1. Flora Ackroyd
"...and really, I am most glad that the police realized that it simply must have been because of a gang or a robber. The suggestion that it might have been dear Ralph- how dreadful! I am so glad that that awful little man gave up, as well."
"You know, Mother, I don't believe he did."
"But what do you mean, Flora darling? The police have never arrested anyone, and the whole thing seems forgotten."
"Yes, but the police don't simply give up, you know. Not unless... and M. Poirot told me, when I asked him to act for me, that he would not stop searching for the truth unless he found it."
"You must be mistaken, dear- perhaps you heard wrong."
"Mother, haven't you ever heard the rumors?"
"What on earth are you talking about, Flora?"
"No, I suppose you wouldn't have. I didn't believe them at first, you know, but I'm beginning to..."
2. Hector Blunt
Flora's footsteps were quiet, but had continued without ceasing for the last quarter of an hour.
Hector watched her in silence.
At random intervals, a fragmented phrase or sentence would burst out of her.
"But why would he-"
She was pacing.
"-Ralph always-"
The pattern of her steps seemed to follow no particular rhythm. She would slow as if in thought, and speed up... as if, Hector thought, to run away.
"-seemed so normal-"
Flora's feet stilled. With a sigh, she sat next to him. "I'm being silly, I suppose."
"Well- it's bothering you- so it must not be," Hector said awkwardly. He was so horrible at expressing what he felt.
She half-smiled at him, but it faded quickly. "The worst of it is that I'm not sure. If I was certain... but I feel bad for thinking that... well, he was always kind, and if he didn't... but he must have-"
"Flora." Hector's voice was quiet, but it halted the flow of words.
"I went to see my mother this morning."
Silence. Waiting.
"We talked about how the police have given up, and whether they really have, or, well... and the rumors..."
Flora's expression was pleading, in a way. Hector understood. After all, the man had been... normal. A part of life here. Kind. One of them.
The look on his face told her what she'd been silently asking.
"You believe the rumors, then."
"Don't you?"
Flora was quiet for a long moment.
"Yes. But it seems so incredible!"
"I know."
She sighed. "I'm not imagining it, though."
"No. I'm almost certain..."
Flora nodded slowly. It was the last time they would ever speak about Roger Ackroyd's killer.
3. Geoffrey Raymond
"One of my employers was murdered, you know."
"Oh, Geoffrey, how thrilling!"
"It sounds that way, but really it was rather beastly."
"Oh, of course. Did they find out who killed him? And why?"
"No. Never."
"Well, surely you know, Geoffrey.
A long pause.
"Well, I don't know why, but... I'm almost sure I know who."
"Well, who is it?"
"I'd rather not say. Let's talk about something else, all right?"
4. Ralph Paton
He'd almost gotten the courage to ask that time. The words had been on the tip of his tongue. He'd even begun the sentence.
Begun it, and changed what he was asking midway.
Poirot had looked at him; just looked at him. He knew. He knew exactly what Ralph was trying to ask, and was asking a question of his own in return.
Do you really want to know?
No, he didn't. Ralph knew, but he didn't want to- if only he could forget it! Forget his stepfather, forget the one man he'd liked in King's Abbot, who he was quite sure had-
"Better not to think about it," Ralph muttered to himself as he left Poirot.
5. Caroline Sheppard
Quite ridiculous, really. She'd never had a problem with being unable to sleep before. Not until... not until Roger Ackroyd's death, when James had...
You are speaking of Ralph Paton.
But had he been? Had he really? Or...
Take James here- weak as water if I weren't about to look after him.
He had an alibi. It wasn't possible. She'd been right, when she'd thought of Flora Ackroyd. She had to be...
There is in him somewhere a strain of weakness- deep down.
But then why was Flora still free? Poirot had told her that there was not enough evidence to arrest anyone, but...
… he will be himself again, normal, kindly. But if the need again arises...
Caroline said aloud, "Too many ghosts in this house."
It was absurd. He couldn't have... he wouldn't have...
Well, she will never know the truth. There is, as Poirot said, one way out...
It was a lie. James Sheppard had killed Roger Ackroyd, and they all knew it.