Agatha Christie – Death On The Nile

Pennington shrugged his shoulders.

“Your ideas arc–fantastic.” “Time will show.” “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘Time will show!’ This is a mtter of three deaths–three murders. The law will demand the most searching investigation into the condition of Mrs.

Doyle’s estate.”

He saw the sudden sag in the other’s shoulders and knew that he had won. Jim

Fanthorp’s suspicions were well founded.

Poirot went on:

“You’ve played—and lost. Useless to go on bluffing.”

Pennington muttered:

“You don’t understand–it’s all square enough really. It’s been this damned slumpWall Street’s been crazy. But I’d staged a comeback. With luck everything will be O.K. by the middle of June.”

With shaking hands he took a cigarette, tried to light it–failed.

“I suppose,” mused Poirot, “that the boulder was a sudden temptation. You thought nobody saw you.”

“That was an accident–I swear it was an accident.” The man leaned forward, his face working, his eyes terrified. “I stumbled and fell against it. I swear it was an accident …. ”

The two men said nothing.

Pennington suddenly pulled himself together. He was still a wreck of a man but his fighting spirit had returned in a certain measure. He moved towards the door.

“You can’t pin that on me, gentlemen. It was an accident. And it wasn’t I who shot her! D’you hear? You can’t pin that on me either–and you never will.”

He went out.

CHAPTER 26

As the door closed behind him, Race gave a deep sigh.

“We got more than I thought we should. Admission of fraud. Admission of attempted murder. Further than that it’s impossible to go. A man will confess, more or less, to attempted murder, but you won’t get him to confess to the real thing.”

“Sometimes it can be done,” said Poirot. His eyes were dreamy–catlike.

Race looked at him curiously.

“Got a plan?” Poirot nodded.

Then he said, ticking off the items on his fingers.

“The garden at Assuan. Mr. Allerton’s statement. The two bottles of nail polish. My bottle of wine. The velvet stole. The stained handkerchief. The pistol that was left on the scene of the crime. The death of Louise. The death of Mrs.

Otterbourne …. Yes, it’s all there. Pennington didn’t do it, Race!” “What?” Race was startled.

“Pennington didn’t do it. He had the motive, yes. He had the will to do it, yes.

He got as far as attempting to do it. Mats c’est tout. Something was wanted for this crime that Pennington hasn’t got! This is a crime that needed audacity, swift and faultless execution, courage, indifference to danger, and a resourceful, calculating brain. Pennington hasn’t got those attributes. He couldn’t do a crime unless he knew it to be safe. This crime wasn’t safe! It hung on a razor edge. It needed boldness. Pennington isn’t bold. He’s only astute.” Race looked at him with the respect one able man gives to another.

“You’ve got it all well taped,” he said.

“I think so–yes. There are one or two things–that telegram, for instance, that Linnet Doyle read. I should like to get that cleared up.” “By Jove, we forgot to ask Doyle. He was telling us when poor old Ma Otterbourne came along. We’ll ask him again.” “Presently. First, I have some one else to whom I wish to speak.” “Who’s that?” “Tim Allerton.” Race raised his eyebrows.

“Allerton? Well, we’ll get him here.” He pressed a bell and sent the steward with a message.

Tim Allerton entered with a questioning look.

“Steward said you wanted to see me?” “That is right, Mr. Allerton. Sit down.” Tim sat. His face was attentive but very slightly bored.

“Anything I can do?” His tone was polite but not enthusiastic.

Poirot said: “Ina sense, perhaps. What I really require is for you to listen.” Tim’s eyebrows rose in polite surprise.

“Certainly. I’m the world’s best listener. Can be relied on to say, ‘OO-er!’ at the right moments.” “That is very satisfactory. ‘OO-er!’ will be very expressive. Eh bien, let us commence. When I met you and your mother at Assuan, M. Allerton, I was attracted to your company very strongly. To begin with, I thought your mother was one of the most charming people I had ever met–” The weary face flickered for a moment–a shade of expression came into it.