Roger Mystery

Chapter 29 Charles Kent

Half an hour later Poirot, I, and Inspector Raglan boarded the train for Liverpool.The inspector was very excited.

"At least I can find some clues related to the blackmail incident," he said happily. "The guy on the phone said that this guy is very brutal and takes drugs. It is not difficult to dig something out of his mouth. As long as he catches a trace of motive, basically It can be determined that he is the murderer of Mr. Ackroyd. But in this case, why can't that boy Peyton hide? The whole case is a mess. By the way, Mr. Poirot, about those fingerprints, yours I was right, it was indeed Mr Ackroyd's own fingerprints. I thought so at first, but then I dismissed it as unlikely."

I chuckled to myself. Inspector Raglan was clearly anxious to save face.

"As for the fellow," said Poirot, "has he not been arrested?"

"No, just detained as a suspect first."

"Then how did he justify it?"

"He can't say anything." The inspector grinned. "It is said that he is slick, very vigilant, and swears fiercely, but basically has no substance."

On arriving in Liverpool, I was surprised by the warm reception Poirot received.Coming to meet us was Superintendent Hayes, who had worked with Poirot years before.He praised Poirot's ability to solve problems to the sky.

"Since Mr. Poirot is involved, it is only a matter of time before the case is solved." He said happily, "I thought you retired?"

"Retired indeed, my dear Hayes, but life in retirement is so boring! You can't imagine how boring it is to pass the time day after day."

"That's right. So you are here to pay attention to our important discovery? This is Dr. Sheppard? You should recognize him?"

"I can't guarantee it either." I hesitated.

"How did you catch him?" asked Poirot.

"That guy was all over the papers, and everyone was talking about it, where could he have escaped? He had an American accent, and he didn't deny that he was around Kings Albert that night, just desperately asking what happened. It has nothing to do with us, he will only answer questions if he understands our intentions."

"May I see him?" asked Poirot.

The sheriff narrowed his eyes knowingly. "That's very good, Mr. Poirot. I authorize you to take any action. Inspector Japp of Scotland Yard asked the other day. Officially involved in the investigation of the case. Mr. Poirot, can you tell me where Captain Peyton is hiding?"

"I'm afraid it would be inappropriate to talk about it now," replied Poirot solemnly.I bit my lip hard to keep from laughing.

The little man really knows this.

After some more discussion, the sheriff took us to meet the detained suspect.

This person is very young, estimated to be at most 22 or [-] years old.Tall, thin, with trembling hands; in good health, but at the moment showing signs of fatigue.He has black hair, but his eyes are blue, and his eyes flicker, and he dare not look directly at us.I remember the stranger I met that night gave me a feeling of déjà vu, but if it was the person in front of me, then I must have made a mistake at the time. I can't think of anyone I know who is similar to the person in front of me.

"Well, Kent," said the Sheriff, "get up, you've got people here. Do you recognize them?"

Kent stared at us angrily, without saying a word, his eyes flicked back and forth between the three of us a few times, and finally fell on me again.

"Well, doctor," the sheriff said to me, "what do you think?"

"It's about the same size," I said. "The general feeling is that it may be the stranger I met. But I can only recognize so much."

"What are you crazy about?" Kent demanded. "What evidence do you have against me? Come on, fart! What do you think I did?"

I nodded: "It's him, I remember this voice."

"You remember my voice? When did you hear me speak?"

"Last Friday night, outside the gates of Finley Hall. You asked me how to get to the Hall."

"I asked, didn't I?"

"You admit it?" asked the inspector.

"I won't admit anything. Unless I figure out what you're going to do with me."

"Have you read the papers of these days?" Poirot said for the first time.

The other party narrowed his eyes.

"So that's what it is? I read in the paper that a rich old man at Finley Park died. You want to frame it on me, don't you?"

"You were there that night," said Poirot quietly.

"how do you know?"

"Here is the evidence." Poirot took something out of his pocket and handed it over.

That's the quill we found in the gazebo.

The other party's face changed suddenly, and he half stretched out his hand tremblingly.

"White powder," said Poirot thoughtfully. "No, my friend, the tube is empty. You dropped it in the arbor that night."

Charles Kent looked at him in bewilderment.

"Foreign short winter melon, it seems that you know all about it. Remember, the newspaper said that the old man was killed between nine forty-five and ten o'clock?"

"Indeed," replied Poirot.

"Okay, is that true? That's what I wanted to ask."

"Let this gentleman tell you," said Poirot.

He pointed to Inspector Raglan.The inspector hesitated for a while, glanced at Sergeant Hayes, then at Poirot, feeling that he was approved, and then replied: "Yes, between nine forty-five and ten o'clock."

"Then you have no reason to lock me up," Kent said. "I left Finley Park at 25:45. You can go to the Dog Whistle. Lee Manor, at least a mile away. I remember getting into an argument there, and it was about nine forty-five. How's that?"

Inspector Raglan made notes in his notebook.

"How?" Kent asked again.

"We'll look into it," said the Inspector. "If you're telling the truth, you'll have nothing to do with it. But what was your purpose in Finley Park anyway?"

"Go see someone."

"Who?"

"You can't control it."

"Better speak politely, young man," warned the superintendent.

"You're welcome. I'm just doing some private business. Since I left before the murder happened, the rest of the problem should be handled by you, the police."

"Your name is Charles Kent," said Poirot. "Where were you born?"

The guy looked at him for a long time and smiled.

"A real Brit," he said.

"Yes," said Poirot thoughtfully, "I suppose so. I suppose you were born in Kent."

The other party stared.

"Why? Just because my last name is Kent? It's a murder thing? Does Kent have to be born in Kent?"

"It is possible, for some special reason," repeated Poirot deliberately, "for some special reason, you know what I mean."

There was something in his words, so meaningful that the two police officers could not understand it.Charles Kent blushed, and for a moment I thought he was about to jump on Poirot.However, he stabilized his position after all, but showed a smile that was not a smile.

Poirot nodded, seemed satisfied, and turned to go out.The two police officers quickly followed.

"Got to check his story," said Raglan, "but I don't think he's lying. But he'd have to explain what he did at Finley Manor before he could be cleared. I think we've got the blackmailer." On the other hand, if all he has just said is true, then he has nothing to do with murder. He had ten pounds on him at the time of his arrest, which was a considerable amount, and it is estimated that the forty pounds fell into his hands-although The banknotes were numbered incorrectly, but he must have exchanged the money first thing he got it. He must have taken it from Mr Aykroyd and slipped on his feet. Does it matter if he was born in Kent? and What's the matter with the case?"

"It's not worth mentioning," replied Poirot mildly. "My little tricks are nothing. They are the best of my kind."

"Really?" Raglan examined him suspiciously.

The superintendent laughed.

"I've heard Inspector Japp say many times, M. Poirot's little trick! He says he can't fathom it, but every time your trick works."

"You're making fun of me," laughed Poirot. "But that's all right. Sometimes it's the old ones who get the last laugh, and then the bright young people don't laugh."

He gave them a serious nod and walked down the street.

We had lunch at a restaurant.Now I understand that at that time he had sorted out the whole case, and the last piece of the puzzle that made up the truth was in his hands.

But I didn't realize it at the time.I used to dislike his confident demeanor, and thought that since the case puzzled me, it must have stumped him too.The biggest mystery to me is what exactly Charles Kent was doing at Finley Park.I pondered over and over for countless times, but still couldn't find a satisfactory answer. In the end, I had the audacity to probe Poirot's tone, and his answer was rather straightforward.

"My friend, I'm not guessing. I just know."

"Really?" I was dubious.

"Really, I won't lie to you. If I told you that he went to Finley Park that night because he was born in Kent, you would still be confused, wouldn't you?"

I was dumbfounded.

"What kind of logic is this? Sorry, I can't understand it." I replied coldly.

"Ah!" Poirot regretted deeply. "Well, it doesn't matter. My little trick is in my own hands."

(End of this chapter)