Free Closed Casket: The New Hercule Poirot Mystery (Hercule Poirot Mystery 2) by Sophie Hannah Page B

Joseph Scotcher have jointly concocted some kind of plot?’ I said.
    ‘Why do you suggest it?’ asked Poirot. We had reached the far side of the lawn, the spot that offered the best view of Lillieoak. People were supposed to stop here and admire the house.
    ‘Oh, I don’t know. It’s only that their behaviour struck me as similar somehow. Lady Playford leaves everything to a dying man who will not benefit from her generosity. Joseph Scotcher proposes marriage to a girl who, if she accepts him, will get deathbed duty instead of the romantic dream, before becoming a widow. In both cases, the promise of everything—one’s dreams come true—but a vastly different and more desolate reality.’
    ‘That is an interesting observation,’ said Poirot as we walked on. ‘Yet I can imagine the desire to marry the one you love growing more urgent as life departs. There is great consolation in the symbolic union.’
    ‘What if Nurse Sophie ends up with the lot?’ I said.
    ‘While I think of the grand romantic gestures, you think of practicalities,
n’est-ce pas?
’
    ‘You have not considered it? If he marries her, and Lady Playford dies before he does, to whom would her estate go? To Sophie, as Scotcher’s wife.’
    ‘Catchpool. What is that noise?’
    We stopped. It seemed to be coming from the bushes to our right: the distinct sound of a person weeping that soon gave way to an intermittent hissing noise.
    ‘What on earth is that?’ I asked Poirot.
    ‘Frenzied whispering. Lower your voice, or they will hear us, if they have not already.’
    It was obvious as soon as he said it that the hissing I had heard was the sound of a frightened person trying to communicate quietly but urgently.
    ‘There must be two of them out here,’ I whispered. ‘Shall we look for them?’
    ‘In these gardens?’ Poirot made a dismissive noise. ‘It would be more profitable to look for a particular leaf—the first one you saw when you arrived here.’
    ‘People are easier to find than leaves,’ I said.
    ‘Not when you and I are strangers to these paths and others are not. No, we will return to the house. There is work for us to do. We must make ourselves busy. Once we are inside, we will be able to see who is there and who is not. That is more productive than looking for the needle in the hay.’
    ‘What did you mean about us having work to do?’ I asked. ‘What sort of work?’
    ‘I know now why we were invited here, you and I. It was not for our congenial company.
Non, pas du tout
. We are here to use our little grey cells. It is all part of Lady Playford’s plan.’
    Before I had a chance to ask ‘What plan?’ Poirot added quietly, as if as an afterthought, ‘We are here in order to prevent a murder.’

CHAPTER 9
King John
    Hatton admitted us to the house. Predictably, he said nothing, though his bearing suggested that all three of us might benefit from the pretence that Poirot and I had not ventured outside and then needed to be let in again.
    We went first to the dining room, which was empty, then to the drawing room. Here we found Harry, Dorro, Claudia and Randall Kimpton. A fire blazed in the grate, yet the room was still cold. All were seated and drinking what looked like brandy, apart from Kimpton. He had been fixing himself a drink, but after filling the glass he handed it to Poirot, who raised it to his nose. Whatever it was, it did not meet with his approval. He set it down on the nearest table without taking a sip. Kimpton was busy pouring a drink for me and so failed to notice.
    ‘Have you heard any news?’ Dorro asked, leaning forward. Her anxious eyes flitted from me to Poirot and back again.
    ‘News of what, madame?’
    ‘Joseph Scotcher’s proposal of marriage to Sophie Bourlet. We left them alone in the dining room—well, it seemed tactful—but we have not seen or heard from them since. I had assumed they would join us in here. I should like to know the outcome.’
    ‘How delightful that you care,