Elephants Can Remember - Agatha Christie [75]
‘I don’t understand,’ said Celia.
‘Not yet.’
‘Shall I understand?’ said Celia.
‘I think so,’ said Poirot. ‘I will tell you what I think happened and I will tell you how I came to think so. The first thing that struck me was the things that were not explained by the evidence that the police examined. Some things were very commonplace, were not evidence at all, you’d think. Among the possessions of the dead Margaret Ravenscroft, were four wigs.’ He repeated with emphasis. ‘Four wigs.’ He looked at Zélie.
‘She did not use a wig all the time,’ said Zélie. ‘Only occasionally. If she travelled or if she’d been out and got very dishevelled and wanted to tidy herself in a hurry, or sometimes she’d use one that was suitable for evening wear.’
‘Yes,’ said Poirot, ‘it was quite the fashion at that particular date. People certainly when they travelled abroad usually had a wig or two wigs. But in her possession were four wigs. Four wigs seemed to me rather a lot. I wondered why she needed four. According to the police whom I asked, it was not that she had any tendency to baldness, she had the ordinary hair a woman of her age would have and in good condition. All the same, I wondered about those. One of the wigs had a grey streak in it, I learnt later. It was her hairdresser who told me that. And one of the wigs had little curls. It was the latter wig she was wearing the day she died.’
‘Is that significant in any way?’ asked Celia. ‘She might have been wearing any of them.’
‘She might. I also learnt the housekeeper told the police that she had been wearing that particular wig almost all the time for the last few weeks before she died. It appeared to be her favourite one.’
‘I can’t see –’
‘There was also a saying that Superintendent Garroway quoted to me – “Same man, different hat”. It gave me furiously to think.’
Celia repeated, ‘I don’t see –’
Poirot said, ‘There was also the evidence of the dog –’
‘The dog – what did the dog do?’
‘The dog bit her. The dog was said to be devoted to its mistress – but in the last few weeks of her life, the dog turned on her more than once and bit her quite severely.’
‘Do you mean it knew she was going to commit suicide?’ Desmond stared.
‘No, something much simpler than that –’
‘I don’t –’
Poirot went on – ‘No, it knew what no one else seemed to know. It knew she was not its mistress. She looked like its mistress – the housekeeper who was slightly blind and also deaf saw a woman who wore Molly Ravenscroft’s clothes and the most recognizable of Molly Ravenscroft’s wigs – the one with little curls all over the head. The housekeeper said only that her mistress had been rather different in her manner the last few weeks of her life – “Same man, different hat,” had been Garroway’s phrase. And the thought – the conviction – came to me then. Same wig – different woman. The dog knew – he knew by what his nose told him. A different woman, not the woman he loved – a woman whom he disliked and feared. And I thought, suppose that woman was not Molly Ravenscroft – but who could she be? Could she be Dolly – the twin sister?’
‘But that’s impossible,’ said Celia.
‘No – it was not impossible. After all, remember, they were twins. I must come now to the things that were brought to my notice by Mrs Oliver. The things people told her or suggested to her. The knowledge that Lady Ravenscroft had suggested to her. The knowledge that Lady Ravenscroft had recently been in hospital or in a nursing home and that she perhaps had known that she suffered from cancer, or thought that she did. Medical evidence was against that, however. She still might have thought she did, but it was not the case. Then I learnt little by little the early history of her and her twin sister, who loved each other very