Murder Killing
4. Mary Drower
I guess I got more and more interested in this case when the ABC train guide book was called the first. I was not so enthusiastic before. The barbaric murder of an elderly woman in a suburban store is similar to the criminal cases often reported in newspapers. Therefore it does not attract the attention of people. Personally, I consider a canned letter that mentions the 21st is just a coincidence. It will be Mrs. Ascher, I'm sure she's the victim of her drunk husband's abomination. Now, however, with the existence of a railway guidebook (so popular as ABC, with an alphabetically arranged list of train stations) my curiosity peaked. I'm sure this can't be the second coincidence.
The dirty crime is now viewed from a new angle.
Who is the mysterious person who killed Mrs. Ascher and the one who accidentally left the train guidebook?
On leaving the police headquarters, our next destination was the morgue, to look at the woman's body. A strange feeling enveloped me as I saw a wrinkled old face with hair neatly styled back and a little gray at the temple. That face was so peaceful, so far from violence.
”It is unknown who or what has hit him,” the sergeant said. ”That's what Doctor Kerr said. I am relieved by it. Hm. poor woman. She's a fine woman.”
”His cup used to be her pretty face,” said Poirot. ”Oh yes?” I doubt his words.
”Of course, pay attention to the lines of his jaw, his bones, the shape of his head.”
Poirot sighed while returning the blanket, and we left the morgue. After that we did a short interview with the police doctor.
Dr. Kerr is a middle-aged man who appears to be an expert in his field. He spoke quickly and convincingly.
”No weapons found,” he said. ”It is impossible to determine the type of tool used. Heavy stick, punching device, sandbag one of it can be used in this case.”
”Does it take hard energy to crash it?”
The doctor looked at Poirot sharply.
”I think you mean, can a shaky seventy-year-old man do it? Of course, maybe with enough effort on the end of the batting tool, even a rather weak person will manage to do it.”
”Then, the killer can also be a woman?”
The idea left the doctor somewhat aghast.
”Women? Well, it never occurred in my mind to connect women with this kind of crime. But of course it's possible, maybe once. Only, psychologically it feels like this is not the kind of crime committed by a woman.”
Poirot nodded in his agreement. ”That's right, exactly. In the past, very not
in all probability. But people have to take into account all possibilities. His body lay how is his position?”
The doctor gave a detailed description of the victim's position. According to him, the woman was standing on her back to the display table (and thus her back to her attacker), at the time the bat was swung. He falls down behind a display table, hidden from view of the person who coincidentally walked into the store.
After we thanked dr. Kerr and leaving, Poirot said, ”See, Hastings, we have one more proof that Ascher was not involved. When he disturbed his wife
and threaten him, Mrs. Ascher will face her husband across the display table. Instead, he turned his back on his attacker it was clear that he was picking up tobacco or cigarettes for a buyer!”
I shuddered a little. ”What a terrible.”
Poirot shook his head grimly.
”Pauvre femme poor woman,” murmured. Then Poirot looked at his watch. ”I don't think Overton is far from here. How
if we go there to have a little interview with the victim's nephew?”
”Do you not want to go first to the store where the incident took place?”
”Would be better later. I have a special reason.”
He did not continue his explanation, and a few minutes later we had raced through the streets of London towards Overton.
The address the inspector gave was a large house, about one and a half kilometers across, in a village on the outskirts of London.
The ringing bell was answered by a black haired sweet girl, whose scarlet eyes were crying.
Poirot said softly, ”I think you are Miss Mary Drower, the room maid in this house?”
”Betul, Sir. I'm Mary.”
”Then, maybe I can have a few minutes of conversation with you, if your employer does not object. It's about your aunt, Mrs. Ascher.”
”My employer does not exist, Sir. But I'm sure, even if there is, the Madam will not mind.”
The girl opened the door of the tiny sitting room. We entered, and Poirot, having sat down on the chair beside the window, looked at Mary Drower's face sharply.
”You've heard the news about your aunt's death, right?”
The girl nodded, once more her tears dripped.
”Tadi mornin, Mister. The police are here. Oho! How horrible! Poor auntie! His life was always difficult. And now it's terrible.”
”Police does not ask you back to Andover?” ”They said I should come to check on Monday, Sir. But I have no place to stay there. I can't stay in that store right now and since the housekeeper here is away, I don't want to make things more difficult
Mistress..”
”Do you love your aunt, Mary?” said Poirot gently.
never let Aunt calm down. The Old Man who always asks and whines.”
The girl spoke in flames.
”Aunt you never had any thoughts of legally divorcing after such a difficult time?”
”Well, you know, Sir, she's her husband, can't just leave.”
The words are simple, but they are said convincingly.
”Tell me, Mary, she threatened your aunt, didn't she?”
”Oh yes, sir, his words are terrible. Bah-wa she's gonna slit her throat, and stuff. Cursing and swearing are also in German and English. Even so, Bibi said he was a handsome man when Bibi married him. What a horror, Sir, when thinking of people can be so changed.”
”Indeed. Then, Mary, I don't think you're so surprised to know what happened, after hearing those threats?”
”Oh, but I'm shocked too, sir. You know, sir, for a second I never thought that man would actually carry out his threat. I thought it was just a vile remark, with no intention whatsoever. And it seems that Auntie is not afraid of him. Because, I once saw him sneak away like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs, when Aunt was angry with him. He who is afraid of Aunty, it seems.”
”But your aunt keeps giving her money?” ”Well, she's her husband, Mr.”
”Ya, as you said earlier.” Poirot stopped for a while. Then he said, ”For example, despite seeing what has happened, he did not kill your aunt.”
”No kill him?” The girl stumbled.
”True. For example, someone else killed him...
About, do you know who it is?”
The girl looked at Poirot with an astonished look.
”I don't know, Sir. But it doesn't feel like it, does it?”
”No one scares your aunt?”
Mary shook her head.
”Aibi is not afraid of anyone. His tongue is sharp and he dares to fight anyone.”
”Never have you heard your aunt mention a person who took a grudge on her.”
”No, Mr.”
”Have he received a canned letter?” ”What letter, Mister?”
”Letter without signature or just signed by ABC or such.” Poirot looked at her sharply, but clearly the girl was confused. He shook his head full of questions.
”Do your aunts have other relatives besides you?”
”Now no, Sir. He was ten brothers, but only three were long-lived. Uncle Tom was killed in the war, Uncle Harry went to South America and has not been heard from since. And Mom, of course, is dead, I live alone.”
”Is your aunt's savings? Money set aside?”
”Aunti has a little savings in the bank, Sir enough for his funeral expenses, that's what he always said. Besides, he only had enough for everyday purposes with his old demon, that is.”
Poirot nodded while thinking. He said, maybe more to himself than to the girl, ”It's still dark right now there's no clue. When the question becomes clearer,” it rises, ”when I need you at any time, Mary, I will send a letter here.”
”To be frank, Sir, I'd better tell you my plans. I don't like this area. I live here because I think Auntie would be happy if I was nearby. But now,” again his tears flow, ”no use I stay, so I will go home to London. There life is brighter for a girl.”
”I hope when you leave, you are willing to give me your address. This is my business card.”
Poirot held it out to her. The girl read it with question marks.
”So you have nothing to do with the police, Mister?”
”I private detective.”
The girl stood still, looking at him for a moment while being silent.
Finally he said, ”Is there anything odd, Mister?”
”True, Son. Something strange happened.
Maybe later you can help me.”
”I, I will do anything, Sir. That's it's unnatural isn't it, sir, killed my aunt.”
How to express it is strange but very moving.
A few seconds later we had slid back to Andover.
