tagCelebrities & Fan FictionPoirot's Chronicles - Hercule Ch. 03

Poirot's Chronicles - Hercule Ch. 03


A great many people have undertaken to portray Agatha Christie's Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot, but in my opinion, none has done it as well as David Suchet, star of ITW productions of Poirot. It is his image that I use as my visual and those of Hugh Fraser (Captain Hastings), Pauline Moran (Miss Lemon) and Philip Jackson (Chief Inspector Japp). ENJOY!

"Are you sure?" Poirot surveyed the office of the late Sister Bernadetta, his gaze sweeping over a mess of loose papers, overturned chairs and staggered file cabinet drawers. Someone had ransacked the room, but good. "There is nothing missing?"

"That's what Sister Evangeline tells me." Japp related how the young sister was Sister Bernadetta's assistant and had personal knowledge of everything in the office and that nothing had been taken, despite the obvious search. "She also told me that she thinks that the mess was caused by anger, not by the person looking for something because the files were specifically targeted."

"What kind of files?"

"Personal files that Sister Bernadetta kept on the children that are placed here."

"Including adoptions?"

"Adoptions, deaths, runaways … she was very meticulous in her record-keeping."

Poirot paused in thought. "And you are certain that nothing is missing?"

"Sister Evangeline says so."

"I see." He glanced at the young woman that was still attending to Sister Lilia. "I'd like to speak with her."

"Go ahead. We've already interviewed her."

"Merci." Poirot and Hastings left the chief inspector to the business of crime detecting and entered the sitting room, where the two women sat, murmuring in low voices. Sister Lilia looked up at his appearance and sat forward on the chair.

"Is she … "

"She has been taken care of. Chief Inspector Japp personally supervised the removal … " He hesitated, searching for words that would not be insensitive toward the young ladies. "He personally supervised her care."

"So she's really dead." The words sounded more like a statement than a question, as if the young nun was trying to convince herself that the murder had not occurred. "Mr. Poirot, who would want to kill her?"

"I do not know but rest assured, Hercule Poirot will find out."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Poirot. Your kindness … " Tears restricted Sister Evangeline's throat and she forced the words out. "Your kindness means so much to us."

"It was my pleasure to be of service to you." He smiled. "Sister Evangeline, may I ask you a few questions?"

"Yes. Yes, ask me anything. I'll do anything to help."

"Did you go into Sister Bernadetta's room?"

"Yes, sir. Lilia asked me to be a witness."

"Was there anything out of order?"

"Out of order, sir?"

"Yes. Was anything out of its usual place?"

Sister Evangeline's face pursed in deep thought. "No. Not that I know of."

"Bon. Now, did Sister Bernadetta have any visitors last night?"

Sister Evangeline dropped the tissue in her hand and the ever-observant Poirot caught the tap that she gave Sister Lilia's foot, perhaps warning her fellow nun to keep quiet. "No, sir." She met his eyes steadily. "We are not allowed to have visitors past six o'clock and never, ever in our rooms."

"I see." Poirot glanced quickly at Hastings to see if he, too, had noticed the action but sighed when he saw that the captain was more interested in the loveliness of the ladies. "And yet, someone did visit her last night, someone that she knew." Poirot watched the ladies fidget for a moment before continuing. "Can you tell me where Sister Bernadetta was planning to go?"

"What?" Sister Lilia sat up at this. "Who said she was planning to go some where?"

"The luggage in her room, mademoiselle. Two large cases and a small valise." Poirot very closely watched their reactions. "Did you not see them when you went into the room?"

"I guess not." Sister Lilia's voice was shaky now and her rosy cheeks had gone pale. "When I saw her lying there like that … I just ran."

"That is most understandable, young lady. Murder is very unsettling." He paused to let his words have weight. "I am told that Sister Bernadetta had been here for almost 16 years."

"Yes, sir." Sister Evangeline answered.

"Did she ever have any ‘special' visitors in all that time?"


"Gentlemen friends." Poirot defined and immediately, Sister Lilia's face turned red.

"Absolutely not! We pride ourselves on being wives of God, Mr. Poirot, not whores!"

"I did not mean that … "

"Why is it that men can't believe that we have made the choice to eschew sins of the flesh?"

"Mademoiselle, I seem to have offended … "

"Yes, you have!" Sister Lilia shot up out of the chair, her nostrils flaring and her face growing redder and redder. "We are servants of the Lord, not floozies!"

With that exclamation, she stomped off, leaving Poirot, Hastings and Sister Evangeline to stare at her retreating form. The young lady stood, bringing the gentlemen to their feet. "I should go after her."

"Yes, Sister Evangeline. If I have offended you or Sister Lilia, I am most heartfully sorry."

"I accept your apology, Mr. Poirot. I know that you didn't mean anything by it. It's just that Lilia … " She looked down the hall, edging toward the doorway. "That's a very touchy subject for her."

"Ah." Poirot collected his hat, gloves and cane from the side table, turning again to her. "Thank you for answering my questions, Sister Evangeline. Goodbye."


The young woman didn't hesitate to hear Hastings' parting salutation. She hitched up her uniform and dashed down the hallway, intent on catching up with the other young nun. Hastings released a huge lungful of breath, watching her leave.

"Dashed bad luck with that, Poirot."

The detective shrugged. "Young women." He pulled on his gloves as they headed toward the front door. A large rosewood plaque with several individual bronze plates was attached to the wall, each plate bearing a name etched in its polished surface.

"What's this?"

"A list of contributors, Hastings. Men and women who have given money to the orphanage to ensure its future."

"I see."

Poirot read over each name as he seated his second glove. "We have done our duty here, Hastings. It is time to go home."


He wasn't sure if he'd be there on time so he quickened his step, letting his cane tap lightly on the street as he strode to the club. He was distressed to see people leaving and knew by that sign that Joceline's last set was over. Merde! He silently cursed, stepping into the establishment and searching the stage. The instruments sat quietly, bathed in smoky light and Poirot's heart dropped into his chest.

"I have missed her." He murmured, sitting heavily at a table near the stage. A waiter appeared at his elbow and he ordered a drink, staring out across the empty stage, recalling his first vision of her.

He was surprised to find that his penis was hardening under the cover of the tablecloth as he thought about her. Her smooth brown skin and the way her breasts moved beneath the sequined cloth …

"Excuse me." The waiter set his drink down. "Are you Mr. Poirot?"


"Miss Tarrant has asked that you join her in the rear room."

Poirot's smile lit the room. "Excellent! Lead the way."

Joceline had seen him enter the club and couldn't decide whether to faint or to jump for joy. Instead, she chose a table in the ‘coloured' section, ordered a drink and asked the waiter to deliver a message to him. She wasn't sure that he was there to see her but she had to know. When she saw him following Arthur, her heart skipped a beat, especially when his eyes connected with hers.


"Hello, Hercule." He kissed her knuckles but did not release her hand as they sat. He noticed that she looked down at their connected hands and smiled. "I'm glad you came."

"I'm sorry that I'm late. I had to travel to Brighton on business." Her eyes were so warm, so smoky and so warm. They held him tightly, making him feel warm all over and causing his cock to harden. "I was worried that I'd missed you."

"You nearly did. I was on my way out when I saw you."

"And you stopped?"

"Yes." He leaned closer and she could see the darkness of his eyes. "I stopped."


"Because I wanted to talk with you." Joceline felt the heat that radiated from him and shivered at the gentle stroke of his fingers on hers.

"Then I am glad that you stopped for me." Poirot gazed at her for a moment more before releasing her hand and sitting upright in the chair. Such intimacy was not natural to Hercule Poirot and he was unsure of how to proceed. If he listened to his heart, he would take her hand and gently woo her. If he listened to his cock, he would take her home and find out what was under that cloud of black silk.

"Is something wrong?" Joceline ventured, wondering why he had withdrawn his hand. Maybe she had been incorrect in her thinking about the celebrated detective.

"No, Lina." He took a sip of his drink, staring into the glass for a moment. "I … I … May I be honest with you?"

"Yes, Hercule."

"I have known a great many women, Lina, but not one has affected me like you have. I dream about you, I spend the day thinking about you … and this is not something that Hercule Poirot has ever dealt with before." He paused, looking up into her lovely features. "So you see, I am at a loss as to what I should do next."

Joceline's smiled excited him almost as much as the shy way that she reached across and grabbed his hand, stroking the plump back gently. "This was a good start."

Poirot trembled with relief and slipped into easy conversation with the beauty. She told him of her life in the United States and how she had come to Europe searching for a better style of life. He found himself engulfed in her struggle, reliving her hardships and reveling in her triumphs, loving the fact that she was entrusting him with her history. And he listened closely, attentively, his hands enclosing hers and his fingers stroking her velvet flesh.

Joceline checked the time on the wall clock and felt her spirits dip down. "I hate to end this lovely evening, Hercule, but I must get going. I have an early train to catch."

"I am sorry to hear that, mademoiselle."

"I have been asked to sing at Duke Wilmouth's Fall Gathering. We leave tomorrow morning."

"Duke Wilmouth? Duke Jarrett Wilmouth?"

"Yes, do you know him?"

"Mais oui! I am also traveling to his Fall Gathering. I attend every year."

Her smile made his cheeks heat with blushed blood. "That's wonderful." Her eyes met his. "Then maybe we can see each other there."

"There is no maybe about it. If you would permit, I should like to be your date for the Ball."

Joceline sighed heavily. "I'm afraid that I won't be going. I haven't been invited."

"Well, that won't be a problem. I shall personally speak with Duke Wilmouth … "

"No, Hercule. You misunderstand." She allowed her words to hang between them. "In fact, it might be hard for us to spend time together."

Poirot's nostrils flared with the anger he felt. This discrimination was so stupid, so unnecessary. "Then if you know how Duke Wilmouth feels, why did you accept his invitation?"

"Because my band can use the money."

"Even though it comes from someone with his views?"

"Hercule, the world is not perfect. We still need money to survive."

Poirot bent his head in understanding. "Yes, mademoiselle. The world is not perfect." When he raised his head, a devilish smile was on his lips. "But I shall make it perfect."

Joceline grinned. "And just how do you intend on doing that?"

"You and I … we shall have our own Ball."

"Our own Ball?"

"Yes. A grand Ball that will be attended only by you and me."

"That sounds wonderful, Hercule, but how … "

"Leave it to Hercule Poirot. I shall make it so, Lina."

"And I'll look forward to it, Hercule." Joceline stood, bringing him to his feet. "And now I must leave or I will look the worse for wear tomorrow."

"Dear Lina, I cannot see how you could ever look worse for wear."

"You're very sweet." Again, her shy smile inflamed his face and made his cock tingle. "Until tomorrow then, dear Hercule." Her soft lips pressed against his heated cheeks once and again, letting her mouth linger against the smooth, perfumed surface of his skin. A tremble snaked through him and when she pulled back, he saw that she knew. He only hoped that she felt the same.

Joceline could scarcely breathe, gazing into his warm eyes. It took all that she had to remember that they were in a public place, that they were in the ‘coloured' room and that many discerning eyes were cast upon them. Poirot's reputation could suffer from association. "Good night."

"Bon nuit, Lina." Poirot watched her leave, his eyes drawn to the sultry sway of her hips and the chocolate nape of her neck. "A demain."


The chapel bell rang, signaling that it was midnight and the man dressed in black slid neatly into the shadows, waiting for the night watchman to pass. His heart was pounding in his chest, more from outright anger than fear. He knew the hallways of the orphanage as well as he knew that back of his hand and he had spent most of the day following the young sister so that he now knew which room she occupied. Little cunt! He gritted his teeth, grinding them together as Jonathan passed, trailing sweet pipe smoke in his wake.

Once the man was out of sight, he edged out, clinging to the dark recesses as he picked his way down the hallway to the side stairs and softly made his way up. Sister Evangeline's door was on the left at the very end and he grasped the knob, slowly turning it and easing the door open. The young woman was sleeping soundly, her nearly naked body atop the sheets. He licked his lips as he silently approached. Perfect.

Her eyes flew open when his hand clapped across her mouth and he quickly straddled her body, pinning her arms down with his knees. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, drifting down toward her ears. "Hello, Sister Evangeline. I've come for a little visit. You don't mind, do you?" The frightened young woman whimpered loudly, trying to buck him off. "Now, if you lie quietly, I'll take my hand off your mouth and if you make any noise, I'll slit your throat." Her body immediately went still and he lifted his hand from her mouth. "Now, you know what I'm here for, don't you?"

Her voice was small and breathless with fear. "N-No."

"Yes, you do, dear Evangeline. Bernie was a very careful record-keeper and you can imagine surprise when I was unable to locate a specific file." He sat back a bit, rubbing himself against her abdomen and sighing as he felt his prick harden. "And I started thinking about who she might have given it to for safe-keeping."

"I don't have … "

"And then, I started wondering. If she could entrust someone with that file, perhaps she entrusted someone with my secrets."

Evangeline's eyes grew large and she shook her head. "No! No, I don't know anything!"

"Why don't I believe you," He reached down and opened the top button on her nightgown. "Dear Evangeline?"

"I don't know why." Her voice shook with terror. "But I don't know anything! She wouldn't talk to any of us!"

"Well, she talked to someone because that file is gone."

"M-Maybe she talked to Sister Lilia."

"No." He popped another button open, exposing more of her chest. "Lilia's too much of a bitch. If Bernie had told her, she would have contacted me by now, wanting money." Another button slipped free and he spread the gossamer material aside, gazing raptly at her small breasts, topped with rosy nipples. He let a fingertip lazily trace its outlines, smiling when it hardened under his command. "No, it had to be you."

"Please. Stop that."

"Can't do that, Evangeline. Your body's calling to me." He caught the nipple between two fingers and tweaked it, drawing a sharp cry from her. "Can't you hear it?"

Her eyes squeezed shut, the tears escaping from the sides. "Oh, God."

If he heard her whisper or was moved by it, his actions didn't show it. "Your body is begging for a good, hard fucking." He moved his hips up and back slowly, letting her feel the hardness of his bulge. Her eyes flew open again, true terror written in their depths. "Oh, yes. You feel that, don't you?"

"Please." She whimpered, half-slobbering and half-sobbing. "Please don't."

His hands moved from seduction to seductive, slowly unbuckling his belt and pulling the zipper tab down. The purple head of his rock-hard cock leapt out, surrounded by a thick forest of hairs and he reached inside, adjusting himself just enough so that his balls were a bit freer and more of the stalk stretched out. A large crystalline drop of pre-cum parted the wide slit, growing larger and larger until it threatened to drip. He leaned forward and let the bead drop onto her lips, then used the fat mushroom cap to spread it about, glossing her lips.

"Lick your lips and taste me."

"No." When she opened her mouth, he pressed the head in, forcing her to taste even more of him. She struggled for a moment, then stopped with a sob when she recognized the menace in his eyes.

"Suck me." Long seconds passed by before she let her tongue begin its exploration. Her unpracticed tongue sent chills down his spine, making him shiver and he was surprised that a novice could make him feel this way. She became a little bolder, running her teeth around the fluted edge and following with her tongue. "You can't be a beginner."

She released his cock with a pop. "No, I've never done this before."

"Yes, you have. How could you make me feel like I'm ready to pop off already?" Her eyes showed her disgust at the thought of that. He pulled his prick away and moved to one side, ripping the gown from her body, putting his hand back over her mouth as she screamed. "I want that file, Evangeline. It's as precious to me as something you have." His hand slid down the inside of her creamy white flesh, finding her dry slit and roughly massaging it. Her muffled whimpers filled the room. "Something I'll take unless you give me that file."

Her struggling diminished, indicating her acquiescence. He lifted his hand, rubbing his cock at her unresponsive pussy. "I'll give you the file." She sobbed. "It's under the blotter on my desk."

"I knew you would." His cock rubbed again, the pre-cum lubricating the dry lips and he smiled when her body unconsciously responded. "Just like I knew that you wanted this." He pressed the head of his cock against her pussy and she began to sob.

"No, please! I don't want this! I'll give you the file! Don't take my virginity!"

He pushed his black jeans down, releasing one leg and giving him total freedom. "I know you will. You should have given it to me when I asked the first time." He used his knees to pin her thighs open, his cock pulsing in anticipation. "Now it's too late."


The pillow he held over her head kept her scream from being heard as he pressed the head in, then followed with the thick stalk, breaking her hymen in the process. Her body bucked against him but he only laughed, thoroughly enjoying the fight that she was putting up as her actions caused his cock to travel farther into her body. He laughed, feeling the mixture of blood and lubrication coating his prick and he began to move inside her, hissing in pleasure at the tightness of her untried pussy.

He pressed the pillow down harder, thrusting with animalistic vigor. The more he pounded her quim, the more juice came out, greasing his passage into her. It wasn't long before a tingling sensation traced the length of his spine and he was exploding inside her sugar walls, flooding her pussy with his cum. When he came back to himself, he realized that the girl was dead. He tossed the pillow aside. All the better. He would have had to kill her anyway.

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