Agatha Christie - Poirot's Early Cases

She might have some funny friends in the country who'd try to get her out of it.' 'No,' said Poirot. 'I do not think she has any friends.' 'Really? What makes you say that, M. Poirot?' 'It is just an idea of mine. There were no other "items", as you call them?' 'Nothing that's strictly relevant. Misa B. seems to have been monkeying about a bit with her shares lately - must have dropped quite a tidy sum. It's rather a funny business, one way and another, but I don't see how it affects the main issue - not at present, that is.' 'No, perhaps you are right. Well, my best thanks to you. It wire most amiable of you to ring me up.' 'Not at all. I'm a man of my word. I could see you were interested.

Who knows, you may be able to give me a helping hand before the end.' 'That would give me great pleasure. It might help you, for inatance, if I could lay my hand on a friend of the girl Katrina.' 'I thought you said she hadn't got any friends?' said Inspector Sires, surprised.

'I was wrong,' said Hercule Poirot. 'She has one.' Before the inspector could ask a further question, Poirot had rung off.

With a serious face he wandered into the room where Mi

Lemon sat at her typewriter. She raised her hands from the keys at her employer's approach and looked at him inquiringly.

'I want you,' said Poirot, 'to figure to yourself a little history.' Miss Lemon dropped her hands into her lap in a resigned manner. She enjoyed typing, paying bills, filing papers and enter-ing up engagements. To be asked to imagine herself in hypo-thetical situations bored her very much, but she accepted it as a disagreeable part of a duty.

'You are a Russian girl,' began Poirot.

'Yes,' said Miss Lemon, looking intensely British.

'You are alone and friendless in this country. You have reasons for not wishing to return to Russia. You are employed as a kind of drudge, nurse-attendant and companion to an old lady. You are meek and uncomplaining.'

'Yes,' said Miss Lemon obediently, but entirely failing to see herself being meek to any old lady under the sun.

'The old lady takes a fancy to you. She decides to leave her money to you. She tells you so.' Poirot paused.

Miss Lemon said 'Yes' again.

'And then the old lady finds out something; perhaps it is a matter of money - she may find that you have not been honest with her. Or it might be more grave still - a medicine that tasted different, some food that disagreed. Anyway, she begins to suspect you of something and she writes to a very famous detective - enfin, to the most famous detective - mel I am to call upon her shortly. And then, as you say, the dripping will be in the fire.

The great thing is to act quickly. And so - before the great detec-tive arrives - the old lady is dead. And the money comes to you.

Tell me, does that seem to you reasonable?'

'Quite reasonable,' said Miss Lemon. 'Quite reasonable for a Russian, that is. Personally, I should never take a post as a com-panion.

I like my duties clearly defined. And of course I should not dream of murdering anyone.'

Poirot sighed. 'How I miss my friend Hastings. He had such an imagination. Such a romantic mindl It is true that he always imagined wrong - but that in itself was a guide.'

Miss Lemon was silent. She had heard about Captain Hastings before, and was not interested. She looked longingly at the typewritten sheet in front of her.

'So it seems to you reasonable,' mused Poirot.

'Doesn't it to you?' 'I am almost afraid it does,' sighed Poirot.

The telephone rang and Miss Lemon went out of the room to answer it. She came back to say 'It's Inspector Sims again.' Poirot hurried to the instrument. ' '/kilo, 'allo. What is that you say?' Sims repeated his statement. 'We've found a packet of strychnine in the girl's bedroom - tucked underneath the mattress. The sergeant's just come in with the news. That about clinches it, I think.' 'Yes,' said Poirot, 'I think that clinches it.' His voice had changed. It rang with sudden confidence.

When he had rung off, he sat down at his writing table and arranged the objects on it in a mechanical manner. He murmured to himself, 'There was something wrong. I felt it - no, not felt.

It must have been something I saw. En avant, the little grey cells.

Ponder - reflect. Was everything logical and in order? The girl her anxiety about the money: Mme Delafontaine; her husband his suggestion of Russians - imbecile, but he is an imbecile; the room; the garden - ahl Yes, the garden.' He sat up very stiff. The green light shone in his eyes. He sprang up and went into the adjoining room.

'Miss Lemon, will you have the kindness to leave what you are doing and make an investigation for me?' 'An investigation, M. Poirot? I'm afraid I'm not very good - ' Poirot interrupted her. 'You said one day that you knew all about tradesmen.' 'Certainly I do,' said Miss Lemon with confidence.

'Then the matter is simple. You are to go to Charman's Green and you are to discover a fishmonger.' 'A fishmonger?' asked Miss Lemon, surprised.

'Precisely. The fishmonger who supplied Rosebank with fish.

When you have found him you will ask him a certain question.' He handed her a slip of paper. Miss Lemon took it, noted its contents without interest, then nodded and slipped the lid on her typewriter.

'We will go to Charman's Green together,' said Poirot. 'You go to the fishmonger and I to the police station. It will take us but half an hour from Baker Street.'

On arrival at his destination, he was greeted by the surprised Inspector Sims. 'Well, this is quick work, M. Poirot. I was talking to you on the phone only an hour ago.'

'I have a request to make to you; that you allow me to see this girl Katrina - what is her name?'

'Katrina Rieger. Well, I don't suppose there's any objection to that.'

The girl Katrina looked even more sallow and sullen than ever.

Poirot spoke to her very gently. 'Mademoiselle, I want you to believe that I am not your enemy. I want you to tell me the truth.'

Her eyes snapped defiantly. 'I have told the truth. To everyone I have told the truth! If the old lady was poisoned, it was not I who poisoned her. It is all a mistake. You wish to prevent me having the money.' Her voice was rasping. She looked, he thought, like a miserable little cornered rat.

'Tell me about this cachet, mademoiselle,' M. Poirot went on.

'Did no one handle it but you?'

'I have said so, have I not? They were made up at the chemist's that afternoon. I brought them back with me in my bag - that was just before supper. I opened the box and gave Miss Barrowby one with a glass of water.'

'No one touched them but you?'

"No.' A cornered rat - with couragel

'And Miss Barrowby had for supper only what we have been told. The soup, the fish pie, the tart?'

'Yes.' A hopeless 'yes' - dark, smouldering eyes that saw no light anywhere.

Poirot patted her shoulder. 'Be of good courage, mademoiselle.

There may yet be freedom - yes, and money - a life of ease.' She looked at him suspiciously.

As he went out Sims said to him, 'I didn't quite get what you aid through the telephone - something about the girl having a friend.' 'She has one. Me!' said Hercule Poirot, and had left the police station before the inspector could pull his wits together.

At the Green Cat tearooms, Miss Lemon did not keep her employer waiting. She went straight to the point.

'The man's name is Rudge, in the High Street, and you were quite right. A dozen and a half exactly. I've made a note of what he said.' She handed it to him.

'Arrr.' It was a deep, rich sound like the purr of a cat.

Hercule?oirot betook himself to Rosebank. As he stood in the front garden, the sun setting behind him, Mary Delafontaine came out to him.

'M. Poirot?' Her voice sounded surprised. 'You have come back?' 'Yes, I have first came here, my head: come back.' He paused and then said, 'When I madame, the children's nursery rhyme came into