Mrs Upward's own son. For by the way he had talked, it seemed clear that he knew the real facts. And his story of Mrs Upward's swift retribution on a young man who had deceived her as to his origins was suggestive.
'The truth is that I ought to have seen the whole thing very much sooner. I was handicapped by a serious error. I believed that I had been deliberately pushed with the intention of sending me on to a railway line – and that the person who had done so was the murderer of Mrs McGinty. Now Robin Upward was practically the only person in Broadhinny who could not have been at Kilchester station at that time.'
There was a sudden chuckle from Johnnie Summerhayes.
'Probably some old market woman with a basket. They do shove.'
Poirot said:
'Actually, Robin Upward was far too conceited to fear me at all. It is a characteristic of murderers. Fortunately, perhaps. For in this case there was very little evidence.'
Mrs Oliver stirred.
'Do you mean to say,' she demanded incredulously, 'that Robin murdered his mother whilst I sat outside in the car, and that I hadn't the least idea of it? There wouldn't have been time!'
'Oh yes, there would. People's ideas of time are usually ludicrously wrong. Just notice some time how swiftly a stage can be reset. In this case it was mostly a matter of props.'
'Good theatre,' murmured Mrs Oliver mechanically.
'Yes, it was pre-eminently a theatrical murder. All very much contrived.'
'And I sat there in the car – and hadn't the least idea!'
'I am afraid,' murmured Poirot, 'that your woman's intuition was taking a day off…'
Chapter 27
'I'm not going back to Breather Scuttle,' said Maude Williams. 'They're a lousy firm anyway.'
'And they have served their purpose.'
'What do you mean by that, M. Poirot?'
'Why did you come to this part of the world?'
'I suppose being Mr Knowall, you think you know?'
'I have a little idea.'
'And what is this famous idea?'
Poirot was looking meditatively at Maude's hair.
'I have been very discreet,' he said. 'It has been assumed that the woman who went into Mrs Upward's house, the fair-haired woman that Edna saw, was Mrs Carpenter, and that she has denied being there simply out of fright. Since it was Robin Upward who killed Mrs Upward, her presence has no more significance than that of Miss Henderson. But all the same I do not think she was there. I think, Miss Williams, that the woman Edna saw was you.'
'Why me?'
Her voice was hard.
Poirot countered with another question.
'Why were you so interested in Broadhinny? Why, when you went over there, did you ask Robin Upward for an autograph – you are not the autograph-hunting type. What did you know about the Upwards? Why did you come to this part of the world in the first place? How did you know that Eva Kane died in Australia and the name she took when she left England?'
'Good at guessing, aren't you? Well, I've nothing to hide, not really.'
She opened her handbag. From a worn notecase she pulled out a small newspaper cutting frayed with age. It showed the face that Poirot by now knew so well, the simpering of Eva Kane.
Written across it were the words, She killed my mother…
Poirot handed it back to her.
'Yes, I thought so. Your real name is Craig?'
Maude nodded.
'I was brought up by some cousins – very decent they were. But I was old enough when it all happened not to forget. I used to think about it a good deal. About her. She was a nasty bit of goods all right – children know! My father was just – weak. And besotted by her. But he took the rap. For something, I've always believed, that she did. Oh yes, I know he's an accessory after the fact – but it's not quite the same thing, is it? I always meant to find out what had become of her. When I was grown up, I got detectives on to it. They traced her to Australia and finally reported that she was dead. She'd left a son – Evelyn Hope he called himself.
'Well, that seemed to close the account. But then I got pally with a young actor chap. He mentioned someone called Evelyn Hope who'd come from Australia, but who now called himself Robin Upward and who wrote plays. I was interested. One night Robin Upward was pointed out to me – and he was with his mother. So I thought that, after all, Eva Kane wasn't dead. Instead, she was queening it about with a packet of money.
'I got myself a job down here. I was curious – and a bit more than curious. All right, I'll admit it, I thought I'd like to get even with her in some way… When you brought up all this business about James Bentley, I jumped to the conclusion that it was Mrs Upward who'd killed Mrs McGinty. Eva Kane up to her tricks again. I happened to hear from Michael West that Robin Upward and Mrs Oliver were coming over to this show at the Cullenquay Rep. I decided to go to Broadhinny and beard the woman. I meant – I don't quite know what I meant. I'm telling you everything – I took a little pistol I had in the war with me. To frighten her? Or more? Honestly, I don't know…
'Well, I got there. There was no sound in the house. The door was unlocked. I went in. You know how I found her. Sitting there dead, her face all purple and swollen. All the things I'd been thinking seemed silly and melodramatic. I knew that I'd never, really, want to kill anyone when it came to it. But I did realise that it might be awkward to explain what I'd been doing in the house. It was a cold night and I'd got gloves on, so I knew I hadn't left any fingerprints, and I didn't think for a moment anyone had seen me. That's all.' She paused and added abruptly: 'What are you going to do about it?'
'Nothing,' said Hercule Poirot. 'I wish you good luck in life, that is all.'
Epilogue
Hercule Poirot and Superintendent Spence were celebrating at the La Vielle Grand'mere.
As coffee was served Spence leaned back in his chair and gave a deep sigh of repletion.
'Not at all bad grub here,' he said approvingly. 'A bit frenchified, perhaps, but after all where can you get a decent steak and chips nowadays?'
'I had been dining here on the evening you first came to me,' said Poirot reminiscently.
'Ah, a lot of water under the bridge since then. I've got to hand it to you, M. Poirot. You did the trick all right.' A slight smile creased his wooden countenance. 'Lucky that young man didn't realise how very little evidence we'd really got. Why, a clever counsel would have made mincemeat of it! But he lost his head completely and gave the show away. Spilt the beans and incriminated himself up to the hilt. Lucky for us!'
'It was not entirely luck,' said Poirot reprovingly. 'I played him, as you play the big fish! He thinks I take the evidence against Mrs Summerhayes seriously – when it is not so, he suffers the reaction and goes to pieces. And besides, he is a coward. I whirl the sugar hammer and he thinks I mean to hit him. Acute fear alway produces the truth.'
'Lucky you didn't suffer from Major Summerhayes' reaction,' said Spence with a grin. 'Got a temper, he has, and quick on his feet. I only got between you just in time. Has he forgiven you yet?'
'Oh yes, we are the firmest friends. And I have given Mrs Summerhayes a cookery book and have also taught her personally how to make an omelette. Bon Dieu, what I suffered in that house!'
He closed his eyes.
'Complicated business, the whole thing,' ruminated Spence, uninterested in Poirot's agonised memories. 'Just
