Murder Killing
6. Mr. Partridge and Mr. Albert Riddell
Inspector Glen looked rather moody. I think this afternoon he was busy putting together a complete list of people in sight
enter the tobacco shop.
”And no one saw anyone?” ask Poirot.
”Oh yes, there are also. They saw three tall men with suspicious mimic four short-bodied men with dark-colored whiskers two bearded three fat men all strangers and all of them spooky-faced, all of them grimy-looking, if I had to trust the eyewitnesses! I was surprised, there was no one who saw a group of masked men carrying a gun around this area!”
Poirot smiled sympathetically.
”Does anyone claim to have seen Ascher?” ”No. And it benefits him. I just told the Chief of Police that I think this is Scotland Yard's job. I'm not sure if
this is indeed a local criminal case.”
Grimly Poirot said, ”I agree with your opinion.”
Said the inspector, ”Do you, Monsieur Poirot, what a filthy act a dirty deed... I don't like it..”.
We did two more interviews before returning to London.
The first with Mr. James Partridge's. Mr. Partridge was the last person known to have seen Mrs. Ascher is alive. The man bought something from Mrs. Ascher at 17:30.
Mr. Partridge is small, still a bachelor, and works as an employee of a bank. He wears glasses with no handles, very stiff, and his face is thin. His words were firm, not long-winded. She lives in a neat and slender little house, just like her.
”Mr.eh Poirot,” he said, looking at the business card given by my best friend. ”From Inspector Glen? What can I help you with, Mr. Poirot?”
”I heard you were the last person to see Mrs. Ascher's alive, Mr. Partridge.”
Mr. Partridge clenched both fingertips and stared at Poirot like he was researching a piece of doubtful check.
”That's an uncertain thing, Mr. Poirot,”. ”There are many people who shop at Mrs store. Ascher after me.”
”When it is, no one reports it.”
Mr. Partridge cough.
”Many people have no sense of social responsibility, Mr.
Poirot.”
He looked at us through his glasses with wide eyes.
”Doubled once,” murmured Poirot. ”I heard you came to report to the police of your own volition?”
”Betul. As soon as I heard the shocking incident I thought my statement could help, and that's why I went to report.”
”Highly commendable action,” said Poirot wholeheartedly. ”Maybe you don't mind repeating your story to us.”
”By pleasure. I came home to this house exactly at half six in the afternoon.”
”Sorry, how do you know the time so precisely?”
Mr. Partridge seemed a bit upset that the conversation was cut.
”Channel church hours. I looked at my watch and it turned out that my watch was a minute late. That was just before I got into Mrs' shop. Ascher.”
”Do you usually shop there?”
”Again very often too. I stopped on my way home. Once or twice a week I used to buy two ounces of John Cotton lightweight.”
”Do you know Mrs. The ascher? Something about his circumstances or personal life?”
”No. Except regarding the items I bought and sometimes comments about the weather conditions, I never talked to him.”
”Do you know her husband is a drunk who often threatens her?”
”No, I don't know anything about him.” ”But you know him too, don't you? Does it look like it didn't feel like it used to last night?
Does he look confused or upset?”
Mr. Partridge thought for a moment.
”According to my observations, it seems mediocre,”.
”Thank you for your answer to those questions. Do you have an ABC at home? I'd like to see the train schedule to go home to London.”
”On your back shelf,” said Mr. Partridges. On the shelves mentioned are ABC, Bradshaw, Stock Exchange Year Book, Kelly’s Directory, and Who’s Who, as well as local floor plans.
Poirot took the ABC, pretended to look at the train schedule, then thanked Mr. Partridge while moving away.
Our next interview is with Mr. Albert Riddell had a very different personality. Mr. Albert Riddell was a railroad repair worker and our conversation was made amid the clinking sound of Mr.'s wife's plate and cutlery. Riddell who looked bully, the sound of barking his dog, and the very obvious hostile attitude of Mr. Riddell himself.
The man was big height and his attitude was stiff. Her face was wide, and her small eyes were staring suspiciously. He was enjoying meat pastels and sipping a cup of very thick tea. He looked at us angrily from behind the lips of his cup.
”I've said everything!” said furious. ”What the hell is his business with me? I told the bastard everything, and now I have to spit it out again to tell two strangers.”
Poirot glanced at me with a funny mimic, then he said, ”Actually I understand your feelings, but do you too? It's about murder, isn't it? People should be very very careful.”
”It's best to tell the man what he wants to know from you, Bert,” his wife said nervously.
”Close your mouth, motherfucker,” the giant shouted. ”I don't think you're reporting to the police of your own volition.” Poirot managed to slip his comments snugly.
”Why should I do it? That's none of my business.”
”Soal opinions only,” said Poirot indifferently. ”There has been a police killing wanting to know who has gone to that store. I think how to say it well it's appropriate when you go to report.”
”I'm busy working. Don't say that I should have reported it immediately even though I was busy” ”But in reality the police got your name as the person who went to Mrs store. Ascher, and they've checked you out. Are they satisfied with your report?”
”Why not?” tukas Bert ferang's. Poirot just shrugged his shoulders.
”What do you want, sir? No one's hostile to me. Everyone knows who killed the old woman, her husband's savage.”
”But he wasn't seen on that street yesterday, the opposite with you.”
”Are you accusing me? You're not gonna make it. What's the reason I do that? You think I'd steal a can of what firepower? Do you think I'm a cold-blooded killer like they call me? You think?”
He got up from his chair in a threatening manner. His wife yelled, ”Bert, Bert, don't say that. Bert, they'll count”
”Please yourself, Monsieur,” Poirot said. ”I just asked your reason for reporting. When in fact you refuse, in my opinion well, a little strange.”
”Who said I refused?” Mr. Riddell again immersed himself in his chair. ”I have no objection.”
”You get into the store at six in the afternoon?” ”Remain exactly in a minute or two. I'm gonna go get a packet of Gold Flake. I pushed the door open”
”Is the door closed?”
”Yes. I thought maybe the shop was closed. But it didn't. I'm in, there's no one there. I tapped on the display table and waited for a while. No one showed up, and then I went out again. Such is. It's up to you, believe it or not.”
”You don't see the woman's body lying behind the display table?”
”No, I don't like peeping unless I intend to look for it.”
”Is the train guidebook you are viewing?”
”Ya. So I guessed, maybe the old woman suddenly had to go on a train and forgot to lock her shop.”
”Maybe you took the book and shifted its location on the display table?”
”I didn't touch that bastard. I'm just doing what I told you earlier.”
”And you didn't see anyone else leave the store before you got there?”
”No. Why the hell are you urging me?” Poirot.
”Nobody urges you Bon soir, Monsieur.
Good night.”
He left the gawked man behind and I followed him.
On the road Poirot looks at his watch.
”If we're fast, man, maybe we can catch a train at 19:02. Let's hurry.”
