“In that case, the killer has a serious problem when it comes to matching up his behavior with his preferred result,” Douglas Laurier said warily.
“Not at all, monsieur. You see, in both cases, the murders delivered results for the killer that were greatly desired. But in neither instance was that result the death of the victim.”
“Are you saying that on both occasions that he committed murder, the killer wantedsomething else?” Maddie Laurier asked. “The murders were... what? An unwanted byproduct of securing for himself this other outcome he wanted?”
“Exactly so,” said Poirot. “Neither of the desired outcomes could have been achieved if the two murders had not been committed,” Poirot told him.
“I am not finding this guessing game at all congenial,” Jonathan Laurier said. “Might I remind you, Monsieur Poirot, that everyone in this room apart from you and perhaps Inspectors Catchpool and Mackle is more concerned with seeing the murderer of my father brought to justice than with admiring your cleverness. If you know who the killer is, tell us and have done with it.”
“You wish to know the killer’s name?Bien sûr. It is someone who is sitting here with us in this room.” Gasps and whispers filled the air, as Poirot must have known they would. “I would not even need to say their name. I could point at the relevant person and give you your answer, monsieur. But you would notunderstand—and then you would ask me how I came to this conclusion, and what evidence I have to support it. The discussion would end up taking the same length of time that it will take if I tell it in the proper order. Then the story will make perfect sense to everybody.”
Poirot took a step closer to the Christmas tree. “This tree was not decorated when I arrived here several days ago. Now, thanks to Catchpool’s efforts, it is a work of art. Catchpool, please explain to everybody the mostinsightful ‘Now that it’s there’ principle that you developed while decorating the Christmas trees of Frellingsloe House.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I knew what I needed to say, yet somehow I could not seem to gather the requisite words.
“I can explain it perfectly if you would like me to, Edward,” Maddie Laurier said, and then proceeded to do so. Most of the assembled company looked mystified, though she did an excellent job.
“Thank you, madame.” Poirot smiled at her. “It is fascinating to me that when Catchpool formulated his theory, he did so in relation tothe placing of objects.But it can be applied with equal relevance to the placing ofhumanobjects—to the matter of where various people are at particular times. Allow me to illustrate this with an example...”
Jonathan Laurier let out a heavy sigh and folded his arms.
“Catchpool and I came to Frellingsloe House to solve the murder of Stanley Niven,” said Poirot. “That was our only reason for coming. Then Arnold Laurier was murdered. If it had taken me a day or two longer to solve these murders, then we might still have been here on Christmas Day. We would have beentwo human objects who were situated here, still, on 25 December. ‘Now that we are here,’ we would have told ourselves, ‘we must eat the Christmas luncheon and play the Morality Game—assuming the plan were still to play games, which I am sure it is not, but let us pretend it is for a moment. Catchpool and I would havefelt duty-bound to participate in whatever festive activities were taking place, as guests in this house. And we would have done so for the very compelling reason of ‘Now that we are here, it is our best option,’ even though we would not have chosen to do so, or to be here, if a free choice had been available to us. Do you see, ladies and gentleman? ‘Now that I find myself here, in this place, this is what I must do. This is the best choice I can now make, given that I am a human object in this particular position.’”
“Well, of all the rude, ungrateful—” Jonathan Laurier spluttered.
“I do not see what you mean at all,” said Janet. “Nor do I see the relevance of any of it to poor Arnold’s murder.”
“Oh, you will, madame,” said Poirot. “You will. Very simply: Stanley Niven was murdered because someone with no knowledge of him or interest in him at all happened to find themselves in his hospital room.” He said all of this so quickly that I had to replay a slower version of it in my head before I could make sense of it.
“This human object, having placed itself quite deliberately in this inconvenient position, then had a grave dilemma: how to explain to Monsieur Niven what it was doing there. There was no good reason to be there. It could think of no excuse! I do not know precisely what occurred, but I can guess. Monsieur Niven must have said something like, ‘Hello! Who are you?’ And the person who was soon to become his killer would not have been able to produce an acceptable explanation, because none existed. To open the door and walk into a stranger’s room? Quite inappropriate. Shocking, even. When Monsieur Niven did not get an answer, and realized that this stranger seemed both distressed and afraid, he probably called out for assistance: ‘Nurse, nurse!’ Or maybe he said only, ‘Shall I call a nurse?’ At that moment, whatever he said, it impressed upon the dangerous human object who had so outrageously entered his room that Monsieur Niven had to be prevented from calling for help. Of course, the murderer could have said to him, ‘Please be silent. I need to hide in here until the coast is clear.’ Would they have risked it, though? Would any of you, if you were a patient in a private hospital, respond to a plea like that by saying, ‘Bien sûr, stranger-who-is-shaking-with-fear, you may wait in my room for as long as you wish’? I myself would not.”
“Nobody would,” said Nurse Olga Woodruff. “Nor should they.”
“A good-natured man like Monsieur Niven would have called for a nurse as much for the sake of the intruder as for his own sake,” said Poirot. “He would have thoughttheywere in trouble and needed help. The intruder knew this was what he was thinking, and knew with the lightning-fast instinct of panic that he needed to be silenced as a matter of urgency, or else doctors and nurses would soon enter the room and come face to face with the person who had no business being there. This cannot be allowed to happen. The killer reaches for the vase on Monsieur Niven’s side-table, throws the flowers and water on the floor, and...” Poirot raised his hands above his head, then brought them down quickly, twice.
“Now Monsieur Niven is silent, because he is dead. Now his killer can be reasonably hopeful—though by no means certain—that no member of St. Walstan’s staff will open the closed door and find them in the room.”
“But why did the murderer go into Stanley Niven’s room in the first place if he did not know him?” Terence Surtees asked.
“An excellent question, monsieur. To hide.”
“From whom?” asked Vivienne Laurier. “From the doctors and nurses?”
“From one of the nurses,” said Poirot.
“This is senseless,” snapped Jonathan Laurier. “Why go to someone’s place of work if you do not wish to be seen by them? Is this killer chap a fool?”
“Until the afternoon of 8 September, the killer did not know that this particular nurse worked at St. Walstan’s Hospital,” Poirot told him. “Did not know, even, that she had chosen nursing as her profession.”
“Then... Stanley Niven’s murder had nothing to do with Stanley Niven himself,” said Maddie. “If his murderer had chanced to open a different door, if he had slipped into some other patient’s room to avoid whoever it was that he didn’t want to see...”
“Correct,” said Poirot. “Then another patient would now be dead and Monsieur Niven would still be alive.”
“That is horrible,” said Maddie. “To be killed for a reason that has no connection to you at all. I would far rather be murdered by someone who hated me with a passion.”
“Really?” said her sister. “I would not. If one must bekilled, surely one would prefer not to be chosen as a victim on purpose.”
“I would prefer my murder to be about me,” said Maddie.
