谋杀启事49

III

Overhead the clouds had been gathering¹ thick and blue. As Miss Murga-troyd stood looking after the retreating car, the first big drops began tofall.

In an agitated² fashion, Miss Murgatroyd plunged³ across to a line ofstring on which she had, some hours previously⁴, hung out a couple ofjumpers and a pair of woollen combinations to dry.

She was murmuring under her breath:

“Really most extraordinary … Oh, dear, I shall never get these down intime—and they were nearly dry….”

She struggled with a recalcitrant⁵ clothes peg⁶, then turned her head asshe heard someone approaching.

Then she smiled a pleased welcome.

“Hallo—do go inside, you’ll get wet.”

“Let me help you.”

“Oh, if you don’t mind … so annoying if they all get soaked again. I reallyought to let down the line, but I think I can just reach.”

“Here’s your scarf. Shall I put it round your neck?”

“Oh, thank you … Yes, perhaps … If I could just reach this peg….”

The woollen scarf was slipped round her neck and then, suddenly,pulled tight….

Miss Murgatroyd’s mouth opened, but no sound came except a smallchoking gurgle.

And the scarf was pulled tighter still….

IV

On her way back from the station, Miss Hinchcliffe stopped the car to pickup⁷ Miss Marple who was hurrying along the street.

“Hallo,” she shouted. “You’ll get very wet. Come and have tea with us. Isaw Bunch waiting for the bus. You’ll be all alone at the Vicarage. Comeand join us. Murgatroyd and I are doing a bit of reconstruction⁸ of thecrime. I rather think we’re just getting somewhere. Mind the dog. She’srather nervous.”

“What a beauty!”

“Yes, lovely bitch, isn’t she! Those fools kept her at the station since thismorning without letting me know. I told them off, the lazy b—s. Oh, ex-cuse my language. I was brought up by grooms⁹ at home in Ireland.”

The little car turned with a jerk into the small backyard of Boulders¹⁰.

A crowd of eager ducks and fowls¹¹ encircled the two ladies as they des-cended.

“Curse Murgatroyd,” said Miss Hinchcliffe, “she hasn’t given ’em theircorn.”

“Is it difficult to get corn?” Miss Marple inquired.

Miss Hincliffe winked¹².

“I’m in with most of the farmers,” she said.

Shooing away the hens, she escorted Miss Marple towards the cottage.

“Hope you’re not too wet?”

“No, this is a very good mackintosh.”

“I’ll light the fire if Murgatroyd hasn’t lit it. Hiyah, Murgatroyd? Whereis the woman? Murgatroyd! Where’s that dog? She’s disappeared now.”

A slow dismal¹³ howl came from outside.

“Curse the silly bitch.” Miss Hinchcliffe tramped to the door and called:

“Hyoup, Cutie—Cutie. Damn” silly name but that’s what they called herapparently. We must find her another name. Hiyah, Cutie.”

The red setter was sniffing¹⁴ at something lying below the taut¹⁵ stringwhere a row of garments swirled¹⁶ in the wind.

“Murgatroyd’s not even had the sense to bring the washing in. Where isshe?”

Again the red setter nosed at what seemed to be a pile of clothes, andraised her nose high in the air and howled again.

“What’s the matter with the dog?”

Miss Hinchcliffe strode across the grass.

And quickly, apprehensively¹⁷, Miss Marple ran after her. They stoodthere, side by side, the rain beating down on them, and the older woman’sarm went round the younger one’s shoulders.

She felt the muscles go stiff and taut as Miss Hinchcliffe stood lookingdown on the thing lying there, with the blue congested face and the pro-truding tongue.

“I’ll kill whoever did this,” said Miss Hinchcliffe in a low quiet voice, “if Ionce get my hands on her….”

Miss Marple said questioningly:

“Her?”

Miss Hinchcliffe turned a ravaged¹⁸ face towards her.

“Yes. I know who it is—near enough … That is, it’s one of three pos-sibles.”

She stood for another moment, looking down at her dead friend, andthen turned towards the house. Her voice was dry and hard.

“We must ring up the police,” she said. “And while we’re waiting forthem, I’ll tell you. My fault, in a way, that Murgatroyd’s lying out there. Imade a game of it … Murder isn’t a game….”

“No,” said Miss Marple. “Murder isn’t a game.”

“You know something about it, don’t you?” said Miss Hinchcliffe as shelifted the receiver and dialled.

She made a brief report and hung up.

“They’ll be here in a few minutes … Yes, I heard that you’d been mixedup in this sort of business before … I think it was Edmund Swettenhamtold me so … Do you want to hear what we were doing, Murgatroyd andI?”

Succinctly¹⁹ she described the conversation held before her departure forthe station.

“She called after me, you know, just as I was leaving … That’s how Iknow it’s a woman and not a man … If I’d waited—if only I’d listened! Goddammit, the dog could have stopped where she was for another quarter ofan hour.”

“Don’t blame yourself, my dear. That does no good. One can’t foresee.”

“No, one can’t … Something tapped against the window, I remember.

Perhaps she was outside there, then—yes, of course, she must have been …coming to the house … and there were Murgatroyd and I shouting at eachother. Top of our voices … She heard … She heard it all….”

“You haven’t told me yet what your friend said.”

“Just one sentence! ‘She wasn’t there.’”

She paused. “You see? There were three women we hadn’t eliminated.

Mrs. Swettenham, Mrs. Easterbrook, Julia Simmons. And one of thosethree—wasn’t there … She wasn’t there in the drawing room because shehad slipped out through the other door and was out in the hall.”

“Yes,” said Miss Marple, “I see.”

“It’s one of those three women. I don’t know which. But I’ll find out!”

“Excuse me,” said Miss Marple. “But did she—did Miss Murgatroyd, Imean, say it exactly as you said it?”

“How d’you mean—as I said it?”

“Oh, dear, how can I explain? You said it like this. She-wasn’t-there. Anequal emphasis on every word. You see, there are three ways you couldsay it. You could say, ‘She wasn’t there.’ Very personal. Or again, ‘Shewasn’t there.’ Confirming, some suspicion already held. Or else you couldsay (and this is nearer to the way you said it just now), ‘She wasn’t there…’

quite blankly—with the emphasis, if there was emphasis—on the ‘there.’”

“I don’t know.” Miss Hinchcliffe shook her head. “I can’t remember …How the hell can I remember? I think, yes, surely she’d say “She wasn’tthere.’ That would be the natural way, I should think. But I simply don’tknow. Does it make any difference?”

“Yes,” said Miss Marple, thoughtfully. “I think so. It’s a very slight indica-tion, of course, but I think it is an indication. Yes, I should think it makes alot of difference….”

 

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