Evil Under the Sun (Hercule Poirot 24)

“I wasn’t in the habit of criticizing my wife’s conduct.”

“You did not protest or object in any way?”

“Certainly not.”

“Not even though it was becoming a subject of scandal and an estrangement was growing up between Mr. Redfern and his wife?”

Kenneth Marshall said coldly:

“I mind my own business and I expect other people to mind theirs. I don’t listen to gossip and tittle-tattle.”

“You won’t deny that Mr. Redfern admired your wife?”

“He probably did. Most men did. She was a very beautiful woman.”

“But you yourself were persuaded that there was nothing serious in the affair?”

“I never thought about it, I tell you.”

“And suppose we have a witness who can testify that they were on terms of the greatest intimacy?”

Again those blue eyes went to Hercule Poirot. Again an expression of dislike showed on that usually impassive face.

Marshall said:

“If you want to listen to these tales, listen to ’em. My wife’s dead and can’t defend herself.”

“You mean that you, personally, don’t believe them?”

For the first time a faint dew of sweat was observable on Marshall’s brow. He said:

“I don’t propose to believe anything of the kind.”

He went on:

“Aren’t you getting a good way from the essentials of this business? What I believe or don’t believe is surely not relevant to the plain fact of murder?”

Hercule Poirot answered before either of the others could speak. He said:

“You do not comprehend, Captain Marshall. There is no such thing as a plain fact of murder. Murder springs, nine times out of ten, out of the character and circumstances of the murdered person. Because the victim was the kind of person he or she was, therefore was he or she murdered! Until we can understand fully and completely exactly what kind of a person Arlena Marshall was, we shall not be able to see clearly exactly the kind of person who murdered her. From that springs the necessity of our questions.”

Marshall turned to the Chief Constable. He said:

“That your view, too?”

Weston boggled a little. He said:

“Well, up to a point—that is to say—”

Marshall gave a short laugh. He said:

“Thought you wouldn’t agree. This character stuff is M. Poirot’s specialty, I believe.”

Poirot said, smiling:

“You can at least congratulate yourself on having done nothing to assist me!”

“What do you mean?”