Twenty-seven
“So you see,” said Miss Marple, “it really turned out to be, as I began to
suspect, very, very simple. The simplest kind of crime. So many men seem
to murder their wives.”
Mrs. McGillicuddy looked at Miss Marple and
Inspector1 Craddock. “I’d
be obliged,” she said, “if you’d put me a little more up to date.”
“He saw a chance, you see,” said Miss Marple, “of marrying a rich wife,
Emma Crackenthorpe. Only he couldn’t marry her because he had a wife
already. They’d been separated for years but she wouldn’t divorce him.
That fitted in very well with what Inspector Craddock told me of this girl
who called herself Anna Stravinska. She had an English husband, so she
told one of her friends, and it was also said she was a very
devout2 Cath-
olic. Dr. Quimper couldn’t risk marrying Emma bigamously, so he
decided3,
being a very ruthless and cold-blooded man, that he would get rid of his
wife. The idea of murdering her in the train and later putting her body in
the sarcophagus in the barn was really rather a clever one. He meant it to
tie up, you see, with the Crackenthorpe family. Before that he’d written a
letter to Emma which
purported4 to be from the girl Martine whom Ed-
mund Crackenthorpe had talked of marrying. Emma had told Dr. Quimper
all about her brother, you see. Then, when the moment arose he encour-
aged5 her to go to the police with her story. He wanted the dead woman
identified as Martine. I think he may have heard that
inquiries6 were being
made by the Paris police about Anna Stravinska, and so he arranged to
have a postcard come from her from Jamaica.
“It was easy for him to arrange to meet his wife in London, to tell her
that he hoped to be reconciled with her and that he would like her to come
down and ‘meet his family.’ We won’t talk about the next part of it, which
is very unpleasant to think about. Of course he was a greedy man. When
he thought about
taxation7, and how much it cuts into income, he began
thinking that it would be nice to have a good deal more capital. Perhaps
he’d already thought of that before he decided to murder his wife. Any-
way, he started spreading
rumours8 that someone was trying to poison old
Mr. Crackenthorpe so as to get the ground prepared, and then he ended by
administering
arsenic9 to the family. Not too much, of course, for he didn’t
want old Mr. Crackenthorpe to die.”
“But I still don’t see how he managed,” said Craddock. “He wasn’t in the
house when the
curry10 was being prepared.”
“Oh, but there wasn’t any arsenic in the curry then,” said Miss Marple.
“He added it to the curry afterwards when he took it away to be tested. He
probably put the arsenic in the
cocktail11 jug12 earlier. Then, of course, it was
quite easy for him, in his role of medical attendant, to poison off Alfred
Crackenthorpe and also to send the tablets to Harold in London, having
safeguarded himself by telling Harold that he wouldn’t need anymore tab-
lets. Everything he did was bold and audacious and cruel and greedy, and
I am really very, very sorry,” finished Miss Marple, looking as fierce as a
fluffy13 old lady can look, “that they have abolished capital punishment be-
cause I do feel that if there is anyone who ought to hang, it’s Dr. Quimper.”
“Hear, hear,” said Inspector Craddock.
“It occurred to me, you know,” continued Miss Marple, “that even if you
only see anybody from the back view, so to speak, nevertheless a back
view is characteristic. I thought that if Elspeth were to see Dr. Quimper in
exactly the same position as she’d seen him in the train in, that is, with his
back to her,
bent14 over a woman whom he was holding by the throat, then I
was almost sure she would recognize him, or would make some kind of
startled
exclamation15. That is why I had to lay my little plan with Lucy’s
kind assistance.”
“I must say,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy, “it gave me quite a turn. I said,
‘That’s him’ before I could stop myself. And yet, you know, I hadn’t actu-
ally seen the man’s face and—”
“I was terribly afraid that you were going to say so, Elspeth,” said Miss
Marple.
“I was,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy. “I was going to say that of course I
hadn’t seen his face.”
“That,” said Miss Marple, “would have been quite fatal. You see, dear, he
thought you really did recognize him. I mean, he couldn’t know that you
hadn’t seen his face.”
“A good thing I held my tongue then,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy.
“I wasn’t going to let you say another word,” said Miss Marple.
Craddock laughed suddenly. “You two!” he said. “You’re a marvellous
pair. What next, Miss Marple? What’s the happy ending? What happens to
poor Emma Crackenthorpe, for instance?”
“She’ll get over the doctor, of course,” said Miss Marple, “and I dare say
if her father were to die—and I don’t think he’s quite so
robust16 as he
thinks he is—that she’d go on a cruise or perhaps to stay abroad like Ger-
aldine Webb, and I dare say something might come of it. A nicer man than
Dr. Quimper, I hope.”
“What about Lucy Eyelesbarrow? Wedding bells there too?”
“Perhaps,” said Miss Marple, “I shouldn’t wonder.”
“Which of ’em is she going to choose?” said Dermot Craddock.
“Don’t you know?” said Miss Marple.
“No, I don’t,” said Craddock. “Do you?”
“Oh, yes, I think so,” said Miss Marple.
And she twinkled at him.
分享到: