A Caribbean Mystery (miss marple) Read online

  She nodded her head, then started violently as a hand touched her arm. She spun round to find Gregory Dyson, slightly taken aback, looking apologetic.

  "Ever so sorry. Did I startle you, little girl?"

  Molly hated being called "little girl".

  She said quickly and brightly: "I didn't hear you coming, Mr. Dyson, so it made me jump."

  "Mr. Dyson? We're very formal tonight. Aren't we all one great happy family here? Ed and me and Lucky and Evelyn and you and Tim and Esther Walters and old Rafiel. All the lot of us one happy family."

  "He's had plenty to drink already," thought Molly. She smiled at him pleasantly.

  "Oh! I come over the heavy hostess sometimes," she said lightly. "Tim and I think it's more polite not to be too handy with Christian names."

  "Aw! we don't want any of that stuffed-shirt business. Now then, Molly my lovely, have a drink with me."

  "Ask me later," said Molly. "I have a few things to get on with."

  "Now don't run away." His arm fastened round her arm. "You're a lovely girl, Molly. I hope Tim appreciates his good luck."

  "Oh, I see to it that he does," said Molly cheerfully.

  "I could go for you, you know, in a big way." He leered at her "-though I wouldn't let my wife hear me say so."

  "Did you have a good trip this afternoon?"

  "I suppose so. Between you and me I get a bit fed up sometimes. You can get tired of the birds and butterflies. What say you and I go for a little picnic on our own one day?"

  "We'll have to see about that," said Molly gaily. "I'll be looking forward to it."

  With a light laugh she escaped, and went back into the bar.

  "Hallo, Molly," said Tim, "you seem in a hurry. Who's that you've been with out there?"

  He peered out.

  "Gregory Dyson."

  "What does he want?"

  "Wanted to make a pass at me," said Molly.

  "Blast him," said Tim.

  "Don't worry," said Molly, "I can do all the blasting necessary."

  Tim started to answer her, caught sight of Fernando and went over to him shouting out some directions. Molly slipped away through the kitchen, out through the kitchen door and down the steps to the beach.

  Gregory Dyson swore under his breath.

  Then he walked slowly back in the direction of his bungalow. He had nearly got there when a voice spoke to him from the shadow of one of the bushes. He turned his head, startled. In the gathering dusk he thought for a moment that it was a ghostly figure that stood there. Then he laughed. It had looked like a faceless apparition but that was because, though the dress was white, the face was black.

  Victoria stepped out of the bushes on to the path.

  "Mr. Dyson, please?"

  "Yes. What is it?"

  Ashamed of being startled, he spoke with a touch of impatience.

  "I brought you this, sir." She held out her hand. In it was a bottle of tablets. "This belongs to you, doesn't it? Yes?"

  "Oh, my bottle of Serenite tablets. Yes, of course. Where did you find it?"

  "I found it where it had been put. In the gentleman's room."

  "What do you mean- in the gentleman's room?"

  "The gentleman who is dead," she added gravely. "I do not think he sleeps very well in his grave."

  "Why the devil not?" asked Dyson.

  Victoria stood looking at him.

  "I still don't know what you're talking about. You mean you found this bottle of tablets in Major Palgrave's bungalow?"

  "That is right, yes. After the doctor and the Jamestown people go away, they give me all the things in his bathroom to throw away. The toothpaste and the lotions, and all the other things – including this."

  "Well, why didn't you throw it away?"

  "Because these are yours. You missed them. You remember, you asked about them?"

  "Yes- well- yes, I did. I- I thought I'd just mislaid them."

  "No, you did not mislay them. They were taken from your bungalow and put in Major Palgrave's bungalow."

  "How do you know?" He spoke roughly.

  "I know I saw." She smiled at him in a sudden flash of white teeth. "Someone put them in the dead gentleman's room. Now I give them back to you."

  "Here- wait. What do you mean? What- who did you see?"

  She hurried away, back into the darkness of the bushes. Greg made as to move after her and then stopped. He stood stroking his chin.

  "What's the matter, Greg? Seen a ghost?" asked Mrs. Dyson, as she came along the path from their bungalow.

  "Thought I had for a minute or two."

  "Who was that you were talking to?"

  "The coloured girl who does our place. Victoria, her name is, isn't it?"

  "What did she want? Making a pass at you?"

  "Don't be stupid. Lucky. That girl's got some idiotic idea into her head."

  "Idea about what?"

  "You remember I couldn't find my Serenite the other day?"

  "You said you couldn't."

  "What do you mean 'I said I couldn't'?"

  "Oh, for heck's sake, have you got to take me up on everything?"

  "I'm sorry," said Greg. "Everybody goes about being so damn mysterious."

  He held out his hand with the bottle in it.

  "That girl brought them back to me."

  "Had she pinched them?"

  "No. She- found them somewhere I think."

  "Well, what of it? What's the mystery about?"

  "Oh nothing," said Greg. "She just riled me, that's all."

  "Look here, Greg, what is this stuff all about? Come along and have a drink before dinner."

  II

  Molly had gone down to the beach. She pulled out one of the old basket chairs, one of the more rickety ones that were seldom used. She sat in it for a while looking at the sea, then suddenly she dropped her head in her hands and burst into tears. She sat there sobbing unrestrainedly for some time. Then she heard a rustle by her and glanced up sharply to see Mrs. Hillingdon looking down at her.

  "Hallo, Evelyn, I didn't hear you. I-I'm sorry."

  "What's the matter, child?" said Evelyn. "Something gone wrong?" She pulled another chair forward and sat down. "Tell me."

  "There's nothing wrong," said Molly. "Nothing at all."

  "Of course there is. You wouldn't sit and cry here for nothing. Can't you tell me? Is it- some trouble between you and Tim?"

  "Oh no!"

  "I'm glad of that. You always look so happy together."

  "Not more than you do," said Molly. "Tim and I always think how wonderful it would be for the children you know," she said.

  "Children whom we're both very fond of. They're at school in England. We didn't want to break up the home. And then of course, Lucky didn't want a divorce either. Greg's a very rich man. His first wife left a lot of money. So we agreed to live and let live. Edward and Lucky in happy immorality, Greg in blissful ignorance, and Edward and I just good friends." She spoke with scalding bitterness.

  "How- how can you bear it?"

  "One gets used to anything. But sometimes-"

  "Yes?" said Molly.

  "Sometimes I'd like to kill that woman."

  The passion behind her voice startled Molly.

  "Don't let's talk any more about me," said Evelyn. "Let's talk about you. I want to know what's the matter."

  Molly was silent for some moments and than she said, "It's only- it's only that I think there's something wrong about me."

  "Wrong? What do you mean?"

  Molly shook her head unhappily. "I'm frightened," she said. "I'm terribly frightened."

  "Frightened of what?"

  "Everything," said Molly. "It's- growing on me. Voices in the bushes, footsteps – or things that people say. As though someone were watching me all the time, spying on me. Somebody hates me. That's what I keep feeling. Somebody hates me."

  "My dear child," Evelyn was shocked and startled. "How long has this been going on?"

  "I don't k
now. It came- it started by degrees. And there have been other things too."

  "What sort of things?"

  "There are times," said Molly slowly, "that I can't account for, that I can't remember."

  "Do you mean you have blackouts – that sort of thing?"

  "I suppose so. I mean sometimes it's- oh, say it's five o'clock – and I can't remember anything since about half past one or two."

  "Oh my dear, but that's just that you've been asleep. Had a doze."

  "No," said Molly, "it's not like that at all. Because you see, at the end of the time it's not as though I'd just dozed off. I'm in a different place. Sometimes I'm wearing different clothes and sometimes I seem to have been doing things- even saying things to people, talking to someone, and not remembering that I've done so."

  Evelyn looked shocked. "But, Molly, my dear, if this is so, then you ought to see a doctor."

  "I won't see a doctor! I don't want to. I wouldn't go near a doctor."

  Evelyn looked sharply down into her face, then she took the girl's hand in hers. "You may be frightening yourself for nothing, Molly. You know there are all kinds of nervous disorders that aren't really serious at all. A doctor would soon reassure you."

  "He mightn't. He might say that there was something really wrong with me."

  "Why should there be anything wrong with you?"

  "Because-" Molly spoke and then was silent. "-no reason, I suppose," she said.

  "Couldn't your family- haven't you any family any mother or sisters or someone who could come out here?"

  "I don't get on with my mother. I never have. I've got sisters. They're married but I suppose- I suppose they could come if I wanted them. But I don't want them. I don't want anyone- anyone except Tim."

  "Does Tim know about this? Have you told him?"

  "Not really," said Molly. "But he's anxious about me and he watches me. It's as though he were trying to- to help me or to shield me. But if he does that it means I want shielding, doesn't it?"

  "I think a lot of it may be imagination but I still think you ought to see a doctor."

  "Old Dr. Graham? He wouldn't be any good."

  "There are other doctors on the island."

  "It's all right, really," said Molly. "I just mustn't think of it. I expect, as you say, it's all imagination. Good gracious, it's getting frightfully late. I ought to be on duty now in the dining room. I-I must go back."

  She looked sharply and almost offensively at Evelyn Hillingdon, and then hurried off.

  Evelyn stared after her.

  Chapter 12

  OLD SINS CAST LONG SHADOWS

  I

  "I think as I am on to something, man."

  "What's that you say, Victoria?"

  "I think I'm on to something. It may mean money. Big money."

  "Now look, girl, you be careful, you'll not tangle yourself up in something. Maybe I'd better tackle what it is."

  Victoria laughed, a deep rich chuckle. "You wait and see," she said. "I know how to play this hand. It's money, man, it's big money. Something I see, and something I guess. I think I guess right."

  And again the soft rich chuckle rolled out on the night.

  II

  "Evelyn…"

  "Yes?"

  Evelyn Hillingdon spoke mechanically, without interest. She did not look at her husband.

  "Evelyn, would you mind if we chucked all this and went home to England?"

  She had been combing her short dark hair. Now her hands came down from her head sharply. She turned towards him.

  "You mean- But we've only just come. We've not been out here in the islands for more than three weeks."

  "I know. But- would you mind?"

  Her eyes searched him incredulously. "You really want to go back to England. Back home?"

  "Yes."

  "Leaving- Lucky."

  He winced.

  "You've known all the time, I suppose, that- that it was still going on?"

  "Pretty well. Yes."

  "You've never said anything."

  "Why should I? We had the whole thing out years ago. Neither of us wanted to make a break. So we agreed to go our separate ways – but keep up the show in public."

  Then she added before he could speak, "But why are you so set on going back to England now?"

  "Because I'm at breaking point. I can't stick it any longer, Evelyn. I can't." The quiet Edward Hillingdon was transformed. His hands shook, he swallowed, his calm unemotional face seemed distorted by pain.

  "For God's sake, Edward, what's the matter?"

  "Nothing's the matter except that I want to get out of here-"

  "You fell wildly in love with Lucky. And now you've got over it. Is that what you're telling me?"

  "Yes. I don't suppose you'll ever feel the same."

  "Oh let's not go into that now! I want to understand what's upsetting you so much, Edward."

  "I'm not particularly upset."

  "But you are. Why?"

  "Isn't it obvious?"

  "No, it isn't," said Evelyn. "Let's put it in plain concrete terms. You've had an affair with a woman. That happens often enough. And now it's over. Or isn't it over? Perhaps it isn't over on her side. Is that it? Does Greg know about it? I've often wondered."

  "I don't know," said Edward. "He's never said anything. He always seems friendly enough."

  "Men can be extraordinarily obtuse," said Evelyn thoughtfully. "Or else- Perhaps Greg has got an outside interest of his own!"

  "He's made passes at you, hasn't he?" said Edward. "Answer me – I know he has-"

  "Oh yes," said Evelyn, carelessly, "but he makes passes at everybody. That's just Greg. It doesn't ever really mean much. I imagine. It's just part of the Greg he-man act."

  "Do you care for him, Evelyn? I'd rather know the truth."

  "Greg? I'm quite fond of him – he amuses me. He's a good friend."

  "And that's all? I wish I could believe you."

  "I can't really see how it can possibly matter to you," said Evelyn dryly.

  "I suppose I deserve that."

  Evelyn walked to the window, looked out across the veranda and came back again. "I wish you would tell me what's really upsetting you, Edward."

  "I've told you."

  "I wonder."

  "You can't understand, I suppose, how extraordinary a temporary madness of this kind can seem to you after you've got over it."

  "I can try, I suppose. But what's worrying me now is that Lucky seems to have got some kind of stranglehold upon you. She's not just a discarded mistress. She's a tigress with claws. You must tell me the truth, Edward. It's the only way if you want me to stand by you."

  Edward said in a low voice: "If I don't get away from her soon – I shall kill her."

  "Kill Lucky? Why?"

  "Because of what she made me do…"

  "What did she make you do?"

  "I helped her to commit a murder-"

  The words were out. There was silence. Evelyn stared at him. "Do you know what you are saying?"

  "Yes. I didn't know I was doing it. There were things she asked me to get for her – at the chemist's. I didn't know- I hadn't the least idea what she wanted them for. She got me to copy out a prescription she had…"

  "When was this?"

  "Four years ago. When we were in Martinique. When- when Greg's wife-"

  "You mean Greg's first wife – Gail? You mean Lucky poisoned her?"

  "Yes – and I helped her. When I realized-"

  Evelyn interrupted him. "When you realised what had happened, Lucky pointed out to you that you had written out the prescription, that you had got the drugs, that you and she were in it together? Is that right?"

  "Yes. She said she had done it out of pity – that Gail was suffering – that she had begged Lucky to get something that would end it all."

  "A mercy killing! I see. And you believed that?"

  Edward Hillingdon was silent a moment, then he said: "No- I didn't really- not deep down. I acce
pted it because I wanted to believe it – because I was infatuated with Lucky."

  "And afterwards – when she married Greg – did you still believe it?"

  "I'd made myself believe it by then."

  "And Greg – how much did he know about it all?"

  "Nothing at all."

  "That I find hard to believe!"

  Edward Hillingdon broke out: "Evelyn, I've got to get free of it all! That woman taunts me still with what I did. She knows I don't care for her any longer. Care for her? I've come to hate her! But she makes me feel I'm tied to her by the thing we did together." Evelyn walked up and down the room then she stopped and faced him.

  "The entire trouble with you, Edward, is that you are ridiculously sensitive – and also incredibly suggestible. That devil of a woman has got you just where she wants you by playing on your sense of guilt. And I'll tell you this in plain Bible terms, the guilt that weighs on you is the guilt of adultery – not murder. You were guilt-stricken about your affair with Lucky – and then she made a cat's-paw of you for her murder scheme, and managed to make you feel you shared her guilt. You don't."

  "Evelyn…" He stepped towards her.

  She stepped back a minute and looked at him searchingly.

  "Is this all true, Edward? Is it? Or are you making it up?"

  "Evelyn! Why on earth should I do such a thing?"

  "I don't know," said Evelyn Hillingdon slowly. "It's just perhaps- because I find it hard to trust anybody. And because- Oh! I don't know. I've got, I suppose, so that I don't know the truth when I hear it."

  "Let's chuck all this. Go back home to England."

  "Yes. We will. But not now."

  "Why not?"

  "We must carry on as usual – just for the present. It's important. Do you understand, Edward? Don't let Lucky have an inkling of what we're up to-"

  Chapter 13

  EXIT VICTORIA JOHNSON

  The evening was drawing to a close.

  The steel band was at last relaxing its efforts. Tim stood by the dining room looking over the terrace. He extinguished a few lights on tables that had been vacated.