Black Coffee (Hercule Poirot 7)

Richard moved to the french windows and fumbled with the catch. ‘Damn!’ he exclaimed. ‘The old boy’s locked it with one of those patent catches of his. You can’t open it without the key.’

Lucia shrugged her shoulders. ‘Oh, well,’ she murmured, ‘it really doesn’t matter.’

Richard came back from the french windows, and sat in one of the chairs by the table. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. ‘Wonderful fellow, the old man. Always inventing something or other.’

‘Yes,’ replied Lucia. ‘He must have made a lot of money out of his inventions.’

‘Pots of it,’ said Richard, gloomily. ‘But it isn’t the money that appeals to him. They’re all the same, these scientists. Always on the track of something utterly impracticable that can be of no earthly interest to anyone other than themselves. Bombarding the atom, for heaven’s sake!’

‘But all the same, he is a great man, your father.’

‘I suppose he’s one of the leading scientists of the day,’ said Richard grudgingly. ‘But he can’t see any point of view except his own.’ He spoke with increasing irritation. ‘He’s treated me damned badly.’

‘I know,’ Lucia agreed. ‘He keeps you here, chained to this house, almost as though you were a prisoner. Why did he make you give up the army and come to live here?’

‘I suppose,’ said Richard, ‘that he thought I could help him in his work. But he ought to have known that I should be of no earthly use to him in that way. I simply haven’t got the brains for it.’ He moved his chair a little closer to Lucia, and leaned forward again. ‘My God, Lucia, it makes me feel pretty desperate, sometimes. There he is, rolling in money, and he spends every penny on those damned experiments of his. You’d think he’d let me have something of what will be mine some day, in any case, and allow me to get free of this place.’

Lucia sat upright. ‘Money!’ she exclaimed bitterly. ‘Everything comes round to that. Money!’

‘I’m like a fly caught in a spider’s web,’ Richard continued. ‘Helpless. Absolutely helpless.’

Lucia looked at him with an imploring eagerness. ‘Oh, Richard,’ she exclaimed. ‘So am I.’

Her husband looked at her with alarm. He was about to speak when Lucia continued, ‘So am I. Helpless. And I want to get out.’ She rose suddenly, and moved towards him, speaking excitedly. ‘Richard, for God’s sake, before it’s too late, take me away!’

‘Away?’ Richard’s voice was empty and despairing. ‘Away where?’

‘Anywhere,’ replied Lucia, with growing excitement. ‘Anywhere in the world! But away from this house. That’s the important thing, away from this house! I am afraid, Richard, I tell you I’m afraid. There are shadows –’ she looked over her shoulder as though she could see them, ‘shadows everywhere.’

Richard remained seated. ‘How can we go away without money?’ he asked. He looked up at Lucia, and continued, bitterly, ‘A man’s not much good to a woman without money, is he, Lucia? Is he?’

She backed away from him. ‘Why do you say that?’ she asked. ‘What do you mean?’

Richard continued to look at her in silence, his face tense yet curiously expressionless.

‘What’s the matter with you tonight, Richard?’ Lucia asked him. ‘You’re different, somehow –’

Richard rose from his chair. ‘Am I?’

‘Yes – what is it?’

‘Well –’ Richard began, and then stopped. ‘Nothing. It’s nothing.’

He started to turn away from her, but Lucia pulled him back and placed her hands on his shoulders. ‘Richard, my dear –’ she began. He took her hands from his shoulders. ‘Richard,’ she said again.

Putting his hands behind his back, Richard looked down at her. ‘Do you think I’m a complete fool?’ he asked. ‘Do you think I didn’t see this old friend of yours slip a note into your hand tonight?’

‘Do you mean you thought that –’

He interrupted her fiercely. ‘Why did you come out from dinner? You weren’t feeling faint. That was all a pretence. You wanted to be alone to read your precious note. You couldn’t wait. You were nearly mad with impatience because you couldn’t get rid of us. First Aunt Caroline, then me.’ His eyes were cold with hurt and anger as he looked at her.

‘Richard,’ said Lucia, ‘you’re mad. Oh, it’s absurd. You can’t think I care for Carelli! Can you? Can you, really? My dear, Richard, my dear – it’s you. It’s nobody but you. You must know that.’

Richard kept his eyes fixed on her. ‘What is in that note?’ he asked quietly.

‘Nothing – nothing at all.’

‘Then show it to me.’

‘I – I can’t,’ said Lucia. ‘I’ve destroyed it.’

A frigid smile appeared and disappeared on Richard’s face. ‘No, you haven’t,’ he said. ‘Show it to me.’

Lucia was silent for a moment. She looked at him imploringly. Then, ‘Richard,’ she asked, ‘can’t you trust me?’

‘I could take it from you by force,’ he muttered through clenched teeth, as he advanced a step towards her. ‘I’ve half a mind –’

Lucia backed away with a faint cry, her eyes still on Richard’s face as though willing him to believe her. Suddenly he turned away. ‘No,’ he said, as though to himself. ‘I suppose there are some things one can’t do.’ He turned back to face his wife. ‘But, by God, I’ll have it out with Carelli.’

Lucia caught his arm, with a cry of alarm. ‘No, Richard, you mustn’t. You mustn’t. Don’t do that, I beg you. Don’t do that.’

‘You’re afraid for your lover, are you?’ sneered Richard.

‘He’s not my lover,’ Lucia retorted, fiercely. Richard took her by the shoulders. ‘Perhaps he isn’t – yet,’ he said. ‘Perhaps he –’

Hearing voices outside in the hall, he stopped speaking. Making an effort to control himself, he moved to the fireplace, took out a cigarette-case and lighter, and lit a ci

garette. As the door from the hall opened, and the voices grew louder, Lucia moved to the chair Richard had recently vacated, and sat. Her face was white, her hands clasped together in tension.

Miss Amory entered, accompanied by her niece Barbara, an extremely modern young woman of twenty-one. Swinging her handbag, Barbara crossed the room towards her. ‘Hello, Lucia, are you all right now?’ she asked.

Chapter 3

Lucia forced a smile as Barbara Amory approached her. ‘Yes, thank you, darling,’ she replied. ‘I’m perfectly all right. Really.’

Barbara looked down at her cousin’s beautiful, black-haired wife. ‘Not broken any glad tidings to Richard, have you?’ she asked. ‘Is that what it’s all about?’

‘Glad tidings? What glad tidings? I don’t know what you mean,’ protested Lucia.

Barbara clasped her arms together, and made a rocking motion as though cradling a baby. Lucia’s reaction to this pantomime was a sad smile and a shake of the head. Miss Amory, however, collapsed in horror onto a chair. ‘Really, Barbara!’ she admonished.

‘Well,’ said Barbara, ‘accidents will happen, you know.’

Her aunt shook her head vigorously. ‘I cannot think what young girls are coming to, nowadays,’ she announced to no one in particular. ‘In my young days we did not speak flippantly of motherhood, and I would never have allowed –’ She broke off at the sound of the door opening, and looked around in time to see Richard leave the room. ‘You’ve embarrassed Richard,’ she continued, addressing Barbara, ‘and I can’t say I’m at all surprised.’

‘Well, Aunt Caroline,’ Barbara replied, ‘you are a Victorian, you know, born when the old Queen still had a good twenty years of life ahead of her. You’re thoroughly representative of your generation, and I dare say I am of mine.’

‘I’m in no doubt as to which I prefer –’, her aunt began, only to be interrupted by Barbara, who chuckled and said, ‘I think the Victorians were too marvellous. Fancy telling children that babies were found under gooseberry bushes! I think it’s sweet.’