them all up.'
'She had remained vindictive then.'
'I think it was really Louise she was vindictive against.'
'Louise?' He saw a slight stiffening on the girl's part.
'I don't remember - I told you - I don't remember any names.'
'Never mind. You're talking about the woman your father ran away with. Is that it?'
'Yes. Mother said she drank too much and took drugs and would come to a bad end.'
'But you don't know whether she did?'
'I don't know anything.'… Her emotion was rising. 'I wish you wouldn't ask me questions! I don't know anything about her! I never heard other again! I'd forgotten her until you spoke about her. I tell you I don't know anything.^ 'Well, well,' said Dr. Stillingfleet.
'Don't get so agitated. You don't need to bother about past history. Let's think about the future. What are you going to do next?' Norma gave a deep sigh.
'I don't know. I've nowhere to go. I can't - it's much better - I'm sure it's much better to - to end it all - only - '
'Only you can't make the attempt a second time, is that it? It would be very foolish if you did, I can tell you that, my girl. All right, you've nowhere to go, no one to trust, got any money?'
'Yes, I've got a banking account, and Father pays so much into it every quarter but I'm not sure… I think perhaps, by now, they might be looking for me. I don't want to be found.'
'You needn't be. I'll fix that up for you all right. Place called Kenway Court. Not as fine as it sounds. It's a kind of convalescent nursing home where people go for a rest cure. It's got no doctors or couches, and you won't be shut up there, I can promise you. You can walk out any time you like. You can have breakfast in bed, stay in bed all day if you like. Have a good rest and I'll come down one day and talk to you and we'll solve a few problems together. Will that suit you? Are you willing?' Norma looked at him. She sat, without expression, staring at him, slowly she nodded her head.
Later that evening Dr. Stillingfleet made a telephone call.
'Quite a good operation kidnap,' he said. 'She's down at Kenway Court.
Came like a lamb. Can't tell you much yet.
The girl's full of drugs. I'd say she'd been taking purple hearts, and dream bombs, and probably L.S.D… She's been all hopped up for some time. She says no, but I wouldn't trust much to what she says.' He listened for a moment. 'Don't ask me! One will have to go carefully there.
She gets the wind up easily… Yes, she's scared of something, or she's pretending to be scared of something.
'I don't know yet, I can't tell. Remember people who take drugs are tricky. You can't believe what they say always. We haven't rushed things and I don't want to startle her.
'A father complex as a child. I'd say didn't care much for her mother who sounds a grim woman by all accounts - the self-righteous martyr type. I'd say Father was a gay one, and couldn't quite stand the grimness of married life- Know of anyone called Louise?… The name seemed to frighten her - She was the girl's first hate, I should say. She took Father away at the time the child was five.
Children don't understand very much at that age, but they're very quick to feel resentment of the person they feel was responsible. She didn't see Father again until apparently a few months ago. I'd say she'd had sentimental dreams of being her father's companion and the apple of his eye. She got disillusioned apparently.
Father came back with a wife, a new young attractive wife. She's not called Louise, is she?… Oh well, I only asked. I'm giving you roughly the picture, the general picture, that is.' The voice at the other end of the wire said sharply, 'What is that you say? Say it again.'
'I said I'm giving you roughly the picture.' There was a pause.
'By the way, here's one little fact might interest you. The girl made a rather hamhanded attempt to commit suicide. Does that startle you.
'Oh, it doesn't… No, she didn't swallow the aspirin bottle, or put her head in the gas oven. She rushed into the traffic in the path of a Jaguar going faster than it should have done… I can tell you I only got to her just in time… Yes, I'd say it was a genuine impulse… She admitted it.
Usual classic phrase - she 'wanted to get out of it all'.' He listened to a rapid flow of words, then he said: 'I don't know. At this stage, I can't be sure - The picture presented is clear. A nervy girl, neurotic and in an overwrought state from taking drugs of too many kinds. No, I couldn't tell you definitely what kind. There are dozens of these things going about all producing slightly different effects. There can be confusion, loss of memory, aggression, bewilderment, or sheer fuzzleheadedness!
The difficulty is to tell what the real reactions are as opposed to the reactions produced by drugs. There are two choices, 'ou see. Either this is a girl who is playing herself up, depicting herself as neurotic and nervy and claiming suicidal tendencies.
It could be actually so. Or it could be a whole pack of lies. I wouldn't put it past her to be putting up this story for some obscure reason of her own - wanting to give an entirely false impression of herself.
If so, she's doing it very cleverly. Every now and then, there seems something not quite right in the picture she's giving. Is she a very clever little actress acting a part?
Or is she a genuine semi-moronic suicidal victim? She could be either… What did you say?… Oh, the Jaguar!… Yes, it was being driven far too fast. You think it mightn't have been an attempt at suicide?
That the Jaguar was deliberately meaning to run her down.' He thought for a minute or two. 'I can't say,' he said slowly. 'It just could be so.
Yes, it could be so, but I hadn't thought of it that way. The trouble is, everything's possible, isn't it? Anyway, I'm going to get more out of her shortly. I've got her in a position where she's semi-willing to trust me, so long as I don't go too far too quickly, and make her suspicious. She'll become more trusting soon, and tell me more, and if she's a genuine case, she'll pour out her whole story to me - force it on me in the end. At the moment she's frightened of something.
'If, of course, she's leading me up the garden path we'll have to find out the reason why. She's at Kenway Court and I think she'll stay there. I'd suggest that you keep someone with an eye on it for a day or so and if she does attempt to leave, someone she doesn't know by sight had better follow her.'
Chapter Eleven
ANDREW RESTARICK was writing a cheque - he made a slight grimace as he did so.
His office was large and handsomely furnished in typical conventional tycoon fashion - the furnishing and fittings had been Simon Restarick's and Andrew Restarick had accepted them without interest and had made few changes except for removing a couple of pictures and replacing them by his own portrait which he had brought up from the country, and a water colour of Table Mountain.
Andrew Restarick was a man of middle age, beginning to put on flesh, yet strangely little changed from the man some fifteen years younger in the picture hanging above him. There was the same jutting out chin, the lips firmly pressed together, and the slightly raised quizzical eyebrows. Not a very noticeable man - an ordinary type and at the moment not a very happy man.
His secretary entered the room - she advanced towards his desk, as he looked up.
'A Monsieur Hercule Poirot is here. He insists that he has an appointment with you - but I can find no trace of one.'
'A Monsieur Hercule Poirot?' The name seemed vaguely familiar, but he could not remember in what context. He shook his head - 'I can't remember anything about him - though I seem to have heard the name. What does he look like?'
'A very small man - foreign - French I should say - with an enormous moustache - '
