Hickory Dickory Dock - Agatha Christie [36]
“Still, at any rate,” said Inspector Sharpe, “Miss Austin did own up.”
“After she was found out. Yes,” said Jean sharply.
“Who found her out?”
“That Mr.—what-was-his-name . . . Poirot, who came.”
“But why do you think he found her out, Miss Tomlinson? He didn’t say so. He just advised calling in the police.”
“He must have shown her that he knew. She obviously knew the game was up and rushed off to confess.”
“What about the ink on Elizabeth Johnston’s papers? Did she confess to that?”
“I really don’t know. I suppose so.”
“You suppose wrong,” said Sharpe. “She denied most vehemently that she had anything to do with that.”
“Well, perhaps that may be so. I must say it doesn’t seem very likely.”
“You think it is more likely that it was Nigel Chapman?”
“No, I don’t think Nigel would do that either. I think it’s much more likely to be Mr. Akibombo.”
“Really? Why should he do it?”
“Jealousy. All these coloured people are very jealous of each other and very hysterical.”
“That’s interesting, Miss Tomlinson. When was the last time you saw Celia Austin?”
“After dinner on Friday night.”
“Who went up to bed first? Did she or did you?”
“I did.”
“You did not go to her room or see her after you’d left the common room?”
“No.”
“And you’ve no idea who could have introduced morphia into her coffee—if it was given that way?”
“No idea at all.”
“You never saw morphia lying about the house or in anyone’s room?”
“No. No, I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so? What do you mean by that, Miss Tomlinson?”
“Well, I just wondered. There was that silly bet, you know.”
“What bet?”
“One—oh, two or three of the boys were arguing—”
“What were they arguing about?”
“Murder, and ways of doing it. Poisoning in particular.”
“Who was concerned in the discussion?”
“Well, I think Colin and Nigel started it, and then Len Bateson chipped in and Patricia was there too—”
“Can you remember, as closely as possible, what was said on that occasion—how the argument went?”
Jean Tomlinson reflected a few moments.
“Well, it started, I think, with a discussion on murdering by poisoning, saying that the difficulty was to get hold of the poison, that the murderer was usually traced by either the sale of the poison or having an opportunity to get it, and Nigel said that wasn’t at all necessary. He said that he could think of three distinct ways by which anyone could get hold of poison, and nobody would ever know they had it. Len Bateson said then that he was talking through his hat. Nigel said no he wasn’t, and he was quite prepared to prove it. Pat said that of course Nigel was quite right. She said that either Len or Colin could probably help themselves to poison any time they liked from a hospital, and so could Celia, she said. And Nigel said that wasn’t what he meant at all. He said it would be noticed if Celia took anything from the Dispensary. Sooner or later they’d look for it and find it gone. And Pat said no, not if she took the bottle and emptied some stuff out and filled it up with something else. Colin laughed then and said there’d be very serious complaints from the patients one of these days, in that case. But Nigel said of course he didn’t mean special opportunities. He said that he himself, who hadn’t got any particular access, either as a doctor or dispenser, could jolly well get three different kinds of poison by three different methods. Len Bateson said, ‘All right, then, but what are your methods?’ and Nigel said, ‘I shan’t tell you, now, but I’m prepared to bet you that within three weeks I can produce samples of three deadly poisons here,’ and Len Bateson said he’d bet him a fiver he couldn’t do it.”
“Well?” said Inspector Sharpe, when Jean stopped.
“Well, nothing more came of it, I think, for some time and then, one evening in the common room, Nigel said, ‘Now then, chaps, look here—I’m as good as my word,’ and he threw down three things on the table. He had a tube of hyoscine tablets, and a bottle of tincture of digitalin,