Black Coffee - Agatha Christie [43]
Lucia stared at Poirot in terror. ‘No, no, you’re wrong. He didn’t. I killed him,’ she cried hysterically.
‘Who didn’t? Whom are you shielding, madame? Tell me,’ Poirot demanded.
‘He didn’t, I tell you,’ Lucia sobbed.
There was a knock at the door. ‘That will be the police!’ declared Poirot. ‘We have very little time. I will make you two promises, madame. Promise number one is that I will save you –’
‘But I killed him, I tell you.’ Lucia’s voice was almost at screaming pitch.
‘Promise number two,’ Poirot continued imperturbably, ‘is that I will save your husband!’
‘Oh!’ Lucia gasped, gazing at him in bewilderment.
The butler, Tredwell, entered the room. Addressing Poirot, he announced, ‘Inspector Japp, from Scotland Yard.’
Chapter 15
Fifteen minutes later, Inspector Japp, accompanied by Johnson, a young constable, had finished his initial inspection of the library. Japp, a bluff, hearty, middle-aged man with a thick-set figure and a ruddy complexion, was reminiscing with Poirot and Hastings, who had returned from his exile in the garden.
‘Yes,’ Japp told his constable, ‘Mr Poirot and I go back a long way. You’ve heard me speak often of him. He was still a member of the Belgian police force when we first worked together. It was the Abercrombie forgery case, wasn’t it, Poirot? We ran him down in Brussels. Ah, those were great days. And do you remember “Baron” Altara? There was a pretty rogue for you! He eluded the clutches of half the police in Europe. But we nailed him in Antwerp – thanks to Mr Poirot here.’
Japp turned from Johnson to Poirot. ‘And then we met again in this country, didn’t we, Poirot?’ he exclaimed. ‘You’d retired by then, of course. You solved that mysterious affair at Styles, remember? The last time we collaborated on a case was about two years ago, wasn’t it? That affair of the Italian nobleman in London. Well it’s really good to see you again, Poirot. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I came in a few minutes ago and saw your funny old mug.’
‘My mug?’ asked Poirot, looking puzzled. English slang never failed to mystify him.
‘Your face, I mean, old chap,’ Japp explained, with a grin. ‘Well, shall we work together on this?’
Poirot smiled. ‘My good Japp, you know my little weaknesses!’
‘Secretive old beggar, aren’t you?’ remarked Japp, smacking Poirot on the shoulder. ‘I say, that Mrs Amory you were talking to when I came in, she’s a good looker. Richard Amory’s wife, I suppose? I’ll bet you were enjoying yourself, you old dog!’
The inspector gave a rather coarse laugh, and seated himself on a chair by the table. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘this is just the sort of case that suits you down to the ground. It pleases your tortuous mind. Now, I loathe a poisoning case. Nothing to go on. You have to find out what they ate and drank, and who handled it, and who so much as breathed on it! I admit Dr Graham seems pretty clear on the case. He says the dope must have been in the coffee. According to him, such a large dose would have had an almost instantaneous effect. Of course, we shall know for certain when we get the analyst’s report, but we’ve got enough to go on.’
Japp rose to his feet. ‘Well, I’ve finished with this room,’ he declared. ‘I’d better have a few words with Mr Richard Amory, I suppose, and then I’ll see this Dr Carelli. It looks as though he’s our man. But keep an open mind, that’s what I always say, keep an open mind.’ He moved to the door. ‘Coming, Poirot?’
‘But certainly, I will accompany you,’ said Poirot, joining him.
‘Captain Hastings too, I’ve no doubt,’ Japp laughed. ‘Sticks as close to you as your shadow, doesn’t he, Poirot?’
Poirot threw a meaningful glance at his friend. ‘Perhaps Hastings would prefer to remain here,’ he remarked.
Taking his cue in a somewhat obvious manner, Hastings replied, ‘Yes, yes, I think I’ll stay here.’
‘Well, as you please.’ Japp sounded surprised. He and Poirot left,