Poirot's Early Cases - Agatha Christie [120]
Poirot interrupted her. ‘You said one day that you knew all about tradesmen.’
‘Certainly I do,’ said Miss Lemon with confidence.
‘Then the matter is simple. You are to go to Charman’s Green and you are to discover a fish-monger.’
‘A fishmonger?’ asked Miss Lemon, surprised.
‘Precisely. The fishmonger who supplied Rosebank with fish. When you have found him you will ask him a certain question.’
He handed her a slip of paper. Miss Lemon took it, noted its contents without interest, then nodded and slipped the lid on her typewriter.
‘We will go to Charman’s Green together,’ said Poirot. ‘You go to the fishmonger and I to the police station. It will take us but half an hour from Baker Street.’
On arrival at his destination, he was greeted by the surprised Inspector Sims. ‘Well, this is quick work, M. Poirot. I was talking to you on the phone only an hour ago.’
‘I have a request to make to you; that you allow me to see this girl Katrina—what is her name?’
‘Katrina Rieger. Well, I don’t suppose there’s any objection to that.’
The girl Katrina looked even more sallow and sullen than ever.
Poirot spoke to her very gently. ‘Mademoiselle, I want you to believe that I am not your enemy. I want you to tell me the truth.’
Her eyes snapped defiantly. ‘I have told the truth. To everyone I have told the truth! If the old lady was poisoned, it was not I who poisoned her. It is all a mistake. You wish to prevent me having the money.’ Her voice was rasping. She looked, he thought, like a miserable little cornered rat.
‘Did no one handle it but you?’
‘I have said so, have I not? They were made up at the chemist’s that afternoon. I brought them back with me in my bag—that was just before supper. I opened the box and gave Miss Barrowby one with a glass of water.’
‘No one touched them but you?’
‘No.’ A cornered rat—with courage!
‘And Miss Barrowby had for supper only what we have been told. The soup, the fish pie, the tart?’
‘Yes.’ A hopeless ‘yes’—dark, smouldering eyes that saw no light anywhere.
Poirot patted her shoulder. ‘Be of good courage, mademoiselle. There may yet be freedom—yes, and money—a life of ease.’
She looked at him suspiciously.
As she went out Sims said to him, ‘I didn’t quite get what you said through the telephone—something about the girl having a friend.’
‘She has one. Me!’ said Hercule Poirot, and had left the police station before the inspector could pull his wits together.
IV
At the Green Cat tearooms, Miss Lemon did not keep her employer waiting. She went straight to the point.
‘The man’s name is Rudge, in the High Street, and you were quite right. A dozen and a half exactly. I’ve made a note of what he said.’ She handed it to him.
‘Arrr.’ It was a deep, rich sound like a purr of a cat.
V
Hercule Poirot betook himself to Rosebank. As he stood in the front garden, the sun setting behind him, Mary Delafontaine came out to him.
‘M. Poirot?’ Her voice sounded surprised. ‘You have come back?’
‘Yes, I have come back.’ He paused and then said, ‘When I first came here, madame, the children’s nursery rhyme came into my head:
‘Mistress Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With cockle-shells, and silver bells,
And pretty maids all in a row.
‘Only they are not cockle shells, are they, madame? They are oyster shells.’ His hand pointed.
He heard her catch her breath and then stay very still. Her eyes asked a question.
He nodded. ‘Mais, oui, I know! The maid left the dinner ready—she will swear and Katrina will swear that that is all you had. Only you and your husband know that you brought back a dozen and a half oysters—a little treat pour la bonne tante. So easy to put the strychnine in an oyster. It is swallowed—comme ça! But there remain the shells—they must not go in the bucket. The maid would see them. And so you thought of making an edging of them to a bed. But there were not enough—the edging is not complete. The effect is bad—it spoils the symmetry of the otherwise charming garden. Those few oyster shells struck an alien note—they displeased