Murder in the Mews

‘H’m,’ said Japp. ‘That’s true. Well, we’ll have to get hold of this “military gentleman with the toothbrush moustache.” It’s pretty clear that he was the last person to see her alive. I wonder who he was?’

‘Miss Plenderleith might tell us,’ suggested Poirot.

‘She might,’ said Japp gloomily. ‘On the other hand she might not. I’ve no doubt she could tell us a good deal if she liked. What about you, Poirot, old boy? You were alone with her for a bit. Didn’t you trot out that Father Confessor manner of yours that sometimes makes such a hit?’

Poirot spread out his hands.

‘Alas, we talked only of gas fires.’

‘Gas fires—gas fires.’ Japp sounded disgusted. ‘What’s the matter with you, old cock? Ever since you’ve been here the only things you’ve taken an interest in are quill pens and waste-paper baskets. Oh, yes, I saw you having a quiet look into the one downstairs. Anything in it?’

Poirot sighed.

‘A catalogue of bulbs and an old magazine.’

‘What’s the idea, anyway? If anyone wants to throw away an incriminating document or whatever it is you have in mind they’re not likely just to pitch it into a waste-paper basket.’

‘That is very true what you say there. Only something quite unimportant would be thrown away like that.’

Poirot spoke meekly. Nevertheless Japp looked at him suspiciously.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘I know what I’m going to do next. What about you?’

‘Eh bien,’ said Poirot. ‘I shall complete my search for the unimportant. There is still the dustbin.’

He skipped nimbly out of the room. Japp looked after him with an air of disgust.

‘Potty,’ he said. ‘Absolutely potty.’

Inspector Jameson preserved a respectful silence. His face said with British superiority: ‘Foreigners!’

Aloud he said:

‘So that’s Mr Hercule Poirot! I’ve heard of him.’

‘Old friend of mine,’ explained Japp. ‘Not half as balmy as he looks, mind you. All the same he’s getting on now.’

‘Gone a bit gaga as they say, sir,’ suggested Inspector Jameson. ‘Ah well, age will tell.’

‘All the same,’ said Japp, ‘I wish I knew what he was up to.’

He walked over to the writing-table and stared uneasily at an emerald green quill pen.

CHAPTER 5 (#ulink_56617f33-348a-53e1-b131-d2250e85713b)

Japp was just engaging his third chauffeur’s wife in conversation when Poirot, walking noiselessly as a cat, suddenly appeared at his elbow.

‘Whew, you made me jump,’ said Japp. ‘Got anything?’

‘Not what I was looking for.’

Japp turned back to Mrs James Hogg.

‘And you say you’ve seen this gentleman before?’

‘Oh, yes sir. And my husband too. We knew him at once.’

‘Now look here, Mrs Hogg, you’re a shrewd woman, I can see. I’ve no doubt that you know all about everyone in the mews. And you’re a woman of judgment—unusually good judgment, I can tell that—’ Unblushingly he repeated this remark for the third time. Mrs Hogg bridled slightly and assumed an expression of superhuman intelligence. ‘Give me a line on those two young women—Mrs Allen and Miss Plenderleith. What were they like? Gay? Lots of parties? That sort of thing?’

‘Oh, no sir, nothing of the kind. They went out a good bit—Mrs Allen especially—but they’re class, if you know what I mean. Not like some as I could name down the other end. I’m sure the way that Mrs Stevens goes on—if she is a Mrs at all which I doubt—well I shouldn’t like to tell you what goes on there—I—’

‘Quite so,’ said Japp, dexterously stopping the flow. ‘Now that’s very important what you’ve told me. Mrs Allen and Miss Plenderleith were well liked, then?’

‘Oh yes, sir, very nice ladies, both of them—especially Mrs Allen. Always spoke a nice word to the children, she did. Lost her own little girl, I believe, poor dear. Ah well, I’ve buried three myself. And what I say is—’

‘Yes, yes, very sad. And Miss Plenderleith?’

‘Well, of course she was a nice lady too, but much more abrupt if you know what I mean. Just go by with a nod, she would, and not stop to pass the time of day. But I’ve nothing against her—nothing at all.’

‘She and Mrs Allen got on well together?’

‘Oh, yes sir. No quarrelling—nothing like that. Very happy and contented they were—I’m sure Mrs Pierce will bear me out.’

‘Yes, we’ve talked to her. Do you know Mrs Allen’s fiancé by sight?’

‘The gentleman she’s going to marry? Oh, yes. He’s been here quite a bit off and on. Member of Parliament, they do say.’

‘It wasn’t he who came last night?’

‘No, sir, it was not.’ Mrs Hogg drew herself up. A note of excitement disguised beneath intense primness came into her voice. ‘And if you ask me, sir, what you are thinking is all wrong. Mrs Allen wasn’t that kind of lady, I’m sure. It’s true there was no one in the house, but I do not believe anything of the kind—I said so to Hogg only this morning. “No, Hogg,” I said, “Mrs Allen was a lady—a real lady—so don’t go suggesting things”—knowing what a man’s mind is, if you’ll excuse my mentioning it. Always coarse in their ideas.’

Passing this insult by, Japp proceeded:

‘You saw him arrive and you saw him leave—that’s so, isn’t it?’

‘That’s so, sir.’

‘And you didn’t hear anything else? Any sounds of a quarrel?’

‘No, sir, nor likely to. Not, that is to say, that such things couldn’t be heard—because the contrary to that is well known—and down the other end the way Mrs Stevens goes for that poor frightened maid of hers is common talk—and one and all we’ve advised her not to stand it, but there, the wages is good—temper of the devil she may have but pays for it—thirty shillings a week …’

Japp said quickly:

‘But you didn’t hear anything of the kind at No. 14?’

‘No, sir. Nor likely to with fireworks popping off here, there and everywhere and my Eddie with his eyebrows singed off as near as nothing.’

‘This man left at ten-twenty—that’s right, is it?’