Murder Killing
13. Sir Carmichael Clarke
Between Brixham on one side and Paignton and Torquay on the other, Churston lies roughly in the middle of the Torbay bend. About ten years ago this place was still a golf course and under the field there were verdant fields leading to the sea, with one or two farmhouses inhabited by residents. But in recent years there has been rapid progress in development between Churston and Paignton and along the coast it is now full of small houses, bungalows, new streets, and so on.
Sir Carmichael Clarke bought a land area of about two acres with a view to the sea that is completely unobstructed from the place. The house he bought in a modern style is rectangular, white and eye-pleasing. In addition to the two large galleries in which the collection is stored, his own house is not spacious.
We got there at 08:00. A police officer
the local met us at the station and made us au courant not to miss the news of his condition.
Apparently Sir Carmichael Clarke had a habit of walking around after dinner every day. By the time the police called at approximately 23:00 they had been assured that Sir Carmichael Clarke had not returned. Since he had always been down the same path, the search party did not take long to find his body. His death was caused by a violent blow with something heavy behind his head. An exposed ABC was laid face down on the victim's body.
We arrived at Combeside (the name for the house) at about eight o'clock. The door was opened by an old servant. His trembling hands and confused looking face showed how the tragedy had affected him.
”Good morning, Deveril,” said the local police officer.
”Good morning, Mr. Wells.”
”This gentlemen are from London, Deveril.” ”Please, Mr.” He took us to a
the dining room is long, the breakfast place is open. ”I'll call Mr. Franklin, Mr.”
Moments later a large man with blond hair and a sunburned face entered the room.
This is Franklin Clarke, the victim's only brother.
His attitude was steady and convincing, as if accustomed to facing an emergency.
”Good morning, Gentlemen.”
Inspector Wells opened the introduction.
”This is Inspector Crome of C.I.D., Mr. Hercule Poirot, and hm Captain Hayter.”
”Hastings,” I corrected with a cold attitude.
Franklin Clarke shook hands with us one by one and each time followed with her sharp gaze.
”I want to take you all to breakfast with me,”. ”We can talk about the situation while eating.”
There were no voices expressing objections and we were immediately faced with a selection of delicious eggs, smoked pork and coffee dishes.
”Now about the subject,” said Franklin Clarke. ”Inspector Wells has given a rough idea of the overnight situation. Well, it feels like one of the worst stories I've ever heard. Inspector Crome, is it true that my poor brother has been the victim of a cold-blooded killer, that this is the third murder he has committed and that in every case, he has been killed, ABC train guide laid on the side of victim's body?”
”At any rate, that's the situation, Mr. Clarke.” ”But why? What advantage is gained from such a crime even with abnormal imagination?”
Poirot nodded in agreement.
”You are directly on the subject, Mr. Franklin,” said.
”At this stage not much is known about his motives, Mr. Clarke,” said Inspector Crome. ”That's a question that must be handled by a mental scientist even though I actually have experience with criminal cases whose perpetrators have mental disorders, and usually the motive is very inadequate. There is an urge to stand out, to make a stir in public even, want to get recognition for fear of being meaningless.”
”That's true, Mr. Poirot?”
Clarke seemed to doubt that. His approach to the older man was not very acceptable to the surly Inspector Crome.
”Though once,” replied my friend.
”However, such a person will smell his crime in no time,” Clarke said in thought.
”Vous croyez are you sure? Ah, but they are very slippery ces gens la! Yeah, they are. And you have to remember, such a person usually does not show any visible signs of meaning from the outside he belongs to the person from the class who is usually underestimated, ignored, or even laughed at!”
”Can you tell me some facts, Mr.
Clarke?” crome said, disconnecting the conversation. ”Sure.”
”I heard your brother is in good health and his condition was fine yesterday? He didn't receive any unexpected papers? Nothing pisses him off?”
”No. It feels like he is in his usual state.”
”Not upset or anyone worried?”
”Sorry, Inspector. I didn't say that. Upset and worried it has become a common thing for my brother.”
”Why is that?”
”Maybe you don't know that my sister-in-law, Lady Clarke, is in very poor health. Frankly, this is just me pointing it at you. He had an incurable cancer, and it would not last long. His illness tormented my brother's mind. I myself just returned from the East not too long ago and was also shocked to see the change in my brother that.”
Poirot interjected with one question. ”If only, Mr. Clarke, your brother was found
getting shot at the foot of a cliff, or getting shot with a revolver found beside it, what did you first think of?”
”To be frank, I would definitely suspect that he committed suicide,” Clarke said.
”Encore! That is,” said Poirot. ”What do you mean?”
”Returned facts. It's okay.”
”Nevertheless, it's not suicide,” cut Crome ketus. ”Then, as far as I know, Mr. Clarke, has it become your brother's habit to take a walk every night?”
”True. That's his habit.” ”Every night?”
”Well, but certainly not if it rains.”
”And everyone in this house knows about this habit?”
”Of course.” ”And outside?”
”I don't quite understand by your intentions outside. I'm not sure if the gardener knows it or not.”
”And in the village?”
”Actually here there is no village. There is a post office and some lodging in Churston Ferrers, but no villages or shops.”
”I think strangers wandering around this place will be easy to spot?”
”Thereverse. In August the area is crowded with tourists. Every day they come from Brixham and Torquay and Paignton by car, bus or on foot. Broadsands, located down there (he points out), is a popular beach, as is Elbury Cove, a famous scenic area and people come there for recreation. I'd rather they didn't go there! You do not know yet how beautiful and quiet this place is in June and early July.”
”So you think a newcomer will not be quickly recognized?”
”No, unless he looks hm, tilts his brain.”
”This guy doesn't look crazy,” Crome said for sure.
”You know what I mean, Mr. Clarke's. This person must have studied the situation before and knew about your brother's habit of walking around at night. I think yesterday no stranger came to the house and wanted to see Sir Carmichael?”
”Snow I don't, but we'd better ask Deveril.”
He rang the bell and asked the servant.
”No, Sir, no one came to meet with Mr. Carmichael's. And I also don't see people pacing around the house. Maid-maids also do not, I have questioned them.”
The waiter waited for a while, then asked, ”It's enough, Mister?”
”Yes, Deveril, you can go.”
The servant left, at the door he left and let a young woman pass. Franklin Clarke got up when the woman came.
”What can I help you with?” ask after he sits down.
Clarke held out a cup of coffee for him, but the girl refused to eat.
”Do you handle Sir Carmichael's correspondence?” ask Crome.
”Yes, everything.”
”I don't think he ever received a letter signed by ABC?”
”ABC?” She shook her head. ”No. I'm sure not.”
”Didn't he mention someone who's wild around this place when he's been walking around lately?”
”No. He never said anything about it.”
”And you yourself do not see strangers?”
”Although there is, it cannot be said to roam. Of course there are many people who can be said to be mandir in these months. We often meet those who are on aimless walks, crossing golf courses or on trails leading to the sea. In short, it can be said that everyone we meet this season is a stranger. ”
Poirot nodded while contemplating.
Inspector Crome asked to be shown the place where Sir Carmichael would go for a walk every night. Franklin Clarke drove us through a glass-lined door, and Miss Grey accompanied us.
He and I were a bit behind the others. ”Hard to believe. I got into bed last night, when the police called. I heard a noise below and finally I went out and asked what was going on. Deveril and Mr. Clarke's leaving with a lantern.”
”What time does Sir Carmichael usually return from the streets?”
”About ten o'clock less a quarter. Usually he enters by himself through a side door, but sometimes he goes straight up to the bed, or to the gallery where his collection is stored. Therefore, if the police did not call, surely no one would know that he did not return before they called him this morning.”
”The wife must be in shock?”
”Lady Clarke was given high doses of morphine. I guess in such circumstances he doesn't understand what's really going on.”
We went out through the garden door, into the golf course. After crossing one corner of the field, we jumped over a wooden fence, and got to a steep, winding path.
”This road goes to Elbury Cove,” Franklin Clarke explains. ”But two years ago they made a new road deviating from the main road to Broadsands, directly to Elbury, so practically now this line is rarely passed by people.”
We kept walking down that path. At the end was a rat path among the thorny bushes and ferns that led to the sea. Suddenly we came to the open, on a cliff overgrown with grass and facing the sea and
the beach is decorated with sparkling white stones. All around us the dark green trees grew to the edge of the sea. A charming place of white, dark green and sapphire blue.
”What a beauty!” myrag.
Clarke looked at me excitedly. ”Beautiful, isn't it? Why people want to
abroad, to the Riviera, if we have a place like this! I have traveled all over the world in the past and, frankly, I have never seen a place as beautiful as this.”
Then, as if ashamed of his overzealous attitude, he spoke in a more flat tone.
”This is my brother's walking place. He always walks up to here, then back to the road but does not turn left but to the right, past the farm and pasture, then back home.”
We continued walking until we arrived at a place near the fence alive in the middle of the meadow where the victim's body was found.
Crome nodded.
”Enough easy. The man is standing here sheltered in the shadows. Your brother must have seen nothing until the blow hit him.”
The girl beside me shuddered.
Franklin Clarke said, ”Hold yourself, hora. It is barbaric, but there is no point in avoiding reality.”
hora Grey is a name that suits him. We returned to the house where the victim's body had been transported, after having made a photo of him.
As we climbed up the wide staircase, the doctor came out of a room with a black bag in hand.
”There you can inform, Doctor?” ask Clarke.
The doctor nodded.
”The case is very simple. I'll keep the technical stuff for inspection. But he did not suffer. Death apparently happened instantly.”
He's moving away.
”I'll go in and see Lady Clarke.”
A hospital nurse came out of the room at the end of the hallway and the doctor followed her.
We went into the room the doctor had just left.
I immediately came out again. Hora Grey was still standing at the end of the stairs.
His facial expression was a bit strange and frightened. ”Miss Grey” I stop, ”what happened?” She's staring.
”I'm thinking,” hej” about the letter D.”
”Followers D?” I look at him stupid.
”Yes. Next murder. Something has to be done. This crime must be stopped.”
Clarke came out of the room behind me. Said, ”What to stop, hora?” ”That ruthless killer.”
”Betul.” Clarke's jaw was stiff and defiant. ”I want to talk to Mr. Poirot... Is Crome good enough?” He said those words unexpectedly.
I replied that he was recognized as a shrewd officer.
Perhaps my voice sounded not as enthusiastic as it should have been.
”The attitude is very rude,” Clarke said. ”It looks like he knows everything but what exactly does he know? As far as I know, there is no.”
He was silent for a moment. Then he said again, ”I am willing to spend any money for Mr. Poirot's. I have a plan. But we'd better talk about it later.”
He walked in the hallway and knocked on the same door the doctor had entered.
I hesitated for a moment. The girl looked straight ahead like a bewitch.
”What do you think, Miss Grey?” He looked at me.
”I keep wondering, where is he now. Not to mention the twelve hours since it happened... Oho! Is there not a clairvoyant who is really good at seeing where he is now and what he is doing.?”.
”Police is looking for”.
My words broke the reverie. Hora Grey returned to the real world.
”Ya,” she said. ”Of course.”
Miss Grey down the stairs. I stood there a little longer, pondering his words in my mind.
ABC...
Where is he now...?
