Family Ties (Tragic Poirot Mystery} Chapter 2 Tidy Crime Scene.

   Poirot was quiet on the way home. More quiet than Japp was familiar or comfortable with.  

    In times past, Japp would have given his eye-teeth for moments like this.  Hercule Poirot quiet, and seeming alsmost uncertain. But...that was then.  A whole lifetime ago.

    "Are you going to tell me what's bothering your famous 'little grey cells'  Poirot, or do I have to guess?" 

   The Belgian sleuth didn't answer right away, and when he did, the answer was not what Assistant commissioner James Japp expected to hear.

   "I am troubled, mon ami."

    "You think the case is too difficult?" Japp asked while he couldn't imagine such a scenario.

      "On the contrary,  Assistant Commissioner. This case, it is far too easy.  On the surface of it, at least."

     "Now I'm troubled. I'm thinking along the same lines you are.  There's a lot more under the surface of this case that we aren't seeing or being told about."

   "Precisiment!  We need to keep in mind, my friends, that this man, he is in politics.  Politicians, they are just about as good at covering up a scandal as any seasoned criminal. Counselor Elkins, he has given us freedom to examine his home with the fine-tooth comb.  Then he asks us to leave before we have done anything?"

   "I suppose we have to respect his right to privacy at a time like this."  Jennings added his voice to the conversation.

   "NOT if he invokes that right to privacy  in order to hide what he doesn't want us to see."  Japp replied.

   "You want me to turn the car around?"  Jennings asked, sounding almost hopeful that the Assistant Commissioner would give the okay and they'd go charging back to the mansion;  demanding answers and the right to go over the place with the proverbial fine-toothed-comb.

   After a minute of silence on Japp's part, the seasoned Scotland Yard Police Investigator  shook his head. "I'll run it by Spaulding. Last thing I want to do is cause an uproar by rushing into a house of mourning, guns blazing, and proceed to conduct a murder investigation while a grieving husband and sister-in-law plan a funeral. Oh, that would be great publicity!

   "Sorry for wasting your time, Poirot."

  Poirot politely contradicted his colleague; reminding Japp that it was the 'grieving' family that had wasted both his time as well as  Japp's and Jennings'.   "It is a temporary setback, my friend. As you said, there is more to this than we are being permitted to see. The call we received, it may have been the old magician's trick to divert our attention."

   "A smoke-screen."  Jennings said.  "Give the idea that our good Counselor Elkins was looking for help. It's even on the Precinct log. Constable Baldwin, I think. In any case, it looks good for Elkins as far as the press are concerned. It's also a big deal for us. How many political big wigs does Scotland deal with?"

    The Assistant Commissioner didn't want to deflate the poor rookie's  illusions, but Scotland Yard, Metro division, got more than its share of high end business. Politicians, celebrities of a sort. A mixed bag, by every implication imaginable.  But the lad would find all of that out soon enough.

      ~~~~

    Before Miss Lemon left for the day, there were three phone calls of consequence.  One was from Japp, informing him that Spaulding okayed the continuation of the investigation.

    "In fact, he went so far as to say that if  the good Counselor Elkins refused us entry into his home, his hope for a scandal-free mourning period would not be granted. Leastways, as far as Scotland Yard was concerned."

   The second phone call, as if to confirm Japp's plans, was Counselor Elkins'  sister-in-law, Celia.  After apologizing  every which way for the 'confusion' of the morning's meeting, she invited Monsieur Poirot back to the house, along with Detective Japp.

  "Counselor Elkins is at sixes and sevens with this business over his wife.  Not five minutes after you left, he cursed himself for showing you the door instead of letting you do your work.  I wondered the same but I'm in no great emotional condition myself,  Mr. Poirot.  Please accept the family's apologies and return at your convenience, either today or tomorrow."

   Poirot listened accepted the gracious apologies. "I will contact Assistant Commissioner Japp and we may well return this afternoon. Although it is more likely that we shall return first thing tomorrow.  That is agreeable to you?"

   "Whatever's better for you, sir."

    "Merci. Thank you.  I will contact the Assistant Commissioner. If we are not at your residence by....,"  Poirot took the watch out of his vest pocket and examined it. It was now twelve thirty. Japp was likely eating lunch. Woe betide anyone who interrupted the Assistant Commissioner during his lunch break. "two this afternoon.  Yes. That will give us time to be at your home.  If we have not returned by then, you may assume we will return by nine to ten a.m. the following day. Apologies for not being able to be more specific."

   "Quite alright."  The woman replied with Poirot heard to be a giggle in her voice.  "It's been a bit of a hectic time all round. So, either two p.m this afternoon, or, failing that, ten a.m. at the latest. Is that correct?"

  "Precisely correct, mademoiselle."

    Poirot hung up the phone to find Felicity Lemon standing at his desk. She looked troubled rather than impatient about something.  Once,  she was in a dither when her typewriter was no longer functioning. He did purchase a new machine, but teased her by way of buying a new clock for her office and threw her off the trail. So when the typewriter was on her desk the following day, Miss Lemon was taken by delighted surprise.

   Her stance, this minute, however, conveyed more concern than agitation over non-functioning office equipment.  "Is there a problem, Miss Lemon?"

   "I was about to ask you the same thing.  Here it is, nearly one O'clock and you haven't even eaten yet. Are you unwell, Mister Poirot?"

   Hercule Poirot sighed and side shrugged. "I am not certain, Miss Lemon. Have you ever had a matter that.....pestered you and you weren't exactly sure even what it was?"

   Felicity Lemon nodded in comprehension of the problem. "Most definitely, Mr. Poirot.  Drives me batty until I can put my finger on it."

   "Oui.  And this whole case, it reminds me of something and it is driving me, how did you say, BATTY?  Nevertheless, "  he picked up the receiver. "I must contact Assistant Commissioner Japp.  If we can drop by the home this afternoon, it may solve two problems and I can eat a proper meal and get a good night's rest."

   Felicity Lemon knew better than to try and convince her employer and friend of anything counter to what his mind was set on. Still, she worried. Hercule Poirot was very single-minded in his pursuits and didn't care for distractions, no matter how well-intentioned.  All the same, she had to try.

   "If you're not going to eat at home, at least find a restaurant and have something there.  You're too busy to be skipping meals."

   Poirot nodded in agreement as well as gratitude. 

  Felicity Lemon had been as much a 'mother hen'  as she was a secretary and receptionist.  And somehow, she managed a few tasks at a time;  including refiling his cases by five different categories. To this day, Hercule Poirot had no idea how she carried out such a monumental job with such tidy efficiency. He admitted, if only to himself, that he could not have done as well. 

   Dialing Japp's number, the Assistant Commissioner answered on the second ring and Poirot told him of the phone call from Mademoiselle Celia.  "She was most apologetic and conveyed, for Counselor Elkins, that we are free to go about the investigation without interruption. Very considerate."

   "You think so?  Convenient would be the word I'd use, Poirot. The more I think about it, the more this whole thing has the ...feel of a magician's trick. Using his so-called grief as an excuse. Still, convenience or luck,  whatever you want to call it, it serves our purpose, so we can head over ....about three O'clock. Let them think we won't be here til noon."

   The former competitors turned colleagues, Japp and Poirot went about cases in their own unique way.  And if something about a case niggled at them, they had to find a way to collaborate that didn't step on the other's toes.  Japp was an action man. If he knew something was 'off'  about a case, he had to unnerve the suspect. Good luck trying to convince him otherwise.

   In this case, Poirot wasn't sure about who was to blame, if anyone, for the death of Counselor Elkins' wife.  The whole case just felt....familiar to him. Heaven help him, he did not know why.

                  ~~~~
    At ten to three, they arrived at the mansion.  Jennings was no longer as impressed with the trappings of political wealth as he was, the first time the three investigators showed up at the house.

   Japp was hardly out of the car when he reached into the inside pocket of his trusty beige rain coat for his notebook and pencil.

  "I came prepared!"  the Assistant Commissioner just about sang. "There are ...things. Seemingly insignificant points that are niggling at the back of my head. So I wrote them down. Care to take a look?"

   Poirot was genuinely touched by the A.C.'s faith in his opinion.  Even more in his penmanship, that improved over the nearly two decades they'd worked together.  More than that,  Japp seemed to be more...meticulous his ability to see the details he used to overlook and then chide Poirot for.   It was all the Belgian sleuth could do to keep from informing his colleague how much of his own habits had rubbed off. Instead, Poirot only nodded and returned the book. 
  "I had not thought a few of these questions myself."

    Japp smiled;  proud that he had, after too long, bested Hercule Poirot in a feat of deductive reasoning. But he simply smiled and said, "Thanks." 
    Constable Jennings rang the doorbell and stared at the black wreath; telling all who came to the mansion that there was a death in the family and that they were in bereavement.  After a minute of waiting,  Japp gave the nod and Jennings rang the bell again. Inside, he could hear the faint sound of the bell that told him the mechanism was in working order.  Again, though, no sound. Not even the low squeak of the housekeeper's white sneakers. 

   Finally!  Sound. Noise. But nothing the three men expected to hear.  Laughter and attempts to suppress it with shushes.

   Jennings looked at Japp and Poirot and shrugged.  In the time it took Jennings to face the door again, it opened, and a robbed, perspiring Counselor Henry Elkins stood before them.  The smile on his lips fell off, nearly audibly, to the floor.  Then, as if that sight wasn't enough of a shock, a familiar female voice greeted the ears of the detectives before the face of the woman met them.

   In one of the counselor's longsleeved shirts, which, thankfully, covered JUST enough below the waist, stood Celia Watson, who promptly took shelter behind her 'grieving' brother-in-law.

   "Gentlemen,"   the counselor did his level best to hide his embarrassment behind a pasted-on political smile.  "we weren't expecting you til tomorrow."

   "That much is obvious."  Japp replied while Poirot turned his back to the sight before him. Both, because he did not wish to see people in such a state of undress, and he felt sick to his stomach. Not for lack of food. In fact, if he had eaten, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold back the bile tide this sight induced.  More disturbing, however, was the scene that this brought back. Poirot remembered what had been grating on his memory.  That recall initiated any number of suspicions that he was too embarrassed and distraught to even think about at the moment.

   "We'll be back tomorrow."  Japp said, without even attempting to hide his disgust. "I suggest you both wear something more appropriate to the occasion."

    Turning on his heels, Japp stalked back to the police car, with Jennings barely keeping up and Poirot moving at a faster pace than he usually kept. Of course, his legs being shorter, could not keep pace with the Assistant Commissioner,  who turned the air in the cruiser a light blue with the profanities he uttered in every other sentence.

   Poirot, for his part, might have used a few of those same choice phrases, but for the fact that he'd be saying Rosaries til the Second Coming. 

   "I KNEW IT!!!"  Japp pounded a fist on the dashboard.  "I ...bloody well knew this was just too tidy.  Too well staged.  Who, what bereaved person, in any real state of emotional upheaval meet for anyone like they were dressed for an evening on the town?"

  "Dressed?"  Jennings puzzled as he drove.

  "I mean earlier.  The whole set up was just too..."  He searched for the right word. "Too Presentable. Down to the coffee and conversation we had before being shown the door in short order."

    "On one hand, the man, he is immaculately dressed. On the other hand, he has the police over to investigate a possible crime scene, only to usher us out of the house before we have had the chance to see anything.  He was clearly distracted. As the.... lady said, as she spoke on the phone with me; the counselor, he was at sixes and sevens."

    "We can guess why."

      "What is your rationale, Assistant Commissioner?"

    Japp glared at Poirot. "Come on! Are you telling me that you, the master detective, cannot see a murder case when it's staring you in the face?"

   "What I saw were two people who got caught out ..."

   "Exactly. Your wife has just been killed, or just died under what MIGHT be an accident, or something arranged to LOOK like an accident. You call the police to make the scenario look legitimate.  Tell them they have the run of the place. 'Investigate all you like.  Don't want any scandal here!'  Japp reiterated the phrase with a sarcastic edge.

   "Like he was more concerned about what a possible murder investigation would do to his career, than mourning the loss of his wife."  Jennings added his voice to the conversation.

   "Still,"  Poirot spoke up. "the counselor, he was very much in a state of agitation. Almost like he didn't know why we were there."

   "Jennings, who did you say took the original phone call?"

   Jennings thought but then shook his head. "After all this mess, sir, I'm not sure of my own name at the moment.  Not to worry, you only need to look at the log book. Whoever took the call wrote down particulars about the address and the name of the caller. All that. Why?"

   "Are you wondering if our honorable Mr. Elkins even knew a call was made?"   Poirot asked.

    "That is very possible.  And, given the fact that the same employee, who was at the front door this morning but did not greet us a few hours later?  Putting all these clues together, my esteemed colleagues, I'd say this entire case reeks like Fisherman's warf in the middle of a heatwave."

   Both Poirot and Jennings groaned at the very image conjured by Japp's description.  

    "Constable Jennings,"  Poirot said, glancing out the window. "Have we passed the Court Jester?"

    "Sir?" Jennings asked for a repeat of the inquiry even as Japp stared at his colleague.
"You mean the public house?"
   
   "Yes. I have not eaten lunch and I recall, with surprising fondness, a place Hastings introduced me to. The establishment is very well-kept and the food is more than acceptable. There is a proper steak dinner."

   Japp chuckled,  "Just when you think you've figured someone out. Hercule Poirot eating at a tavern."

     Over a lunch of steak and potatoes, for two, and a hot roast beef sandwich for Constable Jennings, the men plotted their next move.

   Sipping his ice water, Poirot cleared his throat, "Gentlemen, I fear this most recent....development, it has left us out in the chill."

    "How so?" Jennings inquired without correcting the respected detective's phrasing.

    "Considering the ....collusion in which the Counselor and his sister-in-law have been shown,  I cannot but believe they will cover up any evidence of a crime if they haven't already done so."

   "What? We just give up and let a possible murder go unpunished?  Since when do you give up without a fight?" Japp was both puzzled and irritated. He just wasn't sure which grated on him more.

   "Assistant Commissioner,"  Poirot pleaded.  "Did you notice, on the face of Henry Elkins, his very untroubled expression?"

   "I noticed he was embarrassed,"  Jennings said, cutting into his gravy laden lunch. "but barely.  His ...uh...lady friend was more rattled."

   "Given her state of...undress, I do not wonder."  Poirot chased his forkful of boiled, seasoned potato and cauliflower with a sip of iced tea.   He seemed deeply annoyed about it. Japp put it down to Hercule Poirot being terribly old fashioned on the matters of men and women.  Then again,  insisting this case had hit a dead end was decidedly out of character for the man who could see a clue in  a misplaced chair.

   "Again,"  Assistant Commissioner James Japp re-opened the conversation as soon as the steak and french fries were chased by a glass of lager. "what makes you think the case is over?"

    Poirot seemed oddly distracted, and Japp had to repeat the question, to which Poirot side-shrugged.  "Those two, they were not the least bit troubled or in a state of mourning.  Apart from the situation staring at us, in the face, either there is no case to investigate and Mademoiselle  Celia's sister died from an accident OR that the two believe they have covered the matter so well that we would not find anything.  Since the body, it is already at the morgue, I suggest, gentlemen, that we wait, with patience, the report of the medical examiner and proceed from there. In the meantime, we watch."

   "Watch? Watch what?" Japp was impatient. This "path of least resistance"  bit did NOT suit Hercule Poirot, who was usually tenacious about getting to the bottom of a case, even on those occasions when Japp and Hastings were certain they had gone as far as the case would take them.

    "Between now and the funeral of his wife, Counselor Elkins will be asked to give, to the news papers and radio, a statement regarding his wife's passing.  We listen for what we hear as well as what we do NOT hear."

   Okay, so THAT did sound like Poirot!  "What we DON'T hear?"

    Jennings was intrigued by the detective's reasoning process and listened, for a few minutes, without touching his food, as Poirot explained,  "Counselor Henry Elkins is a seasoned politician and so he knows how to, as you say, jump the ropes. He can and WILL pour on the tears for the news paper reporter or an radio interviewer.  However, if this is a charade, and the esteemed counselor is waiting out the clock, he may well say something that will give him away. In the meantime, mes amies, waiting is all we can do."