The Labors of Hercules - Agatha Christie [37]
Dr. Lutz said:
“Marrascaud? I read about the case in the paper. I should much like to meet that man. There is some deep abnormality there! I should like to know the particulars of his childhood.”
“For myself,” said Hercule Poirot. “I should like to know exactly where he is at this minute.”
Schwartz said:
“Isn’t he one of the three we locked in the cupboard?”
Poirot said in a dissatisfied voice:
“It is possible—yes, but me, I am not sure . . . I have an idea—”
He broke off, staring down at the carpet. It was of a light buff colour and there were marks on it of a deep rusty brown.
Hercule Poirot said:
“Footsteps—footsteps that have trodden, I think, in blood and they lead from the unused wing of the hotel. Come—we must be quick!”
They followed him, through a swing door and along a dim, dusty corridor. They turned the corner of it, still following the marks on the carpet until the tracks led them to a half-open doorway.
Poirot pushed the door open and entered.
He uttered a sharp, horrified exclamation.
The room was a bedroom. The bed had been slept in and there was a tray of food on the table.
In the middle of the floor lay the body of a man. He was of just over middle height and he had been attacked with savage and unbelievable ferocity. There were a dozen wounds on his arms and chest and his head and face had been battered almost to a pulp.
Schwartz gave a half-stifled exclamation and turned away looking as though he might be sick.
Dr. Lutz uttered a horrified exclamation in German.
Schwartz said faintly:
“Who is this guy? Does anyone know?”
“I fancy,” said Poirot, “that he was known here as Robert, a rather unskilful waiter. . . .”
Lutz had gone nearer, bending over the body. He pointed with a finger.
There was a paper pinned to the dead man’s breast. It had some words scrawled on it in ink.
Marrascaud will kill no more—nor will he rob his friends!
Schwartz ejaculated:
“Marrascaud? So this is Marrascaud! But what brought him up here to this out of the way spot? And why do you say his name is Robert?”
Poirot said:
“He was here masquerading as a waiter—and by all accounts he was a very bad waiter. So bad that no one was surprised when he was given the sack. He left—presumably to return to Andermatt. But nobody saw him go.”
Lutz said in his slow rumbling voice:
“So—and what do you think happened?”
Poirot replied:
“I think we have here the explanation of a certain worried expression on the hotel manager’s face. Marrascaud must have offered him a big bribe to allow him to remain hidden in the unused part of the hotel. . . .”
He added thoughtfully: “But the manager was not happy about it. Oh no, he was not happy at all.”
“And Marrascaud continued to live in this unused wing with no one but the manager knowing about it?”
“So it seems. It would be quite possible, you know.”
Dr. Lutz said:
“And why was he killed? And who killed him?”
Schwartz cried:
“That’s easy. He was to share out the money with his gang. He didn’t. He double-crossed them. He came here, to this out of the way place, to lie low for a while. He thought it was the last place in the world they’d ever think of. He was wrong. Somehow or other they got wise to it and followed him.” He touched the dead body with the tip of his shoe. “And they settled his account—like this.”
Hercule Poirot murmured:
“Yes, it was not quite the kind of rendezvous we thought.”
Dr. Lutz said irritably:
“These hows and whys may be very interesting, but I am concerned with our present position. Here we have a dead man. I have a sick man on my hands and a limited amount of medical supplies. And we are cut off from the world! For how long?”
Schwartz added:
“And we’ve got three murderers locked in a cupboard! It’s what I’d call kind of an interesting situation.”
Dr. Lutz said:
“What do we do?”
Poirot said:
“First, we get hold of the manager. He is not a criminal, that one, only a man who was greedy for money. He is a coward, too. He will do everything we tell him. My good friend Jacques, or his wife, will perhaps provide some cord. Our three miscreants