Miss Jane Pope sat looking out of the window, and for a long time she had ceased to appreciate the lush garden.But nothing is done.Ray Cook's excuses are always sound, either the weather is too dry, it is too wet, or the soil is soaked in water.Ray Cook's principle of growing flowers and vegetables is very simple. He brews a few cups of strong sweet tea as a refreshment, sweeps the fallen leaves in autumn, and plants his favorite sage and asters in summer.In good conscience, he loved his masters and accommodated them, and he knew all about vegetables well, and could never be mistaken for a good savory or kale.He was a man with a heart, too, but it had to be faced with the fact that Mary Meade had lost its luster.In a sense, it loses everything, and you can curse the war or the younger generation or the women going out to work, -- but the real reason is that you yourself are old.Miss Marple was a very sensitive old woman, and she knew it herself, and she felt very strongly about Mary Meade.

Mary Mead still stands here, which was the center of the old days. The "Blue Boar" mansion, church, vicarage, Queen Anne's and Georgia's dens are also here.The houses still maintain the old look, but the streets are different.As soon as the store changed hands, it was immediately refurbished and expanded. The fishmonger who sold the store no longer recognized his original store, and the frozen fish shone silver behind the high-end window.Thankfully the grocer Bona's shop remains the same, and Hartney, Bobo, and the others gather there to pray every day.The few chairs by the counter are appropriate and comfortable.Thinking of this, Miss Marple couldn't help sighing angrily.

Her thoughts couldn't help returning to the past.Colonel Ann Pollack—a poor man—who looked tired and unhappy—must have been murdered.Then she thought of Gillian Star, a young, pretty pastor's wife, faithful to her friends, who never forgot to bring a card every Christmas.She laments how times have changed.Miss Pope's thoughts were then interrupted by Miss Kennet, who was walking up the floor, tinkling the chandelier on the mantelpiece.Apparently Miss Kennet had woken from her nap and was going out for a walk.Miss Kennet was a good-natured girl, and now she was very weak from bronchitis.Miss Kennett, a large, lifeless woman of fifty-six, with finely adorned tawny hair and spectacles over a long thin nose, entered the door cheerfully.Her lips were kind and her cheeks were thin.

"We meet again!" she exclaimed, beaming. "I wish we could kill some time?" "You can do it?" said Miss Marple. "I can't do it." "Now I'm going out to buy things for my little one," the lady said jokingly when she saw her saying this. "It won't be long." "There's no need to rush back," said Miss Poppy politely and courteously. "If you don't think it's too far, can you go to Hallett's and ask if they have a whisk that beats up and down—not the stirring kind." Whisk." Miss Kennett, who was fond of shopping, walked away cheerfully after taking one last look at the frail old woman resting peacefully by the window.

Miss Marple waited a while, then got up, threw the wool aside, and went out by the side door.She hurried through the garden, absorbed in the pleasant enjoyment of being out for a walk.Follow a path through the garden, leading out of the stone path to a small bridge.Miss Marple crossed the bridge and walked down. At this time, she passed a residential area with neat rows of buildings, TV antennas, and colorful doors and windows.The people here don't look real at all, the young women in trousers.The very sinister-looking teenagers, and the budding, happy fifteen-year-old girl.Miss Marple couldn't help feeling that this was a corrupt world. She turned a corner and entered the Warsingham Crouse area. This new world was no different from the old one. Next to the residential area, half of the houses here are still under construction.Downstairs, a man and a woman stood at the window of a building that was about to be built, and the voices of their discussion came over.

"Hurley, you have to admit it's a good location." "Another location is also good." "Oh. Don't spoil the fun like that, okay, what did Ma say?" "Your mother can't stop talking. Lily." "There's a view of the mountains from here. You can almost see—" She leaned out the window to the left. "You can almost see the pool—" She kept leaning forward, not even noticing that she was pinning her whole body against the loose plank.The planks let go and she fell, and she screamed, trying to balance herself. "Hurley—!"

The young man was a step or two behind her, and there was no movement.He took a step back— Disappointing, she clung to the wall to steady herself. "Oh!" She gasped in shock. "I almost fell, why didn't you catch me?" "Too soon. You're not all right in the end." Miss Marple went a little way forward, when an impulse brought her back again. Lily waited on the road for the young man to lock the door. Miss Marple stepped forward and said quickly and in a low voice, "If I were you, my dear, I would never marry such a young man. You should find someone you can rely on when you are in danger."

After she finished speaking, she walked away, and Lily watched her back. Miss Marple took a sharp turn and finally tripped over some loose stones. A woman ran out of the house, and with an undue affection embraced Miss Marple and made her stand. Her loud voice was full of friendliness, and she was a fat and fat woman in her forties. She said, "You'd better sit inside and take a rest. I'll make you a cup of tea." Miss Marple thanked her, and followed her through a blue door into a small room, where she introduced: "My name is Heater, and this is my husband's home, Arthur—we have a guest."

She went into the drawing room and walked in with Arthur, who looked embarrassed, a thin, pale man who spoke very slowly. "This lady fell down—right in front of our door, and I asked her to come in." "Your wife is very kind. I'm afraid I'm giving you trouble, sir." "Oh, it's no trouble for Hitt at all, she likes to help people." He looked at her curiously. "Where are you going? Something special?" "No, I'm just out for a walk. I live in Mary Mead Village. My name is Marple." "Oh, what a dream!" Hit exclaimed. "Then you're Miss Marple. I've heard of you. You know all kinds of murders."

Miss Marple muttered that she had been involved in a murder once or twice. "I've heard that there's been a couple of murders here, in this village. Someone was talking about it at the Bingo Club the next day. There was a murder in Goldstein, and if it was me, I wouldn't buy it. The house of the homicide. I believe there must be ghosts there." "The murder scene is not in Goldstar Village, it's just a place where the corpses were moved." "They say they found it on the hearth rug in the study?" Miss Marple nodded. "Have you seen it yourself? Maybe they're going to make it into a movie. Maybe that's why Marina Gray bought Goldstein."

"Marina Gray?" "Yes, her and her husband. I forgot his name - he was a producer, or director, Jason or something; Marina Gray was lovely, have you ever seen her act in' Carmena', 'The Prince's Love', 'Mary Queen of Scots'? She's not getting any younger, but she's still a great actress." Miss Marple looked at her. Hit Baecock laughed: "Oh, I always only think of my own point of view, so it's not easy to see how things affect other people, or how things happen to other people." "Like that time when you took in that family that moved out of the place where the murder happened, and they left with our spoons," Arthur said. "But Arthur!—I can't tell them to go, it's not kind." "Those are heirloom spoons," Bakerk said sadly. "It's from the Georgian era, it belonged to my great-grandmother." Mrs. Buntree had sold the Cottage House a few years ago after the death of her husband, Colonel Buntree, leaving only the owner.It was a small, charming building with a porch, but with many inconveniences.Mrs. Buntry has added some modern fittings to the house, and in recent years she has traveled extensively, visiting her children and grandchildren all over the world, and returning from time to time to enjoy her own home.Gaoshitingzhuang has changed hands once or twice.It was operated as a hotel for the first time, but it failed. Later, it was bought by four people and divided into four apartments, and the four people also broke up due to disputes.After Miss Marple came here, she naturally talked about Gaotuding Village with Mrs. Buntry. "I've heard a lot of rumours," said Miss Marple. "Of course," said Mrs. Buntry. "It was even said that Charlie Chaplin and his kids were going to live there. It was actually Marina Gray going to live there." "She's a lovely girl," sighed Miss Marple. "I can't forget those early films of hers." Mrs. Buntry said: "She must be forty-five? Fifty?" Miss Marple thought she was about fifty. "Has she made any films recently? I don't go to the cinema very often now." "Not much to do, I suppose," said Mrs. Buntry. "She stopped being a movie star for a long time. She had a nervous breakdown, shortly after her divorce." "Movie stars like them always remarry," said Miss Marple. "I think they're really different," said Mrs. Buntry. "They have to live this life, a life without a private life." "Has she had five husbands?" asked Miss Marple. "At least five, the early one doesn't count. Later married a foreign prince or earl or something, followed by a movie star, Robert Chasco, huh? The romance this time was spectacular, but only lasted Four years. Then the playwright Esther Wright, this time very serious, serious, with a baby--she'd been dying to have a baby--and adopted a couple of orphans--it's true anyway Exactly. Then, I think it was a moron or abnormal baby or something—after this she broke down and started taking pills or something, and ended up being mentally unbalanced." "You seem to know a lot about her," said Miss Marple. "Oh, of course," said Mrs. Buntry. "I find it curious that she bought Goldsmiths. When she married her husband two years ago, she was said to be back to normal. Was he a producer—or was he a director? I never got confused. They were very young He fell in love with her, but he wasn't out yet, and now I think he's famous, and his name was Jason—Jason or something—Jason Hood, no, Luther. They bought Got off Goldstein, because the place"—she hesitated—"is convenient for Easterly." Miss Marple shook her head. "I don't think so," she said. "Eastre is in North London." "It's a very new studio called Schillingfo. It sounds like Finnish. It's about six miles away from the market. She plans to go to Elisabeth in Austria to shoot soon." "How do you know so much?" said Miss Marple. "You know all about the private lives of movie stars. Did you hear it all when you were in California?" "Not quite," said Mrs. Buntry, "but it's true that she's coming to live here." "I know she's going to get Goldstein out on the 23rd for a party for John's Field Sanitary Corps. I suppose they've done a lot of repairs to the house?" "Virtually everything has been moved," said Miss Marple. "I heard six new rooms were built, and a patio, a swimming pool, and what they call a bay window. They also turned your husband's study and laboratory into a music hall." "Arthur's going to die, you know he hates music." She paused, and then said at once, "Anyone say Godddin is haunted?" Miss Marple shook her head. Mrs. Buntry smiled. "There are no secrets here at Mary Meade. Don't you always tell me that? Mrs. Meeve told me." "Mrs. Meeve?" Miss Marple was puzzled. "She comes every day and lives uptown." "Oh, uptown. I'm going there." "What are you doing there?" asked Mrs. Buntry curiously. "I just wanted to go there and see, oh, it gives you some insight into -- when anything happens -- you can understand why." "You mean murder?" Miss Marple froze for a moment: "I don't know why you always think I'm always thinking about murder." "Why don't you just speak up and bring in a criminologist to figure this out?" "Because I'm not that kind of person," said Miss Marple briskly. "You may have something there," said Mrs. Buntry thoughtfully. "Your nephew Raymond keeps saying it's a backward area." "Dear Raymond," said Miss Marple nonchalantly, "he has such a good heart, you know, that he helped me pay Miss Kennet." She felt uneasy at the mention of Kennet, so she stood up and said. "I think I'd better go." "You couldn't have come here on foot, could you?" "Of course not. I came here in Inge's car." This strange name was perfectly understood by the other party. For a long time, Mr. Inge's two small vans had been picking up passengers at the local railway station, and women in the neighborhood had hired them to attend tea parties. Mr. Inge was a cheerful, red-faced man in his seventies, He handed the car over to his son - everyone called him 'Little Inge'. Miss Marple said that and left. When Miss Marple went back, Kennett told her, "Dr. Hedak called and I told him you had tea with Mrs. Buntry. He said he would call tomorrow." "I'll ask him in the morning," said Miss Marple. The next morning Miss Kennet saw Dr. Hedak in the living room. The old doctor went into the bedroom and rubbed his hands. It was a cold morning. "How about a glass of sherry?" suggested Miss Marple. Dr. Hedak is an old friend. He is semi-retired, but he still sees a few old patients in particular. "I heard you fell down," he said after finishing his drink. "It can't be like this, especially at your age." "That's not the problem. It's difficult to go out alone for a few minutes. It's like knitting—it used to be a pleasant thing, but now the needle keeps dropping—I don't know if it does." Hedak looked at her thoughtfully: "But you are very good at pulling wool, aren't you? You always have a way to unravel the cocoon. I really can't figure it out, just like Sherlock Holmes." "But there's no murder here," interposed Miss Kennet. But she was wrong and the murder really happened.