The Monogram Murders: The New Hercule Poirot Mystery. Sophie Hannah

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СКАЧАТЬ I did, sir. I did indeed. There’s something else, too. Once we’d agreed the matter of the bill, Mr Negus asked me to fetch him a sherry. I was the person that did that. I offered to take it up to his room, but he said he was happy to wait. I brought it to him, and then up he went with it, in the lift.’

      Poirot sat forward in his chair. ‘Yet you said nothing when I asked if anyone in the room had given Richard Negus a glass of sherry?’

      Brignell looked confused and frustrated—as if the right answer was on the tip of his tongue, but still, somehow, eluded him. ‘I ought to have done, sir. I ought to have offered a full account of the incident as soon as you asked. I deeply regret that I failed in my duty to you and to the three deceased guests, God rest their souls. I can only hope that by coming to you now I’ve made a small amends.’

      ‘Indeed, indeed. But, monsieur, I am curious about why you did not speak up in the dining room. When I asked, “Who here took Richard Negus a glass of sherry?”, what was it that caused you to remain silent?’

      The poor clerk had started to tremble. ‘I swear on my dear late mother’s grave, Mr Poirot, I’ve now told you every particular of my encounter with Mr Negus yesterday evening. Every last particular. You couldn’t have a more complete knowledge of what transpired—of that you may rest assured.’

      Poirot opened his mouth to ask another question, but I leapt in before him and said, ‘Thank you very much, Mr Brignell. Please don’t worry about not having told us sooner. I understand how hard it is to stand up and speak in front of a crowd. I don’t much like it myself.’

      Once dismissed, Brignell hurried to the door like a fox fleeing from hounds.

      ‘I believe him,’ I said when he had gone. ‘He’s told us everything he knows.’

      ‘About his meeting with Richard Negus beside the hotel lift, yes. The detail he conceals relates to himself. Why did he not speak up in the dining room about the sherry? I asked him that question twice, and still he did not answer. Instead, he elaborated upon his remorse, which was sincere. He would not lie, but he cannot bring himself to speak the truth. Ah, how he withholds! It is a form of lying—a very effective one, for there is no spoken lie to be contested.’

      Poirot chuckled suddenly. ‘And, you, Catchpool, you seek to protect him from Hercule Poirot, who would press him again and again, eh, for the information?’

      ‘He looked as if he had reached his limit. And, frankly, if he is keeping quiet about anything, it’s something that he thinks is of no consequence to us and yet it’s a cause of great embarrassment to him. He’s a fretful, conscientious sort. His sense of duty would oblige him to tell us if he thought it mattered.’

      ‘And because you sent him away, I did not have the chance to explain to him that the information he withholds might be vital.’ Having raised his voice, Poirot glared at me, to make sure I noted his annoyance. ‘Even I, Hercule Poirot, do not yet know what matters and what is irrelevant. This is why I must know everything.’ He stood up. ‘And now, I will return to Pleasant’s,’ he said abruptly. ‘The coffee there is far better than Signor Lazzari’s.’

      ‘But Richard Negus’s brother Henry is on his way,’ I protested. ‘I thought you would want to speak to him.’

      ‘I need a change of scenery, Catchpool. I must revitalize my little grey cells. They will begin to stagnate if I do not take them elsewhere.’

      ‘Poppycock! You’re hoping to bump into Jennie, or hear news of her,’ I said. ‘Poirot, I do think you’re on a desperate goose chase with this Jennie business. You know it too, or else you would admit you’re going to Pleasant’s in the hope of finding her.’

      ‘Maybe so. But if there is a goose killer at large, what else is one to do? Bring Mr Henry Negus to Pleasant’s. I will talk to him there.’

      ‘What? He’s coming all the way from Devon. He’s not going to want to arrive and then leave at once for—’

      ‘But does he want the dead goose?’ Poirot demanded. ‘Ask him that!’

      I resolved to ask Henry Negus no such thing, for fear he might turn on his heel and go straight back whence he came, having decided that Scotland Yard had been taken over by madmen.

       CHAPTER 7

       Two Keys

      Poirot arrived at the coffee house to find it very busy and smelling of a mixture of smoke and something sweet like pancake syrup. ‘I need a table, but they are all taken,’ he complained to Fee Spring, who had only just arrived herself and was standing by the wooden coat stand with her coat draped over her arm. When she pulled off her hat, her flyaway hair crackled and hung in the air for a few seconds before succumbing to gravity. The effect was rather comical, thought Poirot.

      ‘Your need’s in trouble, then, isn’t it?’ she said cheerfully. ‘I can’t shoo paying patrons out on to the street, not even for a famous detective.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Mr and Mrs Ossessil will be on their way before too long. You can sit where they’re sat.’

      ‘Mr and Mrs Ossessil? That is an unusual name.’

      Fee laughed at him, then whispered again. ‘“Oh, Cecil”—that’s what she says all day long, the wife. The husband, poor soul, he can’t get as much as two words out of his mouth without her setting him straight. He says he’d like scrambled eggs and toast? Right away she pipes up, “Oh, Cecil, not eggs and toast!” And don’t think he has to speak to set her off! He sits down at the first table he comes to and she says, “Oh, Cecil, not this table!” ’Course, he ought to say he wants what he don’t want, and don’t want what he wants. That’s what I’d do. I keep waiting for him to tumble to it but he’s a useless old lump, truth be told. Brain like a mouldy cabbage. I expect that’s what started her Oh-Cecil-ing.’

      ‘If he does not leave soon I shall say “Oh, Cecil” to him myself,’ said Poirot, whose legs were already aching from a combination of standing and the thwarted desire to be seated.

      ‘They’ll be gone before your coffee’s ready,’ Fee said. ‘She’s finished her meal, see. She’ll Oh-Cecil him out of here in no time. What you doing here lunchtime anyway? Wait, I know what you’re up to! Looking for Jennie, aren’t you? I heard you were in first thing this morning too.’

      ‘How did you hear it?’ Poirot asked. ‘You have only just arrived, n’est-ce pas?’

      ‘I’m never far away,’ said Fee enigmatically. ‘No one’s seen hide nor hair of Jennie, but d’you know, Mr Poirot, I’ve got her stuck in my mind same as she’s stuck in yours.’

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