Back The Monogram Murders
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

Henry Negus considered the question. “I think that was part of it, but it wasn’t the whole story. Richard hated Great Holling by the time he left it, and that can’t have been only Ida Gransbury’s doing. He loathed every inch of the place, he said. He didn’t tell me why, and I didn’t ask. Richard had a way of letting you know when he had said all he wanted to say. His verdict on the village was delivered very much in the spirit of ‘That’s all there is to it,’ as I recall. Perhaps if I had tried to find out more—” Negus broke off, an anguished expression on his face.

“You must not blame yourself, Mr. Negus,” said Poirot. “You did not cause your brother’s death.”

“I couldn’t help thinking that . . . well, that something dreadful must have happened to him in that village. And one doesn’t like to speak or think about things of that nature if one can help it.” Henry Negus sighed. “Richard certainly didn’t want to talk about it, whatever it was, so I took the view that it was better not talked about. He was the one with the authority, you see—the older brother. Everybody deferred to him. He had a brilliant mind, you know.”

“Indeed?” Poirot smiled kindly.

“Oh, no one paid attention to detail like Richard, before his decline. Meticulous, he was, in everything he did. You would entrust anything to him—anybody would. That was why he was so successful as a lawyer, before things went badly wrong. I always believed that he would right himself one day. When he seemed to perk up a few months ago, I thought, ‘Finally, he has regained his appetite for life.’ I hoped he might have been thinking about working again, before every last penny of his money ran out—”

“Mr. Negus, if you would please slow down a little,” said Poirot, polite but insistent. “Your brother did not at first work when he moved into your home?”

“No. As well as Great Holling and Ida Gransbury, Richard left behind his profession when he came to Devon. Instead of practicing the law, he shut himself away in his room and practiced drinking heavily.”

“Ah. The decline you mentioned?”