Murder in Mesopotamia: A Hercule Poirot Mystery Read online

  He was appealing to an elderly man who was sitting thoughtfully twirling a pair of pince-nez.

  The latter started and looked up.

  “Yes—yes—very nice indeed. Taken individually, that is. Of course, Mercado is rather a queer fish—”

  “He has such a very odd beard,” put in Mrs. Kelsey. “A queer limp kind.”

  Major Pennyman went on without noticing her interruption.

  “The young ’uns are both nice. The American’s rather silent, and the English boy talks a bit too much. Funny, it’s usually the other way round. Leidner himself is a delightful fellow—so modest and unassuming. Yes, individually they are all pleasant people. But somehow or other, I may have been fanciful, but the last time I went to see them I got a queer impression of something being wrong. I don’t know what it was exactly . . . Nobody seemed quite natural. There was a queer atmosphere of tension. I can explain best what I mean by saying that they all passed the butter to each other too politely.”

  Blushing a little, because I don’t like airing my own opinions too much, I said: “If people are too much cooped up together it’s got a way of getting on their nerves. I know that myself from experience in hospital.”

  “That’s true,” said Major Kelsey, “but it’s early in the season, hardly time for that particular irritation to have set in.”

  “An expedition is probably like our life here in miniature,” said Major Pennyman. “It has its cliques and rivalries and jealousies.”

  “It sounds as though they’d got a good many newcomers this year,” said Major Kelsey.

  “Let me see.” The squadron leader counted them off on his fingers. “Young Coleman is new, so is Reiter. Emmott was out last year and so were the Mercados. Father Lavigny is a newcomer. He’s come in place of Dr. Byrd, who was ill this year and couldn’t come out. Carey, of course, is an old hand. He’s been out ever since the beginning, five years ago. Miss Johnson’s been out nearly as many years as Carey.”

  “I always thought they got on so well together at Tell Yarimjah,” remarked Major Kelsey. “They seemed like a happy family—which is really surprising when one considers what human nature is! I’m sure Nurse Leatheran agrees with me.”

  “Well,” I said, “I don’t know that you’re not right! The rows I’ve known in hospital and starting often from nothing more than a dispute about a pot of tea.”

  “Yes, one tends to get petty in close communities,” said Major Pennyman. “All the same I feel there must be something more to it in this case. Leidner is such a gentle, unassuming man, with really a remarkable amount of tact. He’s always managed to keep his expedition happy and on good terms with each other. And yet I did notice that feeling of tension the other day.”

  Mrs. Kelsey laughed.

  “And you don’t see the explanation? Why, it leaps to the eye!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mrs. Leidner, of course.”

  “Oh come, Mary,” said her husband, “she’s a charming woman—not at all the quarrelsome kind.”

  “I didn’t say she was quarrelsome. She causes quarrels!”

  “In what way? And why should she?”

  “Why? Why? Because she’s bored. She’s not an archaeologist, only the wife of one. She’s bored shut away from any excitements and so she provides her own drama. She amuses herself by setting other people by the ears.”

  “Mary, you don’t know in the least. You’re merely imagining.”

  “Of course I’m imagining! But you’ll find I’m right. Lovely Louise doesn’t look like the Mona Lisa for nothing! She mayn’t mean any harm, but she likes to see what will happen.”

  “She’s devoted to Leidner.”

  “Oh! I dare say, I’m not suggesting vulgar intrigues. But she’s an allumeuse, that woman.”

  “Women are so sweet to each other,” said Major Kelsey.

  “I know. Cat, cat, cat, that’s what you men say. But we’re usually right about our own sex.”

  “All the same,” said Major Pennyman thoughtfully, “assuming all Mrs. Kelsey’s uncharitable surmises to be true, I don’t think it would quite account for that curious sense of tension—rather like the feeling there is before a thunderstorm. I had the impression very strongly that the storm might break any minute.”

  “Now don’t frighten nurse,” said Mrs. Kelsey. “She’s going there in three days’ time and you’ll put her right off.”

  “Oh, you won’t frighten me,” I said, laughing.

  All the same I thought a good deal about what had been said. Dr. Leidner’s curious use of the word “safer” recurred to me. Was it his wife’s secret fear, unacknowledged or expressed perhaps, that was reacting on the rest of the party? Or was it the actual tension (or perhaps the unknown cause of it) that was reacting on her nerves?

  I looked up the word allumeuse that Mrs. Kelsey had used in a dictionary, but couldn’t get any sense out of it.

  “Well,” I thought to myself, “I must wait and see.”

  Four

  I ARRIVE IN HASSANIEH

  Three days later I left Baghdad.

  I was sorry to leave Mrs. Kelsey and the baby, who was a little love and was thriving splendidly, gaining her proper number of ounces every week. Major Kelsey took me to the station and saw me off. I should arrive at Kirkuk the following morning, and there someone was to meet me.

  I slept badly, I never sleep very well in a train and I was troubled by dreams. The next morning, however, when I looked out of the window it was a lovely day and I felt interested and curious about the people I was going to see.

  As I stood on the platform hesitating and looking about me I saw a young man coming towards me. He had a round pink face, and really, in all my life, I have never seen anyone who seemed so exactly like a young man out of one of Mr. P. G. Wodehouse’s books.

  “Hallo, ’allo, ’allo,” he said. “Are you Nurse Leatheran? Well, I mean you must be—I can see that. Ha ha! My name’s Coleman. Dr. Leidner sent me along. How are you feeling? Beastly journey and all that? Don’t I know these trains! Well, here we are—had any breakfast? This your kit? I say, awfully modest, aren’t you? Mrs. Leidner has four suitcases and a trunk—to say nothing of a hatbox and a patent pillow, and this, that and the other. Am I talking too much? Come along to the old bus.”

  There was what I heard called later a station wagon waiting outside. It was a little like a wagonette, a little like a lorry and a little like a car. Mr. Coleman helped me in, explaining that I had better sit next to the driver so as to get less jolting.

  Jolting! I wonder the whole contraption didn’t fall to pieces! And nothing like a road—just a sort of track all ruts and holes. Glorious East indeed! When I thought of our splendid arterial roads in England it made me quite homesick.

  Mr. Coleman leaned forward from his seat behind me and yelled in my ear a good deal.

  “Track’s in pretty good condition,” he shouted just after we had been thrown up in our seats till we nearly touched the roof.

  And apparently he was speaking quite seriously.

  “Very good for you—jogs the liver,” he said. “You ought to know that, nurse.”

  “A stimulated liver won’t be much good to me if my head’s split open,” I observed tartly.

  “You should come along here after it’s rained! The skids are glorious. Most of the time one’s going sideways.”

  To this I did not respond.

  Presently we had to cross the river, which we did on the craziest ferryboat you can imagine. It was a mercy we ever got across, but everyone seemed to think it was quite usual.

  It took us about four hours to get to Hassanieh, which, to my surprise, was quite a big place. Very pretty it looked, too, before we got there from the other side of the river—standing up quite white and fairy-like with minarets. It was a bit different, though, when one had crossed the bridge and come right into it. Such a smell and everything ramshackle and tumbledown, and mud and mess everywhere.

  Mr. C
oleman took me to Dr. Reilly’s house, where, he said, the doctor was expecting me to lunch.

  Dr. Reilly was just as nice as ever, and his house was nice too, with a bathroom and everything spick and span. I had a nice bath, and by the time I got back into my uniform and came down I was feeling fine.

  Lunch was just ready and we went in, the doctor apologizing for his daughter, who he said was always late. We’d just had a very good dish of eggs in sauce when she came in and Dr. Reilly said, “Nurse, this is my daughter Sheila.”

  She shook hands, hoped I’d had a good journey, tossed off her hat, gave a cool nod to Mr. Coleman and sat down.

  “Well, Bill,” she said. “How’s everything?”

  He began to talk to her about some party or other that was to come off at the club, and I took stock of her.

  I can’t say I took to her much. A thought too cool for my liking. An offhand sort of girl, though good-looking. Black hair and blue eyes—a pale sort of face and the usual lipsticked mouth. She’d a cool, sarcastic way of talking that rather annoyed me. I had a probationer like her under me once—a girl who worked well, I’ll admit, but whose manner always riled me.

  It looked to me rather as though Mr. Coleman was gone on her. He stammered a bit, and his conversation became slightly more idiotic than it was before, if that was possible! He reminded me of a large stupid dog wagging its tail and trying to please.

  After lunch Dr. Reilly went off to the hospital, and Mr. Coleman had some things to get in the town, and Miss Reilly asked me whether I’d like to see round the town a bit or whether I’d rather stop in the house. Mr. Coleman, she said, would be back to fetch me in about an hour.

  “Is there anything to see?” I asked.

  “There are some picturesque corners,” said Miss Reilly. “But I don’t know that you’d care for them. They’re extremely dirty.”

  The way she said it rather nettled me. I’ve never been able to see that picturesqueness excuses dirt.

  In the end she took me to the club, which was pleasant enough, overlooking the river, and there were English papers and magazines there.

  When we got back to the house Mr. Coleman wasn’t there yet, so we sat down and talked a bit. It wasn’t easy somehow.

  She asked me if I’d met Mrs. Leidner yet.

  “No,” I said. “Only her husband.”

  “Oh,” she said. “I wonder what you’ll think of her?”

  I didn’t say anything to that. And she went on: “I like Dr. Leidner very much. Everybody likes him.”

  That’s as good as saying, I thought, that you don’t like his wife.

  I still didn’t say anything and presently she asked abruptly: “What’s the matter with her? Did Dr. Leidner tell you?”

  I wasn’t going to start gossiping about a patient before I got there even, so I said evasively: “I understand she’s a bit rundown and wants looking after.”

  She laughed—a nasty sort of laugh—hard and abrupt.

  “Good God,” she said. “Aren’t nine people looking after her already enough?”

  “I suppose they’ve all got their work to do,” I said.

  “Work to do? Of course they’ve got work to do. But Louise comes first—she sees to that all right.”

  “No,” I said to myself. “You don’t like her.”

  “All the same,” went on Miss Reilly, “I don’t see what she wants with a professional hospital nurse. I should have thought amateur assistance was more in her line; not someone who’ll jam a thermometer in her mouth, and count her pulse and bring everything down to hard facts.”

  Well, I must admit it, I was curious.

  “You think there’s nothing the matter with her?” I asked.

  “Of course there’s nothing the matter with her! The woman’s as strong as an ox. ‘Dear Louise hasn’t slept.’ ‘She’s got black circles under her eyes.’ Yes—put there with a blue pencil! Anything to get attention, to have everybody hovering round her, making a fuss of her!”

  There was something in that, of course. I had (what nurse hasn’t?) come across many cases of hypochondriacs whose delight it is to keep a whole household dancing attendance. And if a doctor or a nurse were to say to them: “There’s nothing on earth the matter with you!” Well, to begin with they wouldn’t believe it, and their indignation would be as genuine as indignation can be.

  Of course it was quite possible that Mrs. Leidner might be a case of this kind. The husband, naturally, would be the first to be deceived. Husbands, I’ve found, are a credulous lot where illness is concerned. But all the same, it didn’t quite square with what I’d heard. It didn’t, for instance, fit in with that word “safer.”

  Funny how that word had got kind of stuck in my mind.

  Reflecting on it, I asked: “Is Mrs. Leidner a nervous woman? Is she nervous, for instance, of living out far from anywhere?”

  “What is there to be nervous of? Good heavens, there are ten of them! And they’ve got guards too—because of the antiquities. Oh, no, she’s not nervous—at least—”

  She seemed struck by some thought and stopped—going on slowly after a minute or two.

  “It’s odd your saying that.”

  “Why?”

  “Flight Lieutenant Jervis and I rode over the other day. It was in the morning. Most of them were up on the dig. She was sitting writing a letter and I suppose she didn’t hear us coming. The boy who brings you in wasn’t about for once, and we came straight up on to the verandah. Apparently she saw Flight Lieutenant Jervis’s shadow thrown on the wall—and she fairly screamed! Apologized, of course. Said she thought it was a strange man. A bit odd, that. I mean, even if it was a strange man, why get the wind up?”

  I nodded thoughtfully.

  Miss Reilly was silent, then burst out suddenly:

  “I don’t know what’s the matter with them this year. They’ve all got the jumps. Johnson goes about so glum she can’t open her mouth. David never speaks if he can help it. Bill, of course, never stops, and somehow his chatter seems to make the others worse. Carey goes about looking as though something would snap any minute. And they all watch each other as though—as though—Oh, I don’t know, but it’s queer.”

  It was odd, I thought, that two such dissimilar people as Miss Reilly and Major Pennyman should have been struck in the same manner.

  Just then Mr. Coleman came bustling in. Bustling was just the word for it. If his tongue had hung out and he had suddenly produced a tail to wag you wouldn’t have been surprised.

  “Hallo-allo,” he said. “Absolutely the world’s best shopper—that’s me. Have you shown nurse all the beauties of the town?”

  “She wasn’t impressed,” said Miss Reilly dryly.

  “I don’t blame her,” said Mr. Coleman heartily. “Of all the one-horse tumbledown places!”

  “Not a lover of the picturesque or the antique, are you, Bill? I can’t think why you are an archaeologist.”

  “Don’t blame me for that. Blame my guardian. He’s a learned bird—fellow of his college—browses among books in bedroom slippers—that kind of man. Bit of a shock for him to have a ward like me.”

  “I think it’s frightfully stupid of you to be forced into a profession you don’t care for,” said the girl sharply.

  “Not forced, Sheila, old girl, not forced. The old man asked if I had any special profession in mind, and I said I hadn’t, and so he wangled a season out here for me.”

  “But haven’t you any idea really what you’d like to do? You must have!”

  “Of course I have. My idea would be to give work a miss altogether. What I’d like to do is to have plenty of money and go in for motor racing.”

  “You’re absurd!” said Miss Reilly.

  She sounded quite angry.

  “Oh, I realize that it’s quite out of the question,” said Mr. Coleman cheerfully. “So, if I’ve got to do something, I don’t much care what it is so long as it isn’t mugging in an office all day long. I was quite agreeable to seeing a bit
of the world. Here goes, I said, and along I came.”

  “And a fat lot of use you must be, I expect!”

  “There you’re wrong. I can stand up on the dig and shout ‘Y’Allah’ with anybody! And as a matter of fact I’m not so dusty at drawing. Imitating handwriting used to be my speciality at school. I’d have made a first-class forger. Oh, well, I may come to that yet. If my Rolls-Royce splashes you with mud as you’re waiting for a bus, you’ll know that I’ve taken to crime.”

  Miss Reilly said coldly: “Don’t you think it’s about time you started instead of talking so much?”

  “Hospitable, aren’t we, nurse?”

  “I’m sure Nurse Leatheran is anxious to get settled in.”

  “You’re always sure of everything,” retorted Mr. Coleman with a grin.

  That was true enough, I thought. Cocksure little minx.

  I said dryly: “Perhaps we’d better start, Mr. Coleman.”

  “Right you are, nurse.”

  I shook hands with Miss Reilly and thanked her, and we set off.

  “Damned attractive girl, Sheila,” said Mr. Coleman. “But always ticking a fellow off.”

  We drove out of the town and presently took a kind of track between green crops. It was very bumpy and full of ruts.

  After about half an hour Mr. Coleman pointed to a big mound by the river bank ahead of us and said: “Tell Yarimjah.”

  I could see little black figures moving about it like ants.

  As I was looking they suddenly began to run all together down the side of the mound.

  “Fidos,” said Mr. Coleman. “Knocking-off time. We knock off an hour before sunset.”

  The expedition house lay a little way back from the river.

  The driver rounded a corner, bumped through an extremely narrow arch and there we were.

  The house was built round a courtyard. Originally it had occupied only the south side of the courtyard with a few unimportant outbuildings on the east. The expedition had continued the building on the other two sides. As the plan of the house was to prove of special interest later, I append a rough sketch of it here.