Appointment With Death (Hercule Poirot 19)

‘We went on.’

‘Were you all together?’

‘At first. Then we split up.’ Sarah hurried on as though foreseeing the next question. ‘Nadine Boynton and Mr Cope went one way and Carol, Lennox, Raymond and I went another.’

‘And you continued like that?’

‘Well—no. Raymond Boynton and I separated from the others. We sat down on a slab of rock and admired the wildness of the scenery. Then he went off and I stayed where I was for some time longer. It was about half-past five when I looked at my watch and realized I had better get back. I reached the camp at six o’clock. It was just about sunset.’

‘You passed Mrs Boynton on the way?’

‘I noticed she was still in her chair up on the ridge.’

‘That did not strike you as odd—that she had not moved?’

‘No, because I had seen her sitting there the night before when we arrived.’

‘I see. Continuez.’

‘I went into the marquee. The others were all there—except Dr Gerard. I washed and then came back. They brought in dinner and one of the servants went to tell Mrs Boynton. He came running back to say she was ill. I hurried out. She was sitting in her chair just as she had been, but as soon as I touched her I realized she was dead.’

‘You had no doubt at all as to her death being natural?’

‘None whatever. I had heard that she suffered from heart trouble, though no specified disease had been mentioned.’

‘You simply thought she had died sitting there in her chair?’

‘Yes.’

‘Without calling out for assistance?’

‘Yes. It happens that way sometimes. She might even have died in her sleep. She was quite likely to have dozed off. In any case, all the camp was asleep most of the afternoon. No one would have heard her unless she had called very loud.’

‘Did you form an opinion as to how long she had been dead?’

‘Well, I didn’t really think very much about it. She had clearly been dead some time.’

‘What do you call some time?’ asked Poirot.

‘Well—over an hour. It might have been much longer. The refraction of the rock would keep her body from cooling quickly.’

‘Over an hour? Are you aware, Mademoiselle King, that Raymond Boynton spoke to her only a little over half an hour earlier, and that she was then alive and well?’

Now her eyes no longer met his. But she shook her head. ‘He must have made a mistake. It must have been earlier than that.’

‘No, mademoiselle, it was not.’

She looked at him point-blank. He noticed again the firm set of her mouth.

‘Well,’ said Sarah, ‘I’m young and I haven’t got much experience of dead bodies—but I know enough to be quite sure of one thing. Mrs Boynton had been dead at least an hour when I examined her body!’

‘That,’ said Hercule Poirot unexpectedly, ‘is your story and you are going to stick to it! Then can you explain why Mr Boynton should say his mother was alive when she was, in point of fact, dead?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Sarah. ‘They’re probably rather vague about times, all of them! They’re a very nervy family.’

‘On how many occasions, mademoiselle, have you spoken with them?’

Sarah was silent a moment, frowning a little.