Hercule Poirot set down the phone and immediately turned to Miss Lemon, his tone carrying a rare sense of urgency.

“Miss Lemon, put everything else on hold. I need to get to the Happy Clover restaurant on Carslop Street at once. Please arrange a taxi immediately.”

“Of course, Mr. Poirot,” Miss Lemon replied, efficiently dialing for a cab.

Within minutes, the taxi arrived. Poirot adjusted his hat, straightened his cuffs, and stepped briskly into the car. He gave the driver the address, adding, “As quickly as you can, but safely, if you please.”

As the cab wove through the London streets, Poirot’s mind raced. Mrs. Oliver’s call, though somewhat disorganized, had conveyed two critical pieces of information: first, Norma Restarick had been located; second, she was dining with someone presumed to be her boyfriend. This young man clearly had significant influence over Norma, but whether he was an ally or a threat remained uncertain.

Once again, Mrs. Oliver’s instincts and boldness had proven invaluable. Despite her occasional impetuosity, her actions often led to breakthroughs. However, her impulsiveness also made Poirot uneasy. He suspected the situation might be more intricate—and perilous—than it appeared.

The taxi pulled up on Carslop Street moments later. Poirot paid the fare promptly, stepped out, and scanned the area. He quickly spotted the somewhat shabby facade of the Happy Clover restaurant. As Mrs. Oliver had described, the establishment was far from cheerful in appearance. Nevertheless, Poirot knew this was a crucial juncture in his investigation.

He glanced around but didn’t see Mrs. Oliver. As he hesitated, considering whether to enter directly, a familiar voice called out from around the corner.

“Mr. Poirot! Over here!” Mrs. Oliver waved energetically, hurrying toward him.

“You are impressively swift, madame,” Poirot said with a small bow. “Now, are they still inside?”

“Yes, they’re still eating that dreadful plate of baked beans,” she replied in a hushed tone. “Their conversation has been quite revealing. She seems very confused about her situation, and he’s trying to reassure her, though there’s something off about it.”

Poirot nodded, his sharp eyes narrowing in thought. “Excellent. I need to observe them myself. Can you tell me where they’re seated?”

“They’re on the far side of the restaurant, near the wall. Norma has her back to the door, and David is facing outward,” Mrs. Oliver explained. “Do you have a plan?”

“Yes,” Poirot said softly, his eyes gleaming with resolve. “My plan is to gather the truth and bring this matter to its conclusion.”

With that, he straightened his suit, took a deep breath, and stepped toward the entrance of the Happy Clover. He knew this moment could be pivotal, potentially unravelling the entire mystery.