Agatha Christie - The Adventure of the Clapham Cook

At the time that I was sharing rooms with my friend Hercule Poirot, it was my custom to read aloud to him the headlines in the morning newspaper, the Daily Blare.

The Daily Blare was a paper that made the most of any opportunity for sensationalism. Robberies and murders did not lurk obscurely in its back pages. Instead they hit you in the eye in large type on the front page.

ABSCONDING BANK CLERK DISAPPEARS WITH FIFTY THOUSAND POUNDS WORTH OF NEGOTIABLE SECURITIES, I read.

HUSBAND PUTS HIS HEAD IN GAS-OVEN. UNHAPPY HOME LIFE. MISSING TYPIST. PRETTY GIRL OF TWENTY-ONE. WHERE IS EDNA FIELD?

There you are, Poirot, plenty to choose from. An absconding bank clerk, a mysterious suicide, a missing typistwhich will you have?

My friend was in a placid mood. He quietly shook his head.

I am not greatly attracted to any of them, mon ami. Today I feel inclined for the life of ease. It would have to be a very interesting problem to tempt me from my chair. See you, I have affairs of importance of my own to attend to.

Such as?

My wardrobe, Hastings. If I mistake not, there is on my new grey suit the spot of greaseonly the unique spot, but it is sufficient to trouble me. Then there is my winter overcoatI must lay him aside in the powder of Keatings. And I thinkyes, I thinkthe moment is ripe for the trimmings of my moustachesand afterwards I must apply the pomade.

Well, I said, strolling to the window, I doubt if youll be able to carry out this delirious programme. That was a ring at the bell. You have a client.

Unless the affair is one of national importance, I touch it not, declared Poirot with dignity.

A moment later our privacy was invaded by a stout redfaced lady who panted audibly as a result of her rapid ascent of the stairs.

Youre M. Poirot? she demanded, as she sank into a chair.

I am Hercule Poirot, yes, madame.

Youre not a bit like what I thought youd be, said the lady, eyeing him with some disfavour. Did you pay for the bit in the paper saying what a clever detective you were, or did they put it in themselves?

Madame! said Poirot, drawing himself up.

Im sorry, Im sure, but you know what these papers are nowadays. You begin reading a nice article: What a bride said to her plain unmarried friend, and its all about a simple thing you buy at the chemists and shampoo your hair with. Nothing but puff. But no offence taken, I hope? Ill tell you what I want you to do for me. I want you to find my cook.

Poirot stared at her; for once his ready tongue failed him. I turned aside to hide the broadening smile I could not control.

Its all this wicked dole, continued the lady. Putting ideas into servants heads, wanting to be typists and what nots. Stop the dole, thats what I say. Id like to know what my servants have to complain ofafternoon and evening off a week, alternate Sundays, washing put out, same food as we haveand never a bit of margarine in the house, nothing but the very best butter.

She paused for want of breath and Poirot seized his opportunity. He spoke in his haughtiest manner, rising to his feet as he did so.

I fear you are making a mistake, madame. I am not holding an inquiry into the conditions of domestic service. I am a private detective.

I know that, said our visitor. Didnt I tell you I wanted you to find my cook for me? Walked out of the house on Wednesday, without so much as a word to me, and never came back.

I am sorry, madame, but I do not touch this particular kind of business. I wish you good morning.

Our visitor snorted with indignation.

Thats it, is it, my fine fellow? Too proud, eh? Only deal with Government secrets and countesses jewels? Let me tell you a servants every bit as important as a tiara to a woman in my position. We cant all be fine ladies going out in our motors with our diamonds and our pearls. A good cooks a good cookand when you lose her, its as much to you as her pearls are to some fine lady.

For a moment or two it appeared to be a toss up between Poirots dignity and his sense of humour. Finally he laughed and sat down again.

Madame, you are in the right, and I am in the wrong. Your remarks are just and intelligent. This case will be a novelty. Never yet have I hunted a missing domestic. Truly here is the problem of national importance that I was demanding of fate just before your arrival. En avant! You say this jewel of a cook went out on Wednesday and did not return. That is the day before yesterday.

Yes, it was her day out.

But probably, madame, she has met with some accident. Have you inquired at any of the hospitals?

Thats exactly what I thought yesterday, but this morning, if you please, she sent for her box. And not so much as a line to me! If Id been at home, Id not have let it gotreating me like that! But Id just stepped out to the butcher.

Will you describe her to me?

She was middle-aged, stout, black hair turning greymost respectable. Shed been ten years in her last place. Eliza Dunn, her name was.

And you had hadno disagreement with her on the Wednesday?

None whatsoever. Thats what makes it all so queer.

How many servants do you keep, madame?

Two. The house-parlourmaid, Annie, is a very nice girl. A bit forgetful and her head full of young men, but a good servant if you keep her up to her work.

Did she and the cook get on well together?

They had their ups and downs, of coursebut on the whole, very well.

And the girl can throw no light on the mystery?

She says notbut you know what servants arethey all hang together.

Well, well, we must look into this. Where did you say you resided, madame?

At Clapham; 88 Prince Albert Road.

Bien, madame, I will wish you good morning, and you may count upon seeing me at your residence during the course of the day.

Mrs Todd, for such was our new friends name, then took her departure. Poirot looked at me somewhat ruefully.

Well, well, Hastings, this is a novel affair that we have here. The Disappearance of the Clapham Cook! Never, never, must our friend Inspector Japp get to hear of this!

He then proceeded to heat an iron and carefully removed the grease spot from his grey suit by means of a piece of blotting-paper. His moustaches he regretfully postponed to another day, and we set out for Clapham.

Prince Albert Road proved to be a street of small prim houses, all exactly alike, with neat lace curtains veiling the windows, and well-polished brass knockers on the doors.

We rang the bell at No. 88, and the door was opened by a neat maid with a pretty face. Mrs Todd came out in the hall to greet us.

Dont go, Annie, she cried. This gentlemans a detective and hell want to ask you some questions.

Annies face displayed a struggle between alarm and a pleasurable excitement.

I thank you, madame, said Poirot bowing. I would like to question your maid nowand to see her alone, if I may.

We were shown into a small drawing-room, and when Mrs Todd, with obvious reluctance, had left the room, Poirot commenced his cross-examination.

Voyons, Mademoiselle Annie, all that you shall tell us will be of the greatest importance. You alone can shed any light on the case. Without your assistance I can do nothing.

The alarm vanished from the girls face and the pleasurable excitement became more strongly marked.

Im sure, sir, she said, Ill tell you anything I can.

That is good. Poirot beamed approval on her. Now, first of all what is your own idea? You are a girl of remarkable intelligence. That can be seen at once! What is your own explanation of Elizas disappearance?