Cat Among the Pigeons - Agatha Christie [70]
“You’re right, M. Poirot,” said the Chief Constable.
“You’re right every time,” said Inspector Kelsey. “What we want is a murderer. We shall be glad to have your opinion, M. Poirot,” he added, “because it’s largely a question of guess and guess again and your guess is as good as the next man’s and sometimes better. The whole thing’s like a snarl of tangled wool.”
“That is excellently put,” said Poirot, “one has to take up that snarl of wool and pull out the one colour that we seek, the colour of a murderer. Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Then tell me, if it is not too tedious for you to indulge in repetition, all that is known so far.”
He settled down to listen.
He listened to Inspector Kelsey, and he listened to Adam Goodman. He listened to the brief summing up of the Chief Constable. Then he leaned back, closed his eyes, and slowly nodded his head.
“Two murders,” he said, “committed in the same place and roughly under the same conditions. One kidnapping. The kidnapping of a girl who might be the central figure of the plot. Let us ascertain first why she was kidnapped.”
“I can tell you what she said herself,” said Kelsey.
He did so, and Poirot listened.
“It does not make sense,” he complained.
“That’s what I thought at the time. As a matter of fact I thought she was just making herself important….”
“But the fact remains that she was kidnapped. Why?”
“There have been ransom demands,” said Kelsey slowly, “but—” he paused.
“But they have been, you think, phoney? They have been sent merely to bolster up the kidnapping theory?”
“That’s right. The appointments made weren’t kept.”
“Shaista, then, was kidnapped for some other reason. What reason?”
“So that she could be made to tell where the—er—valuables were hidden?” suggested Adam doubtfully.
Poirot shook his head.
“She did not know where they were hidden,” he pointed out. “That at least, is clear. No, there must be something….”
His voice tailed off. He was silent, frowning, for a moment or two. Then he sat up, and asked a question.
“Her knees,” he said. “Did you ever notice her knees?”
Adam stared at him in astonishment.
“No,” he said. “Why should I?”
“There are many reasons why a man notices a girl’s knees,” said Poirot severely. “Unfortunately, you did not.”
“Was there something odd about her knees? A scar? Something of that kind? I wouldn’t know. They all wear stockings most of the time, and their skirts are just below knee length.”
“In the swimming pool, perhaps?” suggested Poirot hopefully.
“Never saw her go in,” said Adam. “Too chilly for her, I expect. She was used to a warm climate. What are you getting at? A scar? Something of that kind?”
“No, no, that is not it at all. Ah well, a pity.”
He turned to the Chief Constable.
“With your permission, I will communicate with my old friend, the Préfet, at Geneva. I think he may be able to help us.”
“About something that happened when she was at school there?”
“It is possible, yes. You do permit? Good. It is just a little idea of mine.” He paused and went on: “By the way, there has been nothing in the papers about the kidnapping?”
“The Emir Ibrahim was most insistent.”
“But I did notice a little remark in a gossip column. About a certain foreign young lady who had departed from school very suddenly. A budding romance, the columnist suggested? To be nipped in the bud if possible!”
“That was my idea,” said Adam. “It seemed a good line to take.”
“Admirable. So now we pass from kidnapping to something more serious. Murder. Two murders at Meadowbank.”
Nineteen
CONSULTATION CONTINUED
I
“Two murders at Meadowbank,” repeated Poirot thoughtfully.
“We’ve given you the facts,” said Kelsey. “If you’ve any ideas—”
“Why the Sports Pavilion?” said Poirot. “That was your question, wasn’t it?” he said to Adam. “Well, now we have the answer. Because in the Sports Pavilion there was a tennis racquet containing a fortune in jewels.