Cards on the Table - Agatha Christie [63]
He remained silent for a moment or two, then he shook his head.
‘It doesn’t work out right,’ he said reluctantly. ‘She’s not one to take a risk. Change a couple of bottles, yes. She knew no one could fasten that on her. It was absolutely safe—because anyone might have done it! Of course, it mightn’t have worked. Mrs Benson might have noticed before she drank the stuff, or she mightn’t have died from it. It was what I call a hopeful kind of murder. It might work or it mightn’t. Actually, it did. But Shaitana was a very different pair of shoes. That was deliberate, audacious, purposeful murder.’
Poirot nodded his head.
‘I agree with you. The two types of crime are not the same.’
Battle rubbed his nose.
‘So that seems to wipe her out as far as he’s concerned. Roberts and the girl, both crossed off our list. What about Despard? Any luck with the Luxmore woman?’
Poirot narrated his adventures of the preceding afternoon.
Battle grinned.
‘I know that type. You can’t disentangle what they remember from what they invent.’
Poirot went on. He described Despard’s visit, and the story the latter had told.
‘Believe him?’ Battle asked abruptly.
‘Yes, I do.’
Battle sighed.
‘So do I. Not the type to shoot a man because he wanted the man’s wife. Anyway, what’s wrong with the divorce court? Everyone flocks there. And he’s not a professional man; it wouldn’t ruin him, or anything like that. No, I’m of the opinion that our late lamented Mr Shaitana struck a snag there. Murderer No. 3. wasn’t a murderer, after all.’
He looked at Poirot.
‘That leaves—’
‘Mrs Lorrimer,’ said Poirot.
The telephone rang. Poirot got up and answered it. He spoke a few words, waited, spoke again. Then he hung up the receiver and returned to Battle.
His face was very grave.
‘That was Mrs Lorrimer speaking,’ he said. ‘She wants me to come round and see her—now.’
He and Battle looked at each other. The latter shook his head slowly.
‘Am I wrong?’ he said. ‘Or were you expecting something of the kind?’
‘I wondered,’ said Hercule Poirot. ‘That was all. I wondered.’
‘You’d better get along,’ said Battle. ‘Perhaps you’ll manage to get at the truth at last.’
Chapter 25
Mrs Lorrimer Speaks
The day was not a bright one, and Mrs Lorrimer’s room seemed rather dark and cheerless. She herself had a grey look, and seemed much older than she had done on the occasion of Poirot’s last visit.
She greeted him with her usual smiling assurance.
‘It is very nice of you to come so promptly, M. Poirot. You are a busy man, I know.’
‘At your service, madame,’ said Poirot with a little bow.
Mrs Lorrimer pressed the bell by the fireplace.
‘We will have tea brought in. I don’t know what you feel about it, but I always think it’s a mistake to rush straight into confidences without any decent paving of the way.’
‘There are to be confidences, then, madame?’
Mrs Lorrimer did not answer, for at that moment her maid answered the bell. When she had received the order and gone again, Mrs Lorrimer said dryly:
‘You said, if you remember, when you were last here, that you would come if I sent for you. You had an idea, I think, of the reason that should prompt me to send.’
There was no more just then. Tea was brought. Mrs Lorrimer dispensed it, talking intelligently on various topics of the day.
Taking advantage of a pause, Poirot remarked:
‘I hear you and little Mademoiselle Meredith had tea together the other day.’
‘We did. Have you seen her lately?’
‘This very afternoon.’
‘She is in London, then, or have you been down to Wallingford?’
‘No. She and her friend were so amiable as to pay me a visit.’
‘Ah, the friend. I have not met her.’
Poirot said, smiling a little:
‘This murder—it has made for me a rapprochement. You and Mademoiselle Meredith have tea together. Major