The Body In The Library - Miss Marple 02 Read online

  Miss Wetherby said zestfully, "Those quiet ones are often the worst. Jane Marple always says so."

  Mrs. Price Ridley was among the last to hear the news. A rich and dictatorial widow, she lived in a large house next door to the vicarage. Her informant was her little maid, Clara. "A woman, you say, Clara? Found dead on Colonel Bantry's hearth rug?"

  "Yes, mum. And they say, mum, as she hadn't anything on at all, mum not a stitch!"

  "That will do, Clara. It is not necessary to go into details."

  "No, mum, and they say, mum, that at first they thought it was Mr. Blake's young lady what comes down for the weekends with 'im to Mr. Booker's new 'ouse. But now they say it's quite a different young lady. And the fishmonger's young man, he says he'd never have believed it of Colonel Bantry not with him handing round the plate on Sundays and all."

  "There is a lot of wickedness in the world, Clara," said Mrs. Price Ridley. "Let this be a warning to you."

  "Yes, mum. Mother, she never will let me take a place where there's a gentleman in the 'ouse."

  "That will do, Clara," said Mrs. Price Ridley.

  It was only a step from Mrs. Price Ridley's house to the vicarage. Mrs. Price Ridley was fortunate enough to find the vicar in his study. The vicar, a gentle, middle-aged man was always the last to hear anything. "Such a terrible thing," said Mrs. Price Ridley, panting a little because she had come rather fast. "I felt I must have your advice, your counsel about it, dear vicar."

  Mr. Clement looked mildly alarmed. He said, "Has anything happened?"

  "Has anything happened!" Mrs. Price Ridley repeated the question dramatically. "The most terrible scandal! None of us had any idea of it. An abandoned woman, completely unclothed, strangled on Colonel Bantry's hearth rug!"

  The vicar stared. He said, "You . . . you are feeling quite well?"

  "No wonder you can't believe it! I couldn't at first! The hypocrisy of the man! All these years."

  "Please tell me exactly what all this is about."

  Mrs. Price Ridley plunged into a full-swing narrative. When she had finished, the Reverend Mr. Clement said mildly, "But there is nothing, is there, to point to Colonel Bantry's being involved in this?"

  "Oh, dear vicar, you are so unworldly! But I must tell you a little story. Last Thursday -- or was it the Thursday before well, it doesn't matter -- I was going to London by the cheap day train. Colonel Bantry was in the same carriage. He looked, I thought, very abstracted. And nearly the whole way he buried himself behind The Times. As though, you know, he didn't want to talk." The vicar nodded his head with complete comprehension and possible sympathy. "At Paddinton I said goodbye. He had offered to call me a taxi, but I was taking the bus down to Oxford Street; but he got into one, and I distinctly heard him tell the driver to go to- Where do you think?" Mr. Clement looked inquiring. "An address in St. John's Wood!" Mrs. Price Ridley bellowed triumphantly. The vicar remained completely [missing text]

  "That, I consider, proves it," said Mrs. Price Ridley.

  At Gossington Mrs. Bantry and Miss Marple were in the drawing room. "You know," said Mrs. Bantry, "I can't help feeling glad they've taken the body away. It's not nice to have a body in one's house."

  Miss Marple nodded. "I know, dear. I know just how you feel."

  "You can't," said Mrs. Bantry. "Not until you've had one. I know you had one next door once, but that's not the same thing. I only hope," -- she went on -- "that Arthur won't take a dislike to the library. We sit there so much. What are you doing, Jane?" For Miss Marple, with a glance at her watch, was rising to her feet.

  "Well, I was thinking I'd go home, if there's nothing more I can do for you."

  "Don't go yet," said Mrs. Bantry. "The fingerprint men and the photographers and most of the police have gone, I know, but I still feel something might happen. You don't want to miss anything."

  The telephone rang and she went off to answer. She returned with a beaming face. "I told you more things would happen. That was Colonel Melchett. He's bringing the poor girl's cousin along."

  "I wonder why?" said Miss Marple.

  "Oh, I suppose to see where it happened, and all that."

  "More than that, I expect," said Miss Marple.

  "What do you mean, Jane?"

  "Well, I think, perhaps, he might want her to meet Colonel Bantry."

  Mrs. Bantry said sharply, "To see if she recognizes him? I suppose oh, yes, I suppose they're bound to suspect Arthur."

  "I'm afraid so."

  "As though Arthur could have anything to do with it!"

  Miss Marple was silent. Mrs. Bantry turned on her accusingly. "And don't tell me about some frightful old man who kept his housemaid, Arthur isn't like that."

  "No, no, of course not"

  "No, but he really isn't. He's just, sometimes, a little bit silly about pretty girls who come to tennis. You know, rather famous and avuncular. There's no harm in it. And why shouldn't he? After all," finished Mrs. Bantry rather obscurely, "I've got the garden."

  Miss Marple smiled. "You must not worry Dolly," she said.

  "No, I don't mean to. But all the same I do, a little. So does Arthur. It's upset him. All these policemen looking about. He's gone down to the farm. Looking at pigs and things always soothes him if he's been upset. . . . Hullo, here they are."

  The chief constable's car drew up outside. Colonel Melchett came in, accompanied by a smartly dressed young woman. "This is Miss Turner, Mrs. Bantry. The cousin of the . . . er . . . victim."

  "How do you do," said Mrs. Bantry, advancing with outstretched hand. "All this must be rather awful for you."

  Josephine Turner said frankly, "Oh, it is. None of it seems real, somehow. It's like a bad dream."

  Mrs. Bantry introduced Miss Marple. Melchett said casually, "Your good man about?"

  "He had to go down to one of the farms. He'll be back soon."

  "Oh." Melchett seemed rather at a loss.

  Mrs. Bantry said to Josie, "Would you like to see where where it happened? Or would you rather not?"

  Josephine said, after a moment's pause, "I think I'd like to see." Mrs. Bantry led her to the library, with Miss Marple and Melchett following behind. "She was there," said Mrs. Bantry, pointing dramatically. "On the hearth rug."

  "Oh!" Josie shuddered. But she also looked perplexed. She said, her brow creased, "I just can't understand it! I can't!" "Well, we certainly can't," said Mrs. Bantry.

  Josie said slowly, "It isn't the sort of place-" and broke off.

  Miss Marple nodded her head gently in agreement with the unfinished sentiment. "That," she murmured, "is what makes it so very interesting."

  "Come now Miss Marple," said Colonel Melchett good-humoredly, "haven't you got an explanation?"

  "Oh, yes, I've got an explanation," said Miss Marple. "Quite a feasible one. But of course it's only my own idea. Tommy Bond," she continued, "and Mrs. Martin, our new schoolmistress. She went to wind up the clock and a frog jumped out."

  Josephine Turner looked puzzled. As they all went out of the room she murmured to Mrs. Bantry, "Is the old lady a bit funny in the head?"

  "Not at all," said Mrs. Bantry indignantly.

  Josie said, "Sorry. I thought perhaps she thought she was a frog or something."

  Colonel Bantry was just coming in through the side door. Melchett hailed him and watched Josephine Turner as he introduced them. But there was no sign of interest or recognition in her face. Melchett breathed a sigh of relief. Curse Slack and his insinuations. In answer to Mrs. Bantry's questions, Josie was pouring out the story of Ruby Keene's disappearance. "Frightfully worrying for you, my dear," said Mrs. Bantry.

  "I was more angry than worried," said Josie. "You see, I didn't know then."

  "And yet," said Miss Marple, "you went to the police. Wasn't that, excuse me, rather premature?"

  Josie said eagerly, "Oh, but I didn't. That was Mr. Jefferson."

  Mrs. Bantry said, "Jefferson?"

  "Yes, he's an invalid."

  "Not
Conway Jefferson? But I know him well. He's an old friend of ours. . . . Arthur, listen. Conway Jefferson, he's staying at the Majestic, and it was he who notified the police! Isn't that a coincidence?"

  Josephine Turner said, "Mr. Jefferson was there last summer too."

  "Fancy! And we never knew. I haven't seen him for a long time." She turned to Josie. "How how is he nowadays?"

  Josie considered. "I think he's wonderful, really quite wonderful. Considering, I mean. He's always cheerful always got a joke."

  "Are the family there with him?"

  "Mr. Gaskell, you mean? And young Mrs. Jefferson? And Peter? Oh, yes."

  There was something inhibiting in Josephine Turner's rather attractive frankness of manner. When she spoke of the Jeffersons there was something not quite natural in her voice. Mrs. Bantry said, "They're both very nice, aren't they? The young ones, I mean."

  Josie said rather uncertainly, "Oh, yes; yes, they are. They are really."

  "And what," demanded Mrs. Bantry as she looked through the window at the retreating car of the chief constable, "did she mean by that? They are really." Don't you think, Jane, that there's something-" Miss Marple fell upon the words eagerly. "Oh, I do; indeed I do. It's quite unmistakable! Her manner changed at once when the Jeffersons were mentioned. She had seemed quite natural up to then."

  "But what do you think it is, Jane?"

  "Well, my dear, you know them. All I feel is that there is something, as you say, about them which is worrying that young woman. Another thing. Did you notice that when you asked her if she wasn't anxious about the girl being missing, she said that she was angry? And she looked angry, really angry! That strikes me as interesting, you know. I have a feeling, perhaps I'm wrong, that that's her main reaction to the fact of the girl's death. She didn't care for her, I'm sure. She's not grieving in any way. But I do think, very definitely, that the thought of that girl, Ruby Keene, makes her angry. And the interesting point is: Why?"

  "We'll find out!" said Mrs. Bantry. "We'll go over to Danemouth and stay at the Majestic yes, Jane, you too. I need a change for my nerves after what has happened here. A few days at the Majestic that's what we need. And you'll meet Conway Jefferson. He's a dear, a perfect dear. It's the saddest story imaginable. He had a son and a daughter, both of whom he loved dearly. They were both married, but they still spent a lot of time at home. His wife, too, was the sweetest woman, and he was devoted to her. They were flying home one year from France and there was an accident. They were all killed. The pilot, Mrs. Jefferson, Rosamund and Frank. Conway had both legs so badly injured they had to be amputated. And he's been wonderful, his courage, his pluck. He was a very active man, and now he's a helpless cripple, but he never complains. His daughter-in-law lives with him; she was a widow when Frank Jefferson married her, and she had a son by her first marriage Peter Carmody. They . . ."

  Colonel Melchett was facing a much annoyed hotel manager. With him was Superintendent Harper, of the Glenshire police, and the inevitable Inspector Slack the latter rather disgruntled at the chief constable's willful usurpation of the case. Superintendent Harper was inclined to be soothing with the almost tearful Mr. Prestcott; Colonel Melchett tended toward a blunt brutality. "No good crying over spilt milk," he said sharply. "The girl's dead, strangled. You're lucky that she wasn't strangled in your hotel. This puts the inquiry in a different county and lets your establishment down extremely lightly. But certain inquiries have got to be made, and the sooner we get on with it the better. You can trust us to be discreet and tactful. So I suggest you cut the cackle and come to the horses. Just what, exactly, do you know about the girl?"

  "I know nothing of her nothing at all. Josie brought her here."

  "Josie's been here some time?"

  "Two years, no, three."

  "And you like her?"

  "Yes, Josie's a good girl, a nice girl. Competent. She gets on with people and smooths over differences. Bridge, you know, is a touchy sort of game." Colonel Melchett nodded feelingly. His wife was a keen but an extremely bad bridge player. Mr. Prestcott went on, "Josie was very good at calming down unpleasantness. She could handle people well, sort of bright and firm, if you know what I mean."

  Again Melchett nodded. He knew now what it was that Miss Josephine Turner had reminded him of. In spite of the make-up and the smart turnout, there was a distinct touch of the nursery governess about her.

  "I depend upon her," went on Mr. Prestcott. His manner became aggrieved. "What does she want to go playing about on slippery rocks in that damn-fool way for? We've got a nice beach here. Why couldn't she bathe from that? Slipping and falling and breaking her ankle! It wasn't fair to me! I pay her to dance and play bridge and keep people happy and amused, not to go bathing off rocks and breaking her ankle. Dancers ought to be careful of their ankles, not take risks. I was very annoyed about it. It wasn't fair to the hotel."

  Melchett cut the recital short. "And then she suggested that this girl, her cousin come down?"

  Prestcott assented grudgingly. "That's right. It sounded quite a good idea. Mind you, I wasn't going to pay anything extra. The girl could have her keep, but as for salary, that would have to be fixed up between her and Josie. That's the way it was arranged. I didn't know anything about the girl."

  "But she turned out all right?" "Oh, yes, there wasn't anything wrong with her, not to look at, anyway. She was very young, of course; rather cheap in style, perhaps, for a place of this kind, but nice manners, quiet and well-behaved. Danced well. People liked her."

  "Pretty?"

  It had been a question hard to answer from a view of the blue, swollen face. Mr. Prestcott considered. "Fair to middling. Bit weaselly -- if you know what I mean. Wouldn't have been much without make-up. As it was, she managed to look quite attractive."

  "Many young men hanging about after her?"

  "I know what you're trying to get at, sir," Mr. Prestcott became excited. "I never saw anything! Nothing special. One or two of the boys hung around a bit, but all in the day's work, so to speak. Nothing in the strangling line, I'd say. She got on well with the older people, too; had a kind of prattling way with her. Seemed quite a kid, if you know what I mean. It amused them."

  Superintendent Harper said in a deep, melancholy voice, "Mr. Jefferson, for instance?"

  The manager agreed. "Yes, Mr. Jefferson was the one I had in mind. She used to sit with him and his family a lot. He used to take her out for drives sometimes. Mr. Jefferson's very fond of young people and very good to them. I don't want to have any misunderstandings. Mr Jefferson's a cripple. He can't get about much only where his wheelchair will take him. But he's always keen on seeing young people enjoy themselves; watches the tennis and the bathing, and all that, and gives parties for young people here. He likes youth, and there's nothing bitter about him, as there well might be. A very popular gentleman and, I'd say, a very fine character."

  Melchett asked, "And he took an interest in Ruby Keene?" "Her talk amused him, I think."

  "Did his family share his liking for her?"

  "They were always very pleasant to her."

  Harper said, "And it was he who reported the fact of her being missing to the police?"

  He contrived to put into the words a significance and a reproach to which the manager instantly responded, "Put yourself in my place, Mr. Harper. I didn't dream for a minute anything was wrong. Mr. Jefferson came along to my office, storming and all worked up. The girl hadn't slept in her room. She hadn't appeared in her dance last night. She must have gone for a drive and had an accident, perhaps. The police must be informed at once. Inquiries made. In a state, he was, and quite highhanded. He rang up the police station then and there."

  "Without consulting Miss Turner?"

  "Josie didn't like it much. I could see that. She was very annoyed about the whole thing, annoyed with Ruby, I mean. But what could she say?"

  "I think," said Melchett, "we'd better see Mr. Jefferson eh Harper?"

  Superintendent Harper agreed
. Mr. Prestcott went up with them to Conway Jefferson's suite. It was on the first floor, overlooking the sea. Melchett said carelessly, "Does himself pretty well, eh? Rich man?"

  "Very well off indeed, I believe. Nothing's ever stinted when he comes here. Best rooms reserved, food usually a la carte, expensive wines, best of everything."

  Melchett nodded. Mr. Prestcott tapped on the outer door and a woman's voice said, "Come in."

  The manager entered, the others behind him. Mr. Prestcott's manner was apologetic as he spoke to the woman who turned her head, at their entrance, from her seat by the window. "I am so sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Jefferson, but these gentlemen are from the police. They are very anxious to have a word with Mr. Jefferson. Er . . . Colonel Melchett, Superintendent Harper, Inspector er . . . Slack, Mrs Jefferson!" Mrs. Jefferson acknowledged the introduction by bending her head.