Christie, Agatha - Elephants Can Remember by Christie Agatha

Author:Christie, Agatha [Christie, Agatha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2011-11-23T21:07:44+00:00

Book 2

Long Shadows

Chapter 11

Superintendent Garroway and Poirot Compare Notes

Superintendent Garroway looked across the table at Poirot. His eyes twinkled. At his side George delivered a whisky and soda. Passing on to Poirot, he put down a glass filled with a dark purple liquid.

‘What’s your tipple?’ said Superintendent Garroway, with some interest.

‘A syrup of black currant,’ said Poirot. ‘Well, well,’ said Superintendent Garroway, ‘everyone to their own taste. What was it Spence told me? He told me you used to drink something called a tisane, wasn’t it? What’s that, a variant of French piano or something?’

‘No,’ said Poirot, ‘it’s useful for reducing fevers.’ ‘Ah. Invalid dope of some kind.’ He drank from his glass. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘here’s to suicide!’

‘It was suicide?’ Poirot asked.

‘What else can it be?’ said Superintendent Garroway. ‘The things you wanted to know!’ He shook his head. His smile grew more pronounced.

‘I am sorry,’ said Poirot, ‘to have troubled you so much. I am like the animal or the child in one of your stories by Mr Kipling. I Suffer from Insatiable Curiosity.’

‘Insatiable curiosity,’ said Superintendent Garroway. ‘Nice stories he wrote, Kipling. Knew his stuff, too. They told me once that that man could go for one short tour round a destroyer and know more about it than one of the top engineers in the Royal Navy.’

‘Alas,’ said Hercule Poirot. ‘I do not know everything. Therefore, you see, I have to ask questions. I am afraid that I sent you rather a long list of questions.’

‘What intrigued me,’ said Superintendent Garroway, ‘is the way you jumped from one thing to another. Psychiatrists, doctors’ reports, how money was left, who had money, who got money. Who expected money and didn’t get money, particulars of ladies’ hairdressing, wigs, name of the supplier of wigs, charming rose-coloured cardboard boxes they came in by the way.’

‘You knew all these things,’ said Poirot. ‘That has amazed me, I can assure you.’

‘Ah well, it was a puzzling case and of course we made full notes on the subject. None of this was any good to us but we kept the files and it was all there if one wanted to look for it.’

He pushed a piece of paper across the table.

‘Here you are. Hairdressers. Bond Street. Expensive firm. Eugene and Rosentelle was the name of it. They moved later. Same firm but went into business in Sloane Street. Here’s the address, but it’s a Pet Shop now. Two of their assistants retired some years ago now, but they were the top assistants serving people then, and Lady Ravenscroft was on their list. Rosentelle lives in Cheltenham now. Still in the same line of business – Calls herself a Hair Stylist – That’s the up-to-date term – and you add Beautician. Same man, different hat, as one used to say in my young days.’

‘Ah-ha?’ said Poirot.

‘Why ah-ha?’ asked Garroway.

‘I am immensely obliged to you,’ said Hercule Poirot. ‘You have presented me with an idea. How strange it is the way ideas arrive into one’s head.

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