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Chapters (33)
  1. Dedication
  2. Acknowledgments
  3. 1. Runaway Jennie
  4. 2. Murder in Three Rooms
  5. 3. At the Bloxham Hotel
  6. 4. The Frame Widens
  7. 5. Ask a Hundred People
  8. 6. The Sherry Conundrum
  9. 7. Two Keys
  10. 8. Assembling Our Thoughts
  11. 9. A Visit to Great Holling
  12. 10. Slander’s Mark
  13. 11. Two Recollections
  14. 12. A Grievous Wound
  15. 13. Nancy Ducane
  16. 14. The Mind in the Mirror
  17. 15. The Fourth Cufflink
  18. 16. A Lie for a Lie
  19. 17. The Older Woman and the Younger Man
  20. 18. Knock and See Who Comes to the Door
  21. 19. The Truth at Last
  22. 20. How It All Went Wrong
  23. 21. All the Devils Are Here
  24. 22. The Monogram Murders
  25. 23. The Real Ida Gransbury
  26. 24. The Blue Jug and Bowl
  27. 25. If Murder Began with a D
  28. Epilogue
  29. About the Author
  30. Also by Sophie Hannah
  31. Also by Agatha Christie
  32. Credits
  33. About the Publisher

“Then how, might I ask, can it ever have been part of the plan for you to kill Richard Negus? You have told us that you intended to find me at Pleasant’s Coffee House shortly after half past seven on that same night, knowing I would be there for my regular Thursday evening dinner. It is impossible to get from the Bloxham Hotel to Pleasant’s Coffee House in less than half an hour. It cannot be done, no matter how one travels. So, even if Ida Gransbury had killed Harriet Sippel and Richard Negus had killed Ida Gransbury as soon as was possible after a quarter past seven, there would not have been time for you to kill Richard Negus in Room 238 after that time, and still arrive at Pleasant’s when you did. Are we supposed to believe that, in all the meticulous planning that you undertook, none of you thought of this practical impossibility?”

Jennie’s face had turned white. I expect mine had too, though I could not see it myself.

It was such an obvious flaw in her account that Poirot had pointed out, and yet I had failed to spot it. It simply had not occurred to me.

23. The Real Ida Gransbury

The Real Ida Gransbury

SAMUEL KIDD CHUCKLED, TURNING round so that more people could see him. He said, “Mr. Poirot, for a man who takes pride in his powers of detection, you’re not the sharpest of instruments, are you? I’ve heard Jennie talk about this more often than you have, I think I can safely say. The plan was not for the killings to take place after a quarter past seven. I don’t know where you’ve caught hold of that idea. The plan was for them to happen just after six o’clock. The ordering of food at a quarter past seven wasn’t part of it either.”

“That’s right,” said Jennie. Offered a way out of the trap by her quick-thinking former fiancé, she appeared to have recovered her composure. “I can only conclude that my failure to arrive at six as agreed caused a delay. The others would have wanted to discuss my failure to present myself. I should have, in their place. The discussion about what to do might have taken some time.”

“Ah, bien sûr. You did not correct me a few moments ago, however, when I asserted that the deaths took place as planned: between a quarter past seven and eight o’clock. Neither did you say that the ordering of the very late afternoon tea was not part of the plan.”

“I’m sorry. I should have corrected you,” said Jennie. “I’m . . . I mean, this is all rather overwhelming.”

“You now say that the plan was for the three killings to take place at six o’clock?”

“Yes, and all be done by fifteen minutes before seven so that I could get to Pleasant’s by half past.”