Murder Killing
21. A Portrait of a Killer
I think that's when what Poirot calls the basic human element starts blurring back. Unable to withstand the horrors of the mind, we turn our attention to the trivial things that interest normal humans.
We all felt it was impossible to do anything before the fourth letter came and revealed the situation designed for D's murder. Those moments of waiting have removed the tension.
But now, after seeing the words written in the printed letter mock from the stiff white paper, the hunt began once again.
Inspector Crome of Scotland Yard came and while he was still around, Franklin Clarke and Megan Barnard showed up.
The girl explained that she also came from Bexhill.
”I want to ask Mr. Clarke.” He looked a bit agitated and felt the need to
give a reason and explain his arrival with Clarke. I recorded it in memory without assuming it was important.
The letter certainly filled my mind more than anything else.
I don't think Crome was so happy to see so many people involved in the drama. He then acted very officially and took some distance.
”I'll take him, Mr. Poirot's. When you want to make his photocopy”
”No, no, I don't think need.”
”What is your plan, Inspector?” ask Clarke.
”Many, Mr. Clarke.”
”This time we have to catch him,” Clarke said. ”I'd better tell you, Inspector, that we have formed a group among ourselves to deal with this matter. A ’forces’ consisting of parties who feel interested in this matter.”
Inspector Crome said very politely, ”Oh, yes?”
”I don't think you trust amateurs that much, Inspector?”
”You don't have the facilities that I do not have, Mr. Clarke?”
”We have personal reasons for moving it's our capital.”
”Oh, yes?”
”I don't think your own task will be so easy, Inspector. In fact I tend to think that the veteran ABC has beaten you again.”
I noticed that Crome could also be cornered and forced to speak, if other means failed.
”I think the public will not throw much criticism on the way we work this time,” he said. ”This moron has given enough time. The 11th, Wednesday, is still next week. There is still enough time for a publicity campaign through the press. All residents of Doncaster will be warned. Everyone whose name starts with the letter D will be careful for their own good. After all, we will send a large number of police to the city. It has been prepared with the consent of all police chiefs in the UK. All Doncaster, both police and civilians will prepare to arrest one person and if we are lucky, we will be able to arrest him!”
Clarke said slowly, ”It's easy to guess that you're not a sports junkie, Inspector.”
Crome stared.
”What do you mean, Mr. Clarke?”
”Sports fans know. Didn't you realize that on Wednesday the St horse race. Leger was held in Doncaster?”
The inspector's jaw went limp. Really dead, he can't say the expression ”Oh, yes?” like habits. Instead he said, ”Indeed. And make the problem so complicated..”.
”ABC is not stupid, although maybe he is
crazy.”
We were all silent for a moment, studying the situation. The crowds in the British public racecourses are full of passion and love of sport a never-ending hassle.
Poirot murmuring, ”C’est ingenieu. Tout de mee c’est bien imagine, really smart. And should have been imaginable.”
”I'm sure,” Clarke said, ”that the killing will take place at the racetrack likely at the time of Leger.”
A moment of his instinct about sports inserted a sense of pleasure in his mind...
Inspector Crome got up, carrying the letter.
”Events St. Leger it makes the problem so complicated,”. ”What a shit.”
He's moving away. We heard voices muttering in the hallway. A moment later Hora Grey came in.
Outside the rain, Hora Grey wears a black suit, dress, and a fur scarf. A tiny black hat was stuck on top of her pretty head.
It was to Franklin Clarke that he spoke and he immediately approached the man. One hand held Franklin's arm, waiting for an answer.
”Doncaster—dan on the day of St. Leger.”
We were involved in a discussion. Without saying anything we know that everyone wants to attend, but the horse race must complicate the plans that we had originally arranged. Feelings of despair enveloped me. What can be done
by this group of six people, however strong their personal reasons for this matter are? There will be countless policemen, with sharp and watchful eyes, watching every suspected corner. What can six pairs of eyes do?
As if answering my thoughts, Poirot opened his voice. His style of speech is like a school teacher or a pastor, ”Mesenfants,”. ”Kids, we must not lose spirit. We have to deal with this problem with a directed method and way of mind. We have to look inside instead of out to find the truth. We have to ask ourselves what do we know about the killer? So we have to compile a picture of the man we're going to look for it.”
”We don't know anything about her,” sighs hora Grey in despair.
”No, no, Mademoiselle. That's not true. Each one of us knows something about himself if only we knew what we knew. I'm sure there must be something we know if only we could dig it.”
Clarke shook her head, ”We don't know anything whether she's old or young, white or black! None of us has ever seen or spoken to him! We've exposed everything we know over and over again.”
”Not everything! For example, Miss Grey told us that she did not see or talk to strangers on the day Sir Carmichael was killed.”
hora Grey nodded.
”That's right.”
”Really? Lady Clarke told us, Mademoiselle, that from her window she saw you standing on the front door steps talking to a man.”
”She saw me talking to a foreign man?” The girl was really surprised. Of course, his clear and pure eyes were none other than the earnestness of his heart.
She shook her head.
”Lady Clarke must have been wrong. I've never been Oh!”
The call came suddenly. His cheeks are red.
”I remember now! You moron! I forget. But it's not really important. Only a traveling salesman sells long socks huh, war veteran. They are very persistent. I have to throw him away. I was in the room when he came to the door. He spoke to me without ringing the bell first, but apparently he was harmless. Maybe that's why I forgot about it.”
Poirot pacing back and forth, his hand holding his head. He muttered to himself excitedly, so that no one said anything but just looked at his behavior.
”Long socks,” murmur. ”Long socks.. stocking... vient what this means... stocking... That's the motive, three months ago. Bon Dieu yes, God, I know!”
He sat up straight and looked straight at me with haughty eyes.
”You remember, Hastings? Andovers. That shop. We go upstairs. His bedroom. On chair. A pair of silk stockings that are new. Now I know what caught my attention two days ago. You, Mademoiselle” He turned to Megan. ”You recounted that your mother cried because she had bought some new stockings on the day of the murder..”.
He looked around at us.
”You understand? The same motif, repeated three times. This must not be a coincidence. At the time Mademoiselle told me, I felt that what she said had something to do with something. I know now what the relationship is with. The words spoken by Mrs' close neighbor. Ascher named Mrs. Fowlers. Regarding people who always try to offer goods and he calls stocking. Tell me, Mademoiselle, isn't it true that your mother didn't buy that stocking in the store, but from a traveling peddler?”
”Ya yes right... I remember now. He said he was sorry for those war veterans who had to go around looking for buyers.”
”However, what's the connection?” exclaim Franklin. ”People who come to sell stocking don't prove anything!”
”Look, Guys, this can't be a coincidence. Three murders from every time someone sells stocking as well as spying on his area.”
He turned to hora.
”A vous la parole try telling me! Explain about the person.”
The girl looked at Poirot with a blank look.
”I can't... I don't know how... He has glasses, I think.. and wears a shabby coat ”Mieu que yes, Mademoiselle try again more
earnestly.”
”She hunchback. I didn't pay much attention to him. He is not an interesting person to notice.”.
Poirot said grimly, ”You were right, Mademoiselle. The whole secret of this murder lies in your explanation of the killer because there is no doubt that he is the murderer! He is not an interesting person to watch.’ No one really doubted that... You have successfully described how the killer is!”
