The Body In The Library - Miss Marple 02 Read online

  "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 envel
ope. 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 just 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?"

  Josie's chin went up. "Well, it was a piece of luck, wasn't it? Everyone's got the right to have a piece of luck sometimes." She looked from one to the other of them in a slightly defiant, questioning manner, and then went on across the terrace and into the hotel.

  Peter said judicially, "I don't think she did it."

  Miss Marple murmured, "It's interesting, that piece of fingernail. It had been worrying me, you know how to account for her nails."

  "Nails?" asked Sir Henry.

  "The dead girl's nails," explained Mrs. Bantry. "They were quite short and, now that Jane says so, of course it was a little unlikely. A girl like that usually has absolute talons!"

  Miss Marple said, "But of course if she tore one off, then she might clip the others close so as to match. Did they find nail parings in her room, I wonder?"

  Sir Henry looked at her curiously. He said, "I'll ask Superintendent Harper when he gets back."

  "Back from where?" asked Mrs. Bantry. "He hasn't gone over to Gossington, has he?"

  Sir Henry said gravely, "No. There's been another tragedy. Blazing car in a quarry."

  Miss Marple caught her breath. "Was there someone in the car?" "I'm afraid so, yes."

  Miss Marple said thoughtfully, "I expect that will be the Girl Guide who's missing. Patience no, Pamela Reeves."

  Sir Henry stared at her. "Now why on earth do you think that?"

  Miss Marple got rather pink. "Well, it was given out on the wireless that she was missing from her home since last night. And her home was Daneleigh Vale that's not very far from here and she was last seen at the Girl Guide rally up on Danebury Downs. That's very close indeed. In fact, she'd have to pass through Danemouth to get home. So it does rather fit in, doesn't it? I mean it looks as though she might have seen or perhaps heard something that no one was supposed to see and hear. If so, of course, she'd be a source of danger to the murderer and she'd have to be removed. Two things like that must be connected, don't you think?"

  Sir Henry said, his voice dripping a little, "You think a second murder?"

  "Why not?" Her quiet, placid gaze met his. "When anyone has committed one murder he doesn't shrink from another, does he? Nor even from a third."

  "A third? You don't think there will be a third murder?"

  "I think it's just possible. Yes, I think it's highly possible."

  "Miss Marple," said Sir Henry, "you frighten me. Do you know who is going to be murdered?"

  Miss Marple said, "I've a very good idea."

  Colonel Melchett and Superintendent Harper looked at each other. Harper had come over to Much Benham for a consultation. Melchett said gloomily, "Well, we know where we are or rather where we aren't!"

  "Where we aren't expresses it better, sir."

  "We've got two deaths to take into account," said Melchett. "Two murders. Ruby Keene and the child, Pamela Reeves. Not much to identify her by, poor kid, but enough. One shoe escaped burning and has been identified as hers, and a button from her Girl Guide uniform. A fiendish business, superintendent."

  Superintendent Harper said very quietly, "I'll say you're right, sir."

  "I'm glad to say Haydock is quite certain she was dead before the car was set on fire. The way she was lying thrown across the seat shows that. Probably knocked on the head, poor kid."

  "Or strangled, perhaps."

  "You think so?"

  "Well, sir, there are murderers like that."

  "I know. I've seen the parents. The poor girl's mother's beside herself. Damned painful, the whole thing. The point for us to settle is: are the two murders connected?"

  The superintendent ticked off the points on his fingers. "Attended rally of Girl Guides on Danebury Downs. Stated by companion to be normal and cheerful. Did not return with three companions by the bus to Medchester. Said to them that she was going to Danemouth to Woolworth's and would take the bus home from there. That's likely enough. Woolworth's in Danemouth is a big affair. The girl lived in the back country and didn't get many chances of going into town. The main road into Danemouth from the downs does a big round inland; Pamela Reeves took a short cut over two fields and a footpath and lane which would bring her into Danemouth near the Majestic Hotel. The lane, in fact, actually passes the hotel on the west side. It's possible, therefore, that she overheard or saw something, something concerning Ruby Keene which would have proved dangerous to the murderer say, for instance, that she heard him arranging to meet Ruby Keene at eleven that evening. He realizes that this schoolgirl has overheard and he has to silence her."

  Colonel Melchett said, "That's presuming, Harper, that the Ruby Keene crime was premeditated, not spontaneous."

  Superintendent Harper agreed. "I believe it was, sir. It looks as though it would be the other way, sudden violence, a fit of passion or jealousy, but I'm beginning to think that that's not so. I don't see, otherwise, how you can account for the death of the child. If she was a witness of the actual crime it would be late at night, round about eleven p.m., and what would she be doing round about the Majestic Hotel at that time of night? Why, at nine o'clock her parents were getting anxious because she hadn't returned."

  "The alternative is that she went to meet someone in Danemouth unknown to her family and friends, and that her death is quite unconnected with the other death."

  "Yes, sir, and I don't believe that's so. Look how even the old lady, old Miss Marple, tumbled to it at once that there was a connection. She asked at once if the body in the burnt car was the body of the Girl Guide. Very smart old lady, that. These old ladies are, sometimes. Shrewd, you know. Put their fingers on the vital spot."

 
"Miss Marple has done that more than once," said Colonel Melchett dryly.

  "And besides, sir, there's the car. That seems to me to link up her death definitely with the Majestic Hotel. It was Mr. George Bartlett's car."

  Again the eyes of the two men met. Melchett said, "George Bartlett? Could be! What do you think?"

  Again Harper methodically recited various points. "Ruby Keene was last seen with George Bartlett. He says she went to her room, borne out by the dress she was wearing being found there, but did she go to her room and change in order to go out with him? Had they made a date to go out together earlier, discussed it, say, before dinner and did Pamela Reeves happen to overhear?"