Murder Killing
27. Murder in Doncaster II
”I was not aware” said Mr. Downes tense.
”You are truly lucky, Sir,” Colonel Anderson said. ”Somehow, at the time the killer was trailing you, he was confused. He stabbed the other person in the back. I dare chew on my hat, Mr. Downes, if it turns out it wasn't you who was meant to be the victim of that stabbing!”
How strong Mr.'s heart is. Downes at the time of the incident, this time he could not survive anymore. Mr. Downes slammed into a chair, gasping, and his face turned blue.
”Air,” the word stinged. ”Air..”
A glass of water was given to him. He took a sip and his facial skin gradually returned to normal.
”I?” abugn. ”Why me?”
”It seems to be so,” Crome said. ”In fact, that's the only reasonable description.”
”You mean that person that demon guy that bloodthirsty madman has been trailing me to wait for an opportunity?”
”I think that's what happened.”
”But, for God's sake, why me?” the angry school teacher.
Inspector Crome was tempted to answer, ”Why not?’’ but instead he says, ”I guess there's no point hoping that a madman has a reason to do something.”
”God protect my soul,” murmured Mr. Downes, turn quiet.
He's risen. Suddenly he looked old and helpless.
”If you don't need me anymore, gentlemen, I think I want to go home. Me, I'm not feeling well.”
”Alright, Mr. Downes. I'll have a cop drop you off just to make sure that you're OK.”
”Oh, no, no, thank you. That's not necessary.”
”Do not until you later regret,” said Colonel Anderson spicy.
His eyes glanced to the side, as if throwing an unspoken question at the inspector. Inspector Crome gave an unspoken answer with a nod.
Mr. Downes staggered away.
”Don't till he collapses,” Colonel Anderson said. ”There will be two people hm?”
”Betul, Sir. Inspector Rice has arranged it. His house will be guarded.”
”According to you,” said Poirot, ”when ABC knows that he is mistaken, he will try it again?”
Anderson nodded.
”Maybe,” said. ”Rupanya ABC people who have a method. He would definitely be upset if the murder did not go according to his plan.”
Poirot nodded while contemplating.
”Ah, if only we could get a picture of this guy,” Colonel Anderson said riled up. ”We are still in the dark as before.”
”Maybe there will be another clue,” Poirot said.
”Do you think so?
It's probable. Goddamn, doesn't anyone have eyes on his head?”
”Patience,” says Poirot.
”You seem so sure, Mr. Poirot's. Is there a reason that makes you optimistic like this?”
”Yes, Colonel Anderson. To date, the killer has never made a mistake. But he will soon do it.”
”When it's just that the basis of your investigation” grunts it.
But someone interrupted his words, ”Mr. Ball from Black Swan is here with a young lady, sir. According to him he has a caption that might be able to help you.”
”Bring them here. Bring here. Anything that can help will we consider.”
Mr. Black Swan's ball is big, slow-thinking, and very slow. His breath smells of beer. With him was a fat young woman with round eyes and clearly very excited.
”I hope we don't interfere with wasting your precious time,” said Mr. Ball with a slow and hoarse voice.
”But this girl, Mary, feels there is something you should know.”
”Alright, Miss, what happened?” anderson. ”Who is your name?”
”Mary, Mr. Mary Stroud.”
Mary turned her round-eyed gaze towards her master.
”His work provides hot water in the bedrooms of the men who spend the night,” said Mr. Ball helps. ”About six men spend the night in our inn. Some of them come to see the horse races, others are just business dealings.”
”Ya, yes,” said Anderson impatiently.
”Continue, Miss,” said Mr. Ball. ”Tell me.
Don't be afraid.”
Mary stuttered, sighed, and began her story gasping for breath.
”I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. I intended to leave the place at the time the man said ’Log in,’ and since he didn't say anything else, I went in. She's inside, washing her hands.”
The girl was silent and took a deep breath. ”Forward, Miss,” Anderson said.
Mary looked at her master and as if drawing inspiration from her slow nod, she began to speak again.
”’This is your hot water, Sir,’” my word. ”’Tadi I tapped,’ but ’Oh,’ said, ’I've washed my hands with cold water,’ he said, automatically I look into the basin, and oh! For God's sake, God, the water is red!”
”Red?” said Anderson sharply. Ball interrupted.
”This girl told me, her coat was removed and she was holding the sleeve of the coat, everything was wet right?”
”Betul, Sir, right, Mr.”
He continued, ”And his face, Sir, looks strange, looks so strange. Makes me cringe.”
”When did this happen?” asked Anderson sharply.
”About five o'clock past fifteen minutes,
approximate time closest I think.”
”More than three hours ago,” damprat Anderson.
”Why don't you come soon?”
”I didn't hear the story straight away,” Ball said. ”Until the news broadcast that there has been another murder. Then this girl screamed because she thought it must be blood in the basin, and I asked her what she meant, and she told me. I felt something was wrong and I went upstairs. There was no one in that room. I asked a few questions and a male maid in the backyard said, she saw someone sneaking out through it, and with her explanation, I was sure she was the one. Then I told my wife, Mary should report to the police. She disagreed, Mary did not either, then I said that I would drop her off.”
Inspector Crome pulled a paper. ”Picture about the person,” said. ”As soon as possible. We must not waste time.” ”Moderate stature,” says Mary. ”And hunchback and wearing glasses.” ”Wear?”
”Dark color jeans and Hamburg hat. Looks kinda shabby.”
He can't add more.
Inspector Crome is not pressing. The phone calls were busy soon, but neither the inspector nor the Chief of Police were overly optimistic.
Crome obtained information that the person was not carrying a bag or suitcase at the time of being seen sneaking out of the yard.
”Maybe there's a hint there,” he said. Two men were sent to Black Swan.
Mr. Ball, very proud to feel himself important, and Mary, who was about to cry, delivered them.
The sergeant returned about ten minutes later.
”I brought his registration book, Sir,”. ”This is his signature.”
We swarm. The writing is small and complicated and not easy to read.
”AB Case or Cash?” said Police Chief. ”ABC,” says Crome confirms.
”How about the suitcase?” ask Anderson. ”One big suitcase, sir, full of cardboard boxes
small.”
”Box? What's it all about?” ”Stocking, Sir. Silk stocking.”
Crome looked at Poirot. ”Congratulations,” said. ”Your hunch is correct.”
