The Moving Finger Page 19
Joanna said:
“And he killed Agnes? But surely that was quite unnecessary?”
“Perhaps it was, but what you don’t realize, my dear (not having killed anyone), is that your judgment is distorted afterwards and everything seems exaggerated. No doubt he heard the girl telephoning to Partridge, saying she’d been worried ever since Mrs. Symmington’s death, that there was something she didn’t understand. He can’t take any chances—this stupid, foolish girl has seen something, knows something.”
“Yet apparently he was at his office all that afternoon?”
“I should imagine he killed her before he went. Miss Holland was in the dining room and kitchen. He just went out into the hall, opened and shut the front door as though he had gone out, then slipped into the little cloakroom. When only Agnes was left in the house, he probably rang the front door bell, slipped back into the cloakroom, came out behind her and hit her on the head as she was opening the front door, and then after thrusting the body into the cupboard, he hurried along to his office, arriving just a little late if anyone had happened to notice it, but they probably didn’t. You see, no one was suspecting a man.”
“Abominable brute,” said Mrs. Dane Calthrop.
“You’re not sorry for him, Mrs. Dane Calthrop?” I inquired.
“Not in the least. Why?”
“I’m glad to hear it, that’s all.”
Joanna said:
“But why Aimée Griffith? I know that the police have found the pestle taken from Owen’s dispensary—and the skewer too. I suppose it’s not so easy for a man to return things to kitchen drawers. And guess where they were? Superintendent Nash only told me just now when I met him on my way here. In one of those musty old deed-boxes in his office. Estate of Sir Jasper Harrington-West, deceased.”
“Poor Jasper,” said Mrs. Dane Calthrop. “He was a cousin of mine. Such a correct old boy. He would have had a fit!”
“Wasn’t it madness to keep them?” I asked.
“Probably madder to throw them away,” said Mrs. Dane Calthrop. “No one had any suspicions about Symmington.”
“He didn’t strike her with the pestle,” said Joanna. “There was a clock weight there too, with hair and blood on it. He pinched the pestle, they think, on the day Aimée was arrested, and hid the book pages in her house. And that brings me back to my original question. What about Aimée Griffith? The police actually saw her write that letter.”
“Yes, of course,” said Miss Marple. “She did write that letter.”
“But why?”
“Oh, my dear, surely you have realized that Miss Griffith had been in love with Symmington all her life?”
“Poor thing!” said Mrs. Dane Calthrop mechanically.
“They’d always been good friends, and I dare say she thought, after Mrs. Symmington’s death, that some day, perhaps—well—” Miss Marple coughed delicately. “And then the gossip began spreading about Elsie Holland and I expect that upset her badly. She thought of the girl as a designing minx worming her way into Symmington’s affections and quite unworthy of him. And so, I think, she succumbed to temptation. Why not add one more anonymous letter, and frighten the girl out of the place? It must have seemed quite safe to her and she took, as she thought, every precaution.”
“Well?” said Joanna. “Finish the story.”
“I should imagine,” said Miss Marple slowly, “that when Miss Holland showed that letter to Symmington he realized at once who had written it, and he saw a chance to finish the case once and for all, and make himself safe. Not very nice—no, not very nice, but he was frightened, you see. The police wouldn’t be satisfied until they’d got the anonymous letter writer. When he took the letter down to the police and he found they’d actually seen Aimée writing it, he felt he’d got a chance in a thousand of finishing the whole thing.
“He took the family to tea there that afternoon and as he came from the office with his attaché case, he could easily bring the tornout book pages to hide under the stairs and clinch the case. Hiding them under the stairs was a neat touch. It recalled the disposal of Agnes’s body, and, from the practical point of view, it was very easy for him. When he followed Aimée and the police, just a minute or two in the hall passing through would be enough.”
“All the same,” I said, “there’s one thing I can’t forgive you for, Miss Marple—roping in Megan.”
Miss Marple put down her crochet which she had resumed. She looked at me over her spectacles and her eyes were stern.
“My dear young man, something had to be done. There was no evidence against this very clever and unscrupulous man. I needed someone to help me, someone of high courage and good brains. I found the person I needed.”
“It was very dangerous for her.”
“Yes, it was dangerous, but we are not put into this world, Mr. Burton, to avoid danger when an innocent fellow-creature’s life is at stake. You understand me?”
I understood.
Fifteen
I
Morning in the High Street.
Miss Emily Barton comes out of the grocer’s with her shopping bag. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes are excited.
“Oh, dear, Mr. Burton, I really am in such a flutter. To think I really am going on a cruise at last!”
“I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
“Oh, I’m sure I shall. I should never have dared to go by myself. It does seem so providential the way everything has turned out. For a long time I’ve felt that I ought to part with Little Furze, that my means were really too straitened but I couldn’t bear the idea of strangers there. But now that you have bought it and are going to live there with Megan—it is quite different. And then dear Aimée, after her terrible ordeal, not quite knowing what to do with herself, and her brother getting married (how nice to think you have both settled down with us!) and agreeing to come with me. We mean to be away quite a long time. We might even”—Miss Emily dropped her voice—“go round the world! And Aimée is so splendid and so practical. I really do think, don’t you, that everything turns out for the best?”
Just for a fleeting moment I thought of Mrs. Symmington and Agnes Woddell in their graves in the churchyard and wondered if they would agree, and then I remembered that Agnes’s boy hadn’t been very fond of her and that Mrs. Symmington hadn’t been very nice to Megan and, what the hell? we’ve all got to die some time! And I agreed with happy Miss Emily that everything was for the best in the best of possible worlds.
I went along the High Street and in at the Symmingtons’ gate and Megan came out to meet me.
It was not a romantic meeting because an out-size Old English sheepdog came out with Megan and nearly knocked me over with his ill-timed exuberance.
“Isn’t he adorable?” said Megan.
“A little overwhelming. Is he ours?”
“Yes, he’s a wedding present from Joanna. We have had nice wedding presents, haven’t we? That fluffy woolly thing that we don’t know what it’s for from Miss Marple, and the lovely Crown Derby tea set from Mr. Pye, and Elsie has sent me a toast-rack—”
“How typical,” I interjected.
“And she’s got a post with a dentist and is very happy. And—where was I?”
“Enumerating wedding presents. Don’t forget if you change your mind you’ll have to send them all back.”
“I shan’t change my mind. What else have we got? Oh, yes, Mrs. Dane Calthrop has sent an Egyptian scarab.”
“Original woman,” I said.
“Oh! Oh! but you don’t know the best. Partridge has actually sent me a present. It’s the most hideous teacloth you’ve ever seen. But I think she must like me now because she says she embroidered it all with her own hands.”
“In a design of sour grapes and thistles, I suppose?”
“No, true lovers’ knots.”
“Dear, dear,” I said, “Partridge is coming on.”
Megan had dragged me into the house.
She said:
“There�
��s just one thing I can’t make out. Besides the dog’s own collar and lead, Joanna has sent an extra collar and lead. What do you think that’s for?”
“That,” I said, “is Joanna’s little joke.”
* * *
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Lord Edgware Dies
Murder on the Orient Express
Three Act Tragedy
Death in the Clouds
The A.B.C. Murders
Murder in Mesopotamia
Cards on the Table
Murder in the Mews
Dumb Witness
Death on the Nile
Appointment with Death
Hercule Poirot’s Christmas
Sad Cypress
One, Two, Buckle My Shoe
Evil Under the Sun
Five Little Pigs
The Hollow
The Labors of Hercules
Taken at the Flood
The Underdog and Other Stories
Mrs. McGinty’s Dead
After the Funeral
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The Moving Finger
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They Do It with Mirrors
A Pocket Full of Rye
4:50 From Paddington
The Mirror Crack’d from Side to Side
A Caribbean Mystery
At Bertram’s Hotel
Nemesis
Sleeping Murder
Miss Marple: The Complete Short Stories
THE TOMMY AND TUPPENCE MYSTERIES
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Three Blind Mice and Other Stories
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About the Author
Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time and in any language, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She is the author of eighty crime novels and short-story collections, nineteen plays, two memoirs, and six novels written under the name Mary Westmacott.
She first tried her hand at detective fiction while working in a hospital dispensary during World War I, creating the now legendary Hercule Poirot with her debut novel The Mysterious Affair at Styles. With The Murder in the Vicarage, published in 1930, she introduced another beloved sleuth, Miss Jane Marple. Additional series characters include the husband-and-wife crime-fighting team of Tommy and Tuppence Beresford, private investigator Parker Pyne, and Scotland Yard detectives Superintendent Battle and Inspector Japp.
Many of Christie’s novels and short stories were adapted into plays, films, and television series. The Mousetrap, her most famous play of all, opened in 1952 and is the longest-running play in history. Among her best-known film adaptations are Murder on the Orient Express (1974) and Death on the Nile (1978), with Albert Finney and Peter Ustinov playing Hercule Poirot, respectively. On the small screen Poirot has been most memorably portrayed by David Suchet, and Miss Marple by Joan Hickson and subsequently Geraldine McEwan and Julia McKenzie.
Christie was first married to Archibald Christie and then to archaeologist Sir Max Mallowan, whom she accompanied on expeditions to countries that would also serve as the settings for many of her novels. In 1971 she achieved one of Britain’s highest honors when she was made a Dame of the British Empire. She died in 1976 at the age of eighty-five. Her one hundred and twentieth anniversary was celebrated around the world in 2010.
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THE AGATHA CHRISTIE COLLECTION
The Man in the Brown Suit
The Secret of Chimneys
The Seven Dials Mystery
The Mysterious Mr. Quin
The Sittaford Mystery
Parker Pyne Investigates
Why Didn’t They Ask Evans?
Murder Is Easy
The Regatta Mystery and Other Stories
And Then There Were None
Towards Zero
Death Comes as the End
Sparkling Cyanide
The Witness for the Prosecution and Other Stories
Crooked House
Three Blind Mice and Other Stories
They Came to Baghdad
Destination Unknown
Ordeal by Innocence
Double Sin and Other Stories
The Pale Horse
Star over Bethlehem: Poems and Holiday Stories
Endless Night
Passenger to Frankfurt
The Golden Ball and Other Stories
The Mousetrap and Other Plays
The Harlequin Tea Set
The Hercule Poirot Mysteries
The Mysterious Affair at Styles
The Murder on the Links
Poirot Investigates
The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
The Big Four
The Mystery of the Blue Train
Peril at End House
Lord Edgware Dies
Murder on the Orient Express
Three Act Tragedy
Death in the Clouds
The A.B.C. Murders
Murder in Mesopotamia
Cards on the Table
Murder in the Mews and Other Stories
Dumb Witness
Death on the Nile
Appointment with Death
Hercule Poirot’s Christmas
Sad Cypress
One, Two, Buckle My Shoe
Evil Under the
Sun
Five Little Pigs
The Hollow
The Labors of Hercules
Taken at the Flood
The Underdog and Other Stories
Mrs. McGinty’s Dead
After the Funeral
Hickory Dickory Dock
Dead Man’s Folly
Cat Among the Pigeons
The Clocks
Third Girl
Hallowe’en Party
Elephants Can Remember
Curtain: Poirot’s Last Case
The Miss Marple Mysteries
The Murder at the Vicarage
The Body in the Library
The Moving Finger
A Murder Is Announced
They Do It with Mirrors
A Pocket Full of Rye
4:50 from Paddington
The Mirror Crack’d from Side to Side
A Caribbean Mystery
At Bertram’s Hotel
Nemesis
Sleeping Murder
Miss Marple: The Complete Short Stories
The Tommy and Tuppence Mysteries
The Secret Adversary
Partners in Crime
N or M?
By the Pricking of My Thumbs
Postern of Fate
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AGATHA CHRISTIE® MARPLE ® MISS MARPLE® THE MOVING FINGER ™. Copyright © 2011 Agatha Christie Limited (a Chorion company). All rights reserved. The Moving Finger was first published in 1943.
THE MOVING FINGER. © 1942. Published by permission of G.P. Putnam’s Sons, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.