Murder Killing
3. Mrs. Aschers
In andover, we were met by Inspector Glen, a man with high posture, blonde hair, and a pleasant smile.
For short, I'd better give you a summary of the actual events.
The crime was first discovered by a policeman named Dover at 01:00 p.m., the 22nd. While patrolling, he tried to open the store door and found it unlocked. He entered and at first thought the place was empty. But after shining his battery lamp behind the display table, he saw the old woman's body. By the time police doctors arrived at the scene, it was known that the woman had been hit with a heavy blow at the back of the head, possibly at the time she picked up a pack of cigarettes from a shelf behind a desk
display. It is thought that the death occurred about seven or nine hours earlier.
”But we managed to narrow that estimate down to a little more clearly, the inspector's” explains. ”We found a man who came to buy tobacco at 17:30. And there was another second man who came in and saw the store was empty, as he expected, at 18:05. So, between 17:30 and 18:05. Until now I have not found anyone who saw her husband Ascher around this place, but, of course, it is still morning. He was in the hree Crowns at nine o'clock in the evening, already kind of mostly drinking. When we find him, he will be detained as a suspect.”
”Not the kind of pleasant person, Inspector?” ask Poirot.
”Personalities that are less pleasant.” ”He doesn't live with his wife?”
”No, they were separated a few years ago. Ascher is German. He used to work as a restaurant waitress, but he became fond of drinking and eventually became unemployed. His wife worked for a long time. Lastly as a cook and housekeeper to an old woman named Miss Rose. She let her husband take most of her salary, but the man was always drunk and came to work to make trouble. That's why his wife worked for Miss Rose in he Grange, about five kilometers away from Andover, in a remote village. Her husband was not so easy to find her there. At the time of Miss
Rose died, the woman left a little inheritance money for Mrs. Aschers. With that money Mrs. Ascher started a business selling tobacco and became a newspaper agent a small place only cheap cigarettes, a little newspaper, and goods sales like that. Enough for his daily needs. Ascher sometimes came to bother him and usually the woman gave him a little money to let Ascher go. Usually he gives fifteen shillings for an allowance for a week.”
”Do they have children?” ask Poirot. ”No. There's a nephew. This girl works
near Overton. A mature and independent girl.”
”And said you Mr. This Ascher likes to threaten his wife?”
”True. If he was drunk, he was afraid to curse and swear, that he would hammer his wife's head. Mrs. Ascher life is hard.”
”How old is that woman?”
”Nearly sixty women are well and love to work hard.”
Poirot said sadly, ”Inspector, do you have any suspicion that Mr. Ascherlah did?”
The inspector nodded with caution. ”It's too early to say it, Mr. Poirot, but I'd like to hear Franz Ascher's own account of what he did last night. Hopefully the evidence is satisfactory. When not”
He then shut up.
”Nothing is missing from the store?”
”Nothing. The money in the drawer is not disturbed.
No sign of robbery.”
”According to you, did Mr. Drunk Ascher comes to the store, annoys his wife and then hits her?”
”That's the closest possibility. However I must admit, Sir, I would like to see the canned letter you received once again. I'm afraid the letter was sent by Ascher.”
Poirot gave the letter and the inspector frowned upon reading it.
”It doesn't feel like it's from Ascher,” he said in the end. ”I'm not sure Ascher can use the English police term ’kita’ definitely does, except if he's trying to look sneaky and I'm not sure if he's smart enough for that. This guy's been ruined completely. His trembling hands could not write letters this clear. The paper and ink types are good too. Surprisingly, this letter mentions the 21st of this month. Of course maybe this is just a coincidence.”
”Maybe yes.”
”But I don't like this kind of coincidence, Mr. Poirot's. A little too precise.”
He was silent for a minute or two the wrinkles on his forehead appeared.
”ABC. Who the hell is ABC? Let's see if Mary Drower (nephew of Ascher) can help
we're. How quaint. But I'll bet Franz Ascher is the author of this letter.”
”Is there anything you know about Mrs' past. Ascher?”
”He is from Hampshire. It's been working since she was a girl in London. It was there that he met Ascher and married her. They must have had a hard time during the war. She left her husband in 1922, meaning forever. At that time they lived in London. Then she came back here to avoid her husband, but it turned out that the man smelled the traces of his residence, followed her here, and extorted his money” A policeman came. ”What's up, Briggs?”
”Good. Bring him here. Where was he?” ”Hidden in a truck, by the roadside of a train
api.”
”Oh yes, bring him here.”
It turns out Franz Ascher's condition is very sad and ”kacau”. He kept crying and screaming in succession. His gloomy eyes looked on agitatedly, towards the faces surrounding him.
”What do you want from me? I didn't do anything. How embarrassing you guys dragged me here!” His attitude suddenly changed. ”No, no, that's not what I mean you won't hurt poor old people like me, won't be rude. Everyone is cruel to poor old Franz. Poor franz.”
Mr. Ascher began to cry.
”Enough, Ascher,” said the inspector. ”You should be able to hold back. I haven't sued you anything. And you don't have to make a statement if you don't want to. Conversely, if you're not caught up in your wife's murder”
Ascher cut his words his voice grew shrill.
”I didn't kill him! I didn't kill him! All lies! All of you fucking British pigs are all hostile to me. I didn't kill him no.”
”You threatened too much, Ascher.”
”No, no. You guys don't understand. It was just a joke between me and Alice. He understands.”
”What a funny joke you are! Will you tell me where you were last night, Ascher?”
”Yes, yes I will tell you everything. I didn't see Alice. I'm with friends, close friends. We were at Seven Stars, then we went to Red Dog”
He quickly continued, his words disorganized.
”Dick Willows he's with me and old Curdle and George and Platt, and more. I really didn't see Alice. Ach Gott, I really don't lie.”
His voice turned into a scream. The inspector nodded at his subordinates.
”Bring him away. Arrested as suspect.”
”I can't think anymore,” he said after the trembling old man and his chaotic speech were taken away. ”If there is no canned letter, of course I am sure he is the culprit.”
”What about the people he calls?” ”A group of jerks their words don't
it can never be trusted. I'm sure he was with them all night. Now live who saw it around the store between half six to six o'clock in the afternoon.”
Poirot shook his head while thinking hard.
”You sure no objects were taken from the store?” The inspector shrugged his shoulders. ”But not necessarily. Maybe one or two packs of cigarettes have been stolen but there's no way people kill just for that.” ”And there's nothing how to say, yes there's nothing to hint in
that shop. Is there anything strange suspicious?” ”There is a guidebook of trains,” said the ispector. ”Train guide?”
”Betul. In an open state and located face down on the display table. Presumably someone is looking for a train schedule that departs from Andover. Maybe the old woman, or it could be a buyer.”
”Does he sell such an item?” The inspector nodded.
”He sells kinds of cheap goods. But these expensive items are the kind of items that are only sold in Smith Stores or major bookstores.”
Poirot's eyes shone. He's approaching forward.
”Train guide, you said earlier. Bradshaw or an ABC?”
The inspector's eyes were now also glowing.
”Ya Lord,” said. ”That guide is indeed ABC.”
