One, two, buckle my shoe - Agatha Christie [36]
‘I wonder.’
Japp said:
‘There’s something worrying you, Poirot. What is it?’
Poirot said:
‘But yes, I am worried. I am very seriously worried. There is here, you see, for me an insoluble problem.’
Resolutely, he went once more into the box-room…
He took hold of the shoe on the dead woman’s foot. It resisted and came off with difficulty.
He examined the buckle. It had been clumsily sewn on by hand.
Hercule Poirot sighed. He said:
‘It is that I am dreaming!’
Japp said curiously:
‘What are you trying to do — make the thing more difficult?’
‘Exactly that.’
Japp said:
‘One patent leather shoe, complete with buckle. What’s wrong with that?’
Hercule Poirot said:
‘Nothing — absolutely nothing. But all the same — I do not understand.’
III
Mrs Merton of No. 82, King Leopold Mansions had been designated by the porter as Mrs Chapman’s closest friend in the Mansions.
It was, therefore, to No. 82 that Japp and Poirot betook themselves next.
Mrs Merton was a loquacious lady, with snapping black eyes, and an elaborate coiffure.
It needed no pressure to make her talk. She was only too ready to rise to a dramatic situation.
‘Sylvia Chapman — well, of course, I don’t know her really well — not intimately, so to speak. We had a few bridge evenings occasionally and we went to the pictures together, and of course shopping sometimes. But oh, do tell me — she isn’t dead, is she?’
Japp reassured her.
‘Well, I’m sure I’m thankful to hear it! But the postman just now was all agog about a body having been found in one of the flats — but then one really can’t believe half one hears, can one? I never do.’
Japp asked a further question.
‘No, I haven’t heard anything of Mrs Chapman — not since we had spoken about going to see the new Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire the following week, and she said nothing about going away then.’
Mrs Merton had never heard a Miss Sainsbury Seale mentioned. Mrs Chapman had never spoken of anyone of that name.
‘And yet, you know, the name is familiar to me, distinctly familiar. I seem to have seen it somewhere quite lately.’
Japp said drily:
‘It’s been in all the papers for some weeks —’
‘Of course — some missing person, wasn’t it? And you thought Mrs Chapman might have known her? No, I’m sure I’ve never heard Sylvia mention that name.’
‘Can you tell me anything about Mr Chapman, Mrs Merton?’
A rather curious expression came over Mrs Merton’s face. She said:
‘He was a commercial traveller, I believe, so Mrs Chapman told me. He travelled abroad for his firm — armaments, I believe. He went all over Europe.’
‘Did you ever meet him?’
‘No, never. He was at home so seldom, and when he was at home he and Mrs Chapman didn’t want to bother with outsiders. Very naturally.’
‘Do you know if Mrs Chapman had any near relations or friends?’
‘I don’t know about friends. I don’t think she had any near relations. She never spoke of any.’
‘Was she ever in India?’
‘Not that I know of.’
Mrs Merton paused, and then broke out:
‘But please tell me — why are you asking all these questions? I quite understand that you come from Scotland Yard and all that, but there must be some special reason?’
‘Well, Mrs Merton, you are bound to know some time. As a matter of fact, a dead body has been found in Mrs Chapman’s flat.’
‘Oh —?’ Mrs Merton looked for a moment like the dog whose eyes were as big as saucers.
‘A dead body! It wasn’t Mr Chapman, was it? Or perhaps some foreigner?’
Japp said:
‘It wasn’t a man at all — it was a woman.’
‘A woman.’ Mrs Merton seemed even more surprised.
Poirot said gently:
‘Why should you think it was a man?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. It seemed more likely somehow.’
‘But why? Was it because Mrs Chapman was in the habit of receiving gentleman visitors?’
‘Oh no — oh no indeed.’ Mrs Merton was indignant. ‘I never meant anything of that kind. Sylvia Chapman wasn’t in the least that kind of woman — not at all! It was just that, with Mr Chapman — I mean —’
She came to a stop.
Poirot said:
‘I think, Madame, that you know a little more