Agatha Christie – Hickory Dickory Death

“Moi, je n’aime pas It’s tics,” said Ren6, offering his contribution to the discussion.

“Tell what?” Leonard Bateson asked again.

“The things we know,” said Nigel. “About each other, I mean,” he added helpfully. His glance swept round the breakfast room table with a malicious Team.

“After all,” he said, cheerfully, “we all do know lots of things about each other, don’t we? I mean, one’s bound to, living in the same house.” “But who is to decide what is important or not?

There are many thinos no business of the police it all,” said Mr. Ahmed Ali. He spoke hotly, with a injured remembrance of the Inspector’s sharp remarks about his collection of postcards.

“T hear,” said Nigel, turning towards Mr. Akibombo, “that they found some very interesting things in your room.” Owing to his colour, Mr. Akibombo was not able to blush, but his eyelids blinked in a discomfited manner.

“Very much superstition in my country,” he said.

“My grandfather give me things to bring here. I keep out of feeling of piety and respect. I, myself, am modern and scientific; not believe in voodoo, but owing to imperfect command of language I find very difficult to explain to policeman.” “Even dear little Jean has her secrets, I expect,” said Niel, turning his gaze back to Miss Tomlinson.

Jean said hotly that she wasn’t going to be insulted.

“I shall leave this place and go to the ally W C A.,” she said.

“Come now, Jean,” said Nigel. “Give us another chance.” “Oh, cut it out, Nigel!” said Valerie wearily. “The police have to snoop, I suppose, under the circumstances.” Colin Mcationabb cleared his throat, preparatory to making a remark.

“In my opinion,” he said judicially, “the present position ought to be made clear to us. What exactly was the cause of Mrs. Nick’s death?” “We’ll hear at the inquest, I suppose,” said Valerie, impatiently.

“I very much doubt it,” said Colin. “In my opinion they’ll adjourn the inquest.” “I suppose it was her heart, wasn’t it?” said Patricia. “She fell down in the street.” “Drunk and incapable,” said Len Bateson.

“That’s how she got taken to the police station.” “So she did drink,” said Jean. “You know, I always thought so.

“When the police searched the house they found cupboards full of empty brandy bottles in her room, I believe,” she added.

“Trust our Jean to know all the dirt,” said Nigel, approvingly.

“Well, that does explain why she was sometimes so odd in her manner,” said Patricia.

Colin cleared his throat again.

“Ah! hem,” he said. “Ihappened to observe her going into The Queen’s Necklace on Saturday evening, when I was on my way home.” “That’s where she got tanked up, I suppose,” said Nigel.

“I suppose she just died of drink, then?” said Jean.

Len Bateson shook his head.

“Cerebral haemorrhage? I rather doubt it.” “For goodness’ sake, you don’t think she was murdered, too, do you?” said Jean.

“I bet she was,” said Sally Finch. “Nothing would surprise me less.” “Please,” said Mr. Akibombo. “It is thought someone killed her? Is that right?” He looked from face to face.

“We’ve no reason to suppose anything of the sort yet,” said Colin.

“But who would want to kill her?” demanded Genevieve. “Had she much money to leave? If she was rich it is possible, I suppose.” “She was a maddening woman, my dear,” said Nigel. “I’m sure everybody wccinted to kill her. I often did,” he added, helping himself happily to marmalade.

“Please, Miss Sally, may I ask you a question? It is after what was said at breakfast. I have been thinking very much.” “Well, I shouldn’t think too much if I were you, Akibombo,” said Sally. “It isn’t healthy.” Sally and Akibombo were partaking of an open air lunch in Regent’s Park. Summer was officially supposed to have come and the restaurant was open.

“All this morning,” said Akibombo mournfully, his have been much disturbed. I cannot answer my professor’s questions good at all. He is not pleased at me. He says to me that I copy large bits out of books and do not think for myself. But I am here to acquire wisdom from much books and it seems to me that they say better in the books than the way I put it, because I have not good command of the English. And besides, this morning I find it very hard to think at all except for what goes on at Hickory Road and difficulties there.” “I’ll say you’re right about that,” said Sally. “I just couldn’t concentrate myself, this morning.” “So that is why I ask you please to tell me certain things, because as I say, I have been thinking very much.” “Well, let’s hear what you’ve been thinking about, then.” “Well, it is this bor-ass-sic.” “Bor-ass-sic? Oh, boracic! Yes.

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