In London, you can find everything except good coffee. So, when I discovered a good café, I decided to make it my regular spot. I often went there to enjoy a cup of steaming coffee along with a good book. It was a nice break from my assignments and exams.

I had just started a new book, which was released a month ago, about the life of Vasileiou, an industrialist and well-known philanthropist who died two years ago, and his family. Some voices were claiming it was a murder, but there was no evidence to confirm them.

Nevertheless, the news of his death had shocked Athens. You see, the deceased used to donate significant amounts to charity and the Church. There were even rumours that he was planning to enter politics, but death caught up with him.

After quickly browsing through countless family photos of his, I started reading his biography. That's when two men sat at the next table. The first one was a typical Englishman, probably a military or police officer. The second one was the exact opposite. He had a peculiar appearance and the strangest thing about him was his moustache.

Inevitably, I was listening to the conversation which had apparently started before. "Where exactly are you getting at?" asked the first man. "Mon Ami, if you used your little grey cells, it would not surprise you that Poirot caught the killer."

We can safely say about a peculiar guy here. He used many French words and referred to himself in the third person. Modesty was not among the Frenchman's virtues. So, I decided to talk to them.

"Excuse me," I said, "but I was listening to your conversation." "I hope we didn't bother you, sir," the Englishman replied. "Not at all, I was just listening to the conversation you are having with your French friend." "I am Belgian, not French," he interrupted. "Sorry, with your Belgian friend, and I would like to ask you something." "I am listening, Monsieur, your name?"

"My name is Spyros," I replied and extended my hand. They introduced themselves as Captain Hastings and Hercule Poirot. I explained to them about the book I was reading and asked Poirot if he could reveal whether Vasileiou's death was a crime and by whom. Poirot leafed through my book, looking at several photos. "So, you want to test Poirot, mon jeune homme. The challenge is accepted, but there's a small problem. I do not know Greek, so you will have to read the book to me. Before I could respond, he continued. "But I want you to read everything, even what seems irrelevant to the case. D'accord?"

I nodded in agreement and started reading. Vasileiou's death was caused by an allergic shock. Somehow, he made the fatal mistake of consuming hazelnuts, to which he was extremely allergic. Indeed, he was very unlucky as he was alone in his house and did not have his adrenaline pills with him that could have saved him. His wife and daughter, along with the maid, had gone to their country house. Most days Vasileiou was with them. However, every week, he went to his factory, took the accounting books, and returned to his house in Athens to check them. This process took one or two days, and then he returned to continue his vacation with his family.

"Could he have committed suicide?" Hastings asked. "Mon Ami, don't rush and wait to learn more before making assumptions. How sure are we that he was alone, Monsieur?"

I quickly glanced at the book and replied. "Around nine in the evening, Vasileiou arrived at his house alone. The next day he was supposed to go to the factory to get the books. According to the neighbours, no one else entered or left the house that day. The next day, the police, who went there at his wife's request because she was worried, had to force the main entrance open. Both the main entrance and the staff entrance were locked from the inside."

"Aha," Poirot exclaimed. "Interesting, please continue." "I don't have much more to add," I said. "The police found him dead in his living room. The autopsy showed allergic shock from hazelnuts."

Poirot closed his eyes a bit and started thinking. "Did he know about his allergy?" he asked. "Were there other people who knew about this weakness of his?"

This time I did not need to check the book. "It was well known across the country that Vasileiou was allergic to hazelnuts. It's said that he cooked his food himself. When he had to eat out, he had his wife taste it first."

"Très bien. Do you know how far his house is from the country house and the factory?" I thought for a moment and replied. "I know the area. The country house is about two hours by car from his house. The factory is exactly in the middle and is an hour's drive from both houses."

"Tell me a bit about his family." I looked at the book before speaking. "Maria was his wife. They married when they were young and were a loving couple. Many times, she accompanied him to social events, although she had significant charitable activities on her own. There were rumours that he was cheating on her, which both vehemently denied.

"They had a daughter, Helen. Helen attended the most expensive private schools from a young age. She was often seen at social events with her classmates, from equally wealthy families. She is now a student in London. All her professors have good things to say about her.

" Polyxeni also lived with the family. She was the only staff member who lived in the house. She had known Vasileiou since he was a child and she was his nanny. He saw her as a mother, and she saw him as her child. Shortly after Vasileiou's death, her heart couldn't take it, and she also passed away."

Poirot asked for the book. He leafed through it and showed me a photo. "I thought he had only one daughter," he said, showing me a second girl who appeared in many photos. They looked quite alike, except that Vasileiou's daughter was blonde and fair-skinned while the other girl was dark-haired.

I glanced through the book. I can't understand how I missed the second girl. She was in quite a few photos alone with Helen, out for the night. They wore expensive clothes; rather provocative I must admit. Only in the most recent photos did the second girl seem to dress more modestly. In contrast, Helen never parted from her beloved miniskirts.

I began searching the book for information. The girl's name was Ismene. She came from a poor family and lived near Vasileiou's factory. Her mother worked for Vasileiou as a labourer. Her father died when she was seven years old. She met Vasileiou's daughter in the first year of high school and they quickly became best friends. In fact, Vasileiou paid her school fees. His money wasn't wasted since Ismene was an excellent student. In contrast, Helen relied on her friend to pass her classes, as the only thing she read were fashion magazines. In return, Helen took care of Ismene's appearance, often taking her shopping and buying clothes from famous designers. During the summer, Vasileiou would often take her from her home to their country house, so she spent a large part of the summer with them, like another member of the family.

"Monsieur, you must read me everything. Don't let it happen again, please." "Sorry," I mumbled. "Did he have any rivals who wanted to harm him?"

He must have had, but no one would dare to show it openly. Vasileiou was very popular. Everyone believed he would be a member of the next Parliament and possibly become a minister. Besides, no one had the chance to add hazelnuts to his food. He was certainly alone that day.

"Could someone from the family have secretly put the hazelnuts in his food while he was still at the country house, knowing he would eat them that night when he was alone?" asked Hastings. Poirot raised an eyebrow. "A logical question, though there will be a logical answer."

Indeed. Neither his wife nor his daughter knew how to cook. There was an external cook for the days the family stayed in Athens, and Polyxeni for the holiday period. However, they cooked for the rest of the family. He took no risks and let no one touch his food.

"What other staff did Vasileiou have?" asked Poirot. "All of them, except for Polyxeni, were on leave during that period," I replied, but when Poirot looked at me sternly, I continued. "Two other maids were working at the house. One accompanied Maria and Helen when they went shopping and carried their things. She rarely entered the house, only to bring in their purchases.

The second was the cleaner. She was hired because Polyxeni had grown old and couldn't handle the housework alone. Normally, she went every morning and returned home in the afternoon. However, when the family left for vacation, her schedule changed. One day after their departure, she did a thorough cleaning, and when Vasileiou returned home, he would notify her a little before he went back to the holiday house. She would then go to the house the day after.

"So, this means she had keys to the house and was a trusted person," concluded Poirot. "True," I replied, "in fact, she must have been very good at her job. The policemen who found Vasileiou said that the entire house, except for the bedroom, was completely tidy."

Poirot closed his eyes and began thinking for a few minutes. "I think we are on the right track," he said. "Can you explain it to us?" I asked. "He won't do it now," said Hastings. "He only explains everything at the end." "Mon ami, I'm just allowing you to exercise your little grey cells, something you usually don't do. Let's return to the family. Did they have any motive?"

"None had a motive," I replied. "His will gave most of his fortune to charities. Both his wife and daughter received a share, which, combined with the sale of the factory, allowed them to live comfortably but not lavishly as they were accustomed to. Ismene wasn't mentioned in the will at all. He had promised to include her on her wedding day. As for Polyxeni, there was no way she did it. Everyone noted that on the day of the funeral, she mourned him like her own son, and certainly more than his wife and daughter did."

"Can you see if they had alibis?" Poirot insisted. I really couldn't understand his train of thought. Everyone was at the holiday house and had no car. Around five, Vasileiou left for Athens. Around six, the group gathered to play bridge. Maria was with them, and they played until midnight. Many times, Helen and Ismene played as a pair. However, in the last few days, Ismene was ill with gastroenteritis. She didn't leave her room and certainly didn't accompany Helen on her night outs. That day though, Helen stayed with her friend. Everyone there said they saw either one or the other passing by the window with a view to the garden. Polyxeni sat next to them, not playing, just to serve the group.

Poirot turned to Hastings. "As I've told you before, mon ami, never trust a woman who plays bridge." Then he turned to me. "Do we know where they are today?"

Maria sold their villa and now lives in an apartment. She must have learned to cook since she no longer has servants. Helen is a Psychology student, and we go to the same university, not far away from here. Before his death, her father prepaid her tuition until graduation. However, the book says that she works in the afternoons to cover her other expenses."

"Indeed," Poirot said, "I wonder how you didn't see her all this time." He pointed to a blonde girl with small black roots at the other end of the hall, gracefully serving. Surely, all this had changed her, as she didn't resemble much the carefree girl in the book's photos. "Does it say anything about Ismene?" I looked at the book again and spoke. "Not directly. Here it says that since her mother lost her job, Maria helped Ismene open a women's clothing boutique in Athens. They say it's doing very well."

You are very lucky, monsieur because you will see Poirot solve yet another case. I was greatly surprised by these words. How on earth did he draw any conclusions from all that? What do you mean, I asked.

Comme toujours, I know exactly what happened. Will you explain it to us, I asked. Oui monsieur, but first we need to call the waitress to sit with us. Then he got up and after a while returned with the girl.

Poirot introduced us to the girl and then offered her a seat, saying, please sit down, Mademoiselle Esmene. It’s Ismene, she stammered for a moment, and that is not my name. Poirot sat down and said, don't worry, we will respect your secrets.

The girl looked at Poirot with a look full of wonder. Mademoiselle, your hair roots have betrayed you. What do you want from me, asked the girl. Monsieur Spyros decided to test Poirot’s abilities. So, he read to us about the circumstances of Vasileiou's death and I managed to reveal the culprit of his murder.

It was not murder but a tragic accident, the girl responded. But Poirot was undeterred. I would like you to listen among the others without interrupting me. Afterwards, if you want, you can give your opinion as well as some details that I am not able to discover from here.

All in all, the Belgian had his way of persuading others. So, the girl sat quietly and listened along with us. Poirot stood up and began to speak.

From what was heard, Helen was probably a bad student but knew a lot about fashion. On the other hand, Ismene was very good at school but didn’t pay much attention to her appearance, until she met Helen. Suddenly, however, the roles changed, and Helen was presented as a diligent student and Ismene as the owner of a successful boutique. Oh yes, Mademoiselle, I figured it out quickly. The roots simply confirmed my suspicions. You switched places to fulfil both your dreams.

Ismene made a grimace before starting to speak. Please sir, this must remain a secret. Vasileiou was pressuring Helen to finish a higher education. But she didn’t want to. Since she was a child, she had a passion for fashion and was very good at it. She interned with me, and I know this firsthand. However, Vasileiou, to pressure her, prepaid all the tuition fees. When he died, they couldn’t get the money back. So, we thought of switching places. I always wanted to study but couldn’t. If the truth gets out, I will be expelled from the university.

Poirot looked at her steadily and said, I told you your secrets are safe with us. But that’s not your only secret.

As for our case, it is murder for sure. We are talking about a man who knew his condition and was overly careful. There is no way he didn’t have his adrenaline pills on him, which were the only things that would save his life in case of an accident.

Vasileiou was not alone that day. The staff entrance was locked from the inside but that should not have happened. Before him, only the cleaning lady had used it and she locked it from the outside when she left. So, he didn’t want it known that he had company and they entered through the side entrance. As for the neighbours, I am sure they would have only noticed the main entrance. The other staff door is probably invisible to them.

This company was female. The rumors that he was cheating on his wife were true, and even worse than the accusers thought. This woman was also his murderer. I think Mademoiselle knows what I am talking about.

At that point, I couldn’t stand it and jumped in. It is not possible to know so many details. How did you reach this crazy conclusion? Hastings was the first to speak. Every time he tells me something that seems strange, but once he explains it, I understand how simple and logical it is.

Mon jeune homme, you would reach the same conclusion if you put the little grey cells to work, which I am sure you possess, as does mon ami. The house and especially the kitchen were tidy. If the official narrative were true, they would have seen signs of use in the kitchen. Instead, the only room that showed signs of human presence was the bedroom. I think you understand when we go directly to the bedroom with a visitor.

There is also the matter of the cleaning lady. It makes sense to do a general cleaning the day after the family leaves for the countryside. Cleaning the house every time Vasileiou went there does not. How much cleaning would the house need for her to be called every time he went? Supposedly, he was alone and stayed for a short time. The reason was that he wanted to hide what was happening in the bedroom. As for the cleaning lady who knew his secret, he either paid her well, blackmailed her, or both. She might have even been another mistress of his.

Finally, Vasileiou left the countryside at five. Since he didn’t stop at the factory, he should have been home by seven. But he was seen entering at nine. I assume he arrived at seven, did what he did with the girl in the bedroom, and then, after sending her away, returned to the house through the main entrance.

But couldn’t he have gone somewhere else and thus arrived home late, I wondered. Poirot gestured to me and said, he was supposed to check the accounting books. But even though he passed close to the factory, he didn’t stop. This choice makes no sense. He would have to drive again for an hour to the factory and another hour back home the next day, instead of making a short stop to get the books. Obviously, his company was already with him, and he didn’t want to be seen together.

Silence prevailed at the table. A tear appeared in Ismene’s eyes. Poirot gently took her hand and said, do not worry. Although I do not approve of murder and have made it my life’s goal to uncover every murderer, in your case I will make an exception.

Seeing the confusion in our eyes, Poirot continued to explain. It is supposed that Vasileiou paid Ismene’s tuition because she became friends with his daughter. But they became friends at school. How likely is it that a widow worker would send her daughter to such an expensive school? Probably Vasileiou saw the little girl during a visit to the factory. Everything points to the fact that he had a sick taste. To have her close to him, he offered to pay her tuition. She must have still been a child when Vasileiou raped her. To ensure her silence, he gave her a better life but likely threatened to fire her mother. So, for years, Ismene kept secret from everyone what she was going through.

However, he did not expect that Ismene would become close friends with his daughter. So, in order not to arouse suspicion, he received her in the summers at their country house. However, at that time he was taking advantage of the empty house in Athens and brought her there.

He felt confident since Ismene would not dare to speak. At first, no one would believe her. It was her speech towards the honourable gentleman with the rich charity. Then she and her mother would live on the street. But he didn't know an important fact.

Ismene's illness was not gastroenteritis. So, in some way, the whole truth was learned from Helen and probably also from Maria. On the day of the murder, she was supposedly at the cottage and was seen by several people. They actually saw Helen in a black wig.

As for the way he gave the hazelnuts to Vasileiou, there is only one explanation. Vasileiou was suspicious and would not eat anything from her hand. But Ismene covered her body with hazelnut powder. In his frenzy, Vasileiou did not understand. When he was left alone, as he could not imagine that he had eaten hazelnuts, he simply lay down and after a while died. Did I say that right Mademoiselle?

Ismene had cried normally. That's exactly how it all happened. I was 12 years old when I met him. I was sitting in the factory yard reading a book and waiting for my mother to comment. She approached me and asked me what I was doing there and who is my mother. I showed her to him and then he offered to show me the factory. When we were not seen, he touched me but I was too young and innocent to understand his purposes. A few days later he saw me again and offered me an orange juice. He became bolder and put his hand between my legs. I was scared but he reassured me. He promised to pay my tuition to go to a private school in Athens.

At first, I was happy. One day he came to school and picked me up. Before we got to my house, he stopped on a deserted road. There he raped me for the first time in his car. When it was over, I burst into tears. Then he threatened me not to talk, otherwise he would cut my school and fire my mother from her job.

Shortly after that, I met Helen at school. I didn't know she was his daughter, I found out later. Helen is an amazing girl, and we became close friends. In the summer she invited me to their country house and that's when I found out who her father was. But I also met her mother who is also a wonderful person. From the beginning, she saw me as her daughter and treated me accordingly. So did Mrs. Polyxeni, who was a very sweet old lady. So, in order not to hurt these good people, I kept my mouth shut.

When Vasileiou saw me for the first time at the summer house with his family, he was scared. But when he realized that I would not speak, he seized the opportunity. Some of the days he came down to Athens, ostensibly to check the accounting books of the factory, he took me either to or from the country house. But we always passed by his house, where he raped me.

I'm sure he had other girls like me. One of them must have been the girl who cleaned the house. She would come and clean up our traces. However, I must be the only one who continued with me even after I grew up.

That's how the years passed. I had just turned twenty before the events you mentioned. When I got sick, I took a pregnancy test, and it came back positive. Maria found out and forced me to tell her the truth. She knew her husband was cheating on her, but for the sake of her daughter, she didn't say anything. But she didn’t know the passion of Vasileiou for children. When she learned the whole truth, she wanted to kill him. I convinced her that this would destroy her own life as well as Helen's. I explained to her a plan of mine with hazelnuts. I just told her that I required an alibi. The next day Helen was informed, and the plan was implemented.

When we got home with Vasileiou, we entered through the staff door as we always do. Without seeing me, I spread a thin layer of hazelnut powder over my breasts. Later, when I realized that my plan was succeeding, I told Vasileiou that I had to leave. He, who began to feel unwell, gave me money for a taxi. We went out together and I saw him enter the house through the main entrance this time. From what was heard he must have locked the doors and gone to sleep. Logically at some point, he would understand that the discomfort he felt was from allergic shock. But before I left, I had taken his adrenaline pills so he couldn't do anything. I also took more money from his wallet. I walked a few kilometres before getting a taxi to take me near their cottage. Of course, I stopped far enough away so as not to arouse suspicion. The next day Maria was calling him and finally called the police. You know the rest of the story.

The silence suddenly became heavy. Ismene wiped away her tears and said, "I don't regret it. He was a monster hiding behind an angelic facade. I'm sure I saved many innocent girls from his hands."

Poirot looked at her with sympathy. "I completely understand your motives for your actions. However, I suggest the following: Finish your studies first, and then reveal everything. People like Vasileiou are powerful because their victims don't speak up. But once they start speaking, they lose their power. So, speak out, and you will give courage to other girls to speak up as well. That way, you will save many more than with his murder."

Ismene nodded decisively. Then, Poirot turned to me and said sternly, "You must not speak to anyone until Ismene decides herself." I agreed immediately.

 

Epilogue:

Four years have passed since the meeting with Poirot. I wrote down the above and locked it away. Throughout these years, I met Ismene several times at university, but we never spoke about this story. Then we returned to Greece. Yesterday, Ismene, along with Helen and Maria, revealed the whole truth. Tomorrow, I will give them my notes from our meeting. One last thing to write: Minds like Poirot’s are rare, and we owe it to his keen insight. Only he could uncover the truth and persuade Ismene to speak. I hope other girls will find the courage to expose various prominent citizens like Vasileiou.