Appointment With Death (Hercule Poirot 19)

Poirot glanced at his watch, a large grotesque turnip of a watch.

‘But yes, indeed, it belonged to my grandfather.’

‘Thought it might have done.’

‘It is time to commence our proceedings,’ said Poirot. ‘You, mon Colonel, will sit here behind this table in an official position.’

‘Oh, all right,’ Carbury grunted. ‘You don’t want me to put my uniform on, do you?’

‘No, no. If you would permit that I straightened your tie.’ He suited the action to the word. Colonel Carbury grinned again, sat down in the chair indicated and a moment later, unconsciously, tweaked his tie round under his left ear again.

‘Here,’ continued Poirot, slightly altering the position of the chairs, ‘we place la famille Boynton.

‘And over here,’ he went on, ‘we will place the three outsiders who have a definite stake in the case. Dr Gerard, on whose evidence the case for the prosecution depends. Miss Sarah King, who has two separate interests in the case, a personal one, and that of medical examiner. Also Mr Jefferson Cope, who was on intimate terms with the Boyntons and so may be definitely described as an interested party.’

He broke off. ‘Aha—here they come.’

He opened the door to admit the party.

Lennox Boynton and his wife came in first. Raymond and Carol followed. Ginevra walked by herself, a faint, faraway smile on her lips. Dr Gerard and Sarah King brought up the rear. Mr Jefferson Cope was a few minutes late and came in with an apology.

When he had taken his place Poirot stepped forward.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘this is an entirely informal gathering. It has come about through the accident of my presence in Amman. Colonel Carbury did me the honour to consult me—’

Poirot was interrupted. The interruption came from what was seemingly the most unlikely quarter. Lennox Boynton said suddenly and pugnaciously:

‘Why? Why the devil should he bring you into this business?’

Poirot waved a hand gracefully.

‘Me, I am often called in in cases of sudden death.’

Lennox Boynton said: ‘Doctors send for you whenever there is a case of heart failure?’

Poirot said gently: ‘Heart failure is such a very loose and unscientific term.’

Colonel Carbury cleared his throat. It was an official noise. He spoke in an official tone.

‘Best to make it quite clear. Circumstance of death reported to me. Very natural occurrence. Weather unusually hot—journey a very trying one for an elderly lady in bad health. So far all quite clear. But Dr Gerard came to me and volunteered a statement—’

He looked inquiringly at Poirot. Poirot nodded.

‘Dr Gerard is a very eminent physician with a worldwide reputation. Any statement he makes is bound to be received with attention. Dr Gerard’s statement was as follows. On the morning after Mrs Boynton’s death he noted that a certain quantity of a powerful drug acting on the heart was missing from his medical supplies. On the previous afternoon he had noticed the disappearance of a hypodermic syringe. Syringe was returned during the night. Final point—there was a puncture on the dead woman’s wrist corresponding to the mark of a hypodermic syringe.’

Colonel Carbury paused.

‘In these circumstances I considered that it was the duty of those in authority to inquire into the matter. M. Hercule Poirot was my guest and very considerately offered his highly specialized services. I gave him full authority to make any investigations he pleased. We are assembled here now to hear his report on the matter.’

There was silence—a silence so acute that you could have heard—as the saying is—a pin drop. Actually someone did drop what was probably a shoe in the next room. It sounded like a bomb in the hushed atmosphere.

Poirot cast a quick glance at the little group of three people on his right, then turned his gaze to the five people huddled together on his left—a group of people with frightened eyes.

Poirot said quietly: ‘When Colonel Carbury mentioned this business to me, I gave him my opinion as an expert. I told him that it might not be possible to bring proof—such proof as would be admissible in a court of law—but I told him very definitely that I was sure I could arrive at the truth—simply by questioning the people concerned. For let me tell you this, my friends, to investigate a crime it is only necessary to let the guilty party or parties talk—always, in the end, they tell you what you want to know!’ He paused.

‘So, in this case, although you have lied to me, you have also, unwittingly, told me the truth.’

He heard a faint sigh, the scrape of a chair on the floor to his right, but he did not look round. He continued to look at the Boyntons.