then he continues his work for an hour or more till he judges the moment has come for the second act. He descends the stairs, speaks to Mr Emmott and Nurse Leatheran, crosses the courtyard and enters his wife’s room. This is the explanation he himself gives of his movements there:

‘“I saw my wife’s body in a heap by the bed. For a moment or two I felt paralysed as though I couldn’t move. Then at last I went and knelt down by her and lifted up her head. I saw she was dead…At last I got up. I felt dazed and as though I were drunk. I managed to get to the door and call out.”

‘A perfectly possible account of the actions of a grief-dazed man. Now listen to what I believe to be the truth. Dr Leidner enters the room, hurries to the window, and, having pulled on a pair of gloves, closes and fastens it, then picks up his wife’s body and transports it to a position between the bed and the door. Then he notices a slight stain on the window-side rug. He cannot change it with the other rug, they are a different size, but he does the next best thing. He puts the stained rug in front of the washstand and the rug from the washstand under the window. If the stain is noticed, it will be connected with the washstand – not with the window – a very important point. There must be no suggestion that the window played any part in the business. Then he comes to the door and acts the part of the overcome husband, and that, I imagine, is not difficult. For he did love his wife.’