AgathaChristie-HalloweenParty Read online

  something."

  "And I have carried things one step

  further," said Poirot. "J have come to

  you."

  "Because you want me to do something?

  I tell you, there's nothing I can do."

  "Oh yes there is. You can tell me all

  about the people. The people who live

  here. The people who went to that party.

  The fathers and mothers of the children

  who were at the party. The school, the

  teachers, the lawyers, the doctors. Somebody, during a party, induced a child to

  kneel down, and perhaps, laughing, saying: 'I'll show you the best way to get

  hold of an apple with your teeth. I know

  the trick of it.' And then he or she--

  whoever it was--put a hand on that girl's

  head. There wouldn't have been much

  struggle or noise or anything of that kind."

  "A nasty business," said Spence. "I

  thought so when I heard about it. What

  do you want to know? I've been here a

  year. My sister's been here longer--two or

  58

  three years. It's not a big community. It's

  not a particularly settled one either. People

  come and go. The husband has a job in

  either Medchester or Great Canning, or

  one of the other places round about. Their

  children go to school here. Then perhaps

  the husband changes his job and they go

  somewhere else. It's not a fixed community.

  Some of the people have been

  here a long time. Miss Ernlyn, the schoolmistress, has. Dr. Ferguson has. But on

  the whole, it fluctuates a bit."

  "One supposes," said Hercule Poirot, "that having agreed with you that this was

  a nasty business, I might hope that you

  would know who are the nasty people

  here."

  "Yes," said Spence. "It's the first thing

  one looks for, isn't it? And the next thing one looks for is a nasty adolescent in a

  thing of this kind. Who wants to strangle

  or drown or get rid of a lump of a girl of

  thirteen? There doesn't seem to have been

  any evidence of a sexual assault or

  anything of that kind, which would be the

  first thing one looks for. Plenty of that sort

  of thing in every small town or village

  nowadays. There again, I think there's

  59

  more of it than there used to be in my

  young day. We had our mentally disturbed, or whatever they call them, but

  not so many as we have now. I expect

  there are more of them let out of the place

  they ought to be kept safe in. All our

  mental homes are too full; overcrowded, so doctor's say 'Let him or her lead a

  normal life. Go back and live with his relatives,' etc. And then the nasty bit of goods, or the poor afflicted fellow, whichever way

  you look at it, gets the urge again and

  another young woman goes out walking

  and is found in a gravel pit, or is silly

  enough to take lifts in a car. Children

  don't come home from school because

  they've accepted a lift from a stranger, although they've been warned not to. Yes, there's a lot of that nowadays."

  "Does that quite fit the pattern we have

  here?"

  "Well, it's the first thing one thinks of,"

  said Spence. "Somebody was at the party

  who had the urge, shall we say. Perhaps

  he'd done it before, perhaps he'd only

  wanted to do it. I'd say roughly that there

  might be some past history of assaulting a

  child somewhere. As far as I know,

  60

  nobody's come up with anything of that

  kind. Not officially, I mean. There were

  two in the right age group at the party.

  Nicholas Ransom, nice-looking lad, seventeen

  or eighteen. He'd be the right age.

  Comes from the East Coast or somewhere

  like that, I think. Seems all right. Looks

  normal enough, but who knows? And

  there's Desmond, remanded once for a

  psychiatric report, but I wouldn't say there

  was much to it. It's got to be someone at

  the party, though of course I suppose

  anyone could have come in from outside.

  A house isn't usually locked up during a

  party. There's a side door open, or a side

  window. One of our half-baked people, I

  suppose, could have come along to see

  what was on and sneaked in. A pretty big

  risk to take. Would a child agree, a child

  who'd gone to a party, to go playing apple

  games with anyone she didn't know?

  Anyway, you haven't explained yet, Poirot, what brings you into it. You said

  it was Mrs. Oliver. Some wild idea of

  hers?"

  "Not exactly a wild idea," said Poirot.

  "It is true that writers are prone to wild

  ideas. Ideas, perhaps, which are on the far

  61

  side of probability. But this was simply

  something that she heard the girl say."

  "What, the child Joyce?"

  "Yes."

  Spence leant forward and looked at

  Poirot inquiringly.

  "I will tell you," said Poirot.

  Quietly and succinctly he recounted the

  story as Mrs. Oliver had told it to him.

  "I see," said Spence. He rubbed his

  moustache. "The girl said that, did she?

  Said she'd seen a murder committed. Did

  she say when or how?"

  "No," said Poirot.

  "What led up to it?"

  "Some remark, I think, about the

  murders in Mrs. Oliver's books. Somebody

  said something about it to Mrs.

  Oliver. One of the children, I think, to the

  effect that there wasn't enough blood in

  her books or enough bodies. And then

  Joyce spoke up and said she'd seen a

  murder once."

  "Boasted of it? That's the impression

  you're giving me."

  "That's the impression Mrs. Oliver got.

  Yes, she boasted of it."

  "It mightn't have been true."

  62

  "No, it might not have been true at all,"

  said Poirot.

  "Children often make these extravagant

  statements when they wish to call attention

  to themselves or to make an effect. On the

  other hand, it might have been true. Is

  that what you think?"

  "I do not know," said Poirot. "A child

  boasts of having witnessed'a murder. Only

  a few hours later, that child is dead. You

  must admit that there are grounds for

  believing that it might--it's a farfetched

  idea perhaps--but it might have been

  cause and effect. If so, somebody lost no

  time."

  "Definitely," said Spence. "How many were present at the time the girl made her

  statement re murder, do you know

  exactly?"

  "All that Mrs. Oliver said was that she

  thought there were about fourteen or

  fifteen people, perhaps more. Five or six

  children, five or six grown-ups who were

  running the show. But for exact information

  I must rely on you."

  "Well, that will be easy enough," said

  Spence. "I don't say I know off-hand at Ae moment, but it's e
asily obtained from

  I 63

  the locals. As to the party itself, I know

  pretty well already. A preponderance of

  women, on the whole. Fathers don't turn

  up much at children's parties. But they

  look in, sometimes, or come to take their

  children home. Dr. Ferguson was there,

  the vicar was there. Otherwise, mothers,

  aunts, social workers, two teachers from

  the school. Oh, I can give you a list—

  and roughly about fourteen children. The

  youngest not more than ten—running on

  into teenagers."

  "And I suppose you would know the list

  of probables amongst them?" said Poirot.

  "Well, it won't be so easy now if what

  you think is true."

  "You mean you are no longer looking

  for a sexually disturbed personality. You

  are looking instead for somebody who has

  committed a murder and got liway with it,

  someone who never expected it to be

  found out and who suddenly got a nasty

  shock."

  "Blest if I can think who it could .have

  been, all the same," said Spence. ^ "I

  shouldn't have said we had any likely

  murderers round here. And certainly

  64

  nothing spectacular in the way of

  murders."

  "One can have likely murderers anywhere,"

  said Poirot, "or shall I say

  unlikely murderers, but nevertheless

  murderers. Because unlikely murderers are

  not so prone to be suspected. There is

  probably not very much evidence against

  them, and it would be a rude shock to

  such a murderer to find that there had

  actually been an eye-witness to his or her

  crime."

  "Why didn't Joyce say anything at the

  time? That's what I'd like to know. Was

  she bribed to silence by someone, do you

  think? Too risky surely."

  "No," said Poirot. "I gather from what

  Mrs. Oliver mentioned that she didn't

  recognise that it was a murder she was

  looking at at the time."

  "Oh, surely that's most unlikely," said

  Spence.

  "Not necessarily," said Poirot. "A child

  of thirteen was speaking. She was remembering

  something she'd seen in the past.

  We don't know exactly when. It might

  have been three or even four years

  previously. She saw something but she

  65

  didn't realise its true significance. That

  might apply to a lot of things you know, mon cher. Some rather peculiar car accident.

  A car where it appeared that the

  driver drove straight at the person who

  was injured or perhaps killed. A child

  might not realise it was deliberate at the

  time. But something someone said, or

  something she saw or heard a year or two

  later might awaken her memory and she'd

  think perhaps: *A or B or X did it on

  purpose.9 Terhaps it was really a murder, not just an accident.' And there are plenty

  of other possibilities. Some of them I will

  admit suggested by my friend, Mrs.

  Oliver, who can easily come up with about

  twelve different solutions to everything, most of them not very probable but all of

  them faintly possible. Tablets added to a

  cup of tea administered to someone.

  Roughly that sort of thing. A push perhaps

  on a dangerous spot. You have no cliffs

  here, which is rather a pity from the point

  of view of likely theories. Yes, I think

  there could be plenty of possibilities.

  Perhaps it is some murder story that the

  girl reads which recalls to her an incident.

  It may have been an incident that puzzled

  66

  her at the time, and she might, when she

  reads the story, say: 'Well, that might

  have been so-and-so and so-and-so. I

  wonder if he or she did it on purpose?"

  Yes, there are a lot of possibilities."

  "And you have come here to inquire

  into them?"

  "It would be in the public interest, I

  think, don't you?" said Poirot.

  "Ah, we're to be public spirited, are we,

  you and I?"

  "You can at least give me information,"

  said Poirot. "You know the people here."

  "I'll do what I can," said Spence. "And

  I'll rope in Elspeth. There's not much

  about people she doesn't know."

  V..

  *

  67

  6

  SATISFIED with what he had

  achieved, Poirot took leave of his

  friend.

  The information he wanted would be

  forthcoming--he had no doubt as to that.

  He had got Spence interested. And

  Spence, once set upon a trail, was not one

  to relinquish it. His reputation as a retired

  high-ranking officer of the CID would

  have won him friends in the local police

  departments concerned.

  And next--Poirot consulted his watch

  --he was to meet Mrs. Oliver in exactly

  ten minutes' time outside a house called

  Apple Trees. Really, the name seemed

  uncannily appropriate.

  Really, thought Poirot, one didn't seem

  able to get away from apples. Nothing

  could be more agreeable than a juicy

  English apple--And yet here were apples

  mixed up with broomsticks, and witches, and old-fashioned folklore, and a murdered

  child.

  68

  Following the route indicated to him, poirot arrived to the minute outside a red

  brick Georgian style house with a neat

  beech hedge enclosing it, and a pleasant

  garden showing beyond.

  He put his hand out, raised the latch

  and entered through the wrought iron gate

  which bore a painted board labelled

  "Apple Trees". A path led up to the front

  door. Looking rather like one of those

  Swiss clocks where figures come out automatically

  of a door above the clock face,

  the front door opened and Mrs. Oliver

  emerged on the steps.

  "You're absolutely punctual," she said

  breathlessly. "I was watching for you from

  the window."

  Poirot turned and closed the gate carefully

  behind him. Practically on every

  occasion that he had met Mrs. Oliver, whether by appointment or by accident, a

  motif of apples seemed to be introduced

  almost immediately. She was either eating an apple or had been eating an apple--

  witness an apple core nestling on her broad

  chest--or was carrying a bag of apples. But to-day there was no apple in evidence

  at all. Very correct, Poirot thought approv-

  69

  ingly. It would have been in very bad taste

  to be gnawing an apple here, on the scene

  of what had been not only a crime but a

  tragedy. For what else can it be but that?

  thought Poirot. The sudden death of a

  child of only thirteen years old. He did not

  like to think of it, and because he did not

  like to think of it he was all the more

  decided in his mind
that that was exactly

  what he was going to think of until by

  some means or other, light should shine

  out of the darkness and he should see

  clearly what he had come here to see.

  "I can't think why you wouldn't come

  and stay with Judith Butler," said Mrs.

  Oliver. "Instead of going to a fifth-class

  guest house."

  "Because it is better that I should survey

  things with a certain degree of aloofness,"

  said Poirot. "One must not get involved,

  you comprehend."

  "I don't see how you can avoid getting

  involved," said Mrs. Oliver. "You've got

  to see everyone and talk to them, haven't

  you?"

  "That most decidedly," said Poirot.

  "Who have you seen so far?"

  "My friend. Superintendent Spence."

  70

  "What's he like nowadays?" said Mrs.

  Oliver.

  "A good deal older than he was," said

  Poirot.

  "Naturally," said Mrs. Oliver, "what

  else would you expect? Is he deafer or

  blinder or fatter or thinner?"

  Poirot considered.

  "He has lost a little weight. He wears

  spectacles for reading the paper. I do not

  think he is deaf, not to any noticeable

  extent."

  "And what does he think about it all?"

  "You go too quickly," said Poirot.

  "And what exactly are you and he going

  to do?"

  "I have planned my programme," said

  Poirot. "First I have seen and consulted

  with my old friend. I asked him to get me,

  perhaps, some information that would not

  be easy to get otherwise."

  "You mean the police here will be his

  buddies and he'll get a lot of inside stuff

  from them?"

  "Well, I should not put it exactly like

  Aat, but yes, those are the lines along

  which I have been thinking."

  "And after that?"

  ."^i- •

  J|| 71

  "I come to meet you here, Madame.

  I have to see just where this thing

  happened."

  Mrs. Oliver turned her head and looked

  up at the house.

  "It doesn't look the sort of house there'd

  be a murder in, does it?" she said.

  Poirot thought again: What an unerring

  instinct she has!

  "No," he said, "it does not look at all

  that sort of a house. After I have seen where, then I go with you to see the

  mother of the dead child. I hear what she

  can tell me. This afternoon my friend