Roger Mystery

Chapter 31 Miss Russell

Inspector Raglan was in a bad mood.Even the lies made up by Brant's heroic rescuer could not fool him.On the way back to the village, he kept whining.

"The whole course of the case is thus changed, abominably. What do you think, M. Poirot?"

"Yes, I feel the same way," said Poirot. "I expected it."

Inspector Raglan had only realized it just half an hour ago.He glanced at Poirot disapprovingly, and continued his discourse.

"Those alibis are all void! Bullshit worthless! Have to start all over again. Now the focus is on everyone's whereabouts after 09:30. 09:30 - that's the critical time. You're absolutely right about Kent - Can't release him just yet. Let me see - 45:15 at the Dog Whistle, fifteen minutes if you run all the way. Mr. Raymond overheard someone talking to Mr. Ackroyd, probably Kent —He asked Mr Ackroyd for money and was refused. But it is clear that he was not the one who called Dr Sheppard. The station is half a mile in the opposite direction, from the Dog Whistle pub The distance was over a mile and a half, and he didn't leave the 'dog whistle' until about ten past ten. That damn call! We're stuck in this place every time."

"Indeed," agreed Poirot, "very queer."

"It's also possible that if Captain Peyton slipped into his stepfather's study and found him murdered, he might have telephoned. Then he'd run away in fear that the suspicion would fall on him. There should be Is it possible?"

"Why did he have to call?"

"Maybe he wasn't sure if the old man really died, so he wanted to call a doctor quickly, but he didn't want to reveal his identity. Yes, I said, what's the idea? I think it's quite reasonable."

The Inspector took a deep, pretentious breath, evidently confident in his analysis; it would be foolish of us to talk now.

As soon as the car arrived at my door, I hurried to receive the patients. They had been waiting for a long time.Poirot accompanied the inspector on foot to the police station.

After seeing off the last patient, I retreated to the backyard shed—the so-called "studio"—where I tinkered with a wireless radio and was very proud of it.Caroline rather disliked my workshop, where my tools were kept and Anne was not allowed to come in with a broom and dustpan.Everyone said that the alarm clock at home didn't go right. I just took it to fix it when the door opened and Caroline's head poked in.

"Well! So you are here, James," she said displeasedly, "M. Poirot is looking for you."

"Okay," I was a little annoyed, startled by her sudden intrusion, and lost a precision part in my hand, "If he wants to see me, you can ask him to come over."

"Here?" Caroline asked.

"I said, ask him to come here."

Caroline snorted disapprovingly and went out.A minute or two later, she ushered Poirot in, then backed out again, slamming the door behind her.

"Aha! my friend," said Poirot, coming forward, rubbing his hands, "it is not so easy to send me away."

"Are you done with the Inspector?" I asked.

"Come to an end for now. What about you? Have you finished receiving all the patients?"

"Yes."

Poirot sat looking at me, his egg-shaped head on one side, as if thinking of a very good joke.

"Wrong," he said after a long time. "There is another patient."

"Could it be you?" I was taken aback.

"Oh, not me, of course not. I'm in good shape. To be honest, it's a little trick I'm playing. I want to see someone--and at the same time I don't want to alarm the whole village. If anyone sees a lady come to my house , it is inevitable to make irresponsible remarks—because it is a lady. But she is just an ordinary patient to you, and she has been here before, so it is not worth making a fuss about."

"It's Miss Russell!" I exclaimed.

"That's right. I wanted to talk to her so badly that I left her a note asking her to come to your clinic. You won't be offended, will you?"

"On the contrary," I said, "does that mean I can sit and listen?"

"Needless to say, this is your own clinic!"

"You know," I put down the pliers, "the whole case is fascinating. It's like a kaleidoscope, with every twist and turn changing the scene before you. So, what's the reason you're so anxious to see Miss Russell? "

Poirot raised his eyebrows.

"Isn't that obvious?" he whispered.

"Again," I complained, "everything is obvious to you, but I don't know it every time."

Poirot shook his head amiably.

"Don't make fun of me. Take the case of Miss Flora. The Inspector was shocked, but you were not."

"I never dreamed she was a thief," I protested.

"The money theft—maybe you didn't expect it. But I've been watching your face, and you're not as surprised and dubious as Inspector Raglan was."

I pondered for a moment.

"Perhaps you're right," I said at last, "I've always felt that Flora was hiding something, and I was subconsciously prepared for her confession. And Inspector Raglan is terrified, poor man." .”

"Ah! That's right, the poor man's thinking has been overturned. Taking advantage of his restlessness, I coaxed him to do something convenient for me."

"How to say?"

Poirot took a note from his pocket and read aloud the words written on it:
"Mr. Ackroyd, the owner of Finley Manor, was tragically killed last Friday. The police have been tracking his nephew, Captain Ralph Payton, for several days. Captain Payton has appeared in Liverpool and was about to board a ship for the United States."

He folded the note again.

"My friend, the news will be in the papers in the morning."

I was completely dumbfounded, tongue-tied.

"But—but it's impossible! He's not in Liverpool!"

Poirot smiled.

"What a quick brain you have! Yes, we can't find him in Liverpool. Inspector Raglan is not happy to have me send this telegram to the paper, especially if I still have reservations about him. But I I solemnly assured him that as soon as this news hits the newspapers, it would trigger all sorts of interesting chain reactions before he backed down, but he still declared that he would not be responsible for any consequences."

I stared blankly at Poirot, who smiled at me.

"I really don't understand what kind of play you are acting in." It took me a long time to burst out.

"You'll have to use the little gray cells," said Poirot earnestly.

He stood up and walked to the opposite bench.

"You seem to have a passion for mechanics," he said, after viewing the trinkets I'd taken apart.

Who doesn't have any hobbies?I immediately directed Poirot's attention to my homemade radio.Seeing that he was quite appreciative, I showed him one or two more small inventions-although the things are not eye-catching, they can be used a lot at home.

"Really," remarked Poirot, "you should be an inventor, not a doctor. The doorbell rings—here is your patient, let us go to the clinic."

The housekeeper's charming demeanor had already moved me, and this time I was shocked again.Her tall figure was set off by a simple black dress, her aloof attitude remained the same as before, her big black eyes were shiny, but her usually pale cheeks were slightly flushed rather unusually.I think she must have been a great beauty when she was young.

"Good morning, mademoiselle," said Poirot, "please sit down, and at the mercy of Dr. Shepard, I will use his clinic to discuss an urgent matter with you."

Miss Russell was seated safely, with her usual composure.Even though her heart was turbulent and ups and downs, her face was still calm.

"With all due respect, it's an awkward way of talking," she said.

"Miss Russell, I have a message for you."

"is it?"

"Charles Kent has been arrested in Liverpool."

Her expression remained motionless, she just opened her eyes slightly, and her tone was slightly provocative: "So what?"

Then it dawned on me—that déjà vu feeling that had been haunting me had finally found the answer.Her defiant tone was exactly like that of Charles Kent.Although one is husky and rough, the other strives to be virtuous and refined—there are eerily similar timbres.The stranger at the gate of Finley Manor on the night of the murder reminded me vaguely of Miss Russell.

I gave Poirot a wink to suggest that I had made a discovery, and he nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly.Then, like a true Frenchman, he threw up his arms in response to Miss Russell.

"Nothing, I thought you would care," he said gently.

"None of my business," said Miss Russell. "Who is this Charles Kent?"

"He's the man who was at Finley Park on the night of the murder, miss."

"Really?"

"Fortunately, he had an alibi. He was in a bar a mile away at nine forty-five."

"Lucky for him," said Miss Russell.

"But we still can't find out the purpose of his visit to Finley Park—for example, who he was meeting with."

"I'm afraid I can't help you," replied the housekeeper politely. "I haven't heard anything. If there's nothing else—"

She moved tentatively, as if about to get up, but was stopped by Poirot.

"I haven't finished," he said calmly. "This morning there are new developments. Now it seems that Mr. Ackroyd was killed not at 45:45, but earlier, from [-]:[-] Between the time when Dr. Sheppard left and [-]:[-]."

The color on the housekeeper's face gradually faded, turning as pale as dead ashes.She leaned forward, nearly falling over.

"But Miss Ackroyd said—Miss Ackroyd said—"

"Miss Ackroyd has admitted she lied. She did not enter the study that night."

"So--"

"Then Charles Kent seems to be the man we're looking for. He's been to Finley Park, but he won't say what he did there—"

"I can tell you that he never touched old Ackroyd's hair, and never went near the study. I tell you, he didn't do it."

She leaned forward, and her steel-like self-control finally collapsed, her face full of fear and despair.

"Monsieur Poirot! Monsieur Poirot! You must believe me."

Poirot stepped forward and patted her on the shoulder in comfort.

"Yes—yes, I believe you. But you must tell the truth, understand?"

Miss Russell looked doubtful.

"Is what you said true?"

"Charles Kent's suspicion? Yes, it is true. You can only save him if you tell him why he went to Finley Park."

"He's come to see me," she whispered hastily, "and I'll meet him outside the house—"

"In the arbor, I know that."

"How do you know?"

"That's what Hercule Poirot does, mademoiselle. I know that you went out early that evening and left a note in the gazebo telling him the time of our meeting."

"Yes. I had a letter from him—that he was coming to the estate. I was afraid to let him in, so I wrote back at the address he had given, and said I would see him in the arbor, and told him to go How to get to the gazebo. Then I was afraid that he would be impatient, so I ran out and left a note in the gazebo, saying that I would arrive at about ten past nine. I didn’t want the servants to see me, so I went out through the French windows in the living room. I’ll be back I ran into Dr. Shepard, who must have been very surprised, for I had trotted all the way back, out of breath. I didn't know beforehand that he was coming to dinner that evening."

She stopped.

"Go on," urged Poirot. "You went to see him at ten past nine. What did you talk about?"

"It's hard to tell, you know—"

"Ma'am," interrupted Poirot, "I must know the whole truth about the matter. Nothing you say will ever leak out of this room. Dr. Shepard will keep it a secret, and I will." Same. I'll help you. This Charles Kent is your son, isn't he?"

She nodded, flushing.

"No one ever knew about it. It was a long time ago - a long time ago - in Kent. I was never married..."

"So you take the county name as his surname, I understand that."

"I got a job and I was able to pay for his board and lodging. I never told him I was his biological mother. But he went astray, first with alcohol and then with drugs. I was struggling to save enough money Sent him to Canada. He didn’t hear from him for a year or two, and then somehow, he found out about our mother-child relationship, and wrote to me asking for money. Finally, he wrote to say that he would go back to England and come to Finley Manor Look at me. I dare not let him in. Because everyone has always respected me, once someone finds out, my job as a housekeeper will be lost. So I asked him to meet at the gazebo as I said just now."

"And you came to see Dr. Sheppard that morning about that too?"

"Yeah, I was wondering if there was any countermeasure. He wasn't a bad guy before he got addicted."

"Understood," said Poirot, "go on, please. Did he go to the gazebo that night?"

"Well, he was already waiting when I went, with a bad attitude and cursing. I gave him all my savings. Just said a few words, and he left."

"What time is it when you leave?"

"It must have been between nine-twenty and nine-twenty-five, because it wasn't even 25:09 when I got back to the house."

"Which way did he go?"

"Still going out the same way, that is, coming in from the gate, the path leading to the driveway."

Poirot nodded. "And you? What did you do?"

"I went back to the house. Major Brant was pacing up and down the terrace smoking a cigarette, so I went in by the side door. It was exactly 09:30, as I said."

Poirot nodded again, and made some notes in his little notebook.

"So be it," he said thoughtfully.

"Should I—" she hesitated, "should I tell Inspector Raglan all this?"

"We'll talk about it when the time comes. Let's not rush. Let's take it one step at a time. The police have not formally charged Charles Kent with murder. If there is a turning point in the case, it may not be necessary to reveal your privacy."

Miss Russell got up.

"Thank you very much, M. Poirot," she said. "You are very kind—a very good man. You—you do believe me, don't you? Charles had nothing to do with this criminal murder!"

"There is no doubt that it cannot be your son who was talking to Mr Ackroyd in the study at 09:30. You have to cheer up, miss. Everything will be all right."

Miss Russell was gone.Poirot and I remained in the house.

"Another mystery solved," I said. "Every time we circled back to Ralph Paton. How could you tell that it was Miss Russell who met Charles Kent? You noticed their Similarities?"

"I connected her with the You-Know-Who long before I went to see Charles Kent. That's when we found the quill. A quill means junkie, and you mentioned Miss Russell. A doctor's visit. Then I noticed an article in the morning paper about cocaine, and it dawned on me. She had a letter that morning—someone had a drug addiction, and after she read the article, Just came here to ask you a few questions. She mentioned cocaine, because that's what the article was about. Then, when you got interested, she quickly changed the subject to detective stories and rare poisons. So I suspect That fellow is her son or brother, or some unruly relative. Ah! I must go, it's lunchtime."

"Let's stay and eat together." I suggested.

Poirot shook his head, a faint gleam in his eye.

"I won't bother you today. I don't want to force Miss Caroline to be vegetarian for two days in a row."

It suddenly occurred to me that nothing escaped Hercule Poirot's eyes.

(End of this chapter)