Black Coffee - Agatha Christie [54]
Poirot’s reply ignored his friend’s frivolous question. ‘For what do you use cheese, Hastings? I will tell you, mon ami. You use it to bait a mousetrap. We wait now for one thing only – the mouse.’
‘And the mouse –’
‘The mouse will come, my friend,’ Poirot assured Hastings. ‘Rest assured of that. I have sent him a message. He will not fail to respond.’
Before Hastings had time to react to Poirot’s cryptic announcement, the door opened and Edward Raynor entered the room. ‘Oh, you’re here, Monsieur Poirot,’ the secretary observed. ‘And Captain Hastings also. Inspector Japp would like to speak to you both upstairs.’
Chapter 19
‘We will come at once,’ Poirot replied. Followed by Hastings, he walked to the door, as Raynor entered the library and crossed to the fireplace. At the door, Poirot suddenly wheeled round to look at the secretary. ‘By the way, Mr Raynor,’ the detective asked, as he moved back to the centre of the room, ‘do you by any chance know whether Dr Carelli was here in the library at all this morning?’
‘Yes, he was,’ Raynor told the detective. ‘I found him here.’
‘Ah!’ Poirot seemed pleased at this. ‘And what was he doing?’
‘He was telephoning, I believe.’
‘Was he telephoning when you came in?’
‘No, he was just coming back into the room. He had been in Sir Claud’s study.’
Poirot considered this for a moment, and then asked Raynor, ‘Where exactly were you then? Can you remember?’
Still standing by the fireplace, Raynor replied, ‘Oh, somewhere about here, I think.’
‘Did you hear any of Dr Carelli’s conversation on the phone?’
‘No,’ said the secretary. ‘He made it perfectly clear that he wanted to be alone, so I cleared out.’
‘I see.’ Poirot hesitated, and then took a notebook and pencil from his pocket. Writing a few words on a page, he tore it out. ‘Hastings!’ he called.
Hastings, who had been hovering by the door, came to him, and Poirot gave his friend the folded page. ‘Would you be so kind as to take that up to Inspector Japp?’
Raynor watched Hastings leave the room on his errand, and then asked, ‘What was that all about?’
Putting the notebook and pencil back in his pocket, Poirot replied, ‘I told Japp that I would be with him in a few minutes, and that I might be able to tell him the name of the murderer.’
‘Really? You know who it is?’ asked Raynor in a state of some excitement.
There was a momentary pause. Hercule Poirot seemed to hold the secretary under the spell of his personality. Raynor watched the detective, fascinated, as he slowly began to speak. ‘Yes, I think I know who the murderer is – at last,’ Poirot announced. ‘I am reminded of another case, not so long ago. Never shall I forget the killing of Lord Edgware. I was nearly defeated – yes, I, Hercule Poirot! – by the extremely simple cunning of a vacant brain. You see, Monsieur Raynor, the very simple-minded have often the genius to commit an uncomplicated crime and then leave it alone. Let us hope that the murderer of Sir Claud, on the other hand, is intelligent and superior and thoroughly pleased with himself and unable to resist – how do you say? – painting the lily.’ Poirot’s eyes lit up in vivid animation.
‘I’m not sure that I understand you,’ said Raynor. ‘Do you mean that it’s not Mrs Amory?’
‘No, it is not Mrs Amory,’ Poirot told him. ‘That is why I wrote my little note. That poor lady has suffered enough. She must be spared any further questioning.’
Raynor looked thoughtful, and then exclaimed, ‘Then I’ll bet it’s Carelli. Yes?’
Poirot wagged a finger at him playfully. ‘Monsieur Raynor, you must permit me to keep my little secrets until the last moment.’ Taking out a handkerchief, he mopped his brow. ‘Mon Dieu, how hot it is today!’ he complained.
‘Would you like a drink?’ asked Raynor. ‘I’m forgetting my manners. I should have offered you one earlier.’
Poirot beamed. ‘You are very kind. I will have a whisky, please, if I may.’
‘Certainly. Just a moment.’ Raynor left the room, while Poirot wandered across to the french windows and looked out into the