Evil Under the Sun (Hercule Poirot 24)

Colonel Weston grunted and said:

“Something in that. It’s the women who’ve got their knife into her here all right.”

Poirot went on.

“It seems to be hardly possible that this crime was committed by a woman. What does the medical evidence say?”

Weston grunted again. He said:

“Neasden’s pretty confident that she was strangled by a man. Big hands—powerful grip. It’s just possible, of course, that an unusually athletic woman might have done it—but it’s damned unlikely.”

Poirot nodded.

“Exactly. Arsenic in a cup of tea—a box of poisoned chocolates—a knife—even a pistol—but strangulation—no! It is a man we have to look for.”

“And immediately,” he went on, “it becomes more difficult. There are two people here in this hotel who have a motive for wishing Arlena Marshall out of the way—but both of them are women.”

Colonel Weston asked:

“Redfern’s wife is one of them, I suppose?”

“Yes. Mrs. Redfern might have made up her mind to kill Arlena Stuart. She had, let us say, ample cause. I think, too, that it would be possible for Mrs. Redfern to commit a murder. But not this kind of murder. For all her unhappiness and jealousy, she is not, I should say, a woman of strong passions. In love, she would be devoted and loyal—not passionate. As I said just now—arsenic in the teacup, possibly—strangulation, no. I am sure, also, that she is physically incapable of committing this crime, her hands and feet are small, below the average.”

Weston nodded. He said:

“This isn’t a woman’s crime. No, a man did this.”

Inspector Colgate coughed.

“Let me put forward a solution, sir. Say that prior to meeting this Mr. Redfern the lady had had another affair with someone—call him X. She turns X down for Mr. Redfern. X is mad with rage and jealousy. He follows her down here, stays somewhere in the neighbourhood, comes over to the island, does her in. It’s a possibility!”

Weston said:

“It’s possible, all right. And if it’s true, it ought to be easy to prove. Did he come on foot or in a boat? The latter seems more likely. If so, he must have hired a boat somewhere. You’d better make inquiries.”

He looked across at Poirot.

“What do you think of Colgate’s suggestion?”

Poirot said slowly:

“It leaves, somehow, too much to chance. And besides—somewhere the picture is not true. I cannot, you see, imagine this man…the man who is mad with rage and jealousy.”

Colgate said:

“People did go potty about her, though, sir. Look at Redfern.”

“Yes, yes… But all the same—”

Colgate looked at him questioningly.

Poirot shook his head.

He said, frowning:

“Somewhere, there is something that we have missed….”

Six