Murder Killing
22. Not from a Personal Story
Mr. Alexander Bonaparte Cust sat in silence. The morning meal was already cold on his plate untouched. A newspaper covered the tea pot and Mr. Cust was reading it very passionately and attentively.
Suddenly he got up, stepped to and fro for some time, then immersed himself in a chair by the window. He buried his head in his hand and whimpered.
He did not hear the door open. Owner of the lodge, Mrs. Marbury, stand at the entrance.
”I thought, Mr. Cust, if you want why, what happened? You're not feeling well?”
Mr. Cust pulled his head out of his hands. ”It's okay. It's okay, Mrs. Marbury. I didn't feel well this morning.”
Mrs. Marbury looked at the breakfast tray.
”I know. You don't touch breakfast.
Does your head feel annoying again?” ”No. Actually, yes, I am, I am just a little.
feeling sick.”
”Pity, what pity. You're not going, are you?”
Mr. Cust jumped suddenly.
”Wah, gee, I have to go. Got business. Significant.
Very important.”
Hands shaking. Seeing him so confused, Mrs. Marbury tried to calm him down.
”Well, if you have to go ya have to. Go far this time?”
”No. I will go to...” he hesitates for a moment ”Cheltenham.”
There was something strange in his hesitation saying those words, so Mrs. Marbury looked at him in wonder.
”Cheltenham beautiful place,” said Mrs. Marbury fluent. ”I've been there through Bristol. Stores are good.”
”Ya right.”
Mrs. Marbury bowed awkwardly as it did not fit her posture and picked up the crumpled newspaper lying on the floor.
”Nothing but the murder business alone that the newspaper reported lately,” he said while reading the news tree and put it back on the table. ”Makes me absolutely horrified. I didn't read it. Like the case of Jack the Ripper that repeated again.”
Mr. lips. Cust twitched, but no sound came out.
”Doncaster the place he planned for his next murder,” said Mrs. Marbury. ”Tomorrow! Makes us really cringe, huh? As long as I lived in Doncaster and my name started with the letter D, I would have already left by train. I don't want to take any chances. If only you how, Mr. Cust?”
”Nothing I do, Mrs. Marbury no.”
”With horse racing taking place and as-its. Of course he thinks he'll have a chance there. Said they were gonna send in hundreds of cops and hey, why Mr. The cust? You seem to be pale right. You better take your medicine. As good as it is today you do not have to travel.”
Mr. Cust stand up straight.
”It's important, Mrs. Marbury. I always keep my promises. People should—have to be able to trust us! When I start something, I always finish it. That's the only way to be able to get results in— in business.”
”But when you are sick?”
”I'm not sick, Mrs. Marbury. Just a little worried about some personal issues. I can't sleep well, but I'm really healthy.”
His attitude was so firm that Mrs. Marbury soon
gather the breakfast utensils, then reluctantly leave the room.
Mr. Cust dragged out a suitcase from under the bed and began to improve. Nightwear, sponge bag, detachable collar, leather sandals. Then he opened the closet and moved a dozen flat cardboard boxes about ten by seven inches from a drawer into the suitcase.
He just glanced at the train guide on the table, then left the room, his hand carrying a suitcase.
He put the suitcase in the front room, then put on his hat and coat while sighing deeply, so that the girl who came out of a room in his sam-ping looked at him attentively.
”What's up, Mr. Cust?” ”Nothing, Miss Lily.” ”Your design is!”
Mr. Cust said roughly, ”Are you an expert at reading omens, Miss Lily? Physiognomist?”
”Wah, I was not aware that I was, really... Of course, there are days you feel like nothing is right, and days where everything is sorted out.”
”Betul,” said Mr. Custs. He sighed again.
”Well, goodbye, Miss Lily. See you around.
Here you are all always good to me.”
”Wah, do not say goodbye so, as if you will go far and not come back again,” Lily laughed.
”No, no, certainly not.”
”Until Friday,” said the girl with a laugh. ”Where will you go this time? The beach again?”
”Wah, nice place too. But not as good as Torquay, which is definitely a beautiful area. I want to go on holiday next year. By the way, you must have been very close to where the ABC murder was. It happened while you were there, right?”
”Hm yes. But Churston is located six or seven miles from that spot.”
”However, definitely stressful, yes! Maybe you've even run into that killer on the street! Maybe you are close to him!”
”Maybe,” said Mr. Cust with a smile that suddenly turned ghastly in Lily Marbury's gaze.
”Oh, Mr. Cust, you don't look well.” ”I'm fine, it's okay. See you around, then,
Miss Marbury.”
He lifted his hat, picked up the suitcase, and was a bit caught out of the front door.
”Weird parents,” said the kind-hearted Lily Marbury. ”I think it's a little crazy.”
Inspector Crome said to his men, ”Look me a list of all stocking manufacturers
and send them a circular. I need a list of all the agents they understand my point? People who earn commissions from sales and who look for buyers through the shout of mouth.”
”For ABC case, Sir?”
”Betul. One of Mr. Hercule Poirot -” The inspector's tone of voice scoffed. ”Possibility means nothing, but we must not ignore every opportunity, even if it is still vague though.”
”Good, Sir. Mr. Poirot did succeed in some cases in his prime. But I think now he's a moron, sir.”
”Si Drug Lender,” said Inspector Crome, ”always pose. Affects people. But not a little bit affected me. Now about preparations for Doncaster..”
Tom Hartigan said to Lily Marbury, ”I saw the retiree this morning.” ”Who? Mr. Cust?”
”Name Cust? By Euston. As usual he looks like a chicken lost its mother. I think that guy's a little crazy. He needs someone to take care of him. First the paper fell, then the ticket. I picked it up not the slightest bit felt by him losing those things. She thanked me in a daze, but I guess she didn't recognize me.”
”Yah,” says Lily. ”She only sees you going hot in the hallway of the house, and not so often.”
They've been floating around the room. ”You are good at dancing,” says Tom.
”Come again,” whispered Lily while further tightening her body.
They're chilling around again.
”You were Euston or Paddington?” ask Lily suddenly. ”I mean, where did you see old Cust?”
”Euston.” ”You sure?”
”Of course. What do you mean?”
”Funny. I think if you want to go to Cheltenham must be from Paddington.”
”Oh, so? But old Cust didn't go to Cheltenham. He went to Doncaster.”
”Cheltenham.”
”Doncaster. I know, Honey! I picked up the ticket.”
”Ah, he said to me that he was going to Cheltenham.
I'm sure.”
”Oh, you must have heard wrong. He went to Doncaster, for sure. There are lucky people. I once won a bet over Firely at a Leger race, and I loved the show.”
”Feel Mr. Cust didn't go watch that horse race. He's not a guy who likes to watch horse races. Oh, Tom, I hope he wasn't killed. The ABC killer will be on Doncaster.”
”Cust will be safe. His name does not start with the letter D.”
”He could have been killed that time. He was close
Churston, in Torquay, at the time of the last murder.”
”Oh, yes? It's a coincidence, isn't it?” Tom laughs.
”I hope he wasn't in Bexhill before. ” Lily furrowed her eye brows.
”He also left... Yeah, I remember she left because she forgot to bring her bathrobe. Mom fixed the stitches. And Mother said, ’Wah Mr. Cust yesterday left without his bathrobe.’ Then I said, ’Ah, it's okay, just a worn-out bathrobe there's a heinous murder going on,’ I said, ’a girl strangled in Bexhill.’”
”Well, if she needs her bathrobe, I think she'll definitely go to the waterfront, Lily.” His face was strangely wrinkled. ”Could the old pensioner be the killer?”
”Mr. That poor cust? Even hit a fly he doesn't want.” Lily laughs.
They chained happily in their conscious minds there was only happiness because it could be both-and-a-dua.
In the subconscious mind they touch something...
