The Body in the Library mm-3 Read online

  "Like me," said Sir Henry.

  "But he still does a little jobbing, if he likes the people."

  "Ah," said Sir Henry. "Again like me. That's what I'm doing now. Jobbing. To help an old friend."

  "Two old friends."

  "Two?" Sir Henry looked a little puzzled.

  Miss Marple said, "I suppose you meant Mr. Jefferson. But I wasn't thinking of him. I was thinking of Colonel and Mrs. Bantry."

  "Yes, yes, I see." He asked sharply, "Was that why you alluded to Dolly Bantry as 'poor dear' at the beginning of our conversation?"

  "Yes. She hasn't begun to realize things yet. I know, because I've had more experience. You see, Sir Henry, it seems to me that there's a great possibility of this crime being the kind of crime that never does get solved. Like the Brighton trunk murders. But if that happens it will be absolutely disastrous for the Bantrys. Colonel Bantry, like nearly all retired military men, is really abnormally sensitive. He reacts very quickly to public opinion. He won't notice it for some time, and then it will begin to go home to him. A slight here, and a snub there, and invitations that are refused, and excuses that are made, and then, little by little, it will dawn upon him, and he'll retire into his shell and get terribly morbid and miserable."

  "Let me be sure I understand you rightly, Miss Marple. You mean that, because the body was found in his house, people will think that he had something to do with it?"

  "Of course they will! I've no doubt they're saying so already. They'll say so more and more. And people will cold-shoulder the Bantrys and avoid them. That's why the truth has got to be found out and why I was willing to come here with Mrs. Bantry. An open accusation is one thing and quite easy for a soldier to meet. He's indignant and he has a chance of fighting. But this other whispering business will break him, will break them both. So, you see, Sir Henry, we've got to find out the truth."

  Sir Henry said, "Any ideas as to why the body should have been found in his house? There must be an explanation of that. Some connection."

  "Oh, of course."

  "The girl was last seen here about twenty minutes to eleven. By midnight, according to the medical evidence, she was dead. Gossington's about twenty miles from here. Good road for sixteen of those miles, until one turns off the main road. A powerful car could do it in well under half an hour. Practically any car could average thirty-five. But why anyone should either kill her here and take her body out to Gossington or should take her out to Gossington and strangle her there, I don't know."

  "Of course you don't, because it didn't happen."

  "Do you mean that she was strangled by some fellow who took her out in a car, and he then decided to push her into the first likely house in the neighborhood?"

  "I don't think anything of the kind. I think there was a very careful plan made. What happened was that the plan went wrong."

  Sir Henry stared at her. "Why did the plan go wrong?"

  Miss Marple said rather apologetically, "Such curious things happen, don't they? If I were to say that this particular plan went wrong because human beings are so much more vulnerable and sensitive than anyone thinks, it wouldn't sound sensible, would it? But that's what I believe and-" She broke off. "Here's Mrs. Bantry now."

  Mrs. Bantry was with Adelaide Jefferson. The former came up to Sir Henry and exclaimed, "You!"

  "I, myself." He took both her hands and pressed them warmly. "I can't tell you how distressed I am at all this, Mrs. B."

  Mrs. Bantry said mechanically, "Don't call me Mrs. B!" and went on, "Arthur isn't here. He's taking it all rather seriously. Miss Marple and I have come here to sleuth. Do you know Mrs. Jefferson?"

  "Yes, of course."

  He shook hands. Adelaide Jefferson said, "Have you seen my father-in-law?"

  "Yes. I have."

  "I'm glad. We're anxious about him. It was a terrible shock."

  Mrs. Bantry said, "Let's go out on the terrace and have drinks and talk about it all." The four of them went out and joined Mark Gaskell, who was sitting at the extreme end of the terrace by himself. After a few desultory remarks and the arrival of the drinks, Mrs. Bantry plunged straight into the subject with her usual zest for direct action. "We can talk about it, can't we?" she said. "I mean we're all old friends except Miss Marple, and she knows all about crime. And she wants to help."

  Mark Gaskell looked at Miss Marple in a somewhat puzzled fashion. He said doubtfully, "Do you… er write detective stories?" The most unlikely people, he knew, wrote detective stories. And Miss Marple, in her old-fashioned spinster's clothes, looked a singularly unlikely person. "Oh, no, I'm not clever enough for that." "She's wonderful," said Mrs. Bantry impatiently. "I can't explain now, but she is… Now, Addie, I want to know all about things. What was she really like, this girl?"

  "Well-" Adelaide Jefferson paused, glanced across at Mark and half laughed. She said, "You're so direct." "Did you like her?" "No, of course I didn't."

  "What was she really like?" Mrs. Bantry shifted her inquiry to Mark Gaskell.

  Mark said deliberately, "Common or garden gold digger. And she knew her stuff. She'd got her hooks into Jeff all right." Both of them called their father-in-law "Jeff."

  Sir Henry thought, looking disapprovingly at Mark, indiscreet fellow. Shouldn't be so outspoken. He had always disapproved a little of Mark Gaskell. The man had charm, but he was unreliable, talked too much, was occasionally boastful not quite to be trusted, Sir Henry thought. He had sometimes wondered if Conway Jefferson thought so too.

  "But couldn't you do something about it?" demanded Mrs Bantry.

  Mark said dryly, "We might have, if we'd realized it in time."

  He shot a glance at Adelaide and she colored faintly. There had been reproach in that glance.

  She said, "Mark thinks I ought to have seen what was coming."

  "You left the old boy alone too much, Addie. Tennis lessons and all the rest of it."

  "Well, I had to have some exercise." She spoke apologetically. "Anyway, I never dreamed-"

  "No," said Mark, "neither of us ever dreamed. Jeff has always been such a sensible, levelheaded old boy."

  Miss Marple made a contribution to the conversation. "Gentlemen," she said with her old maid's way of referring to the opposite sex as though it were a species of wild animal, "are frequently not so levelheaded as they seem."

  "I'll say you're right," said Mark. "Unfortunately, Miss Marple, we didn't realize that. We wondered what the old boy saw in that rather insipid and meretricious little bag of tricks. But we were pleased for him to be kept happy and amused. We thought there was no harm in her. No harm in her! I wish I'd wrung her neck."

  "Mark," said Addie, "you really must be careful what you say."

  He grinned at her engagingly. "I suppose I must. Otherwise people will think I actually did wring her neck. Oh, well, I suppose I'm under suspicion anyway. If anyone had an interest in seeing that girl dead, it was Addie and myself."

  "Mark," cried Mrs. Jefferson, half laughing and half angry, "you really mustn't!"

  "All right, all right," said Mark Gaskell pacifically. "But I do like speaking my mind. Fifty thousand pounds our esteemed father-in-law was proposing to settle upon that half-baked, nit-witted little sly puss-"

  "Mark, you mustn't! She's dead!"

  "Yes, she's dead, poor little devil. And after all, why shouldn't she use the weapons that Nature gave her? Who am I to judge? Done plenty of rotten things myself in my life. No, let's say Ruby was entitled to plot and scheme, and we were mugs not to have tumbled to her game sooner."

  Sir Henry said, "What did you say when Conway told you he proposed to adopt the girl?"

  Mark thrust out his hands. "What could we say? Addie, always the little lady, retained her self-control admirably. Put a brave face upon it. I endeavored to follow her example."

  "I should have made a fuss!" said Mrs. Bantry.

  "Well, frankly speaking, we weren't entitled to make a fuss. It was Jeff's money. We weren't his flesh and blood. He'd
always been damned good to us. There was nothing for it but to bite on the bullet." He added reflectively, "But we didn't love little Ruby."

  Adelaide Jefferson said, "If only it had been some other kind of girl. Jeff had two godchildren, you know. If it had been one of them well, one would have understood it." She added with a shade of resentment, "And Jeff's always seemed so fond of Peter."

  "Of course," said Mrs. Bantry. "I always have known Peter was your first husband's child, but I'd quite forgotten it. I've always thought of him as Mr. Jefferson's grandson."

  "So have I," said Adelaide. Her voice held a note that made Miss Marple turn in her chair and look at her.

  "It was Josie's fault," said Mark. "Josie brought her here."

  Adelaide said, "Oh, but surely you don't think it was deliberate, do you? Why, you've always liked Josie so much." "Yes, I did like her. I thought she was a good sport." "It was sheer accident, her bringing the girl down." "Josie's got a good head on her shoulders, my girl." "Yes, but she couldn't foresee-"

  Mark said, "No, she couldn't. I admit it. I'm not really accusing her of planning the whole thing. But I've no doubt she saw which way the wind was blowing long before we did, and kept very quiet about it."

  Adelaide said with a sigh, "I suppose one can't blame her for that."

  Mark said, "Oh, we can't blame anyone for anything!" Mrs. Bantry asked, "Was Ruby Keene very pretty?" Mark stared at her. "I thought you'd seen-" Mrs. Bantry said hastily, "Oh, yes, I saw her her body. But she'd been strangled, you know, and one couldn't tell-" She shivered.

  Mark said thoughtfully, "I don't think she was really pretty at all. She certainly wouldn't have been without any make-up. A thin ferrety little face, not much chin, teeth running down her throat, nondescript sort of nose-" "It sounds revolting," said Mrs. Bantry. "Oh, no, she wasn't. As I say, with make-up she managed to give quite an effect of good looks… Don't you think so, Addie?"

  "Yes, rather chocolate-box, pink-and-white business. She had nice blue eyes." "Yes, innocent-baby stare, and the heavily blacked lashes brought out the blueness. Her hair was bleached, of course. It's true, when I come to think of it, that in coloring, artificial coloring, anyway, she had a kind of spurious resemblance to Rosamund, my wife, you know. I dare say that's what attracted the old man's attention to her." He sighed. "Well, it's a bad business. The awful thing is that Addie and I can't help being glad, really, that she's dead." He quelled a protest from his sister-in-law. "It's no good, Addie. I know what you feel. I feel the same. And I'm not going to pretend! But at the same time, if you know what I mean, I really am most awfully concerned for Jeff about the whole business. It's hit him very hard. I-" He stopped and stared toward the doors leading out of the lounge onto the terrace. "Well, well. See who's here… What an unscrupulous woman you are, Addie."

  Mrs. Jefferson looked over her shoulder, uttered an exclamation and got up, a slight color rising in her face. She walked quickly along the terrace and went up to a tall, middle-aged man with a thin brown face who was looking uncertainly about him.

  Mrs. Bantry said, "Isn't that Hugo McLean?"

  Mark Gaskell said, "Hugo McLean it is. Alias William Dobbin."

  Mrs. Bantry murmured, "He's very faithful, isn't he?"

  "Doglike devotion," said Mark. "Addie's only got to whistle and Hugo comes trotting along from any odd corner of the globe. Always hopes that someday she'll marry him. I dare say she will."

  Miss Marple looked beamingly after them. She said, "I see. A romance?"

  "One of the good old-fashioned kind," Mark assured her. "It's been going on for years. Addie's that kind of woman." He added meditatively, "I suppose Addie telephoned him this morning. She didn't tell me she had."

  Edwards came discreetly along the terrace and paused at Mark's elbow. "Excuse me, sir. Mr. Jefferson would like you to come up."

  "I'll come at once." Mark sprang up. He nodded to them, said, "See you later," and went off.

  Sir Henry leaned forward to Miss Marple. He said, "Well, what do you think of the principal beneficiaries of the crime?"

  Miss Marple said thoughtfully, looking at Adelaide Jefferson as she stood talking to her old friend, "I should think, you know, that she was a very devoted mother."

  "Oh, she is," said Mrs. Bantry. "She's simply devoted to Peter."

  "She's the kind of woman," said Miss Marple, "that everyone likes. The kind of woman that could go on getting married again and again. I don't mean a man's woman that's quite different." "I know what you mean," said Sir Henry. "What you both mean," said Mrs. Bantry, "is that she's a good listener." Sir Henry laughed. He said, "And Mark Gaskell?" "Ah," said Miss Marple. "He's a downy fellow." "Village parallel, please?"

  "Mr. Cargill, the builder. He bluffed a lot of people into having things done to their houses they never meant to do. And how he charged them for it! But he could always explain his bill away plausibly. A downy fellow. He married money. So did Mr. Gaskell, I understand." "You don't like him."

  "Yes, I do. Most women would. But he can't take me in. He's a very attractive person, I think. But a little unwise, perhaps, to talk as much as he does." "Unwise' is the word," said Sir Henry. "Mark will get himself into trouble if he doesn't look out." A tall dark young man in white flannels came to the terrace and paused just for a [missing text] Adelaide Jefferson and Hugo McLean. [missing text] said Sir Henry obligingly, "is X, whom we might describe as an interested party. He is the tennis dancing pro, Raymond Starr, Ruby Keene's partner."

  Miss Marple looked at him with interest. She said, "He's very nice-looking, isn't he?"

  "I suppose so."

  "Don't be absurd. Sir Henry," said Mrs. Bantry. "There's no supposing about it. He is good-looking."

  Miss Marple murmured, "Mrs. Jefferson has been taking tennis lessons, I think she said."

  "Do you mean anything by that, Jane, or don't you?"

  Miss Marple had no chance of replying to this downright question. Young Peter Carmody came across the terrace and joined them. He addressed himself to Sir Henry. "I say, are you a detective too? I saw you talking to the superintendent, the fat one is a superintendent, isn't he?"

  "Quite right, my son."

  "And somebody told me you were a frightfully important detective from London. The head of Scotland Yard or something like that."

  "The head of Scotland Yard is usually a complete dud in books, isn't he?"

  "Oh, no; not nowadays. Making fun of the police is very old-fashioned. Do you know who did the murder yet?"

  "Not yet, I'm afraid."

  "Are you enjoying this very much, Peter?" asked Mrs. Bantry.

  "Well, I am rather. It makes a change, doesn't it? I've been hunting round to see if I could find any clues, but I haven't been lucky. I've got a souvenir, though. Would you like to see it? Fancy, mother wanted me to throw it away. I do think one's parents are rather trying sometimes." He produced from his pocket a small match box. Pushing it open, he disclosed the precious contents. "See, it's a fingernail. Her fingernail. I'm going to label it Fingernail of the Murdered Woman and take it back to school. It's a good souvenir, don't you think?" "Where did you get it?" asked Miss Marple. "Well, it was a bit of luck, really. Because of course I didn't know she was going to be murdered then. It was before dinner last night. Ruby caught her nail in Josie's shawl and it tore it. Mum's cut it off for her and gave it to me and said put it in the wastepaper basket, and I meant to, but I put it in my pocket instead, and this morning I remembered and looked to see if it was still there, and it was, so now I've got it as a souvenir."

  "Disgusting," said Mrs. Bantry. Peter said politely, "Oh, do you think so?" "Got any other souvenirs?" asked Sir Henry. "Well, I don't know. I've got something that might be." "Explain yourself, young man." Peter looked at him thoughtfully. Then he pulled out an envelope. From the inside of it he extracted a piece of brown tape-like substance. "It's a bit of that chap George Bartlett's shoelace," he explained. "I saw his shoes outside the door this morning and I bagged a bit j
ust in case." "In case what?" "In case he should be the murderer, of course. He was the last person to see her, and that's always frightfully suspicious, you know… Is it nearly dinnertime, do you think? I'm frightfully hungry. It always seems such a long time between tea and dinner… Hullo, there's Uncle Hugo. I didn't know mums had asked him to come down. I suppose she sent for him. She always does if she's in a jam. Here's Josie coming… Hi, Josie!"

  Josephine Turner, coming along the terrace, stopped and looked rather startled to see Mrs. Bantry and Miss Marple. Mrs. Bantry said pleasantly, "How d'you do, Miss Turner. We've come to do a bit of sleuthing."

  Josie cast a guilty glance round. She said, lowering her voice, "It's awful. Nobody knows yet. I mean it isn't in the papers yet. I suppose everyone will be asking me questions, and it's so awkward. I don't know what I ought to say."

  Her glance went rather wistfully toward Miss Marple, who said, "Yes, it will be a very difficult situation for you, I'm afraid."

  Josie warmed to this sympathy. "You see, Mr. Prestcott said to me, "Don't talk about it. And that's all very well, but everyone is sure to ask me and you can't offend people, can you? Mr. Prescott said he hoped I'd feel able to carry on as usual, and he wasn't very nice about it, so, of course, I want to do my best. And I really don't see why it should all be blamed on me."

  Sir Henry said, "Do you mind me asking you a frank question?"

  "Oh, do ask me anything you like," said Josie a little insincerely.

  "Has there been any unpleasantness between you and Mrs. Jefferson and Mr. Gaskell over all this?"

  "Over the murder, do you mean?"

  "No, I don't mean the murder."

  Josie stood twisting her fingers together. She said rather sullenly, "Well, there has and there hasn't, if you know what I mean. Neither of them has said anything. But I think they blame it on me, Mr. Jefferson taking such a fancy to Ruby, I mean. It wasn't my fault, though, was it? These things happen, and I never dreamt of such a thing happening beforehand, not for a moment. I was quite dumbfounded." Her words rang out with what seemed undeniable sincerity.

  Sir Henry said kindly, "I'm sure you were. But once it had happened?"