Inspector Sharpe spoke for the first time.
“There is such a link, sir,” he said, “or there was. A woman who ran several student clubs and organisations. A woman who was right on the spot at Hickory Road. Mrs. Nicoletis.” Wilding flicked a quick glance at Poirot.
“Yes,” said Poirot. “Mrs. Nicoletis fits the bill. She had a financial interest in all these places though she didn’t run them herself. Her method was to get someone of unimpeachable integrity and antecedents to run the place. My friend Mrs. Hubbard is such a person. The financial backing was supplied by Mrs. Nicoletisbut there again I suspect her of being only a figurehead.” “Hm,” said Wilding. “I think it would be interesting to know a little more about Mrs. Nicoletis.” Sharpe nodded.
“We’re investigating her,” he said.
“Her background and where she came from. It has to be done carefully. We don’t want to alarm our birds too soon. We’re looking into her financial background, too. My word, that woman was a tartar if there ever was one.” He described his experiences with Mrs.
Nicoletis when confronted with a search warrant.
“Brandy bottles, eh?” said Wilding. “So she drank?
Well, that ought to make it easier. What’s hzffppened to her? Hooked it-his” “No, sir. She’s dead.” “Dead?” Wilding raised his eyebrows.
“Monkey business, do you mean?” “We think so-yes. We’ll know for certain after the autopsy. I think myself she’d begun to crack.
Maybe she didn’t bargain for murder.” “You’re talking about the Celia Austin case.
Did the girl know something?” “She knew something,” said Poirot, “but if I may so put it, I do not think she knew what it was she knew!” “You mean she knew something but didn’t appreciate the implications of it?” “Yes. Just that. She was not a clever girl. She would be quite likely to fail to grasp an inference. But having seen something, or heard something, she may have mentioned the fact quite unsuspiciously.” “You’ve no idea what she saw or heard, Mr. Poirot?” “I make guesses,” said Poirot. “I cannot do more. There has been mention of a passport. Did someone in the house have a false passport allowing them to go to and fro to the Continent under another name?
Would the revelation of that fact be a serious danger to that person? Did she see the rucksack being tampered with or did she, perhaps, one day see someone removin,,,, the false bottom from the rucksack without reafisin, what it was that that person was doing?
Did she perhaps see the person who removed the light bulbs?
And mention the fact to him or her, not realising that it was of any importance? Ah, mon Dieu!” said Hercule Poirot with irritation. “Guesses! guesses! guesses! One must know more. Always one must know more!” “Well,” said Sharpe, “we can make a start on Mrs. Nicoletis” antecedents. Something may come, up.” “She was put out of the way because they thought she might talk? Would she have talked?” “She’d been drinking secretly for some time . and that means her nerves were shot to pieces,” said Sharpe. “She might have broken down and spilled the whole thing. Turned Queen’s Evidence.” “She didn’t really run the racket, I suppose?” Poirot shook his head.
“I should not think so, no. She was out in the open, you see. She knew what was going on, of course, but I should not say she was the brains behind it. No.” “Any idea who is the brains behind it?” “I could make a guess-I migtit be wrong.
Yes-I might be wrong!” “HJCKORY, DICKORY, DOCK,” said Nigel, “the mouse ran up the clock. The police said “Boo,” I wonder who, Win eventually stand in the Dock?” He added, “To tell or not to tell? That is the question!” He poured himself out a fresh cup of coffee and brought it back to the breakfast table.
“Tell what?” asked Len Bateson.
“Anything one knows,” said Nigel, with an airy wave of the hand.
Jean Tomlinson said disapprovingly, “But of course! If we have any information that may be of use,, of course we must tell the police.
That would be only right.” “And there speaks our bonny Jean,” said Nigel.