Eighteen

ISir Henry Clithering said:

“Speaking as Watson, I want to know your methods, Miss Marple.”

Superintendent Harper said:

“I’d like to know what put you on to it first.”

Colonel Melchett said:

“You’ve done it again, by Jove! I want to hear all about it from the begin-ning.”

Miss Marple smoothed the puce silk of her best evening gown. Sheflushed and smiled and looked very self-conscious.

She said: “I’m afraid you’ll think my ‘methods,’ as Sir Henry calls them,are terribly amateurish. The truth is, you see, that most people—and Idon’t exclude policemen—are far too trusting for this wicked world. Theybelieve what is told them. I never do. I’m afraid I always like to prove athing for myself.”

“That is the scientific attitude,” said Sir Henry.

“In this case,” continued Miss Marple, “certain things were taken forgranted from the first—instead of just confining oneself to the facts. Thefacts, as I noted them, were that the victim was quite young and that shebit her nails and that her teeth stuck out a little—as young girls’ so oftendo if not corrected in time with a plate—(and children are very naughtyabout their plates and taking them out when their elders aren’t looking).

“But that is wandering from the point. Where was I? Oh, yes, lookingdown at the dead girl and feeling sorry, because it is always sad to see ayoung life cut short, and thinking that whoever had done it was a verywicked person. Of course it was all very confusing her being found in Col-onel Bantry’s library, altogether too like a book to be true. In fact, it madethe wrong pattern. It wasn’t, you see, meant, which confused us a lot. Thereal idea had been to plant the body on poor young Basil Blake (a muchmore likely person), and his action in putting it in the Colonel’s librarydelayed things considerably, and must have been a source of great annoy-ance to the real murderer.

“Originally, you see, Mr. Blake would have been the first object of suspi-cion. They’d have made inquiries at Danemouth, found he knew the girl,then found he had tied himself up with another girl, and they’d have as-sumed that Ruby came to blackmail him, or something like that, and thathe’d strangled her in a fit of rage. Just an ordinary, sordid, what I callnightclub type of crime!

“But that, of course, all went wrong, and interest became focused muchtoo soon on the Jefferson family—to the great annoyance of a certain per-son.

“As I’ve told you, I’ve got a very suspicious mind. My nephew Raymondtells me (in fun, of course, and quite affectionately) that I have a mind likea sink. He says that most Victorians have. All I can say is that the Victori-ans knew a good deal about human nature.

“As I say, having this rather insanitary—or surely sanitary?—mind, Ilooked at once at the money angle of it. Two people stood to benefit by thisgirl’s death—you couldn’t get away from that. Fifty thousand pounds is alot of money—especially when you are in financial difficulties, as boththese people were. Of course they both seemed very nice, agreeablepeople—they didn’t seem likely people—but one never can tell, can one?

“Mrs. Jefferson, for instance—everyone liked her. But it did seem clearthat she had become very restless that summer, and that she was tired ofthe life she led, completely dependent on her father-in-law. She knew, be-cause the doctor had told her, that he couldn’t live long—so that was allright—to put it callously—or it would have been all right if Ruby Keenehadn’t come along. Mrs. Jefferson was passionately devoted to her son,and some women have a curious idea that crimes committed for the sakeof their offspring are almost morally justified. I have come across that atti-tude once or twice in the village. ‘Well, ’twas all for Daisy, you see, miss,’

they say, and seem to think that that makes doubtful conduct quite allright. Very lax thinking.

“Mr. Mark Gaskell, of course, was a much more likely starter, if I mayuse such a sporting expression. He was a gambler and had not, I fancied, avery high moral code. But, for certain reasons, I was of the opinion that awoman was concerned in this crime.

“As I say, with my eye on motive, the money angle seemed very suggest-ive. It was annoying, therefore, to find that both these people had alibisfor the time when Ruby Keene, according to the medical evidence, hadmet her death.

“But soon afterwards there came the discovery of the burnt-out car withPamela Reeves’s body in it, and then the whole thing leaped to the eye.

The alibis, of course, were worthless.

“I now had two halves of the case, and both quite convincing, but theydid not fit. There must be a connection, but I could not find it. The one per-son whom I knew to be concerned in the crime hadn’t got a motive.

“It was stupid of me,” said Miss Marple meditatively. “If it hadn’t beenfor Dinah Lee I shouldn’t have thought of it—the most obvious thing in theworld. Somerset House! Marriage! It wasn’t a question of only Mr. Gaskellor Mrs. Jefferson — there were the further possibilities of marriage. Ifeither of those two was married, or even was likely to marry, then the otherparty to the marriage contract was involved too. Raymond, for instance,might think he had a pretty good chance of marrying a rich wife. He hadbeen very assiduous to Mrs. Jefferson, and it was his charm, I think, thatawoke her from her long widowhood. She had been quite content just be-ing a daughter to Mr. Jefferson—like Ruth and Naomi—only Naomi, if youremember, took a lot of trouble to arrange a suitable marriage for Ruth.

“Besides Raymond there was Mr. McLean. She liked him very much andit seemed highly possible that she would marry him in the end. He wasn’twell off—and he was not far from Danemouth on the night in question. Soit seemed, didn’t it,” said Miss Marple, “as though anyone might have doneit?”

“But, of course, really, in my mind, I knew. You couldn’t get away, couldyou, from those bitten nails?”

“Nails?” said Sir Henry. “But she tore her nail and cut the others.”

“Nonsense,” said Miss Marple. “Bitten nails and close cut nails are quitedifferent! Nobody could mistake them who knew anything about girl’snails—very ugly, bitten nails, as I always tell the girls in my class. Thosenails, you see, were a fact. And they could only mean one thing. The bodyin Colonel Bantry’s library wasn’t Ruby Keene at all.

“And that brings you straight to the one person who must be concerned.

Josie! Josie identified the body. She knew, she must have known, that itwasn’t Ruby Keene’s body. She said it was. She was puzzled, completelypuzzled, at finding that body where it was. She practically betrayed thatfact. Why? Because she knew, none better, where it ought to have beenfound! In Basil Blake’s cottage. Who directed our attention to Basil? Josie,by saying to Raymond that Ruby might have been with the film man. Andbefore that, by slipping a snapshot of him into Ruby’s handbag. Who cher-ished such bitter anger against the dead girl that she couldn’t hide it evenwhen she looked down at her dead? Josie! Josie, who was shrewd, prac-tical, hard as nails, and all out for money.

“That is what I meant about believing too readily. Nobody thought ofdisbelieving Josie’s statement that the body was Ruby Keene’s. Simply be-cause it didn’t seem at the time that she could have any motive for lying.

Motive was always the difficulty—Josie was clearly involved, but Ruby’sdeath seemed, if anything, contrary to her interests. It was not till DinahLee mentioned Somerset House that I got the connection.

“Marriage! If Josie and Mark Gaskell were actually married—then thewhole thing was clear. As we know now, Mark and Josie were married ayear ago. They were keeping it dark until Mr. Jefferson died.

“It was really quite interesting, you know, tracing out the course ofevents—seeing exactly how the plan had worked out. Complicated and yetsimple. First of all the selection of the poor child, Pamela, the approach toher from the film angle. A screen test—of course the poor child couldn’tresist it. Not when it was put up to her as plausibly as Mark Gaskell put it.

She comes to the hotel, he is waiting for her, he takes her in by the sidedoor and introduces her to Josie—one of their makeup experts! That poorchild, it makes me quite sick to think of it! Sitting in Josie’s bathroom whileJosie bleaches her hair and makes up her face and varnishes her finger-nails and toenails. During all this, the drug was given. In an ice creamsoda, very likely. She goes off into a coma. I imagine that they put her intoone of the empty rooms opposite—they were only cleaned once a week,remember.

“After dinner Mark Gaskell went out in his car—to the seafront, he said.

That is when he took Pamela’s body to the cottage dressed in one of Ruby’sold dresses and arranged it on the hearthrug. She was still unconscious,but not dead, when he strangled her with the belt of the frock … Not nice,no—but I hope and pray she knew nothing about it. Really, I feel quitepleased to think of him being hanged … That must have been just after teno’clock. Then he drove back at top speed and found the others in thelounge where Ruby Keene, still alive, was dancing her exhibition dancewith Raymond.

“I should imagine that Josie had given Ruby instructions beforehand.

Ruby was accustomed to doing what Josie told her. She was to change, gointo Josie’s room and wait. She, too, was drugged, probably in after-dinnercoffee. She was yawning, remember, when she talked to young Bartlett.

“Josie came up later to ‘look for her’— but nobody but Josie went intoJosie’s room. She probably finished the girl off then—with an injection,perhaps, or a blow on the back of the head. She went down, danced withRaymond, debated with the Jeffersons where Ruby could be, and finallywent to bed. In the early hours of the morning she dressed the girl inPamela’s clothes, carried the body down the side stairs—she was a strongmuscular young woman—fetched George Bartlett’s car, drove two miles tothe quarry, poured petrol over the car and set it alight. Then she walkedback to the hotel, probably timing her arrival there for eight or nineo’clock—up early in her anxiety about Ruby!”

“An intricate plot,” said Colonel Melchett.

“Not more intricate than the steps of a dance,” said Miss Marple.

“I suppose not.”

“She was very thorough,” said Miss Marple. “She even foresaw the dis-crepancy of the nails. That’s why she managed to break one of Ruby’snails on her shawl. It made an excuse for pretending that Ruby hadclipped her nails close.”

Harper said: “Yes, she thought of everything. And the only real proofyou had, Miss Marple, was a schoolgirl’s bitten nails.”

“More than that,” said Miss Marple. “People will talk too much. MarkGaskell talked too much. He was speaking of Ruby and he said ‘her teethran down her throat.’ But the dead girl in Colonel Bantry’s library hadteeth that stuck out.”

Conway Jefferson said rather grimly:

“And was the last dramatic finale your idea, Miss Marple?”

Miss Marple confessed. “Well, it was, as a matter of fact. It’s so nice to besure, isn’t it?”

“Sure is the word,” said Conway Jefferson grimly.

“You see,” said Miss Marple, “once Mark and Josie knew that you weregoing to make a new will, they’d have to do something. They’d alreadycommitted two murders on account of the money. So they might as wellcommit a third. Mark, of course, must be absolutely clear, so he went off toLondon and established an alibi by dining at a restaurant with friends andgoing on to a night club. Josie was to do the work. They still wanted Ruby’sdeath to be put down to Basil’s account, so Mr. Jefferson’s death must bethought due to his heart failing. There was digitalin, so the Superintendenttells me, in the syringe. Any doctor would think death from heart troublequite natural in the circumstances. Josie had loosened one of the stoneballs on the balcony and she was going to let it crash down afterwards. Hisdeath would be put down to the shock of the noise.”

Melchett said: “Ingenious devil.”

Sir Henry said: “So the third death you spoke of was to be Conway Jef-ferson?”

Miss Marple shook her head.

“Oh no—I meant Basil Blake. They’d have got him hanged if they could.”

“Or shut up in Broadmoor,” said Sir Henry.

Conway Jefferson grunted. He said:

“Always knew Rosamund had married a rotter. Tried not to admit it tomyself. She was damned fond of him. Fond of a murderer! Well, he’ll hangas well as the woman. I’m glad he went to pieces and gave the showaway.”

Miss Marple said:

“She was always the strong character. It was her plan throughout. Theirony of it is that she got the girl down here herself, never dreaming thatshe would take Mr. Jefferson’s fancy and ruin all her own prospects.”

Jefferson said:

“Poor lass. Poor little Ruby….”

Adelaide Jefferson and Hugo McLean came in. Adelaide looked almostbeautiful tonight. She came up to Conway Jefferson and laid a hand on hisshoulder. She said, with a little catch in her breath:

“I want to tell you something, Jeff. At once. I’m going to marry Hugo.”

Conway Jefferson looked up at her for a moment. He said gruffly:

“About time you married again. Congratulations to you both. By theway, Addie, I’m making a new will tomorrow.”

She nodded. “Oh yes, I know.”

Jefferson said:

“No, you don’t. I’m settling ten thousand pounds on you. Everything elseI have goes to Peter when I die. How does that suit you, my girl?”

“Oh, Jeff!” Her voice broke. “You’re wonderful!”

“He’s a nice lad. I’d like to see a good deal of him—in the time I’ve gotleft.”

“Oh, you shall!”

“Got a great feeling for crime, Peter has,” said Conway Jefferson meditat-ively. “Not only has he got the fingernail of the murdered girl—one of themurdered girls, anyway—but he was lucky enough to have a bit of Josie’sshawl caught in with the nail. So he’s got a souvenir of the murderess too!

That makes him very happy!”

II

Hugo and Adelaide passed by the ballroom. Raymond came up to them.

Adelaide said, rather quickly:

“I must tell you my news. We’re going to be married.”

The smile on Raymond’s face was perfect—a brave, pensive smile.

“I hope,” he said, ignoring Hugo and gazing into her eyes, “that you willbe very, very happy….”

They passed on and Raymond stood looking after them.

“A nice woman,” he said to himself. “A very nice woman. And she wouldhave had money too. The trouble I took to mug up that bit about theDevonshire Starrs … Oh well, my luck’s out. Dance, dance, little gentle-man!”

And Raymond returned to the ballroom.