One, two, buckle my shoe - Agatha Christie [61]
‘Well, I must say, sir, it does take a load off my mind. You see, I’ve kept saying to myself as perhaps I ought to tell. And then, you see, I thought of getting mixed up with the police and what mother would say. She’s always been so particular about us all…’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Hercule Poirot hastily.
He had had, he felt, as much of Agnes’ mother as he could stand for one afternoon.
II
Poirot called at Scotland Yard and asked for Japp. When he was taken up to the Chief Inspector’s room: ‘I want to see Carter,’ said Hercule Poirot.
Japp shot him a quick, sideways glance.
He said:
‘What’s the big idea?’
‘You are unwilling?’
Japp shrugged his shoulders. He said:
‘Oh, I shan’t make objections. No good if I did. Who’s the Home Secretary’s little pet? You are. Who’s got half the Cabinet in his pocket? You have. Hushing up their scandals for them.’
Poirot’s mind flew for a moment to that case that he had named the Case of the Augean Stables. He murmured, not without complacence:
‘It was ingenious, yes? You must admit it. Well imagined, let us say.’
‘Nobody but you would ever have thought of such a thing! Sometimes, Poirot, I think you haven’t any scruples at all!’
Poirot’s face became suddenly grave. He said:
‘That is not true.’
‘Oh, all right, Poirot, I didn’t mean it. But you’re so pleased sometimes with your damned ingenuity. What do you want to see Carter for? To ask him whether he really murdered Morley?’
To Japp’s surprise, Poirot nodded his head emphatically.
‘Yes, my friend, that is exactly the reason.’
‘And I suppose you think he’ll tell you if he did?’
Japp laughed as he spoke. But Hercule Poirot remained grave. He said:
‘He might tell me — yes.’
Japp looked at him curiously. He said:
‘You know, I’ve known you a long time — twenty years? Something like that. But I still don’t always catch on to what you’re driving at. I know you’ve got a bee in your bonnet about young Frank Carter. For some reason or other, you don’t want him to be guilty —’
Hercule Poirot shook his head energetically.
‘No, no, there you are wrong. It is the other way about —’
‘I thought perhaps it was on account of that girl of his — the blonde piece. You’re a sentimental old buzzard in some ways —’
Poirot was immediately indignant.
‘It is not I who am sentimental! That is an English failing! It is in England that they weep over young sweethearts and dying mothers and devoted children. Me, I am logical. If Frank Carter is a killer, then I am certainly not sentimental enough to wish to unite him in marriage to a nice but commonplace girl who, if he is hanged, will forget him in a year or two and find someone else!’
‘Then why don’t you want to believe he is guilty?’
‘I do want to believe he is guilty.’
‘I suppose you mean that you’ve got hold of something which more or less conclusively proves him to be innocent? Why hold it up, then? You ought to play fair with us, Poirot.’
‘I am playing fair with you. Presently, very shortly, I will give you the name and address of a witness who will be invaluable to you for the prosecution. Her evidence ought to clinch the case against him.’
‘But then — Oh! You’ve got me all tangled up. Why are you so anxious to see him.’
‘To satisfy myself,’ said Hercule Poirot.
And he would say no more.
III
Frank Carter, haggard, white-faced, still feebly inclined to bluster, looked on his unexpected visitor with unconcealed disfavour. He said rudely:
‘So it’s you, you ruddy little foreigner? What do you want?’
‘I want to see you and talk to you.’
‘Well, you see me all right. But I won’t talk. Not without my lawyer. That’s right, isn’t it? You can’t go against that. I’ve got the right to have my solicitor present before I say a word.’
‘Certainly you have. You can send for him if you like — but I should prefer that you did not.’
‘I dare say. Think you’re going to trap me into making some damaging admissions, eh?’
‘We are quite alone, remember.’
‘That’s a bit unusual, isn’t it? Got your police pals