~Family Ties~Chapter 4~😭Midnight Cries😭


    The first of the bad news came at the  pre-trial hearing, a week following the initial incident that brought Poirot and Japp to the counselor's home.

     Following a day of hearing evidence, by both the Defense and Crown,  the judge,  Justice Anthony Casteel returned with the verdict.

    "This court finds ...."  Justice Casteel stopped a beat and then reiterated. "That is to say,  this court CANNOT find sufficient evidence of guilt on the part of Counselor Henry Elkins.  Is it possible that he pushed his wife down the stairs?  Of course.  He has let slide that he knew about the child he was not happy about.  However,  that, unto itself is NOT conclusive evidence to prove that he pushed his wife down the stairs on purpose. And that, Mr. Malcolm, is what the Crown was obligated to show."  The gavel came down, and the case was dismissed.

    James Japp glared at the judge who'd left his esteemed post at the bench and wondered how much money it took to 'tip' as it were, the scales of justice. Hercule Poirot, on the other hand, was more interested in the scene between the acquitted defendant and the woman he may or may not have killed for. Whereas,  Celia Watson was delighted that Henry had been proven,  as she believed, NOT GUILTY.  Henry, on the other hand, was more involved in thanking his brilliant lawyer. Hardly even acknowledging the woman in the seat right behind the defendant's table.

    By the time he and Japp left the courthouse, Poirot witnessed a more cozy show of affection between the couple.

   "Justice triumphs again, eh Poirot?"  The Assistant Commissioner grumbled as the two men descended the courthouse steps.

      One would have to be deaf NOT to hear the sarcasm in Japp's tone.  "Not a proud moment, to say the least, mon ami.  How can a judge look at clear evidence and NOT see what he was shown? The coroner,"  Poirot declared, barely able to hide his frustration. "he gave testimony which was most compelling; insisting that the fall, which killed Madame Rhoda HAD to have been caused by a hard push.  How did the judge NOT hear that?"

    Japp smirked.  I'll give you a hint, shall I?" Japp rubbed his index finger across his thumb. 

   "Money?"  Poirot guessed.

   "Money."  Japp echoed.   "Political ties.  Once the judge accepted the money,  he can't snitch on Elkins without doing himself in.  So our good Mister Elkins has himself fixed up nice and cozy, assuming he doesn't get careless and try to bump off another fair damsel."

   The cab pulled up and the men headed down the last flight of steps to meet it.

   In front of Whitehaven Mansions,  Poirot paid his half of the fare, plus a minor tip for lacking in exact change. 

    It was nearly quarter after eleven when he opened the door of his suite. In her office,  Felicity Lemon could be heard talking on the phone.

    "Could you spell that address please? ...Yes. Yes. I have it. Thank you.  I will have Mr. Poirot return your call as soon as he returns.   You're welcome. Bye bye."

   Upon returning the receiver to its cradle,  Miss Lemon greeted Poirot and handed him the message she just jotted down.  "There's another message on your desk.  Checking her watch, she saw that it was 11:20.  "Would you still like your Tisane?  It'll be past your accustomed schedule."

   Poirot waved the matter aside. "And how were you to know what time the court would let out?"  he said, hanging up his coat on the hall coat rack and went and headed for the kitchen, where he filled a kettle with water for his Tisane and set the kettle on the stove and took out his tea cup and saucer.

   "So? How did the hearing go?"  Felicity Lemon inquired.  She was aware of how much the particulars of this case bothered her employer.  Something was eating at him.  The fact that Mr. Poirot wasn't concerned about what time he had his customary 11:00 a.m.  Herb tea was a sure sign that he had other matters on his mind. 

    "Not well, Miss Lemon.  The judge,  he either did not see the evidence that was set before him, or CHOSE not to see it."

    "How did Mr. Japp react?"

     "The Assistant Commissioner,  he is of the opinion that money has changed hands.  I have to agree. Given the overwhelming evidence of the medical examiner,  no other choice could be made but the obvious, and yet,"  Poirot side-shrugged. "the judge,  he made the wrong choice;  contrary to what he heard and knew."

   Felicity Lemon shook her head and heaved that sigh Hercule Poirot knew well.  The lady was angry.   "That is ....INFURIATING!"  Miss Lemon spoke through clenched teeth.  "You, Japp,  the policemen of Scotland Yard work hard to get a case solved,  only to have all your work go for naught, by a greedy magistrate!"

   Poirot held up a hand,  pleading for calm.  "Sadly, mon ami,  that is sometimes the way it goes. I am no happier than you,  be assured of that.  But there is nothing that can be done.  For now." 

    The kettle whistled and Poirot poured the water into the cup and onto the enclosed teaspoon which contained his Herbal tea mixture. Once the tea looked strong enough,  Poirot emptied the contents of the enclosed spoon into the garbage .  As per usual, that mess would have to be cleaned at the end of the day.   Adding four lumps of sugar, he stirred the contents and carried the cup into his office area.

   "I do miss Captain Hastings.  I have not always appreciated his ....unique knack with deduction."  Poirot picked up the note, with its tidy handwriting. "A request to lecture at a Scotland Yard Seminar for young officer  trainees. How do they say,  'rookies'?  Very pleasant. An opportunity to inform the new generation."

  "That won't put Japp's nose out of joint?"

    "Not at all.  He will be, I have no doubt, one of the speakers. In fact, it is possible that he issued the invite for my acceptance."

    "What DID you mean,  Mr.  Poirot, when you said 'For Now' ;  referring to the judge and Mister Elkins getting away with their corruption of the law?"

   "Quite simply, Miss Lemon,  something ALWAYS trips their sort up, sooner or later.  What that something turns out to be,  I do not know. When it will happen, I know not.  But it will happen. The trap the culprit lays, for the innocent victim, will, somehow, ensnare the baiter of that trap in the end.  Sometime, my friend, it is that knowledge which allows me to sleep at night when my stomach, it is in knots over how the guilty party was able to escape the hangman's noose. 

   And now, Miss Lemon, it is time to return our attention to the tasks that await us."

                            ~~~~

    Hercule Poirot was relieved to be able to set his mind to a new case and put this wholey unpleasant experience behind him.  Leastwise,  that's what he tried to tell himself.

    In his current job, a bank safe deposit box had been pillaged. How was something like that possible?  Those benign questions ambled around his mind even after he wrote them on a page of a bedside notebook.  He drifted off to sleep; imagining one of the possible outcomes.

    At one point in one of his dreams,  Poirot could hear a bell. But it wasn't part of the dream. rather, it cut into the dream.  The phone was ringing.

     Turning to his bedside,  Poirot reached for and picked up the receiver.  "Hello,"  he said after clearing his throat.

    "Mister Poirot,"  a whispering, whimpering voice asked.  "It Celia Watson.  Please come over!  Please. Henry is drunk and he's trying to kick down the door! He'll kill me!  Please HURRY!"

    In the background,  Poirot could hear muffled sounds of pounding.  He could quibble about calling the police but this was no time for petty arguing.  He'd call the police.  "I will be over directly."

    Hanging up,  Poirot looked at the clock to the right of the bedside lamp.  The time was just a tick before precisely fifteen minutes before two in the morning.  Quarter to two in the morning.

  Fighting the desire to set his head back on his pillow,  Poirot dialed 999 and gave the particulars as well as the address to the officer on the line.  "Please proceed with all speed.  The lady, she is in danger!"

   Getting into his clothes,  Poirot was both fearful for the poor woman and mildly miffed at her.  This was going to turn his day on its ear.  He needed to focus on the case at hand.  But Celia's life and safety were of the foremost concern at the moment.

     When the cab pulled up to the curb of the mansion,  Poirot was relieved to see two police cars there.  A bit excessive, perhaps but too many were better than none at all. 

   Pressing the doorbell, hardly a minute went by when the door opened and the detective found himself face to face with none other than James Japp.  The Assistant Commissioner looked rumpled and none-too-happy.  Poirot was surprise he wasn't in his pajamas.
 
  "Assistant Commissioner? What brings you here at this hour?"

    "The same thing you're doing here.  As soon as you called the precinct, the fella doing desk duty called me.  Jennings."

   "Pardon?"  Hercule Poirot puzzled.

    "Jennings.  The officer who drove us here, the first day of this ....bonkers 'investigation' .  He figured I might want in on this." 

   "On what?"

    Japp gestured with a side nod.  "Follow me."

    In the grand living room, Poirot was stopped short by the sight before him.   On the side of the sofa that faced the door way,  Celia Watson sat.  Her right eye was swollen shut, with shades of blue-ish purple that went from her eye to her cheek.  She held a towel to her face.

    "Ice pack for her bloodied lip."  Japp said. 

     But the bloodied lip wasn't so much what completely confused Poirot as the sight of the man sitting next to Celia.  Henry Elkins.  He had one arm wrapped around Celia's shoulder, and Celia didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable.

    "Excuse me, Mademoiselle Celia,"  Poirot did his best to hide the annoyance he was feeling, at being awakened at the early hours of the morning, by a woman who sounded like her life was in imminent danger.  Now,  the very man she had been hiding from had a comforting arm around her shoulder.  "Did you not call me not long ago,  hysterical with...."

    "I wouldn't say 'hysterical' ," Celia said with a shy smile.  "but,...well, yes. I suppose  I did over react a touch."

    Poirot approached closer but stopped at the glare of counselor Elkins.  "I think you should be seen by a doctor. Casualty shouldn't be too busy at this hour, and Assistant Commissioner Japp, he could pull some rank and ....."

   "No."  Celia said, shaking her head.  "I'm sorry,  Mr. Poirot,  for waking you up at this unholy hour.  And you,  Commissioner Japp.  I feel like awful for dragging you out of your warm beds for, well,  nothing."

   "Nothing?!"  Japp spoke up through clenched teeth to keep from shouting.  "You got a shiner any boxer would be proud to show off and a cut lip that should be seen to. How did you incur those particular injuries?"   Japp made no secret of who he suspected by glaring at the man sitting beside Celia.

     "May I explain?"  Henry Elkins added his voice

      "Oh, please. I can't wait to hear this!"  Japp's sarcasm was on display for all to hear.

    Counselor Elkins extended a hand to indicate where the men could sit down.  To Poirot, it made little sense, if any, to have such a vast sofa, which just about took up the room. This, however, was no time to be critiquing living area furnishings.   He and Japp sat across from the political official and the injured woman who didn't appear as frightened as she sounded on the phone.  WHAT was going on here?!

    "Thing is, gentlemen, we were both....tipsy.  Drunk.  We got to playing...games, if you take my meaning, and I suppose it got a bit rough and Celia got scared and hid in the library and called you."

    The library!  Of course.  Even with Celia's frantic talk,  Poirot recalled hearing pounding in the background. Surely such loud noise would be accompanied by imprints of some kind.  Knicks in the door. Dents.

    "May I see the library?"Poirot requested.
In fact, he hoped Celia would volunteer to show him the room and he could persuade her to leave. Offer financial assistance if necessary.  This cozy display of affection was the calm after the storm and it wouldn't last.
   There was a forced friendliness to Elkins' conversation and smile.  Like a politician on the campaign trail.  He'd shook all the hands and kissed all the babies and made all the promises that went with the job.  Heaven alone knew what those fellas were like behind closed doors.  And he didn't want Celia to have to endure another storm.

   Dommage.  She merely pointed to the door and gave direction.

   "Merci."  Poirot nodded and offered a kind smile which Celia only briefly returned.

    Leaving the living room,  the detective walked back towards the foyer and to a room across from the ornate table with its over-sized plant.  The door of the library was almost non-descript. Solid wood. Oak, he guessed, but so what if he was wrong?  This investigation had nothing to do with guessing the correct wood used to construct this door.  It was to learn how much truth was in the fish tale Elkins told.   Given the man's medium build,  there was very little evidence to prove he'd been pounding on the door.  One would have to be much stronger or use something like an ax to get through the door, if it was locked.

    The bottom of the door was another matter.  There was ample evidence that this door had been kicked with enough force to leave noticeable dents. Nothing to take the door down, but considering the density of the wood, the two welts were impressive if not scary.   The man who did this was not playing around.  A calm person could not; nay,  WOULD NOT do something so damaging to his own home!   Heaven only knew what sort of damage a man, in this state of mind could do to another person! 

   The split lip and black, swollen eye were a very small example of the full harm Henry Elkins could have inflicted if Celia hadn't hid herself behind the locked door of this room.  And it further solidified Poirot's niggling suspicion about the death of Rhoda to a full fledged confirmation.   An opinion shared by the fatigued Assistant Commissioner as the investigators made their way home.

   "So we're agreed,"  Japp said.  Not as much of a surprise as it used to be. "The job will be getting Celia to believe it."

    "The 'job' as you say, will be getting young Celia away from this... brute before she goes the way of her sibling.   Is there no way we can intervene?"

    "How?  Kidnap her?  Chain her to a bus seat til she's back in Cambridge with her folks. That'll go well with the press, won't it?  'Copper and detective  kidnap newlywed bride of prominent politician'.  You'll be carted out of the country on a barge and I can kiss my pension AND my marriage a fond farewell on the same day.  Well thanks, but no thanks.  Hate to say it, Poirot, but we're just going to have to wait for Mrs. Celia Elkins  to come to her senses, on her own." 
   "We may also consider praying she lives that long."   Hercule Poirot replied;  angry at his inability to rescue someone who so clearly needed saving from an environment that was likely to kill her.  Why didn't she see this?!

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