It was a relief to all three detectives when they found Dr. Buchanan awake and having a light lunch of a ham and cheese sandwich and chicken noodle soup. He sat on the side of his slightly rumpled hospital bed, dressed in a comfortable house-coat the men assumed was brought from home. His lunch was on a roll-away bed-tray that doubled as a desk. The sight of the three detectives had him smiling, especially when Japp, a familiar face, was the first face Buchanan saw.
"Hello, Mr. Japp," the middle aged man declared, in better spirits than they would have the right to expect. "My goodness, you brought a contingent!" He looked around the room. "We seem to be bereft of chairs, gentlemen."
"That is fine, Dr. Buchanan," Poirot said. introducing himself and Captain Hastings. "Our comfort, it is not the issue. The question is, how are you? You have had, as my friend, Assistant Commissioner Japp explained, the terrible trauma. If you don't wish..."
"No no. It's all right. I might as well talk now. I've spilled this story twice since I've been here. What's one more time going to hurt?"
"Have they told you when you'll be getting out?" Japp inquired.
"Tomorrow, after breakfast. Not that it matters. From what one of your men told me, Japp, my shop is in lockdown until they get all the contraband out. I'll give Christie full marks for timing. No sooner did he have me and Everett out of the way before he and Prichard set up shop."
"Too true," Japp replied. "They didn't monkey about, getting their drug ring going. Unfortunately, what they did managed to get done nearly killed Mr. Poirot's secretary. Dosed a supposedly harmless antibiotics cold prescription with pure powdered money. "
"How pure?"
"It could send a cavalry horse to the moon and back. And God alone knows what he'd see on the way! Those boys are NOT messing about. What we need to know is, how did Dr. Wilde end up with a bullet in his head?"
Rattled by the news of the near death of an innocent woman, Martin Buchanan said, almost as if he was seeing the scenes before him. "The first time 'Doctor' Christie approached us about the sale of the Pharmacy, he offered maybe a grand over the current market value. That was...oh, about...three or four months back. Everett said no, but only because he wasn't ready to retire yet. He was about five years younger than I am. Given all the traveling my wife wants to do when I do finally call it a day, an extra grand wouldn't go too far. "
"You'd only get a thousand pounds?" Hastings puzzled.
"No, no. When we do retire, or if I retired, I'd receive about five thousand pounds. Sounds nice, but my wife wants to travel. She has her eye on the Orient Express and the grand tour. I could set that wad on fire as fast as it would go, in her hands. Well, last month, ..." Buchanan thought about the timing and then nodded. "Right, a month ago, Christie returns and he had a fella with him. Man had to be six foot nine. Built like the Great Wall of China! Leastwise, that's what I thought at the time. Or that monkey from the movie King Kong. And he was carrying a leather brief case with him, handcuffed to his right wrist. Well, Christie opened the case with a key he kept on a tiny chain in his bill fold, and the PILES of money in that case! Rows of bundled wads. How much do you think we were offered this time?"
"Ten thousand Pounds!" Hastings guessed.
"Fifteen grand." Japp chimed in.
"Twenty Five thousand," Poirot said as if he had the very number in front of him.
Buchanan's eyes were round. "How DID you guess that?"
"Simple. Ten thousand as the total for both partners, at current market value. Fifteen would give each of you something over seven thousand pounds each." Poirot nodded. "Not to be sneezed at. However, if Christie wanted your place for his purposes most nefarious, he had to offer the amount that would be above what each partner would receive, by a margin most comfortable. Twelve thousand pounds and then some, for each. Had I been in your place and unaware of what the purpose was, I would be very tempted to, as the saying goes, 'take the money and run'."
Buchanan laughed briefly, "And believe me, I wanted to do just that! Only now, it had nothing to do with long trips. Well, almost nothing. See, anyone with twenty five grand to carry around and show off is not playing a fair game, gentlemen. Whatever they were up to, I'd bet the contents of that case that it wasn't legal."
"Or moral," Poirot added.
"That was just it. See, whatever reason Wilde had for wanting to keep the shop, it wasn't worth his life. Oddly, he KNEW, by this point that Christie was not playing fair. Whatever he wanted the pharmacy for, it wouldn't be to good use." Buchanan looked at the men. "I hate what happened to your friend, and I do hope you catch Christie and Prichard. At the time, though, whatever I thought of how he'd use the shop, I was more worried about our heads connected to the rest of my body so I BEGGED Everett to sell! He said that he couldn't let his father's pharmacy go to 'high end hoodlums' to do who knows what sort of damage to the community.
We haggled, argued and set up any number of scenarios. I actually THINK I had him on side when we pulled up to the parking lot of the shop yesterday. I was just about to unlock the door when it opens and there stands Christie, big smile on his face, ushering us into the store. Well you hardly had to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out what was coming, but Everett finally decides he's gonna take the money. A loaded gun pointed at your chest will change your mind in a hurry."
"I guess!" Hastings said.
" 'Sorry boys," said Christie. "That was a limited time offer. Today, we're taking this shop off your hands for at 100% discount." Buchanan relayed. "And as soon as Wilde demanded to know HOW Christie was going to make that bargain happen, I knew he'd just sealed his own fate. Christie rounded us into the supply closet and then, right in front of me, shot Everett square between the eyes . Then shut and locked the door behind me. So, for a day, between sleeping to wish the day away, I found the strength to start kicking. I knew when our cleaner was due in and I was fairly certain, with the thin slat of sun, shining under the door, that it was about six or seven in the morning. So I kicked. Not hard, or I'd wear myself out, but I was consistent. And thank God, Ingrid heard it! As soon as she opened the door, I just about fell over with relief and exhaustion. Mind you, when Ingrid started screaming , sleep was out of the question, no matter how tired I was. Next thing I know, " the pharmacist declared, with a sweeping gesture. "here I am."
"Be thankful." Hastings said. "It could have been a lot worse. What puzzles me is, why they didn't kill you, too? Not that...."
"No offense taken. I wondered that, myself."
"I may have the answer," Poirot gestured with a partly raised hand. "Are those men aware that you have a cleaner?"
Buchanan thought and shrugged, "Good question. I have to wonder if they thought about it at all. But what's that got to do with my not being killed?"
"It IS possible that Mr. (I refuse to give to him the honored title of Doctor!) Christie thought that he could bargain with you, or that you would just die of the stress of being locked in the room with your dead colleague."
"And if he didn't deal, he'd be dead, too?" Japp surmised.
"It is the most realistic outcome ," Poirot agreed. "I can hardly imagine Mr. Christie politely letting Mr. Buchanan walk out of the store after refusing the offer."
"Wait a mo, Poirot," Japp cut in. "Christie and Prichard muscle their way in, kill one man but let the other live, and then hide them BOTH in the supply closest. Why did they even need to negotiate? To all intents and purposes, the place was theirs."
"Not much of a negotiation, mon ami. It was hardly the haggling over a new buying price. Is that not correct, Dr. Buchanan?"
Sipping from a mug of coffee that was...better than hospital coffee was known to be, Martin Buchanan nodded. "My life hanged from a yes or no answer. If I take their offer, I could sign the shop over to them and walk out with two hundred thousand pounds. More than twice the market value. Upon which time, my wife and I would head for the hills as it were. We could afford it. Then again, I'm still trying to figure out how Everett would just disappear without anyone noticing. Especially his family. That is, assuming things went according to plan. It's one thing to take ownership of his family business, straight out of nowhere , and that's odd enough, but where would they say Wilde have gone?"
"That's simple enough," Japp said, without enthusiasm. "New 'partners' show up at the pharmacy, clear out of the blue, and the original pharmacists, who'd been there, from time out of mind, are gone without so much as a salute or note on the door. It doesn't take someone with even half of Mr. Poirot's little grey cells to figure that Dr. Wilde would likely have been buried out in the woods! Again, IF things had gone according to Christie's and Prichard's plan. Thankfully, it didn't. Not entirely at least."
With that as a cue, Japp straightened his stance and offered his hand to Dr. Buchanan. "I'll have to go over to the Wilde home and tell them what we know, thus far. Sorry about all of this."
"What do you have to feel sorry for? None of you are responsible for what happened."
Buchanan insisted. "Just....do something about this! I've heard stories about what was going on when all of it was in Ireland or Scotland. I didn't think about; figured it was their problem. And now it's our problem too."
"Not for long, Dr. Buchanan," Poirot spoke up. "These ....BEASTS. I have not the accurate words for them! But we WILL stop them! Miss Lemon, she is a good friend as well as a trusted colleague, who is, as we speak, unconscious in a hospital room because of the UNHOLY ambitions of the doctors (Ma Foia !) Christie and Prichard! You can take it to the bank, Dr. Buchanan, that those two men will either spend the rest of their lives in prison or die in the gallows, if I have to drag them there, kicking and screaming."
Hastings and Japp stared at him, almost scared. Hercule Poirot got angry in the name of wanting justice done. As a rule, though, the Belgian was not a violent person, and yet, his colleagues believed he would do just what he said. In a situation like this, where a dear friend's life was on the line, Poirot would NOT let himself fail!
~~~~~
To no one's surprise, except for, perhaps, Miss O'Connor, Poirot hit upon the method of bringing down the so-called "high-end" drug dealers within forty-eight hours. By then, Miss Lemon was out of danger and a day away from being discharged. As soon as Poirot learned she was out of danger, Felicity Lemon was visited by her friends and colleagues, one at a time, more or less. Miss O'Connor over lunch, where the temp receptionist bought her benefactress an "honest to goodness" meal; Corned Beef on Rye sandwich and chocolate cake. Over lunch, they talked about 'the boys'. Miss Lemon admitted that working as Mr. Poirot's secretary was "ALMOST like being a Den Mother to three-man Boy Scout Troop."
Carol O'Connor giggled, "You'll be gratified to hear that those boy scouts do appreciate you. "My typing skills have improved, and I've even learned to make Mr. Poirot's Tisane. You, on the other hand, seem to have an understanding of inter-office relationships."
"It comes with time, Carol." Felicity Lemon told her. "And it depends on the work the office carries out. I've been privileged to take part in a few of Mr. Poirot's cases."
"He appreciates it." Miss O'Connor informed her.
Perhaps an hour later, Assistant Commissioner Japp visited with a box of Chocolate Cherries and let her know what had been discovered. While saddened by the murder of Dr. Wilde, and the reason for it, Felicity Lemon was furious that he died because of the unconscionable greed of so-called doctors, who were more interested in what they could get, than to tend to the health of their patients. "Both physicians and their patients trust and...well...assume, that the dispensing chemists have the patients best interests at heart." She sighed, "Poor Mr. Buchanan's going to have his work cut out for him; just restoring the reputation of his shop."
"And by extension, his own." Japp added as he sat in the only chair in the hospital room. "I have the funny and yet oh-so-familar feeling Poirot has something on those famous 'little grey cells' of his. Not that he's divulging anything. "
"What are your ideas?" Miss Lemon asked, offering the Scotland Yard detective a chocolate, which Japp accepted with a thankful smile.
"My men and I have...." Japp stopped short, as if interrupted by another voice. A slow smile spread across his face! "That's IT! It was in front of my face the whole ...bleedin' time!" He jumped out of the thickly-upholstered beige leather chair as if the seat had been set on fire. "Sorry, Miss Lemon! I have to leave. I think I've just hit on it! I have to call Poirot! We're going to get Everett Wilde's killer and put a stop to this whole narcotics operation!"
~~~~
Upon learning that Poirot was in his office, it was all Japp could do, to hold to the speed limit. Then, realizing he could use his prerogative as an officer of Scotland Yard to get to a case call in a hurry. Flipping a switch on the car's panel, the siren began its loud blaring in high and low octave variations as the car zipped through traffic almost as if the other cars didn't exist; finally stopping in front of White Haven Mansions.
~~~~~
Emerging from the bathroom, Hastings heard the ping of the elevator. As did Poirot, who instructed him to open the door and admit the Assistant Commissioner.
"How do you...?" Hastings began to ask. Then he recalled the sound of the police sirens approaching as he closed the bathroom door. Police car sirens sounded different from the sound made by fire trucks, which was more of a dull but continual ringing. An ambulance was more of a consistent wail. Still, they weren't routine noises in this area of the city, which was more of a quiet residential area. All of those factors and Poirot's inexplicable sense of knowing made debating useless. Hastings went to the door, opened it and, sure as God made little green apples , Japp was there, hand raised, about to knock on the door.
"How DOES he do it?" Hastings whispered, glancing in the direction of Poirot's desk and then smiled at Japp. "Come on in." Hastings opened the door and motioned for Japp to enter.
Normally, Japp would be puzzling over Captain Hastings behavior or wondering how he could expect him to be there without he even knocked at the door. This time, he merely said a quick, "Thank you, Captain Hastings," and addressed the detective before they even saw each other. "Have you made that call, Poirot?"
"To Dr. Buchanan? Yes. I was fortunate enough to find him at home. He is going to open his shop tomorrow. I asked him to come over, though, at the moment, I am unsure as to why. Mon ami, what was the rather ....abbreviated conversation we had on the telephone?"
Japp smirked, somewhat embarrassed. "Sorry about that. I didn't have any change for the call box so I asked if I could use the phone at the receptionist's desk. I was told, in no uncertain terms, to make my message brief. About as much as I could say was, Dr. Buchanan, your office, emergency meeting. I'm a bit surprised you haven't figured it out already. "
"I have, as you say, the theory, Assistant Inspector."
The men heard chatter and laughter coming from the kitchen, and Miss O'Connor entering the living / meeting area/ dining room with a wicker doily upon which she set a coffee pot. Hastings moved to one side of her and set down four cups with their matching saucers at place mats that were already set out.
"Council of War?" Japp inquired and smiled. "I love your Councils of War. They're very ...filling."
Poirot nodded in appreciation. "I considered this possibility earlier. Merely the possibility, mind you, that we could persuade ...."
"Uh oh!" Japp said. "You're already ahead of me, aren't you?"
"In order to know that, mon ami, I have to know the theory you have."
Sighing in resignation, Japp let Poirot in on his theory. "In a phrase, I'd call it a 'Sting Operation'. " Glancing at Poirot, Japp could tell Poirot had already considered that very angle.
"You underestimate yourself, Assistant Commissioner. It is possible we both thought of the idea at around the same time because it is the idea that make the most sense. Dr. Buchanan so much as suggested it in the conversation we had with him, in the hospital. He CAN change his mind, mon ami. And, for the sake of making this work, he will."
Japp was in complete agreement.
Dr. Buchanan arrived, minutes after the luncheon sandwiches were set in the center of the table. "The man must be part cat, " Japp teased. "He can smell tuna a mile off."
Poirot thanked Miss O'Connor for the "spread most appetizing. Would you like to 'sit in' on our planning strategy?" Poirot asked; surveying the table setting and placing the chairs square with the place settings.
"Would if I could, sir, but I want to get the last of the work done before Miss Lemon returns next Monday. "
"She is returning home tomorrow. Hastings and myself will pick her up from the hospital and bring her home, with the express instruction that she is to remain home until the following Monday, which is three days from now."
"Not sure she'll make. Poor dear's crawling out of her skin now. She's re-read that book you gave her and finished Word-Search and Cross-Word puzzle books.
"Well then, we shall regale her with our adventures in tracking down the poison-peddlers, who killed a trusted member of the medical community and Miss Lemon's in particular. "
The doorbell ran and Miss O'Connor went to answer it. Within a minute, if that, she returned, with Dr. Martin Buchanan behind her.
~~~~
Over coffee and sandwiches of Tuna salad and Cucumber, Poirot, Hastings, Japp and Buchanan discussed what was to be done.
"Dr. Buchanan, Assistant Commissioner Japp and myself, we have reached a very easy agreement, that these, as my colleague, Captain Hastings calls them, 'greedy sods'.."
"Pardon the language," Hastings apologized before taking a bite of half the cucumber sandwich he was holding.
Poirot continued, "I think we can all agree, Dr. Buchanan, that these...men, they react to the sound and appearance of money. "
"That goes without saying, given what they're willing to cough up to get these properties. As far as they're concerned, they stand to make back double what they spend. Depending, of course, on where they choose to set up shop. "
Japp chimed in, "I believe we're equally agreed that anyone who can cart around a brief case with the sort of money you described, KNOWS the prime locations."
"And how do I come into it?" Dr. Buchanan asked, pouring cream into his coffee and taking two sandwiches to add to his plate.
Chewing and swallowing a large bite of the tuna sandwich, Japp declared, "You will be the ...business end of the bee, so to speak." Japp said. "That is, if you're willing to help."
"A sting, you mean? Of course I'll help. All things considered, you hardly need to ask." Buchanan sipped on his coffee. "Thank you for the lunch, by the way. Have you heard anything new on your assistant?"
"Miss Lemon, she is well, thank heaven. She will leave the hospital tomorrow and return to work, first ting on Monday." Poirot informed him.
"Good," Buchanan nodded. "That's something to be thankful for. Question is, why would they want to ..."
"Poison an innocent woman?" Poirot shook his head upon dabbing his moustache of the coffee he drank. "I do not think the poisoning of Miss Lemon was on purpose. A mistake in the labeling. One person, who purchased, for him or herself, the pure cocaine, they must have been very upset to receive, instead, the ineffectual cold remedy."
"Ineffectual?" Hastings wondered.
"For the purposes of the hallucinogenic drug, Hastings, the antibiotic, it is quite ineffectual. And I have to wonder if they have gone into hiding from the angered drug user as much as from legal retribution."
"And, ...uh, speaking of retribution, gentlemen, is that something you've given full consideration to?" Dr. Buchanan posed the question.
"How so?" Japp returned question for question, upon chasing a bite of the second sandwich with a drink of coffee which was cooled some with the cream.
"Surely you had to have figured that there are stronger connections at work here. Christie and Prichard are hardly lone players in this game. Once we do bring them down, I'll have to go into hiding, as will you, Mr. Poirot. And Assistant Commissioner...."
"We are aware, Dr. Buchanan, of the reach Mr.'s Prichard and Christie have. On the other hand," Japp continued. "we are responsible for the safety of our citizens so we need to take these risks, but not to a foolhardy measure. Now, if you don't feel comfortable doing this, we can set up with one of our men, who has experience in these operations. In fact, that was my initial thought. However, if those buys are as smart and as ...fortified as we believe them to be, then they might smell a rat, and then it would get really dangerous! Since they've dealt with you, tragic outcome and all, it would be easy enough to believe that you thought better of the situation and decided to take their most generous offer."
"Wait a minute!" Buchanan said. "Oh boy! Idiot that I am! I don't have any authority to bargain with anyone! Everett had family. They would be the ones...."
"Did either Mr. Christie or Prichard know of those relations?" Poirot asked.
"I doubt it, but what would it matter?"
Precisiment! What DOES it matter? Remember, this is the STING operation. No bargain will actually be made. But it is vital to the success of this operation, that the Monsieurs Prichard and Christie, they are completely convinced that you are able to deal with them. There can be no hint that the property is under legal jurisdiction to another party, or the game, it would be up. Were you given any contact information?"
"Not for myself, but Everett was given the information. It's in his office and I haven't cleared that up yet." Dr. Buchanan ate one last sandwich and took some more coffee."
"Are you reluctant about this, Dr. Buchanan? Because I can get one of our own men? I hesitate to go that route because any unknown or new person could arouse their suspicions. That is the LAST thing we want. If you go to them, admitting that you're selling out of a sense of intimidation, they'd be happy enough, so long as you didn't go to the police."
Buchanan sighed, "Therein lies the problem. As soon as they saw the army of police cars, they had to assume I'd have said SOMETHING."
"And yet, they are not arrested, so how could you have?" Hastings added his voice to the mix. "Obviously, you couldn't have called them from the supply closest you were locked in. All you have to do is tell them the truth. At least, to a point. You were found by the cleaning lady. The rest you can be a touch ...evasive about. Tell the men you were foggy and unsure. The police assumed you were in shock, which is entirely plausible, all things considered. At any rate, you want to sell up; get the blazes out of London and the police questions, so you want enough money to leave the country. You won't haggle. You'll take the offer they made to Dr. Wilde and just pack up and leave. Given all that's happened, I don't imagine it would take too much acting."
"No." Buchanan chuckled. "That's pretty much how I do feel." Polishing off his coffee, Martin Buchanan faced the detectives. "I'll be blunt, if I may . The idea of being in the same room with those ...those creatures, never mind being in the same COUNTRY or CITY with them makes me sick! I know what they want to do and even playing that I'll take their money is nauseating. On the other hand, I'm desperate to settle the score for Everett and help get filth like Prichard and Christie off the street.All of that said, if you still want me to be part of this, count me in."
Japp explained there would be ample police presence inside as well as outside the shop. "Belfast wants these blokes on the frying pan. Theirs. Ours. They don't care, so long as these two 'creeps' were undone."
"Interesting turn of phrase," Hastings said with a smirk in his voice as well as on his lips.
"I'm giving you the cleaned up version. What was actually said to me, were it not police business, would put me and the caller behind bars for obscene language."
By the time Buchanan left Poirot's apartment, he firmly agreed to take part in the sting operation against ersatz pharmacists David Christie and Michael Prichard. And while he was reasonably confident in the success of their mission, neither Poirot or Japp were as optimistic.
"I feel like I've just told the man to put on a pair of dancing shoes and then sent him to go tap dancing a mine field." Japp confided on a later phone conversation.
"I am uncertain of this, myself, my friend. However, as you explained, the fake pharmacists, if they were to be contacted by a stranger, the fish, it would be in the fire. Monsieur Buchanan wants to do this, and so, giving to him the proper protection and instruction, we have to let this get done. And pray that this...tap dancing lesson, it does not land us all in the morgue."
~~~~~
The next day, right after breakfast, Poirot called the hospital to learn when Miss Lemon would be released.
"Is this Mr. Poirot?" the woman at the other end of the line asked.
"Oui. Is there a problem?"
The nurse sounded friendly for such an early hour. "Oh no. Felicity...Miss Lemon told us to expect your phone call and asked that we let you know that she is all ready to go. Judging by her current mood, she could WALK all the way home; cooped up as she's been feeling."
Poirot chuckled, "Well, that will be out of the question, I think. But please do let Miss Lemon know that Hastings and myself, we will be by to collect her within the hour."
"Will do. Have a good day, sir."
"And you too, Mademoiselle."
Good as his word, Poirot and Hastings arrived at the hospital by 9:30 to see Miss Lemon packed and ready to leave. A few days previous, she had entrusted to Miss O'Connor with the job of bringing some clothes from home. And she was wearing a summer dress with weekend loafers as shoes. Something neither Hastings or Poirot were used to. Not that this was a bad thing. In fact, it gave Poirot the happy impression that Miss Lemon was willing to relax for a few days more before returning to work. This turned out to be a false impression, as he would discover on the drive to Miss Lemon's home.
"I was...wondering, Mr. Poirot," she began, while sitting in the back seat of Captain Hastings car. "I KNOW I'm supposed to 'rest' but I've had about as much rest as a person can take. First the cold, then the business with those phony pills. I've been staring at two sets of walls for a fortnight, one way or another. Now I promise, I will NOT get in Miss O'Connor's way. I'll help ONLY if she requests it, but I need to talk to PEOPLE."
"What of the book?" Poirot asked.
"I've read it. Cover to cover. TWICE. I do appreciate it, Mr. Poirot. Honestly, but I need to get out, and the doctor did say I need fresh air and a bit of exercise to bring the color back to my cheeks."
"Driving in this car, with the roof down, you are not getting enough fresh air?" Poirot asked.
"Welcome to my world, Miss Lemon!" Hastings said, barely able to conceal his laughter.
"How do you mean?"
"You know the difficult time I've had, trying to keep Poirot away from work even when his own doctor insists he rest."
"I've held up a bit better, I think."
"HA!" Hastings laughed aloud. "Poirot tells you 'Friday, you were back in the office on Wednesday."
"As it happened, though," Poirot said in a more somber tone. "it was the good thing that you disobeyed that order. I shudder to think of how things could have gone, had you taken those phony antibiotics at your own home." A long sigh later, Hercule Poirot relented. "All right. If you wish, you may come back to the office today. Perhaps assist with the last of the filing. Miss O'Connor, she is doing quite well, but you have your own way of doing things and it is your office. Besides, we miss you there. In any case, you will want to be , how do you say, 'IN ON' what is going on."
By the time they arrived at Whitehaven Mansions, Miss Lemon was up to speed on all that had been going on and what was about to transpire. In the time it took to get from the main floor their floor, in the lift, Miss Lemon had aired her serious misgivings about such an enterprise and Poirot found himself regretting agreeing to her request.
Miss O'Connor, on the other hand, was delighted to see Miss Lemon; glad that she was out of the hospital and at the office. However, business first. She handed Mr. Poirot a message to call Assistant Commissioner Japp. "They want it done tomorrow."
Hercule Poirot's eyebrows arched as high as they could go. "Tomorrow? Who knew Scotland Yard could move so quickly," he commented, staring at the note, in its very neat handwriting.
"Something about the 'wheels of justice'?" Miss O'Connor guessed.
"More like the wheels of bureaucracy, Miss O'Connor. In the time it takes to have a request answered, some of the officers, they've forgotten what they put in the request for. So this," Poirot waved the note. "it is a sign of improvement. Thank you."
Hastings volunteered to make a pot of coffee while Miss O'Connor caught Miss Lemon up on all the goings on. "You need to have a revolving door fitted for this suite ; often as those two are coming and going."
"I've suggested it, in jest. Mr. Poirot didn't like the added expense of hiring his own night watchman."
Glancing at her watch, Miss Lemon headed for the kitchen. "Mr. Poirot's Tisane. I want to get back into the habit."
"He's getting use to making it himself. " Hastings said, adding coffee to the filter.
"That's as may be, Captain Hastings, but I need to start...doing things again. The most arduous chore I've taken up in the last few days involved turning pages in my book. If it's possible to literally 'die of boredom' I nearly became a fatality."
"No more talk of that sort, if you don't mind. You gave us a pretty nasty scare. And while it doesn't look like it right now, Poirot is on the war path. About the only one who wants those hack 'pharmacists' caught more than Poirot is your Dr. Buchanan."
"All I know," Miss Lemon said, collecting the fixings for Mr. Poirot's 11 a.m Tisane. "is that I don't like this STING OPERATION' talk. Those things backfire, you know. And we've at enough drama around here without my worrying myself sick over you three ...over-aged boy scouts."
By the time Miss Lemon brought in Mr. Poirot's Tisane, it was clear his had bigger concerned on those 'little grey cells' than Herbal tea.
Setting the cup down, Miss Lemon asked, "Mr. Poirot? Mr Poirot, are you all right? You've gone pale."
Poirot thanked Miss Lemon for the drink and didn't even check his watch to see what time it was. That, unto itself was odd. Instead, he sipped on the drink and then placed it to one side of his desk. "When you were at home, sick with the cold, I recall wishing that the cold, which had kept the city in its germ-infected clutches, would go away, so Mr. Japp, Hastings and myself, we could return to work. Now, " he spoke as someone who regretted a wish the moment it was uttered. "we all get much more than was bargained for."
Poirot called for Hastings and gave him the news. "It appears we have been, what is the venacular? Oh yes, we have been 'one upped'. I just spoke to the Assistant Commissioner and he informed me that the 'good' doctor David Christie, he has made contact with our Mr. Buchanan, with one last try to get him to sell the shop."
"Isn't that good?" Hastings wondered. "All the better, really."
"How so?"
It would completely remove Martin Buchanan from suspicion since it was Christie who reached out to him."
"A theory most excellent, mon ami. Also good is the fact that the so called 'good' doctor, he wishes to meet at the shop he hopes to own by the day's end. It is the AMOUNT of money Dr. Christie has offered."
"Twenty-five thousand pounds." Hastings recalled.
"Not anymore, Hastings. Dr. Christie, he is ...pardon the crude phrasing Miss Lemon, drooling to get that shop. it is the 'Prime real estate', for which he is willing to pay £250,000.00 ."
"Good heavens!" Miss Lemon declared.
"That's ten times what he offered only a week ago."
"Precisement. And it is for that cause that Assistant commissioner Japp is so concerned. As am I. Apart from the obvious reason for this agreement, what other reason could Christie have for offering such an overly generous sum?"
"He'd have to know that Buchanan would jump at it. Twenty-five thousand pounds is one thing, but we're talking about a quarter of a million pounds. Who wouldn't go for it?"
"Well," Miss Lemon ventured. "Is it at all possible that Christie might want to remove the last hindrance? If Mr. Buchanan balks at the deal, unlikely as that may be, Christie will simply finish him off, bury him God alone knows where and take over. What would either family do?"
"You see, Miss Lemon, that rest, it has done your little grey cells the world of good." Hercule Poirot rose from his desk and strode around the room. "Assistant Commissioner, he will have in place, enough men, inside and outside the store. We are covered, as the American crime cinema says it. Even Belfast, it is flying in some officers. This operation, it has to work, or Christie and his people, they will become so powerful tat even Buckingham Palace, itself, would be too intimidated to say the peep in opposition.."
By day's end, there was another meeting with Japp, who was happy to see Miss Lemon back in the office. "You're released from hospital this morning, and already back at work?"
"Before you sneer at Mr. Poirot, Assistant Commissioner, it was by MY request. After two weeks of doing nothing but look at four walls; my home and then the hospital room, I was sure the next walls I'd be seeing would be a psychiatric ward if I didn't get back to normality."
"Around here? Normal? Lotsa luck." Japp teased Miss Lemon asked if he would like anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?"
"Perhaps something from the liquor cabinet?" Poirot offered.
"Oh, no thank you. I better take the coffee, Miss Lemon." James Japp said, seating himself on the other side of Poirot's desk. "It's all going down tomorrow fellas, and we've got to make sure all our ducks are in a row. I've been on the phone so many times today, I almost shudder to think of the bills Scotland yard's gonna get."
Over coffee, they discussed the top copper in Belfast wants to send a clear message to Christie and his lot. We're getting their full co-operation."
"Buchanan hasn't dropped out?" Hastings asked.
"He'd have to be crazy to!" Japp declared. "To be offered the money he's (theoretically at least) going to be getting, for the quote-unquote 'sale' of his shop. The good news is that he is acting just the way Christie predicted he would act; giddy with the prospect of staring a quarter of a million pounds staring him in the face. Our ersatz chemists won't be expecting to be taken down by the same man who's all but drooling over the thought of that sort of money, like a dog with a steak dinner sitting in front of him."
"And all of this intrigue will be happening at what time?" Poirot asked, taking notes. Something Japp found a bit odd. Poirot had a phenomenal memory for the most seemingly insignificant point. So why was he taking notes now?
"Seven a.m. sharp. The shop opens at nine and Buchanan wants all of this miss largely out of the way by the time they start getting customers. Good idea."
"Wouldn't the timing make Christie and Prichard more suspicious?" Hastings wondered. "If it's all above board, why not make it around the time customers would be in the store or any time during the business day?"
"I asked the same thing. Buchanan's answer made sense; He told Christie that when the store was opened, he'd have customers waiting to have prescriptions filled and he couldn't very well do that and conduct business simultaneously. And since he wouldn't be running the shop after today, for the sake of discussion, it didn't make much sense to hire a new dispensing chemist."
"Does that answer your question, Hastings?" Poirot asked, pleased that his colleague was taking a proper interest in the case."
Arthur Hastings nodded and, with an air of authority, replied, "It seems a reasonable course of action, I suppose."
The end of the meeting, coincidentally concluded the end of the work day. At least for office staff. Miss O'Connor offered to drive Miss Lemon home.
"You know what we should do? Mr. Poirot and Captain Hastings bought me a lovely Chicken soup and cake from this Deli. I need to do some shopping tomorrow, but I would love to stop by and have a light dinner."
"Sure!"
The women said their good evenings and Miss Lemon promised she would properly wait til Monday to resume her schedule. "Miss O'Connor is doing quite well and I trust I will find my office in proper order when I return; barring a hurricane, or Captain Hastings searching for another receipt."
"I'm never going to live that down, am I?"
"No." Miss Lemon said, smiling. "Is there anything else that's needed here?"
"All is quite well, Miss Lemon. Now you enjoy the rest of the day and come back rested for the beginning of the work week, next Monday."
"Most importantly, the three of you stay safe. It's all well and good to talk about catching the bad guys, but mind you remember what the likes of David Christie are capable of! I don't want any panicked , weepy phone calls from Miss O'Connor, in a hospital call box."
"We have half of Scotland Yard and a Belfast contingent in on this, Miss Lemon." Japp informed her. They will be posing as staff, in the store as well as the lunch counter. One false move and the good 'doctors' Christie and Prichard will be the ones in need of medical aid. Not to worry, Miss Lemon."
Felicity Lemon gestured for Carol O'Connor. "Our 'Three Musketeers'. Goodnight, gentlemen."
~~~~~~~
By the time Japp left, Poirot had a page full of notes and a stomach full of butterflies. Most cases, as a rule, had gotten to be routine, except for those that turned out to be NOT SO routine. But those were the ones where the case snuck up on him and he hardly had a chance to think about it, never mind get worried. Unfortunately, those were also the cases that interrupted his holiday plans. The whole 'Blue Train' ordeal, where the one half good thing was meeting a young woman, Catherine Grey who could have been, to all intents and purposes, his daughter. That got him thinking about the child he lost and caused him to wonder how old little Michael would be.
The young Catherine was very nearly killed by a crazy man, Major Knighten who was infatuated with Miss Grey, even as he was carrying on an illicit 'fling with the maid of his own employer, Rufus Van Alden. It was his daughter they killed, for a priceless stone called "Heart of Fire" . All of that after the unscrupulous Van Alden already killed to get the ruby in the first place. To say nothing to the misery he brought to poor Catherine Grey; buying her father's business and then sacking the work force; driving the distraught and guilt ridden man to suicide.
In cases like that, and the even more tragic saga of his trip on the Orient Express, the drama he was thrust into gave Poirot little time for ruminating before hand since he didn't know what was going to happen. THIS....was different. Knowing about the danger before hand gave the detective a discomfort that would not permit him to enjoy what little he did eat.
With the dishes done, Hercule Poirot got dressed for bed and prepared his customary hot chocolate , which he used to chase a sleeping tablet. It was a good hour before his regular bedtime, but this was an extraordinary situation and the detective wanted to make sure he was well-rested and able to focus on the take at hand. He would do what needed to be done and deal with the consequences as they arose. God willing it wouldn't happen. For the time being, however, he could not let himself think about it.
In his bedroom, Poirot sat on the side of his bed, properly wound the clock and stared at the picture on his bedside table. Virginie, sitting on a picnic blanket. She was wearing a long, soft pink dress, with her hair in a long braid. It had been a whole lifetime ago, and still it might as well have been last week, as clearly as he recalled the scene. The sun that greeted them as they walked to the park, and then, hardly half an hour later, the rained out picnic that rendered their tuna sandwiches soggy and inedible. They laughed about it that same night.
"My love," he said, lifting up the framed photo. "Your 'silly' husband, he may have gone too far this time? I want justice for a good friend, and to rid my new home of the scourge of drugs that is doing so much harm to so many. And what is at the heart of all the misfortune I have seen? Money, my love. Money, which can do much good, as I hope has been done with much of the money that you left, from the money that was left to you. I donated it to the hospital that did what they could for you.
Now, in the name of the 'god of mammon' as our good Parish priest spoke of it, people are dying for the cheap thrill. I want stop the killers, but doing so may well be my end, dearest Virginie. And yet, not to do anything would be worse because I will have broken a promise to a friend, and let you down. You were proud of me, love, and I do not want you disappointed. So please, ask Le Bon Dieu to give me the strength to do what needs to be done for the greater good."
Setting the photo back on the bedside table, Poirot took off his robe, which he set, neatly on the cushioned window seat and got into bed. Going into the drawer of his bedside table, he took out a small book of prayers and looked up the index before turning to the page titled. "Cure for Fear" and read til he felt the sleeping pill take affect. Then he set the book on the table, turned off the light and closed his eyes; praying for sleep to come.
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