“I see,” Poirot said in a voice devoid of expression.
“Yes, it was a crying shame. Still, these things happen, don’t they?”
“How was it established that the vase was the murder weapon?” Poirot asked.
“It had...” Mackle eyed the two women, then cleared his throat. “It was apparent from the condition of the vase afterwards. There was blood on it.”
“Time of death?” said Poirot briskly.
“Between two o’clock and ten minutes before three. We were not able to narrow it down any further.”
“And why could Monsieur Niven not have been killed before two or after ten minutes to three?”
“Well, because Dr. Osgood... I believe you have met him, Mr. Prarrow? He lodges at Frellingsloe House.”
Poirot nodded.
“Dr. Osgood entered Stanley Niven’s room at ten minutes to three to give him his medicine,” said Mackle. “Found him dead.”
“And I saw him myself at two,” said Bee Haskins. “Alive and well, or as well as a hospital patient can be, at any rate. I was accompanying Dr. Wall on his rounds. Two o’clock was when he knocked on Stanley Niven’s door and was invited to enter. We both went in and found Mr. Niven in good spirits. But there is something that has never made sense, Monsieur Poirot.”
“What is that, mademoiselle?”
“The door,” Nurse Bee said with a sigh. “It cannot have been open and closed at the same time.”
“I hardly think we need to bother Mr. Prarrow with—” Mackle started to say.
“Silence, please, inspector. I should very much like to hear about this door. Do you mean the door to the hospital room of Monsieur Niven, mademoiselle?”
“No,” said Bee Haskins. “The one next to it—the door to Arnold Laurier’s room...”
Chapter 16
Decorating More Christmas Trees
“Why is Vivienne so convinced that whoever killed Stanley Niven also wants to kill Arnold?” I asked Maddie and Douglas.
They exchanged a look. Then Maddie said, “It makes no sense, Edward. She has not been herself since Arnold received his terminal diagnosis. And then after the murder... why, she stopped eating. She is disappearing right in front of our eyes.”
“Whereas Pa seems more sprightly than ever,” said Douglas. “The prospect of catching a murderer at St. Walstan’s has enlivened him no end. Which has enabled my appalling brother to say, ‘I only want for Pa what he wants for himself. Who among us would not gladly grant the final wish of a dying man?’Etcetera ad nauseam.”
“Jonathan and Janet do not care what Arnold wants,” said Maddie. “It istheywho do not want to live in a house in which a protracted death is taking place. How unpleasant forthemit would be. Just wait until Arnold gets properlysick—we won’t catch sight of them at the hospital. Douglas and I will be the ones taking over from Vivienne, insisting she goes home and gets some rest now and then.” She sighed. “I sincerely hope Arnold dies as quickly as possible once his illness progresses to its next stage. Until he is gone, Vivienne cannot begin to recover.”
Douglas, far from looking shocked, was nodding. “All this dying he’s doing is torture for Ma. She, of course, wants him to live forever. At least once a day she says something like, ‘He really might last as long as a year, or two if we’re lucky. Even the cleverest doctors cannot predict the future.’”
“And meanwhile, she is loathing every second of the present.” Maddie’s tone was defiant. “The worst part of any terrible thing, always, is the dread one feels in advance. Anything that has already happened, however ghastly, can be recovered from, or at least incorporated somehow. It is a wonderful thing to be able to say ‘The worst is over.’”
I said to Douglas, “You implied before that Janet and Jonathan lied about your father’s will. What did you mean?”
“I did not imply it. I stated it proudly. It’s a fact: they are liars.”
“Douglas and I disagree about this,” said Maddie. “I prefer to think that Janet is not aware of her distortions. You must think I hate my sister after hearing the way I spoke to her at dinner last night, Edward, but I don’t. I love her deeply. Lord knows I wish every day that I could stop loving her, but I cannot. It is wounded love that pours out of me in her presence, not hate.”
“Whereas I merely dislike Jonnells,” said Douglas. “Inever took to him, truth be told, though for my parents’ sake I tried to be pleasant—but from the moment he was old enough to display any sort of personality, I found it to be conventional, self-aggrandizing and duplicitous. It is a relief not to have to feign fond brotherly feelings any more. I only feel sorry for the parents: Ma, Pa, Enid and Terence. They are the ones who suffer as a result of this feud that Jonathan and Janet have instigated.”
“Not your father,” Maddie corrected him. “He has always insisted that the four of us are on the verge of making friends. Any day now, he believes that this grand reconciliation will happen—and from that point on it will be sunshine and roses all the way.”
“What is the lie about Arnold’s will?” I asked again. I was comfortable asking directly, since both Douglas and Maddie seemed eager to confide.
