“It is a good question, madame. My suspicion is that the killer believed that would take too long. If they were standing at the back of the party, for instance, then those standing in front of them, closer to the door of Monsieur Laurier’s room, might have been blocking their entrance. Remember, all this time, Bee Haskins is walking toward their little group, getting closer. It would have attracted much attention if the murderer had pushed the others out of the way to get into Monsieur Laurier’s room quicker, would it not? That would have turned into the... how would you say it? The scufflé.”
“Scuffle,” I corrected him. He had said it as if it rhymed with soufflé.
“Yes, the scuffle, exactly. The only way to vanish from sight and from that corridorimmédiatementwas to open the nearest door to where the killer was standing and slip into that room—Stanley Niven’s room.”
“That is pure invention on your part, Monsieur Poirot,” said Mother.
“It is deduction, madame.” His voice had a hard edge. “In due course, we will receive confirmation from the person in question that I am right.”
“I think I know who killed Mr. Niven,” said Jonathan quietly. “If Monsieur Poirot is certain that it was one of our party... I might have been looking out of the windowat that damned courtyard, but I recall clearly who joined in the argument and who did not. Douglas and Maddie had plenty to say; they started to harangue Janet and me almost immediately.”
“Jonathan, stop,” his wife begged. “Monsieur Poirot has said that he already knows who the killer is. If he knows, you do not need to tell him.”
“Please do not ask me anything about who spoke when, Monsieur Poirot.” Zillah Hunt’s voice shook.
She knew who the murderer was, I realized. So did Janet Laurier. Both had worked it out by a process of elimination, and so had I—or at least, I thought I had. I recalled something that had not stood out as at all significant at the time, something Poirot had told me that I had written in my notes: according to Inspector Mackle’s account of events, it was Vivienne Laurier who had opened the door. If that was accurate, then in all likelihood she had been standing closer to the door than any of the others—because she had been to last to enter the room.
“I doubted your abilities,” she said to Poirot now. “I was wrong to do so. Perhaps, after this long preamble, you might consent to tell us who the murderer is.” Slowly, a sly smile spread across her face. “Of course, if you are about to say that it was Vivienne Laurier who killed two kind, innocent men—one of them her beloved husband—then we will all laugh at you, I’m afraid.”
“You, madame, are Vivienne Laurier, are you not?”
“I have been Vivienne Laurier,” she said. “Sometimes.Monsieur Poirot, surely you are intelligent enough to understand that Vivienne Laurier is not a murderer?”
“That depends on one’s point of view,” Poirot told her. “Please enlighten us: what do you think is the name of this murderer who has killed two people?”
“Her name is Iris Haskins,” said Vivienne.
Chapter 36
The Second Murder Explained
“Haskins?” said Zillah Hunt. “That is Aunt Bee’s family name.”
“Iris is your aunt’s sister,” Poirot told her. “Older by ten years.”
“But... then if all you have said is true, Iris Haskins must be Vivienne Laurier,” said Zillah. “They must be one and the same person.”
Poirot nodded.
“Oh, no,” said Vivienne. The eerie smile had not left her face, and I could hardly stand to look at it. “Two very different people.”
“Ma, be quiet, for pity’s sake,” said Douglas. Maddie made a peculiar noise. She bunched her hands into fists and pressed them against her mouth.
“This cannot be true,” Dr. Osgood murmured.
“I fear that it is,” said Felix Rawcliffe.
“Of course it is not,” said Mother. “Balderdash from start to finish, I should say!”
“Vivienne Laurier was the only one who did not speak at all,” said Zillah Hunt. “Not until much later, at any rate. The two younger couples argued back and forth from the moment we walked into the room, and made nasty remarks to each other, but Mrs. Laurier was silent at first, or so I thought. I assumed she was sensibly not saying anything because, really, the whole production was so undignified. No one in their right mind would have wanted to join in. And then... when I finally turned round, the door was closed and all six of us were in the room where we were supposed to be. I truly believed that what I told Inspector Mackle about us all being together the whole time was true.”
“Yes, you did,” Poirot agreed. “So, I think, did Monsieur Jonathan and Madame Janet. As for you two,” he said to Douglas and Maddie, “you both lied. You knew, did you not, that Vivienne Laurier did not immediately join you in that hospital room? You must have left the door open for her and noticed when she entered not straight away but several minutes later, and closed the door behind her.”
“We noticed no such thing,” said Maddie. “We were looking ahead, not over our shoulders, and busy squabbling with Janet and Jonathan. I assumed Vivienne was behind me, watching us all bicker and silently disapproving as she always did. She never said anything when the four of us fought. We could scream at each other all day long—often did—and Vivienne would not say a word, she was so afraid of seeming to criticize any of us or take sides.”
“Siblings should love and be kind to one another,” said Vivienne.
I realized this was what Poirot had been thinking of when he had asked me to guess who had said what in Arnold Laurier’s hospital room on 8 September. I was meant to work out that Vivienne was the only person whose temporary absence would have gone unnoticed; she was in the habit of staying silent during family arguments, therefore hers was the only voice that would not have been missed.
