Murder Killing
20. Lady Clarke II's
What I said!
Franklin is a fool!
I don't want to see him hanging out with that girl. Franklin is still childish!
It has no sense!
’I will give him a severance three months salary, if you want,’ I said. ’But he has to go. I don't want to see him in this house in a day.’ That's lucky the sick man won't be able to argue with you. Franklin followed what I said and the girl left the house. Go like a martyr, I guess with a sweet and stoic attitude!”
”Don't be too emotional, Mistress. Not good for you.”
Lady Clarke made a gesture with her hand for Sister Capstick to leave.
”You are as stupid as the girl and the others.”
”Oh! Lady Clarke, don't say that. I think Miss Grey is a nice girl whose face is very romantic, like a novel character.”
”I can't be patient with all of you,” said Lady Clarke weakly.
”She's gone now, Madam. Already Go.”
Lady Clarke shook her head, weak and impatient,
but he did not answer.
Poirot said, ”Why do you say Miss Grey is a liar?”
”Because he is a liar. He told you no stranger came to the house, did he?”
”Ya.”
”Alright, then. I saw it with my own eyes through this window talking to a completely foreign person on the front door step.”
”When?”
”Morning on the day Car died about eleven.”
”How does the man look like?”
”Overbody is normal. Nothing special.”
”A gentleman or a trader?”
”Not a trader. He looks shabby. I don't remember anymore.”
All of a sudden on his face was a tremor of pain.
”Sorry please you go now I'm a bit tired. Sister”
We followed the signal and left immediately.
”Excellent news,” I said to Poirot, on the way back to London. ”About Miss Grey and the stranger.”
”Deed isn't it, Hastings? As I told you: there's always something to come to light.”
”Why did the girl lie and say she saw no one?”
”I can give you seven different reasons one of which is very simple.”
”You insulted me, huh?” I said.
”Maybe, an invitation to use your wits. But we don't have to bother. The easiest way to answer that question is to ask him.”
”And supposing he lied to us.”
”It will definitely be interesting to signify that something indecent happened.”
”It feels too much to suspect a girl like her would conspire with a crazy man.”
”That's exactly why I didn't expect that.”
I'm looking at it for a while more.
”A pretty girl gets into trouble because of her beauty,” I said finally, sighing.
”Du tout throw all. Remove such thoughts from your mind.”
”But it is, right?” i'm insistent.
”Everyone is hostile to her just because she is beautiful.”
”Betises bullshit, Dude.
Who's fighting him in Combeside?
Sir Carmichael?
Franklin's?
Sister Capstick?”
”That must be Lady Clarke hating her.”
”Mon ami, you are so generous towards beautiful young girls. I feel sorry for the sick old lady. Maybe Lady Clarke was the one who opened her eyes and her husband, Mr. Franklin Clarke, and Sister Capstick are blind bats and Captain Hastings...
”Be aware, Hastings, that in ordinary events, the three different dramas will never touch one another. All three will take place
without affecting others. I've never stopped being interested in the changes and combinations of life, Hastings.”
”This is Paddington,” that's just the answer I gave you.
I feel it's time for someone to prove that the person who feels important is really nothing.
Arriving at Whitehaven Mansions we were told that there was a man waiting for Poirot.
My guess is Franklin, or Japp, but I wonder if Donald Fraser is the one.
He looked extremely embarrassed and his awkwardness revealed something more and more obvious.
Poirot did not urge him to immediately express the intention of his arrival, but instead offered him a sandwich and a glass of wine. Before the dish appeared Poirot monopolized the conversation, and explained where we were from, expressing his mother's taste towards the sick woman.
”You're from Bexhill, Mr. Fraser?” ”Ya.”
”Successful with Milly Higley?”
”Milly Higley? Milly Higley?” Fraser repeated the name in confusion. ”Oh, the girl! No, I haven't done anything there. Hm”
She's quiet. His hands were squeezed nervously.
”I don't know why I met you,” he said.
”I understand,” Poirot said.
”You don't understand. How can you understand?”
”You met me because there is something you have to tell someone. You're correct. I'm the one you need to meet.
Speak!”
Poirot's convincing attitude brought results. Fraser looked at her with a strange demeanor, but there was a sense of relief to comply.
”You think so?”
”Parbleau is right, I am sure of it.” ”Mr. Poirot, do you know about dreams?”
Turns out he's brought up something I didn't expect at all.
But Poirot did not seem surprised at all. ”I know,” answered. ”You dreamed?”
”Yes. Surely you will say it is only natural if I dream about that event. But this is no ordinary dream.”
”Not?”
”Have been three days in a row I had the same dream, Sir... I think I can go crazy..”.
”Tell me”
The man's face was pale. His eyes widened.
He actually looks crazy.
”Always the same. I was at the beach. Find Betty. It's missing—only missing. You understand, don't you? My
must find. I have to give her a belt. I brought. Then”
”Ya?”
”The dream changed... I no longer seek. He was there, in front of me sitting on the beach. He didn't see me coming oh, I can't ”
”Forward.”
Poirot's voice was resolutely authoritative.
”I approached him from behind... He did not hear me. I draped the belt to his neck and pulled it oh pulled it..”.
The agony in his voice was terrible.I held my arm... As if it were a real event.
”She suffocated... She died.. I had strangled her then her head drooped back and I saw her face... And it turned out that Megan wasn't Betty!”.
The man leaned back, pale and trembling. Poirot poured another glass of wine and gave it to her.
”What it all means, Mr. Poirot's?
Why did the dream bother me? Every night..?”
”Drink your wine,” insist Poirot.
The young man drank, then he asked in a calmer voice, ”What does that mean? I , I didn't kill him, did I?”
I didn't know what Poirot was answering, because at that moment I heard a postman knock and I automatically left the room.
What I took out of the postbox eliminated the taste
I want to know what Donald Fraser's incredible heart is.
I rushed back to the sitting room.
”Poirot,” I shouted. ”Have come. The fourth letter.”
He got up, took it away from me, took out a paper knife and opened it. He put it on the table.
The three of us read it together.
^^^ Still not working? ^^^
^^^Decolve! How humiliating! ^^^
^^^What do you and the police do? ^^^
^^Well, yeah, isn't this fun? ^^^
^^^And where else should we go looking for prey?^^^
^^^Mr. Poor poirot is. I'm really sorry for you.^^^
^^^If you don't succeed at first, try, try, try again.^^^
^^^The path we took is still long. ^^^
^^^Tipperary? ^^^
^^^Not yet, still too far away.^^^
^^^ Letter T.^^^
The next minor incident will take place in Doncaster, on September 11.^^^
^^^See bye,^^^
^^^ABC^^^
