Twenty-one
“Nasty things, mushrooms,” said Mrs. Kidder.
Mrs. Kidder had made the same remark about ten times in the last few
days. Lucy did not reply.
“Never touch ’em myself,” said Mrs. Kidder, “much too dangerous. It’s a
merciful
Providence1 as there’s only been one death. The whole lot might
have gone, and you, too, miss. A wonderful escape, you’ve had.”
“It wasn’t the mushrooms,” said Lucy. “They were
perfectly2 all right.”
“Don’t you believe it,” said Mrs. Kidder. “Dangerous they are, mush-
rooms. One toadstool in among the lot and you’ve had it.”
“Funny,” went on Mrs. Kidder, among the
rattle3 of plates and dishes in
the sink, “how things seem to come all together, as it were. My sister’s eld-
est had
measles4 and our Ernie fell down and broke ’is arm, and my ’us-
band came out all over with boils. All in the same week! You’d hardly be-
lieve it, would you? It’s been the same thing here,” went on Mrs. Kidder,
“first that nasty murder and now Mr. Alfred dead with mushroom-poison-
ing. Who’ll be the next, I’d like to know?”
Lucy felt rather uncomfortably that she would like to know too.
“My husband, he doesn’t like me coming here now,” said Mrs. Kidder,
“thinks it’s unlucky, but what I say is I’ve known Miss Crackenthorpe a
long time now and she’s a nice lady and she depends on me. And I
couldn’t leave poor Miss Eyelesbarrow, I said, not to do everything herself
in the house. Pretty hard it is on you, miss, all these trays.”
Lucy was forced to agree that life did seem to consist very largely of
trays at the moment. She was at the moment arranging trays to take to the
“As for them nurses, they never do a hand’s turn,” said Mrs. Kidder. “All
they want is pots and pots of tea made strong. And meals prepared. Wore
out, that’s what I am.” She
spoke6 in a tone of great satisfaction, though ac-
tually she had done very little more than her normal morning’s work.
Lucy said solemnly, “You never spare yourself, Mrs. Kidder.”
Mrs. Kidder looked pleased. Lucy picked up the first of the trays and
started off up the stairs.
“Beef tea and baked custard,” said Lucy.
“Take it away,” said Mr. Crackenthorpe. “I won’t touch that stuff. I told
that nurse I wanted a beef steak.”
“Dr. Quimper thinks you ought not to have beef steak just yet,” said
Lucy.
Mr. Crackenthorpe snorted. “I’m practically well again. I’m getting up
tomorrow. How are the others?”
“Mr. Harold’s much better,” said Lucy. “He’s going back to London to-
morrow.”
“Good riddance,” said Mr. Crackenthorpe. “What about Cedric — any
hope that he’s going back to his island tomorrow?”
“He won’t be going just yet.”
“Pity. What’s Emma doing? Why doesn’t she come and see me?”
“She’s still in bed, Mr. Crackenthorpe.”
“Women always coddle themselves,” said Mr. Crackenthorpe. “But
you’re a good strong girl,” he added approvingly. “Run about all day, don’t
you?”
“I get plenty of exercise,” said Lucy.
Old Mr. Crackenthorpe nodded his head approvingly. “You’re a good
strong girl,” he said, “and don’t think I’ve forgotten what I talked to you
about before. One of these days you’ll see what you’ll see. Emma isn’t al-
ways going to have things her own way. And don’t listen to the others
when they tell you I’m a mean old man. I’m careful of my money. I’ve got
a nice little packet put by and I know who I’m going to spend it on when
the time comes.” He leered at her affectionately.
Lucy went rather quickly out of the room, avoiding his clutching hand.
The next tray was taken in to Emma.
“Oh, thank you, Lucy. I’m really feeling quite myself again by now. I’m
hungry, and that’s a good sign, isn’t it? My dear,” went on Emma as Lucy
settled the tray on her knees, “I’m really feeling very upset about your
aunt. You haven’t had any time to go and see her, I suppose?”
“No, I haven’t, as a matter of fact.”
“I’m afraid she must be missing you.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Miss Crackenthorpe. She understands what a terrible
time we’ve been through.”
“Have you rung her up?”
“No, I haven’t just lately.”
“Well, do. Ring her up every day. It makes such a difference to old
people to get news.”
“You’re very kind,” said Lucy. Her conscience
smote8 her a little as she
went down to fetch the next tray. The complications of illness in a house
had kept her
thoroughly9 absorbed and she had had no time to think of
anything else. She
decided10 that she would ring Miss Marple up as soon as
she had taken Cedric his meal.
There was only one nurse in the house now and she passed Lucy on the
landing, exchanging greetings.
Cedric, looking incredibly tidied up and neat, was sitting up in bed writ-
ing busily on sheets of paper.
“Hallo, Lucy,” he said, “what hell
brew11 have you got for me today? I
wish you’d get rid of that god- awful nurse, she’s simply too arch for
words. Calls me ‘we’ for some reason. ‘And how are we this morning?
Have we slept well? Oh, dear, we’re very naughty, throwing off the bed-
clothes like that.’” He imitated the refined accents of the nurse in a high
falsetto voice.
“You seem very cheerful,” said Lucy. “What are you busy with?”
“Plans,” said Cedric. “Plans for what to do with this place when the old
man pops off. It’s a jolly good bit of land here, you know. I can’t make up
my mind whether I’d like to develop some of it myself, or whether I’ll sell
it in lots all in one go. Very valuable for industrial purposes. The house
will do for a nursing home or a school. I’m not sure I shan’t sell half the
land and use the money to do something rather
outrageous12 with the other
half. What do you think?”
“You haven’t got it yet,” said Lucy, dryly.
“I shall have it, though,” said Cedric. “It’s not divided up like the other
stuff. I get it
outright13. And if I sell it for a good fat price the money will be
capital, not income, so I shan’t have to pay taxes on it. Money to burn.
Think of it.”
“I always understood you rather despised money,” said Lucy.
“Of course I despise money when I haven’t got any,” said Cedric. “It’s the
only
dignified14 thing to do. What a lovely girl you are, Lucy, or do I just
think so because I haven’t seen any good-looking women for such a long
time?”
“I expect that’s it,” said Lucy.
“Still busy tidying everyone and everything up?”
“Somebody seems to have been tidying you up,” said Lucy, looking at
him.
“That’s that damned nurse,” said Cedric with feeling. “Have you had the
inquest on Alfred yet? What happened?”
“It was adjourned,” said Lucy.
“Police being cagey. This mass poisoning does give one a bit of a turn,
doesn’t it? Mentally, I mean. I’m not referring to more obvious aspects.”
He added: “Better look after yourself, my girl.”
“I do,” said Lucy.
“Has young Alexander gone back to school yet?”
“I think he’s still with the Stoddart-Wests. I think it’s the day after to-
morrow that school begins.”
Before getting her own lunch Lucy went to the telephone and rang up
Miss Marple.
“I’m so terribly sorry I haven’t been able to come over, but I’ve been
really very busy.”
“Of course, my dear, of course. Besides, there’s nothing that can be done
just now. We just have to wait.”
“Yes, but what are we waiting for?”
“Elspeth McGillicuddy ought to be home very soon now,” said Miss
Marple. “I wrote to her to fly home at once. I said it was her duty. So don’t
“You don’t think…” Lucy began, but stopped.
“That there will be anymore deaths? Oh, I hope not, my dear. But one
never knows, does one? When anyone is really wicked, I mean. And I
think there is great wickedness here.”
“Or madness,” said Lucy.
“Of course I know that is the modern way of looking at things. I don’t
agree myself.”
Lucy rang off, went into the kitchen and picked up her tray of lunch.
“Of course I shall be all right,” snapped Lucy.
She took her tray not into the big, gloomy dining room but into the small
study. She was just finishing her meal when the door opened and Bryan
Eastley came in.
“Hallo,” said Lucy, “this is very unexpected.”
“I suppose it is,” said Bryan. “How is everybody?”
“Oh, much better. Harold’s going back to London tomorrow.”
“What do you think about it all? Was it really
arsenic20?”
“It was arsenic all right,” said Lucy.
“It hasn’t been in the papers yet.”
“No, I think the police are keeping it up their sleeves for the moment.”
“Somebody must have a pretty good down on the family,” said Bryan.
“I suppose I’m the most likely person really,” said Lucy.
Bryan looked at her anxiously. “But you didn’t, did you?” he asked. He
sounded slightly shocked.
“No. I didn’t,” said Lucy.
Nobody could have tampered with the
curry23. She had made it—alone in
the kitchen, and brought it to table, and the only person who could have
tampered with it was one of the five people who sat down to the meal.
“I mean—why should you?” said Bryan. “They’re nothing to you, are
they? I say,” he added, “I hope you don’t mind my coming back here like
this?”
“No, no, of course I don’t. Have you come to stay?”
“Well, I’d like to, if it wouldn’t be an awful bore to you.”
“No. No, we can manage.”
“You see, I’m out of a job at the moment and I—well, I get rather fed up.
Are you really sure you don’t mind?”
“Oh, I’m not the person to mind, anyway. It’s Emma.”
“Oh, Emma’s all right,” said Bryan. “Emma’s always been very nice to
me. In her own way, you know. She keeps things to herself a lot, in fact,
she’s rather a dark horse, old Emma. This living here and looking after the
old man would get most people down. Pity she never married. Too late
now, I suppose.”
“I don’t think it’s too late, at all,” said Lucy.
“Well…” Bryan considered. “A clergyman perhaps,” he said hopefully.
“She’d be useful in the parish and tactful with the Mothers’ Union. I do
mean the Mothers’ Union, don’t I? Not that I know what it really is, but
you come across it sometimes in books. And she’d wear a hat in church on
Sundays,” he added.
“Doesn’t sound much of a
prospect24 to me,” said Lucy, rising and picking
up the tray.
“I’ll do that,” said Bryan, taking the tray from her. They went into the
kitchen together. “Shall I help you wash up? I do like this kitchen,” he ad-
ded. “In fact, I know it isn’t the sort of thing that people do like nowadays,
but I like this whole house. Shocking taste, I suppose, but there it is. You
could land a plane quite easily in the park,” he added with enthusiasm.
He picked up a glass-cloth and began to wipe the spoons and forks.
“Seems a waste, its coming to Cedric,” he remarked. “First thing he’ll do
is to sell the whole thing and go breaking off abroad again. Can’t see, my-
self, why England isn’t good enough for anybody. Harold wouldn’t want
this house either, and of course it’s much too big for Emma. Now, if only it
came to Alexander, he and I would be as happy together here as a couple
of sand boys. Of course it would be nice to have a woman about the
house.” He looked thoughtfully at Lucy. “Oh, well, what’s the good of talk-
ing? If Alexander were to get this place it would mean the whole lot of
them would have to die first, and that’s not really likely, is it? Though from
what I’ve seen of the old boy he might easily live to be a hundred, just to
annoy them all. I don’t suppose he was much cut up by Alfred’s death, was
he?”
Lucy said shortly, “No, he wasn’t.”
“Cantankerous old devil,” said Bryan Eastley cheerfully.
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