The chief constable and Superintendent Sugden stared at Poirot incredulously. The latter returned a stream of small pebbles carefully into a small cardboard box and pushed it across to the chief constable.
‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘It is the diamonds all right.’
‘And you found them where, did you say? In the garden?’
‘In one of the small gardens constructed by Madame Alfred Lee.’
‘Mrs Alfred?’ Sugden shook his head. ‘Doesn’t seem likely.’
Poirot said:
‘You mean, I suppose, that you do not consider it likely that Mrs Alfred cut her father-in-law’s throat?’
Sugden said quickly:
‘We know she didn’t do that. I meant it seemed unlikely that she pinched these diamonds.’
Poirot said:
‘One would not easily believe her a thief – no.’
Sugden said:
‘Anybody could have hidden them there.’
‘That is true. It was convenient that in that particular garden – the Dead Sea as it represents – there happened to be pebbles very similar in shape and appearance.’
Sugden said:
‘You mean she fixed it like that beforehand? Ready?’
Colonel Johnson said warmly:
‘I don’t believe it for a moment. Not for a moment. Why should she take the diamonds in the first place?’
‘Well, as to that–’ Sugden said slowly.
Poirot nipped in quickly:
‘There is a possible answer to that. She took the diamonds to suggest a motive for the murder. That is to say she knew that murder was going to be done though she herself took no active part in it.’
Johnson frowned.
‘That won’t hold water for a minute. You’re making her out to be an accomplice – but whose accomplice would she be likely to be? Only her husband’s. But as we know that he, too, had nothing to do with the murder, the whole theory falls to the ground.’
Sugden stroked his jaw reflectively.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘that’s so. No, if Mrs Lee took the diamonds – and it’s a big if – it was just plain robbery, and it’s true she might have prepared that garden specially as a hiding-place for them till the hue and cry had died down. Another possibility is that of coincidence. That garden, with its similarity of pebbles, struck the thief, whoever he or she was, as an ideal hiding-place.’
Poirot said:
‘That is quite possible. I am always prepared to admit one coincidence.’
Superintendent Sugden shook his head dubiously.
Poirot said:
‘What is your opinion, Superintendent?’
The superintendent said cautiously:
‘Mrs Lee’s a very nice lady. Doesn’t seem likely that she’d be mixed up in any business that was fishy. But, of course, one never knows.’
Colonel Johnson said testily:
‘In any case, whatever the truth is about the diamonds, her being mixed up in the murder is out of the question. The butler saw her in the drawing-room at the actual time of the crime. You remember that, Poirot?’
Poirot said:
‘I had not forgotten that.’
The chief constable turned to his subordinate.
‘We’d better get on. What have you to report? Anything fresh?’
‘Yes, sir. I’ve got hold of some new information. To start with – Horbury. There’s a reason why he might be scared of the police.’
‘Robbery? Eh?’
‘No, sir. Extorting money under threats. Modified blackmail. The case couldn’t be proved so he got off, but I rather fancy he’s got away with a thing or two in that line. Having a guilty conscience, he probably thought we were on to something of that kind when Tressilian mentioned a police officer last night and it made him get the wind up.’
The chief constable said:
‘H’m! So much for Horbury. What else?’
The superintendent coughed.
‘Er – Mrs George Lee, sir. We’ve got a line on her before her marriage. Was living with a Commander Jones. Passed as his daughter – but she wasn’t his daughter… I think from what we’ve been told, that old Mr Lee summed her up pretty correctly – he was smart where women were concerned, knew a bad lot when he saw one – and was just amusing himself by taking a shot in the dark. And he got her on the raw!’
Colonel Johnson said thoughtfully:
‘That gives her another possible motive – apart from the money angle. She may have thought he knew something definite and was going to give her away to her husband. That telephone story of hers is pretty fishy. She didn’t telephone.’
Sugden suggested:
‘Why not have them in together, sir, and get at that telephone business straight? See what we get.’
Colonel Johnson said:
‘Good idea.’
He rang the bell. Tressilian answered it.
‘Ask Mr and Mrs George Lee to come here.’
‘Very good, sir.’
As the old man turned away, Poirot said:
‘The date on that wall calendar, has it remained like it is since the murder?’
Tressilian turned back.
‘Which calendar, sir?’
‘The one on the wall over there.’
The three men were sitting once more in Alfred Lee’s small sitting-room. The calendar in question was a large one with tear-off leaves, a bold date on each leaf.
Tressilian peered across the room, then shuffled slowly across till he was a foot or two away.
He said:
‘Excuse me, sir, it has been torn off. It’s the twenty-sixth today.’
‘Ah, pardon. Who would have been the person to tear it off?’
‘Mr Lee does, sir, every morning. Mr Alfred, he’s a very methodical gentleman.’
‘I see. Thank you.’
Tressilian went out. Sugden said, puzzled:
‘Is there anything fishy about that calendar, Mr Poirot? Have I missed something there?’
With a shrug of his shoulders Poirot said:
‘The calendar is of no importance. It was just a little experiment I was making.’
Colonel Johnson said:
‘Inquest tomorrow. There’ll be an adjournment, of course.’
Sugden said:
‘Yes, sir, I’ve seen the Coroner and it’s all arranged for.’
