Death in the Clouds - Agatha Christie [30]
‘Sometimes, perhaps, Mademoiselle,’ said Poirot, ‘they could not pay.’
Elise Grandier shrugged her shoulders.
‘Possibly. That is their affair! They usually paid in the end.’
Her tone held a certain amount of satisfaction.
‘Madame Giselle was a hard woman,’ said Fournier.
‘Madame was justified.’
‘You have no pity for the victims?’
‘Victims—victims…’ Elise spoke with impatience. ‘You do not understand. Is it necessary to run into debt, to live beyond your means, to run and borrow, and then expect to keep the money as a gift? It is not reasonable, that! Madame was always fair and just. She lent—and she expected repayment. That is only fair. She herself had no debts. Always she paid honourably what she owed. Never, never were there any bills outstanding. And when you say that Madame was a hard woman it is not the truth! Madame was kind. She gave to the Little Sisters of the Poor when they came. She gave money to charitable institutions. When the wife of Georges, the concierge, was ill, Madame paid for her to go to a hospital in the country.’
She stopped, her face flushed and angry.
She repeated, ‘You do not understand. No, you do not understand Madame at all.’
Fournier waited a moment for her indignation to subside and then said:
‘You made the observation that Madame’s clients usually managed to pay in the end. Were you aware of the means Madame used to compel them?’
She shrugged her shoulders.
‘I know nothing, Monsieur—nothing at all.’
‘You knew enough to burn Madame’s papers.’
‘I was following her instructions. If ever, she said, she were to meet with an accident, or if she were taken ill and died somewhere away from home, I was to destroy her business papers.’
‘The papers in the safe downstairs?’ asked Poirot.
‘That is right. Her business papers.’
‘And they were in the safe downstairs?’
His persistence brought the red up in Elise’s cheeks.
‘I obeyed Madame’s instructions,’ she said.
‘I know that,’ said Poirot, smiling. ‘But the papers were not in the safe. That is so, is it not? That safe, it is far too old-fashioned—quite an amateur might have opened it. The papers were kept elsewhere—in Madame’s bedroom, perhaps?’
Elise paused a moment and then answered:
‘Yes, that is so. Madame always pretended to clients that papers were kept in the safe, but in reality the safe was a blind. Everything was in Madame’s bedroom.’
‘Will you show us where?’
Elise rose and the two men followed her. The bedroom was a fair-sized room, but was so full of ornate heavy furniture that it was hard to move about freely in it. In one corner was a large old-fashioned trunk. Elise lifted the lid and took out an old-fashioned alpaca dress with a silk underskirt. On the inside of the dress was a deep pocket.
‘The papers were in this, Monsieur,’ she said. ‘They were kept in a large sealed envelope.’
‘You told me nothing of this,’ said Fournier sharply, ‘when I questioned you three days ago.’
‘I ask pardon, Monsieur. You asked me where were the papers that should be in the safe. I told you I had burned them. That was true. Exactly where the papers were kept seemed unimportant.’
‘True,’ said Fournier. ‘You understand, Mademoiselle Grandier, that those papers should not have been burnt.’
‘I obeyed Madame’s orders,’ said Elise sullenly.
‘You acted, I know, for the best,’ said Fournier soothingly. ‘Now I want you to listen to me very closely, Mademoiselle: Madame was murdered. It is possible that she was murdered by a person or persons about whom she held certain damaging knowledge. That knowledge was in those papers you burnt. I am going to ask you a question, Mademoiselle, and do not reply too quickly without reflection. It is possible—indeed in my view it is probable and quite understandable—that you glanced through those papers before committing them to the flames. If that is the case, no blame will be attached to you for so doing. On the contrary, any information you have acquired may be of the greatest service to the police, and may be of material service in bringing the murderer to justice.