Taken at the Flood - Agatha Christie [54]
The coroner said graciously:
‘I have heard of you, M. Poirot,’ and Poirot made an unsuccessful attempt to look modest.
‘M. Poirot’s interested in the case,’ said Spence with a grin.
‘Truly, that is so,’ said Poirot. ‘I was in it, as you might say, before there was a case.’
And in answer to their interested glances he told of the queer little scene in the club when he had first heard a mention of Robert Underhay’s name.
‘That’s an additional point in Porter’s evidence when the case comes to trial,’ said the Chief Constable thoughtfully. ‘Underhay actually planned a pretended death — and spoke of using the name of Enoch Arden.’
The Chief Constable murmured: ‘Ah, but will that be admissible as evidence? Words spoken by a man who is now dead?’
‘It may not be admissible as evidence,’ said Poirot thoughtfully. ‘But it raises a very interesting and suggestive line of thought.’
‘What we want,’ said Spence, ‘is not suggestion, but a few concrete facts. Someone who actually saw David Hunter at the Stag or near it on Tuesday evening.’
‘It ought to be easy,’ said the Chief Constable, frowning.
‘If it was abroad in my country it would be easy enough,’ said Poirot. ‘There would be a little café where someone takes the evening coffee — but in provincial England!’ He threw up his hands.
The Superintendent nodded.
‘Some of the folks are in the pubs, and will stay in the pubs till closing time, and the rest of the population are inside their houses listening to the nine o’clock news. If you ever go along the main street here between eight-thirty and ten it’s completely deserted. Not a soul.’
‘He counted on that?’ suggested the Chief Constable.
‘Maybe,’ said Spence. His expression was not a happy one.
Presently the Chief Constable and the coroner departed. Spence and Poirot were left together.
‘You do not like the case, no?’ asked Poirot sympathetically.
‘That young man worries me,’ said Spence. ‘He’s the kind that you never know where you are with them. When they’re most innocent of a business, they act as though they were guilty. And when they’re guilty — why, you’d take your oath they were angels of light!’
‘You think he is guilty?’ asked Poirot.
‘Don’t you?’ Spence countered.
Poirot spread out his hands.
‘I should be interested to know,’ he said, ‘just exactly how much you have against him?’
‘You don’t mean legally? You mean in the way of probability?’
Poirot nodded.
‘There’s the lighter,’ said Spence.
‘Where did you find it?’
‘Under the body.’
‘Fingerprints on it?’
‘None.’
‘Ah,’ said Poirot.
‘Yes,’ said Spence. ‘I don’t like that too much myself. Then the dead man’s watch has stopped at 9.10. That fits in with the medical evidence quite nicely — and with Rowley Cloade’s evidence that Underhay was expecting his client at any minute — presumably that client was almost due.’
Poirot nodded.
‘Yes — it is all very neat.’
‘And the thing you can’t get away from, to my mind, M. Poirot, is that he’s the only person (he and his sister, that is to say) who has the ghost or shadow of a motive. Either David Hunter killed Underhay — or else Underhay was killed by some outsider who followed him here for some reason that we know nothing about — and that seems wildly improbable.’
‘Oh, I agree, I agree.’
‘You see, there’s no one in Warmsley Vale who could possibly have a motive — unless by a coincidence someone is living here (other than the Hunters) who had a connection with Underhay in the past. I never rule out coincidence, but there hasn’t been a hint or suggestion of anything of the kind. The man was a stranger to every one but that brother and sister.’
Poirot nodded.
‘To the Cloade family Robert Underhay would be the apple of their eye to be kept alive by every possible precaution. Robert Underhay, alive and kicking, means the certainty of a large fortune divided amongst them.’
‘Again, mon ami, I agree with you enthusiastically. Robert Underhay, alive and kicking, is what the Cloade family