“I am dying; that does not make me a fool,” Laurier interrupted. “I shall be in hospital as a patient. That is all anyone will think I am. No one will suspect me of investigating anything.”
“It’s difficult to find things out if you don’t ask questions,” I told him.
“Ah, yes, but the way in which one asks a question makes all the difference.” Laurier smiled. “You must know that, inspector. There’s a knack to it. One can find out a lot simply by listening attentively, without asking anyone anything. It was by listening to Stanley Niven himself that I was able to pick up two excellent leads. I’ve told the police about both. They seem peculiarly uninterested.”
“You met Monsieur Niven?” said Poirot. “When?”
“Yes, of course. I told you: a thoroughly amiable chap.”
“I assumed you were repeating what you had heard about him.”
“No, no. Second-hand reports tell you next to nothing about a chap. They are informative only about the opinions and beliefs of the second-hand reporters.”
“C’est vrai,” Poirot agreed.
I frowned. Had he not solved case after case as a direct result of people telling him at least some things that had turned out to be true? The skill was in judging when to trust and when to doubt.
“Please tell me about your meeting with Monsieur Niven,” Poirot said to Laurier. “I was told that you did not accompany your family to the hospital on 8 September, the day of the murder.”
“No. I was supposed to, but I felt exceptionally unwell that day. I met Niven only once—in August. I am afraid I cannot remember what day it was. Vivienne might be able to tell you. I went to the hospital to see Dr. Wall, a colleague of Dr. Osgood. Wall knows more than anyone else at St. Walstan’s about my particular condition. Unfortunately he was delayed. Stanley Niven, who was taking his daily constitutional around the ward, noticed that I had been waiting for rather a long time and decided to keep me company. Jolly decent of him, it was, putting himself out to entertain a complete stranger.”
“You say you picked up two excellent leads while listening to him?” said Poirot.
“Well, they were not leads then, of course. Niven had not yet been murdered.”
“But they are leads now. What are they?”
“I will tell you, of course—though I should warn you, it might be a waste of your time. According to the police, they are not important enough to merit further consideration. It’s frustrating, Poirot.” Laurier sighed. “As a former schoolteacher, I cannot help wondering if schools these days are properly equipping children for adult life. Does anyone get a proper education any more? I am not convinced. Gerald Mackle looks about twelve years old—that’s Inspector Mackle, the one in charge of the Niven murder. Nice enough fellow, but he doesn’t seem able to think properly. My subject was Mathematics, but I also taught my pupils to use their brains effectively in all spheres of life. I have tried to encourage Inspector Mackle in that direction, but he seems remarkably resistant to instruction. He keeps trying to insist that one of four people must have killed Stanley Niven: his wife, his daughter, his son or his brother. Have you spoken to Mackle about the case, Poirot?”
“Not yet. I intend to do so first thing tomorrow. Please tell me about the two leads.”
“I will,” said Laurier enthusiastically. “First, though, I must tell you why Mackle’s four suspects cannot be guilty: they were not at the hospital when Niven was murdered. All of them were miles away. They were not even in Norfolk. Not a one of them!” He chuckled. “You would think, would you not, that this bald fact might persuade Mackle to abandon his theory? Not a bit of it! He believes that one of their alibis must be false—oh yes, they can all prove they were elsewhere at the crucial moment. But Mackle doggedlyclings to his belief that one of them has persuaded an associate to lie. Never mind that nobody—no doctor, no nurse, no patient—saw any of Niven’s closest relatives on the ward that day. It is true that the hospital can be a little chaotic at times, but, really...” Laurier snorted with laughter.
“Monsieur,” said Poirot. “The two leads, please.”
“Yes, yes. The all-important leads.” Laurier looked guarded suddenly. “I trust we have an agreement in place, Poirot?”
“What exactly do you mean, Mr. Laurier?”
I knew exactly what he meant, the cunning old cove. Well, he would need to be more straightforward about it.
“Will you give me the month I have asked for, before you take any steps to solve Stanley Niven’s murder?” He looked first at Poirot, then at me.
“Non. This I cannot agree to do.”
“Then will you permit me to become a member of your investigative operation?” said Laurier. “An equal partner with you and Inspector Catchpool here?”
I had to give full credit to Poirot: if he was shocked by the suggestion that I might be his equal, he hid it well.
“The first step will be to tell my wife that, in your expert opinion, I must go to St. Walstan’s after Christmas as planned,” said Laurier. “I can hardly be your man on the inside if I’m twiddling my thumbs here at Frelly.”
“If you wish to be of any assistance to me at all, you must understand this, monsieur: whether they are on the inside or on the outside, my ‘men’ do not withhold information from me in order to compel me to enter into agreements that, otherwise, I should not consider.”
Laurier’s face seemed to fold in on itself. He was silent for a few seconds. Then he said, “Yes, I can see how that might rub you up the wrong way.Extremis malis, extrema remediaand all that. Still, it is no excuse. I am sorry, Poirot. You are right: it was an unfair tactic. Please accept my apology.”
Poirot inclined his head graciously. “It is forgotten, monsieur. I understand your predicament and I sympathize. I know, also, that your wife would not forgive me if I allowed you to place yourself in unnecessary danger—”
Once again, Laurier interrupted him. “If Vivienne is right and I am next in line to be hit over the head with a large hospital-issue vase by Stanley Niven’s murderer, then so be it. It is my life, my risk and my choice, and I choose to play an active part in trying to solve this crime. I believe this matter has crossed my path for a reason, and I simply wish to fulfil my God-given purpose on this earth before I leave it.”
