The Monogram Murders(77)

“Yes. If that’s what you would prefer.” His eyes widened in alarm and he grabbed her hand. “Margaret? Margaret!”

“Leave her,” the nurse said, speaking for the first time. “Let her sleep.”

“Sleep,” Dr. Flowerday repeated, looking confused. “Yes, of course. She needs to sleep.”

“What is it that she wishes you to tell us, Doctor?” Poirot asked.

“You might like to take your visitors to the drawing room?” suggested the nurse.

“No,” said Flowerday. “I won’t leave her. And I need to speak to these gentleman in private, so if you would be kind enough to give us a few moments, Nurse?”

The young woman nodded and left the room.

Flowerday addressed me. “She told you most of it, I dare say? What this hell-pit of a village did to Patrick and Frances?”

“We know, perhaps, more of the story than you think,” said Poirot. “I have spoken to both Nancy Ducane and Jennie Hobbs. They tell me that the inquest found Patrick and Frances Ive’s deaths to be accidental. Yet Margaret Ernst told Catchpool that they swallowed poison deliberately to end their lives: she first, and he second. A poison called abrin.”

Flowerday nodded. “That’s the truth. Frances and Patrick both left notes: their last words to the world. I told the authorities that in my opinion the deaths were accidental. I lied.”

“Why?” Poirot asked.

“Suicide is a sin in the eyes of the Church. After the battering that Patrick’s good name had taken, I could not bear for there to be another mark against him. And poor Frances, who had done nothing wrong and was a good Christian . . .”

“Oui. Je comprends.”

“I knew several people who would have reveled in their achievement if told their actions had driven the Ives to suicide. I was unwilling to afford them that satisfaction. Harriet Sippel in particular.”

Poirot said, “May I ask you something, Dr. Flowerday? If I were to say to you that Harriet Sippel came to regret her despicable treatment of Patrick Ive, would you believe that to be possible?”

“Regret it?” Ambrose Flowerday laughed mirthlessly. “Why, Monsieur Poirot, I should think you had taken leave of your senses. Harriet regretted nothing that she had done. Neither do I, if you must know. I am glad that I lied sixteen years ago. I would do the same again. Let me tell you: the mob led by Harriet Sippel and Ida Gransbury against Patrick Ive was evil. There is no other word for it. I imagine that, as a cultured man you are familiar with The Tempest? ‘Hell is empty’?”

“‘And all the devils are here,’” Poirot completed the quotation.

“Quite so.” Dr. Flowerday turned then to me. “This is why Margaret did not want you to speak to me, Mr. Catchpool. She too is proud that we lied for Patrick and Frances’s sake, but she is more cautious than I am. She feared that I would boast to you of my defiant act, as I just have.” He smiled sadly. “I know that I must now face the consequences. I will lose my medical practice and possibly my liberty, and perhaps I deserve to. The lie I told killed Charles.”

“Margaret’s late husband?” I said.

The doctor nodded. “Margaret and I didn’t care if people whispered ‘Liar!’ after us in the street, but Charles minded dreadfully. His health deteriorated. If I had been less determined to fight the evil in the village, Charles might still be alive today.”

“Where are the Ives’ suicide notes now?” Poirot asked.

“I don’t know. I gave them to Margaret sixteen years ago. I haven’t asked her about them since.”

“I burned them.”

“Margaret.” Ambrose Flowerday hurried to her side. “You’re awake.”

“I remember every word of both of them. It seemed important to remember, so I made sure I did.”

“Margaret, you must rest. Talking is tiring for you.”

“Patrick’s note said to tell Nancy that he loved her and always would. I didn’t tell her. How could I, without revealing that Ambrose had lied about cause of death at the inquest? But . . . now that the truth is out, you must tell her, Ambrose. Tell her what Patrick wrote.”

“I will. Don’t worry, Margaret. I will take care of everything.”

“I do worry. You have not told Monsieur Poirot and Mr. Catchpool about Harriet’s threats, after Patrick and Frances were buried. Tell them now.” Her eyes closed. Seconds later, she was fast asleep again.

“What were these threats, Doctor?” Poirot asked.

“Harriet Sippel arrived at the vicarage one day, trailing a mob of ten or twenty behind her, and announced that the people of Great Holling intended to dig up the bodies of Patrick and Frances Ive. As suicides, she said, they had no right to be buried in consecrated ground—it was God’s law. Margaret came to the door and told her that she was speaking nonsense: it used to be the law of the Christian Church, but it wasn’t any longer. It had not been since the 1880s, and this was 1913. Once dead, a person’s soul is entrusted to the mercy of God, and that person is beyond earthly judgement. Harriet’s pious little helper Ida Gransbury insisted that if it was wrong for a suicide to be buried in a churchyard before 1880, then it must still be wrong. God does not change his mind about what constitutes acceptable behavior, she said. When he heard about this unconscionable outburst from his fiancée, Richard Negus ended his engagement to the pitiless harridan and left for Devon. It was the best decision he ever made.”