Chapter 10 chapter Ten

What he said about Miss Marple as we left was far from flattering. "I see that wizened old woman who thinks she knows everything. She has hardly been out of the village in her life. Absurd! What can she know about life?" I put it mildly that, although it is true that Miss Marple does not even know the word "life", she knows everything that goes on at St. Mary Mead like the back of her hand. Melchett reluctantly admits this.She was a valuable witness, especially in the case of Mrs. Protheroe. "I guess there is no doubt about what she said?" "If Miss Marple says she doesn't have a gun with her, you may believe she does," I said, "and if there's even the slightest chance of that, it won't escape her piercing gaze."

"That's a good point. We'd better go and see the studio." The so-called studio was just a rough shed with a skylight.There are no windows, and doors are the only way in and out.After inspecting the place, Melchett said he would go with the inspector to see the vicarage. "Now, I'm going to the police station." A murmur hits my eardrums as I walk in the front door.I pushed open the living room door. On the sofa next to Griselda sat Miss Gladys Crumb, talking eloquently.Her legs were wrapped in very bright pink stockings, crossed together, and I could see very clearly that she was wearing pink striped silk panties. "Hi, Len," said Griselda.

"Good morning, Mr. Claremont," said Miss Crumb. "The news about the Colonel is dreadful indeed, isn't it? Poor old gentleman." My wife said, "Thanks to Miss Crumb for helping us look through the Guide. You remember, last Sunday we were looking for someone who could help. " I do remember and believe it, and judging from the tone of her voice Griselda believed it too: that Miss Kramm hadn't wanted to join them, but had really thought of it because of the exciting incident at the vicarage. because of the event. "I was just saying to Mrs. Claremont," went on Miss Crumb, "that when I heard the news, it made my head spin. A murder? I thought. The village is rough and quiet—you must admit, it It was peaceful—certainly not as peaceful as the house in the picture, not to mention the small talk! Then I heard it was Colonel Protheroe, and hey, I couldn't believe it. Anyway, he didn't seem like the kind of guy who would suffer Murderer."

"So," said Griselda, "Miss Crumb came over to find out what was going on," and I feared the lady would be annoyed by the blunt remarks, but she just threw her head back and laughed. , every tooth is exposed. "That's too bad. You're too mean, aren't you, Mrs. Claremont? Isn't it natural to want to know the details of a crime like this? I'm sure I'd be more than happy to help the Guide." Exciting, that's it. My life has been lacking in a little bit of fun. It really has always been. Not that I don't have a good job, well paid, and Dr. Stone is a perfect gentleman. But, a girl at work Besides, a bit of real life is needed, and who am I to talk to here but you, Mrs. Claremont? Only spinsters."

"You can still talk to Lettice Protheroe," I said. Gladys.Miss Crumb shook her head. "She's cocky and pompous to people like me. She thinks she's too high to condescend to a girl who has to work for a living, and I do want to hear her talk about how she earns her living .I'll see, who's going to hire her? Hey, she'll be fired in less than a week. Unless she's going to be modeling and walking around in all kinds of fashion. I guess she can do that." "She's going to be a really good model," Griselda said. "She's got such a slender figure." Griselda didn't have any spinster meanness. "When did she talk about making money for a living?"

Miss Crumb seemed momentarily embarrassed, but then regained her usual alertness. "That's pretty telling, isn't it?" she said, "but she did say so. I guess, it's just that things aren't going your way at home. It's hard living at home with a stepmother. I'm at home for a minute I can't sit still." "Ah! But you are so cheerful and independent," said Griselda solemnly, and I looked at her suspiciously. Miss Crumb beamed. "Yeah, that's just my personality. Be led, not driven. This is what a fortune teller told me not too long ago.No, I'm not one to be bullied casually.I made it very clear to Dr. Stone that I must have normal rest periods.These gentlemen of science, they treat the girl like some sort of machine, and at least half the time they barely notice her or remember her there.certainly.I don't know much about science. " said the girl frankly.

"Did you find it enjoyable to work with Dr. Stone? If you're interested in archaeology, this must be interesting work." "I still don't think digging up people who are dead, people who've been dead for hundreds of years isn't—oh, that seems a little nosy, doesn't it? This Dr. Stone is obsessed with it, half the time, If it wasn't for my reminder, he would even forget to eat." "Was he at the grave this morning?" Miss Crumb shook her head. "He's a little sick this morning," she explained, "and doesn't want to do any work. That means, little Gladys has a day off."

"Sorry." I said. "Ah! It's all right. No more deaths. But, Mr. Claremont, please do tell me that I heard you were with the police all morning. What do they think?" "Oh," I said slowly, "still a little—not sure." "Ah!" exclaimed Miss Crumb, "then they don't think it's Mr. Laurence Redding after all. So handsome, aren't they? Almost like a movie star." When he says 'good morning' to you, that smile is so captivating and I couldn't believe my ears when the police arrested him.And, people always say they're stupid—these little county cops. "

"You can hardly blame them in this matter," said I, "that Mr. Redding himself surrendered himself." "What?" The girl was confused. "Oh—poor chap! If I'd committed a murder, I wouldn't have turned myself in. I think Laurence Redding would be much wiser. Turned himself in like that. Why did he kill Protheroe? Did he say it?Just because of a quarrel? " "It is not yet absolutely certain that he killed him," I said. "But of course--if he says he did it--Mr. Claremont, he should really know." "Of course he should know," I agreed, "but the police are not satisfied with his explanation."

"But if he didn't, why would he say he did?" At this point, without intending to make Miss Crumb wise, I just say vaguely: "I believe that in all high-profile murders, the police receive countless letters from people confessing that they committed a crime." Miss Crumb responded to this by saying: "They must be fools!" The tone was full of surprise and contempt. "Well," she sighed, "I think I have to go." She stood up. "Mr. Redding's surrender would be of interest to Dr. Stone." "Is he interested?" Griselda asked.

Miss Crumb frowned in perplexity. "He's a freak. You can't read his temper. Totally lost in the past. If he had the chance, he'd rather look at a loathsome old bronze knife from a mound a hundred times. , nor to look at the knife with which he killed his wife." "Oh," I said, "I have to admit I agree with him." There was a look of puzzlement and a little contempt in Miss Crumb's eyes.She then said a few goodbyes to everyone and left. "She's not a bad girl, really," said Griselda, after closing the door, "of course, an ordinary girl, but one of those rough, brisk, easy-going girls you don't know." Wouldn't like it. I wonder, what's her purpose here?" "Be curious." "Yes, I think so. Now, Ron, tell me all you know. I want to know very much." I sat down and faithfully told all the events of the day, and Griselda sighed in amazement from time to time. "So it's been Anne Protheroe's plot all along! Not Lettice. How blind we all are! That must be what Miss Marple hinted at yesterday. Don't you think so?" "I think so," I said, turning my eyes away. Mary comes in. "There are a few people out there, from a newspaper, that's what they say. Do you want to see them?" "No," I said, "of course not. Send them to Inspector Slack at the police station." Mary nodded and turned to walk away. "After you've sent them away," I said, "come back here. I have something to ask you." Mary nodded again. A few minutes later, she came back. "It's hard to get them to go," she said. "It's so hard to keep going. I've never seen anything like it. They keep asking." "I think we're going to have a lot of trouble with them," I said. "Here, Mary, what I want to ask you is this. Are you sure you didn't hear a gunshot last night?" "The shot that killed him? No, of course I didn't hear it. If I had, I'd go in and see what happened." "Okay, but—" I recalled Miss Marple saying she heard gunshots "in the woods".I changed the way I asked questions. "Did you hear any other gunshots? Like gunshots in the forest." "Oh! That," the girl began to think, "yes, now I remember. I believe what I hear.Not many shots, just one. There was a 'pong' sound, which was very strange. " "Tell me exactly," I said, "what time is it?" "time?" "Yes, time." "I think, I can't tell. It's been a long time since tea-time. That's all I know." "Can't you be more precise?" "No, I can't. I have work to do, don't I? I can't keep my eyes on the alarm clock, and it won't do much good. It's three-quarters of an hour late every day. Set the clock, and do this and that, so what?" Well, I've never been too good at timing." Perhaps this explained why we were never on time for dinner.Sometimes dinner is too late, sometimes too early, which is confusing. "Was that long before Mr Redding came?" "No, not long. Ten minutes, a quarter of an hour, no longer than that." I nodded, satisfied. "Is it over?" asked Mary, "because what I mean to say is that I've put the meat in the oven, and the pudding will probably come to a boil." "Fine. You can go." She leaves the room and I turn to Griselda. "Is it hopeless to ask Mary to say 'Sir' or 'Mrs.'?" "I told her. She didn't remember. Don't forget, she was an ill-bred girl." "I'm perfectly aware of that," I said, "but a vulgar person doesn't always have to be vulgar. I feel like we can teach Mary a little bit." "Oh, I don't agree," said Griselda, "you know how little we have to pay our servants. If we ever really make her smart, she'll go away. Sure. Go earn more." Too much wages. But as long as Mary doesn't cook well, and keeps up those horrible manners, oh well, we can rest assured that no one else will hire her." I saw that my wife's housekeeping was not quite as careless as I thought it was.There is still a certain amount of careful planning involved.It's debatable whether it's worth it to hire a maid who doesn't cook well, has a habit of tossing dishes, and speaks to everyone in an embarrassing and abrupt tone. "And," continued Griselda, "you must suffer her to behave worse than usual. Colonel Protheroe has put her boyfriend in prison, and you cannot expect her to feel sympathy for him." "He locked up her boyfriend?" "Yes, for poaching. You know, the man, Archer. Mary ran away with him for two years." "I don't know about it." "Ren, my dear, you never know anything." "It's strange," I said, "everyone says the gunshots are coming from the forest." "I don't think it's weird at all," said Griselda. "You see, people often hear gunshots in the forest. So when people hear gunshots, they assume it's from the forest." The gunshots were perhaps louder than usual. Of course, if one were in the next room, one would know the gunshots were coming from the house, but the kitchen window where Mary worked was just at the back of the house, I don't think she'll hear clearly." The door opened again. "Colonel Melchett is here," said Mary. "The inspector was with him, and they said they would be glad if you saw them. They're in the study."

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