A thank you to James Birdsong, my only reviewer. Glad to see people are enjoying this fic. This is the second last chapter.
VIII
"You seem quite pleased with yourself. Why?" Said Inspector Jefferson, hurrying to keep up with Poirot, who was racing back to Heatherfield Castle. "Have you found the murderer?" Poirot did not answer. "Tell me!"
"When I am sure, I still must be sure it all fits together"
"They arrived at Heatherfield castle to find the place oddly quiet. They went to the door, and were let in by James Drysdale.
"Lady Alice is ill, try not to disturb her." He said, explaining the lack of noise.
"This is not good, I had some final questions to ask her to ask her," Poirot said "and I do not wish to have to wait until tomorrow."
"Well, if you disturb her, don't let her know I said you could. This needs to be sorted out as soon as it can. The toll that this is taking on Lady Alice's health…" he showed them to Lady Alice's room, and told them no to stress her.
"Enter, if you must." Lady Alice whispered, her voice barley audible.
"I am so sorry to have to disturb you, but a have a few final questions to ask you. First, what did Charles Everworth wear on the night of the murder?"
"I think he was wearing his black suit, or perhaps it was the grey one? No, it was definitely the black suit."
"A plain suit?" asked Inspector Jefferson
"Yes, but all the more striking because of it. But why do you want to know? Do you think he could have been the murderer?"
"Anyone could have been."
"Well, what do you make of this?" Inspector Jefferson asked Poirot "Do you have any idea at all?"
"Yes, but I will wait until everyone is here."