Chapter Four Mrs Ascher



          We were received at Andover by Inspector Glen，a tall fair-haired
     man
     with a pleasant smile.
         For the sake of concisenss I think I had better give a brief
     resume of
     the bare facts of the case.
         The crime was discovered by Police Constable Dover at 1am on the
     morning
     of the 22nd.When on his round he tried the door of the shop and found
     it
     unfastened，he entered and at first thought the place was
     empty.Directing
     his torch over the counter，however，he caught sight of the huddled-up
     body
     of the old woman.When the police surgeon arrived on the spot it was
     elicited
     that the woman had been struck down by a heavy blow on the back of the
     head，
     probably while she was reaching down a packet of cigarettes from the
     shelf
     behind the counter.Death must have occurred about nine to sever hours
     previously.
         "But we've been able to get it down a bit nearer than that，
     "explained
     the inspector."We've found a man who went in and bought some tobacco
     at
     5.30.And a second man went in and found the shop empty，as he
     thought，at
     five minutes past six.That puts the time at between 5.30and 6.5.So far
     I
     haven't been able to find anyone who saw this man Ascher in the
     neighbourhood，but，of course，it's early as yet.He was in the Three
     Crowns
     at nine o'clock pretty far gone in drind.When we get hold of him he'll
     be
     detained on suspicion."
         "Not a very desirable character，inspector?"asked Poirto.
         "Unpleasant bit of goods."
         "He didn't live with his wife?"
         "No，they separated some years ago.Ascher's a German.He was a
     waiter at
     one time，but he took to drink and gradually became unemployable.His
     wife
     went into service for a bit.Her last place was as cook-housekeeper to
     an old
     

     lady，Miss Rose.
         She allowed her husband so much out of her wages to keep himself，
     but he
     was always getting drunk and coming round and making scenes at the
     places
     where she was employed.That's why she took the post with Miss Rose at
     The
     Grange.It's three miles out of Andover，dead in the country.
         He couldn't get at her there so well.When Miss Rose died，she left
     Mrs
     Ascher a small legacy，and the woman started this tobacco and
     newsagent
     business-quite a tiny place-just cheap cigarettes and a few
     newspapers-that
     sort of thing.She just about managed to keep going.Ascher used to come
     round
     and abuse her now and again and she used to give him a bit to get rid
     of
     him.She allowed him fifteen shillings a week regular."
         "Had they any children?"asked Poirot.
         "No.There's a niece.She's in service near Overton.Very superior，
     steady
     young woman."
         "And you say this man Ascher used to threaten his wife?"
         "That's right.He was a terror when he was in drink-cursing and
     swearing
     that he'd bash her head in.She had a hard time，did Mrs Ascher."
         "What age of woman was she?"
         "Close on sixty-respectable and hard-working."
         Poirot said gravely:
         "It is your opinion，inspector，that this man Ascher committed the
     crime?"
         The inspector coughed cautiously.
         "It's a bit early to say that，Mr Poirot，but I'd like to hear
     Franz
     Ascher's own account of how he spent yesterday evening.If he can give
     a
     satisfactory account of himself，well and good-if not-"His pause was a
     pregnant one.
         "Nothing was missing from the shop?"
         "Nothing.Money in the till quite undisturbed.No signs of robbery."
         "You think that this man Ascher came into the shop drunk，started
     abusing his wife and finally struck her down?"
         "It seems the most likely solution.But I must confess，sir，I'd
     like to
     have another look at that very odd letter you received.I was
     wonderiing if
     it was just possible that it came from this man Ascher."
         Poirot handed over the letter and the inspector read it with a
     frown.
         "It doesn't read like Ascher，"he said at last."I doube if Ascher
     would
     use the term "our"British police-not unless he was trying to be extra
     cunning-and I doube if he's got the wits for that.Then the man's a
     wreck-all
     to pieces.His hand's too shaky to print letters clearly like this.It's
     good
     quality notepaper and ink，too.It's odd that the letter should mention
     the
     21st of the month.Of course it might be coincidence."
         "That is possible-yes."
         "But I don't like this kind of coincidence，Mr Poirot.It's a bit
     too
     pat."
         He was silent for a minute or two-a frown creasing his forehead.
         "A B C.Who the devil could A B C be?We'll see if Mary Drower
     (that's the
     niece)can give us any help.It's an odd business.But for this letter
     I'd have
     put my money on Franz Ascher for a certainty."
         "Do you know anything of Mrs Ascher's past?"
         "She's a Hampshire woman.Went into service as a girl up in
     London-that's
     where she met Ascher and married him.Things must have been difficult
     for
     them during the war.She actually left him for good in 1922.They were
     in
     London then.She came back here to get away from him，but he got wind
     of
     where she was and followed her down here，pestering her for money-"A
     constable came in."Yes，Briggs，what is it?"
         "It's the man Ascher，sir.We've brought him in."
         "Right.Bring him in here.Where was he?"
         "Hiding in a truck on the railway siding."
         "He was，was he?Bring him along."
         Franz Ascher was indeed a miserable and unprepossessing
     specimen.He was
     blubbering and cringing and blustering alternately.His bleary eyes
     moved
     shiftily from one face to another.
         "What do you want with me?I have not done nothing.It is a shame
     and a
     scandal to bring me here!You are swine，how dare you?"His manner
     changed
     suddenly."No，no，I do not mean that-you would not hurt a poor old
     Franz.Poor old Franz."
         Mr Ascher started to weep.
         "That'll do，Ascher，"said the inspector."Pull yourself
     together.I'm not
     charging you with anything-yet.And you're not bound to make a
     statement
     unless you like.On the other hand，if you're not concerned in the
     murder of
     your wife-"Ascher interrupted him-his voice rising to a scream.
         "I did not kill her!I did not kill her!It is all lies!You are
     goddamned
     English pigs-all against me.I never kill her-never."
         "You threatened to ofter enough，Ascher."
         "No，no.You do not understand.That was just a joke-a good joke
     between
     me and Alice.She understood."
         "Funny kind of joke!Do you care to say where you were yesterday
     evening，
     Ascher?"
         "Yes，yes-I tell you everything.I did not go near Alice.I am with
     friends-good friends.We are at the Seven Stars-and then we are at the
     Red
     Dog-"He hurried on，his words stumbling over each other.
         "Dick Willows-he was with me-and old Curdie-and George-and Platt
     and
     lots of the boys.I tell you I do not never go near Alice.Ach Gott，it
     is the
     truth I am telling you."
         His voice rose to a scream.The inspector nodded to his underling.
         "Take him away.Detained on suspicion."
         "I don't know what to think，"he said as the unpleasant，shaking
     old man
     with the malevolent，mouthing jaw was removed."If it wasn't for the
     letter，
     I'd say he did it."
         "What about the men he mentions?"
         "A bad crowd-not one of them would stick at perjury.I've no doubt
     he was
     with them the greater part of the evening.A lot depends on whether any
     one
     saw him near the shop between half-past five and six."
         Poirot shook his head thoughtfully.
         "You are sure nothing was taken from the shop?"
         The inspector shrugged his shoulders.
         "That depends.A packet or two of cigarettes might have been
     taken-but
     you'd hardly commit murder for that."
         "And there was nothing-how shall I put it-introduced into the
     shop?Nothing that was odd there-incongruous?"
         "There was a railway guide，"said the inspector.
         "A railway guide?"
         "Yes.It was open and turned face downward on the counter.
         Looked as though someone had been looking up the trains from
     Andover.Either the old woman or a customer."
         "Did she sell that type of thing?"
         The inspector shook his head.
         "She sold penny time-tables.This was a big one-kind of thing only
     Smith's or a big stationer would keep."
         A light came into Poirto's eyes.He leant forward.
         A light came into the inspector's eye also.
         "A railway guide，you say.A Bradshaw-or an A B C?"
         "By the lord，"he said."It was an A B C."

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