The Monogram Murders(66)

Jennie began to cry, swaying slightly on her feet. Poirot rose and helped her to a chair. He said, “Sit, mademoiselle. It is my turn to stand, and to tell you how I know beyond doubt that nothing you have ever said to me has been the truth.”

“Steady on, Poirot,” I cautioned him. Jennie looked as if she might faint.

Poirot seemed unconcerned. “The murders of Harriet Sippel, Ida Gransbury and Richard Negus were announced in a note,” he said. “ ‘MAY THEY NEVER REST IN PEACE. 121. 238. 317.’ Now, I wonder to myself: a killer who walks in a state of brazen calm to a hotel’s front desk and places a note there advertising three murders—is this the sort of person who would then panic, run from the hotel panting, and drop two room keys in front of a witness? Are we to believe that the killer Nancy Ducane’s panic commenced only after she had left the note on the desk? Why would it start only then? And if Nancy Ducane was making her exit from the Bloxham at shortly after eight o’clock, how could she also be dining with her friend Lady Louisa Wallace at that very same moment?”

“Poirot, don’t you think you ought to go easy on her?”

“I do not. I ask you, Mademoiselle Jennie: why should Nancy Ducane leave a note at all? Why did the three dead bodies need to be found shortly after eight o’clock that evening? The hotel maids would have found them in due course. What was the hurry? And if Madame Ducane was calm and composed enough to approach the desk and leave the note without arousing suspicion, that must mean she was able to think sensibly about what needed to be done. Why, then, did she not also put the two room keys safely in her deep coat pocket at that point, before she left the hotel? Foolishly, she keeps them in her hand and then drops them in front of Mr. Kidd. He is able to see that they have numbers on them: ‘one hundred and something’ and ‘three hundred and something.’ He also, by fortunate coincidence, happens to recognize the face of this mysterious woman, and after a short pretense of being unable to recall her name, he is most conveniently able to tell us the name of Nancy Ducane. Does all of this sound plausible to you, Miss Hobbs? It does not sound at all plausible to Hercule Poirot—not when he finds you here, in Mr. Kidd’s home, and he knows that Nancy Ducane has an alibi!”

Jennie was weeping into her sleeve.

Poirot turned to me. “Samuel Kidd’s testimony was a lie from start to finish, Catchpool. He and Jennie Hobbs conspired to frame Nancy Ducane for the murders of Harriet Sippel, Ida Gransbury and Richard Negus.”

“You don’t know how wrong you are!” Jennie cried.

“I know that you are a liar, mademoiselle. I have suspected all along that my encounter with you at Pleasant’s was connected to the Bloxham Hotel murders. The two happenings—if we can classify three murders as one happening—had two very important and most unusual features in common.”

That made me sit up straight. I had been waiting to hear these points of likeness for too long.

Poirot went on: “One, a psychological similarity: in both cases there is the suggestion that the victims are guiltier than the murderer. The note left on the desk at the Bloxham—‘MAY THEY NEVER REST IN PEACE’—suggests that Harriet Sippel, Ida Gransbury and Richard Negus deserved to die, and that their killer brought them to justice. And at the coffee house, Mademoiselle Jennie, you said to me that you deserved to die, and that once you had been killed, justice would have been done, finally.”

He was right. How had I missed that?

“Then there is the second similarity, which is not psychological but circumstantial: attached to both the Bloxham Hotel murders and my conversation with the frightened Jennie at the coffee house, there were too many clues—too much information available too soon! Too many leads presenting themselves all at once, almost as if someone wanted to offer the hand of help to the police. From a brief meeting in a coffee house, I was able to glean a surprisingly large number of facts. This Jennie, she felt guilty. She had done something terrible. She did not want her killer to be punished. She made sure to say to me, ‘Oh, please let no one open their mouths’ so that when I hear about three bodies at the Bloxham Hotel with cufflinks in their mouths, I will perhaps remember what she has said and wonder, or perhaps my subconscious will make the connection.”

“You’re wrong about me, Monsieur Poirot,” Jennie protested.

Poirot ignored her, and continued with his speech: “Let us now consider the Bloxham Hotel murders. There again, we found ourselves supplied with much information, suspiciously soon: Richard Negus paid for all three rooms, and for the cars from the railway station to the hotel. All three victims lived or had lived in the village of Great Holling. There was, in addition, the helpful clue of the initials ‘PIJ’ on the cufflinks, to direct us to the reason these three people needed to be punished—that is, for their callous treatment of Reverend Patrick Ive. Furthermore, the note left on the front desk made it clear that the motive was revenge, or a thirst for justice. It is rare, is it not, for a murderer to write down his or her motive and so helpfully leave it lying in a prominent place?”

“Actually, some murderers do wish their motive to be known,” I said.

“Mon ami,” said Poirot with exaggerated patience. “If Nancy Ducane had desired to kill Harriet Sippel, Ida Gransbury and Richard Negus, would she really have done so in a way that led so clearly back to her? Does she wish to go to the gallows? And why did Richard Negus—who, according to his brother, was on the verge of penury—pay for everything? Nancy Ducane is a rich woman. If she is a murderer who enticed her victims to London in order to kill them, why did she not pay for their hotel rooms and transport. None of it fits together!”