Very few pre-trial hearings were even covered in the press, and yet the case of disgraced author Ariadne Oliver and Manchester Brotherhood Kingpin Damien Suchet was being trumpeted, on the radio and the newspapers as 'The hearing that would put justice on trial'. according to Associated Papers featured writer L.B. Tysoe.
By the time Hastings, Felicity and Japp arrived, the front steps of the court house was swarming with newspaper photographers.
"Blimey! It's a flamin' circus! Curtiss, drive us around the side door."
"No way!" Felicity declared. "I've been waiting for this! The press want to hear the whole story, I'm happy to tell them whatever they want to know. After what the Manchester Brotherhood put us through, I'm only too pleased to run a little smear campaign of my own."
"Right! Because Japp and I can't wait to go to your funeral next!" Hastings replied.
"Don't be silly, Arthur," Felicity declared; surprising both men by referring to a former colleague exclusively with his first name. "I wind up dead, the first ones they suspect will be the Brotherhood. Unless Mrs. Oliver has people she can chase after me. The woman hardly has a career!" Felicity Lemon-Bennett got out of the police car, followed by Hastings and Japp, who simply watched the woman work. A bevvy of journalists surrounded the elderly looking woman who showed no sign of being short on energy or opinions.
She told how she nearly ended up dead because the Manchester Brotherhood valued money and power over people's lives. How her friends, the late Hercule Poirot and Arthur Hastings got her to the hospital and saved her life. Not long after, they, along with Assistant Commissioner James Japp brought down two members of the Brotherhood.
"Mrs. Bennett! Lawrence Boswell Tysoe, Associated Papers, what sort of judgement do you think the judge will hand down?"
Felicity didn't hesitate in responding, "That all depends, Mr. Tysoe, on whether our justice system is more interested in dispensing justice or running from those who don't mind breaking it at every turn. According to what I've read, they are going to plead guilty. How can they not? Their story is already in the papers. However, if the court is going to be naive enough to fall for some sob story then...I shudder to think. Consider that the Brotherhood had Mr. Poirot in their sights since the hanging of two other members of their not-so-illustrious organization. So it's been nearly two years. How in the world can Mr. Suchet even HOPE to get away with some pitiful apology and he'll never do it again? Remember, too, that the Brotherhood recruited Mrs. Oliver, who was EQUALLY willing to do what they wanted. What's she going to do? Insist that she didn't know who she was dealing with? what did she believe Mr. Suchet to be? An Ice Cream shop owner"
Felicity finally headed up the courthouse steps to the sounds of thank yous, requests for more questions, and applause from the reporters. Hastings and japp followed behind.
****
As outside, the inside of the courthouse was full. The gallery didn't have a seat to spare. The balcony was packed. In spite good old fashioned adult common sense, Hastings glanced up at the balcony and wondered how it withstood the capacity seating without crumbling down.
"Looking for someone, Captain Hastings?" Felicity returned to calling him by the name he was so familiar hearing from his longtime friend.
"No. Just....indulging in a bit of childhood wonderment. Such as how a balcony can hold up under such a strain. When I was a kid, extended parts of balconies seemed to be suspended in mid air. Every Sunday, we'd go to church and I'd just...stare at the upper seating area; amazed ...."
Hastings' statement was cut off at the declaration that could be heard in the court room, minus electric amplification. "Silence in court! All rise for his Honor, Judge Raymond Gardner, in the case of the Crown vs. The Manchester Brotherhood."
Hastings and Felicity Bennett sat in the very first row behind the Prosecutor's podium. While it was but a foregone conclusion what was going to happen, a lawyer for the Crown, Joseph Martin sat at a table next a podium. Next to him sat Assistant Commissioner James Japp. At the Defendants' table, with their counsel, sat Ariadne Oliver and Damien Suchet. Suchet, sitting closer to their lawyer, Eric Cortland, than Mrs. Oliver, murmured something to the man, who nodded more to cut off further discussion than to agree to whatever was said.
"Be seated." Judge Gardner instructed the room as he took the seat at his bench as everyone in the courtroom sat down. Upon taking his seat, the judge opened a folder before him. "Ariadne Oliver, Damien Suchet, you stand accused in the murder of Hercule Poirot. How do you plead?"
Eric Cortland stood to plead on behalf of his clients; "Guilty, Judge Gardner."
Judge Gardner nodded, "Well, Mr. Cortland, I thank you and your clients for saving the good people of this city the cost of a trial . However, " The judge's tone turned on a dime; going from somewhat casual, even grateful, to matter-of-fact and even stern. Angry? "if you're harboring any hope of a guilty plea buying leniency from this court, you're in for a ....tragic disappointment.
"Mr. Damien Suchet, aside from your role in Mr. Poirot's murder, your organization, of which you bear moral responsibility, was party to the death of a pharmacist who did not want to sell his family's legacy to your....syndicate. Setting yourselves up as a legitimate business, the Manchester Brotherhood sold illegal substances as well as legitimately prescribed medications. This pretense lead to your customer's near death, which put Mr. Poirot onto your scent and sent two of your men to the gallows. I fail to see how the illegal activities of your organization were Mr. Poirot's fault. And yet, you tracked his goings until you found a way to trap him." Judge Gardner nodded to Ariadne Oliver.
"Mrs. Oliver, in your written statement, you said that you were given an opportunity to walk away from the offer made to you, so long as you did not go to the police. May I ask why you didn't take advantage of that opportunity?"
"I needed the money, your Honor." Ariadne replied as if her reason should have been sufficient justification.
The judge sat back in his high back leather chair; assuming an almost casual position. "Did it not dawn on you, Ma'am, that you might get caught? After all, two other men were found out and swung for what they did. How were you so certain you'd get away with what agreed to do? That is, to entrap someone who trusted you and give up his life for your comfort. Of course, everyone here knows you as the mystery author who publicly berated your own character over the radio. Since then, your book sales have slumped and there was danger that you would be released from your contract. Again, I fail to see how your actions are Mr. Poirot's fault."
The judge sat straight in his chair, one hand on the gavel. "Will the defendants please rise for sentencing."
The scraping sound of chairs being pushed back resounded throughout the room as Ariadne Oliver, Damien Suchet and their counselor stood to hear the verdict.
"Ariadne Oliver, for your part in the murder of Hercule Poirot, you will be hereby, transferred, from your current situation, to Holloway prison for women. Forty-eight hours from this day, you will be taken to their facility for execution, where you will be hanged by the neck til dead. And may God have more mercy on you than you had for the one you betrayed."
Ariadne nearly fell into her chair, as instantly weak as her knees had become.
Judge Gardner continued, "Damien Suchet, you are part of an organization where money and power have more prestige than the lives of those you abuse in the name of that money and power. I am going to add your name to the list of your ....associates who have already taken the long walk. You will be transferred to Pentonville penitentiary for men, for a duration NOT to exceed forty-eight hours. At which time, you will be taken to their facility of execution where you will be hanged by the neck until you are dead. Should God grant you mercy, it will be more than you've ever dispensed, I'm sure.
Judge Gardner raised the hand holding the gavel. "Oh, and one more thing, if I and/or your counselor end up dead within ...a year of this hearing, by means other than natural causes, your associates WILL be hunted down by law enforcement." The gavel came down and the room erupted in cheers and applause. Japp looked behind him and smiled at Hastings and Felicity Lemon-Bennett, but she didn't see the smile. She had bowed her head and wept quietly. Her memory returning to the first face she saw when she came out of her near-fatal drug induced coma.
Hercule Poirot, for all his little foibles, was a good man a dear friend.
Hasting wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder . "It's all done, Felicity."
After fielding more questions from the press outside the courtroom, the three friends found a restaurant where they had a light meal and raised a glass of the best house red wine to their friend.
*****
The day before the execution, Hastings got a phone call from Japp. "Are you going to the execution tomorrow?"
Hastings sat at his desk, organizing as Japp talked. "Well, there's a question you don't ask, or hear, everyday. Truth to tell, Japp, I'm not sure. I mean, I was, on the day of the hearing. Then, the day...well, after all of it happened, I would have strung them both up by the Christmas tree lights. Now," Hastings sighed, "Now, it's enough that they're both getting their comeuppance. What does that say about me?"
"It says you have a conscience. I'm not sure what it says about me, that I almost WANT to see them both get it. Suchet? Definitely. He's one of the Brotherhood's top guys and he's played more than his share of dirty tricks on the boys at Scotland Yard. So you'll forgive me if I don't shed too many tears when he kicks."
"Any chance he'll be able to stage a daring last minute escape with his friends on the outside?"
"Anything's possible, I suppose, but I'm not betting on it. Pennies to pounds, they already have a new man in place." Japp laughed. "Guess what Emily and our former Miss Lemon and company have planned for tomorrow?"
"Fill me in," Arthur Hastings said.
"A book burning!"
"Pardon!"
"The members of Emily's book club have been collecting Ariadne Oliver novels from everyone who cut themselves off when she slammed her Swedish detective on the radio."
"I think he was Finnish. "
Japp conceded. "Anyway, members of her book club have become very outspoken opponents of Mrs. Oliver since that broadcast. Felicity was no big friend after that rant, but she held her tongue because she believed Mrs. Oliver was a friend of Poirot's. Well, as they say, the gloves are OFF and the ladies are staging a proper ANTI-ARIADNE OLIVER book burning in front of the very facility where she's going to hang. Felicity even asked me to find out where the disgraced author will be spending her last few hours before , so Mrs. Oliver will be sure to see it."
"Good Lord! I've never known Miss Lemon to be so ....vindictive."
"That's not even the best part. Felicity asked me if I could arrange a visit with Mrs Oliver."
"Oh great! That's all we need! Miss Lemon in the dock. Edgar wouldn't be best pleased."
"No worries. If I can make it happen, I'll be in the room and make sure our favorite receptionist and assistant isn't planning anything illegal. "
"Well! I'd say Miss Lemon..... FELICITY doesn't get up to that sort of thing, but after what that....WOMAN did to Poirot, all bets are off. Tell you what? I'll attend the....event so long as you can get me in the same room when Felicity pays that visit. I don't hit women, as a rule, but Ariadne Bloody Oliver is asking for everything we can throw at her!"
"No promises, but I'll see what I can do. I think Spaulding will try to pull a few strings as something of a RETIREMENT gift."
"NO! You're finally calling it a day?"
"Why not? And I have JUST the place, too, if I can arrange it with a longtime friend. Hint. Hint."
"You mean you want to move to Styles Villa?"
"Only if you can ...."
"Of course! One suite just became vacant. Mr. Cohen just moved to Vancouver Canada. He has a son and daughter-in law-there. Just let me know when you want to come down and I'll show you round. I'm sure you have a fair bit of sorting to do before...."
"Just knowing there's a place waiting will provide us with the incentive to clear the place out in a hurry. "
"Well then, name the weekend and we can sort things out then."
****
The very thought of moving away from the immediate vicinity of London made the reality of the next day just a bit easier for James Japp to endure the next day.
As a rule, he didn't care for seeing a capital sentence up close, Justly deserved as it might have been in a given case. The execution of Ariadne Oliver would be deserved if execution was, and Japp went to great lengths to make sure Felicity Lemon-Bennett would get her visit, just so long as Poirot's former secretary could ensure that she wouldn't do anything that would land her in the docks.
Edgar Bennett, who walked alongside his wife's side, as they strolled down the corridor of prison, stopping where the guard stood to one side of the door that was stenciled in, D.R. #9 made his opinion on this visit clear. "Felicity, dear, this woman is a murderer. What makes you think....?"
"There's nothing in it for her, Edgar. Killing me or even assaulting me would accomplish nothing for her. Ariadne Oliver aligned herself with the Manchester Brotherhood because she was in financial difficulty of her own making. What they promised would, in theory anyway, take care of her problems until she could re-establish herself. By the same token, Mrs. Oliver was doing the Brotherhood a service by helping them bring down a formidable enemy, who had and would continue to give them trouble. Ariadne Oliver was no friend of Mr. Poirot! And I am going to tell...and SHOW that ....WOMAN what I think of her."
"Any trouble, Captain Barnes?" Japp asked, unsure he wanted to hear what Mrs. Bennett was alluding to.
"Not a bit, sir. She paced for a bit, and I could hear her yelling at the people outside."
Japp introduced Felicity and her husband to Bobby Barnes. "I'll be having a few words with the prisoner and then Mrs. Bennett will be permitted inside. Not for long."
The door was unlocked and James Japp walked in to the small waiting room, in which there was a small table and chair and writing material. Pen, fullscap paper and envelopes. Ariadne Oliver, however, stood, staring out the window. and occasionally yelling obscenities at the crowd that was gathered around a metal bin that was on fire.
"I see you found them."
"What?" Ariadne asked, distracted. Glancing at Japp, she made the face of a child who'd been presented with a plate of vegetables instead of a slice of cake for her birthday. "Oh. You mean those biddies standing around a metal trash can chucking books into a fire?"
"One of those women is my wife, Emily. She chairs a book club, and for a long time you were the fair-haired author. There wasn't a story you published that the ladies didn't eat up. So take a wild guess what they're burning?"
"My books?' Mrs. Oliver said.
"Very good. I made sure, at the request of a friend, that you got just the right room where you could see over the wall to the women who you betrayed. And other book lovers have joined the group. They put an advert in just about every newspaper in the city. This event has been widely circulated."
"Besides rubbing my face in my literary failures, Mr. Japp, is there any other reason for you to be here?" the disgraced author inquired without taking her eyes off the scene outside.
"Just one There is a woman here who requested the opportunity to see you. A good friend of Mr. Poirot. She asked for the visit. How could I say no?"
He went to the door and knocked twice before it was opened. "Well, hello, Captain Hastings. Wasn't sure you were going to make it."
Catching his breath, Hastings replied, "Neither was I. I got to the front sign in and they wanted to know who I was here to see and why? They did everything just shy of strip searching me for weapons."
"Come on in. " Japp side-nodded and Hastings walked into the cell.
"Edgar? Aren't you going to....?"
"I think I'll stay out here and keep Captain Barnes company . You deal with Mrs. Oliver."
"But...."
"Just you sort things out with ...that woman. The sooner this is over with, the sooner you can put it behind you ."
Felicity conceded easily enough, kissed her husband on the cheek and walked into the cell, occupied by the woman who'd killed her dear friend.
Finally, that woman turned to face the three people who were in her small room. One of whom sat himself at the small table.
"Comfortable?"
"It'll do." Hastings said with a brief smile. "I don't guess you remember me. Arthur Hastings. I was with Assistant Commissioner japp when he and his men arrested you and Mr. Suchet and I watched my best friend die."
Without so much as a twitch of her lips, Ariadne Oliver nodded. "I see now! This is a contingent of Poirot's friends, here to make sure I feel good and guilty as I walk that last mile."
"Hardly!" Felicity Bennett declared with as much venom in her tone as Hastings ever heard. "To feel guilt, you have to have a conscience! And you, Mrs. Ariadne Oliver, are bereft of anything so human! You spit in the faces of your most loyal readers by slamming a character we loved and then you side with the FILTH of the Manchester Brotherhood, play on Mr. Poirot's friendship....a friendship he believed existed, lure him into a trap and have him killed! Did you happen to see the group of people around that fire-pit; dropping ...."
"Your little book burning party. How.... democratic."
"That's where you're wrong, Mrs. Oliver. We aren't preventing others from reading your....filth. Whoever wants can purchase your books at whatever book store will stock them. But you sabotaged your career on that front, Madame! YOU and your mouth and your INGRATITUDE! Seeing readers as nothing more than banks with eyes and feet. So I have to wonder why I thought you would treat Mr. Poirot any differently than you treated the book buying public. Because, you see, at the end of the day, Ariadne Oliver, you used Mr. Poirot just the way you used the public! You got what you wanted from us and then you tossed us aside! I'm curious about one thing, Mrs. Oliver; who's going to cry at your funeral?"
"I don't suppose you'll be one of the mourners." Ariadne Oliver guessed.
"You aren't worthy of my time, Mrs. Oliver. Once upon a time you were. Leastwise, that's what I thought. When I had the flu, Mr. Poirot bought me a copy of your last novel. He later had you autograph it for me." Felicity Bennett stared towards the window. For me, it was enough that he knew I enjoyed your stories." She turned to face the woman who'd murdered her dear friend. "It took every ounce of strength I possessed to let that book drop into the flames. Then again, I have other keepsakes that aren't tainted with greed and blood! "
Felicity Bennett approached her nemesis, "I'm TEMPTED to feel sorry for you, Mrs. Oliver. You are so..... ARROGANT! So utterly FULL of YOURSELF that you don't make room for anyone else! You wanted fame. Your name on the front page of magazines and the newspapers. How ironic that, tomorrow, and for days after your name and face will make front page headlines and you won't be alive to see them."
Felicity Bennett turned to leave the room and Japp moved to let her out.
"Oops. Just about forgot what I came here for." Felicity Lemon-Bennett turned and before anyone could register what they were seeing, a WHAP! filled the room as Hercule Poirot's former receptionist landed a slap across the face of Ariadne Oliver with center precision.
"WELL DONE!" Hastings declared, walking just behind her as Japp knocked on the door to let them out. When Japp returned his attention to the prisoner, he noticed her cheek was bleeding.
Looking at the blood that dripped from the cut the ring left, the prisoner shouted, "That BITCH!!! She scratched me with her ring. She probably got it at a Sixpense to a Shilling shop!"
Going into the small cubicle in the corner, Japp returned with toilet paper he was folded as he handed to her. "Considering the pain you've inflicted and what you're about to face, Mrs Oliver, that little scratch is pretty damned insignificant, in the grand scheme of things. On the other hand," James Japp said with a smile. " I wouldn't have missed it for all the tea at a Buckingham Palace luncheon. Goodbye, Mrs. Oliver." And with that, the door closed behind him.
****
The door opened for the last time, when two female guards arrived to escort Ariadne Oliver to her place of execution. A minister walked beside her, reading from a small book of Bible verses. On the opposite side, James Japp strolled.
"You again? If this keeps up, people will talk."
"I'm here on official business, partly. More than that, I owe the friend you sold out to make sure you pay for what you did."
"Touching. Did you take that long walk with Mr. Suchet?"
Japp shook his head. "Suchet's a bottom-feeder. He and his lot do what they do; thinking they can get away with it. The fact that three of the Manchester Brotherhood have swung from a noose proved their theory wrong. In another few minutes, that number will be increased by one."
"I'm not a member of the Manchester...."
"You accepted their terms, you did what you were asked to do, and now you're going to be executed as one of their party. All because you couldn't appreciate what you had in your career. You shot Poirot with no more effort than you shot down your Finnish detective and stabbed your readership in the back. You ARE a member of the Manchester Brotherhood, Mrs Oliver; morally as well as practically."
They stopped in front of a room where the door was wider than any of the cell doors in the place. One of the female guards knocked on the door and it opened to a room with a metal platform, three stairs and, in the center, a noose that was positioned directly over a trap door.
"Would you like to repent of your sins before you meet God?" the middle aged preacher inquired.
"He already knows." Ariadne Oliver said with a shrug. "Anyway, regret is a lousy thing to live with. Just do what you do and move on. I did what I had to do. No regrets."
She spoke, not to the minister but to Assistant Inspector James Japp, who lost any sense of sympathy for the woman.
The minute those words reached his ears, all he did was watch the scene unfold before him. He was hardly aware of the minister crossing himself and then retreating from the scene. Japp only saw the two guards escorting Ariadne to the platform. She was slightly wobbly, as if drunk. Then again, who wouldn't be uneasy on their feet, facing death in the most slow, agonizing way .
At the center of the platform, the executioner pulled a canvass bag over Mrs. Oliver's head, slipped the noose over her head and to her neck; making sure it was snug enough not to loosen and drop the prisoner; ironically causing her to die by a long fall.
As soon as all of that was seen to, the executioner moved to one side, placed his hand on the lever and pulled to the left. The floor dropped out from under Ariadne Oliver's feet and the sudden but brief plummet. Her neck was broken immediately.
Disgraced author and killer of Hercule Poirot was dead.
If anyone cried for Ariadne Oliver ,upon hearing or reading of her execution, Hercule Poirot's friends were not among her mourners.
~The End~
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