Chapter 16 Section 16

When Craddock arrived at number four, Madison Road, he found Lucy Esborough with Miss Marple. He hesitated for a moment, considering whether this interfered with his battle plan.In the end it was decided that Lucy Esborough might make a useful comrade in arms. After exchanging pleasantries, he solemnly took out his small wallet, took out a three pound note, added three shillings, and pushed it across the table in front of Miss Marple. "What is this, Inspector?" "Consultation fees. You're a medical consultant--on murder! Pulse, temperature, local reactions, probable, deep-seated causes of the murder. I'm just a local, poor distressed GP. .”

Miss Marple looked at him with twinkling eyes.He grinned at her.Lucy Esborough gave a little breath, and then laughed. "Why, Inspector, you are very human after all." "Ah, this—I'm here this afternoon, strictly speaking, not on duty." "I told you we met before," said Miss Marple to Lucy. "Sir Henry Cresling was his godfather, and an old friend of mine." "Miss Esborough, would you like to hear what my godfather had to say about her when we first met? He described her as the finest detective the Lord had ever created—the Lord in a fitting way." Soil-grown genius. He told me not to underestimate—” Craddock hesitated for a moment, trying to find a synonym for “old crone,”—well, older ladies. He said they usually tell you what might have happened things, things that should have happened, things that actually did happen! And, he said, they can tell you why it happened! And he made a special addition—well—the older lady was Outstanding among them!"

"Well," said Lucy, "that seems like a good recommendation." Miss Marple blushed a little.She felt flustered, especially excited. "My dear Sir Henry," she murmured, "always kind. I'm not at all clever, to be honest, but, perhaps, I know a little about human nature--you know that, live." In a village, that's it." She added a few more words—more poised now: "Naturally, I was a bit inconvenient not being there. I always find it helpful when people remind you of other people. Because the human form is the same everywhere. That's a useful guide." .”

Lucy looked puzzled, but Craddock nodded understandingly. "But you've been there for tea, haven't you?" he said. "Yes, indeed. Very pleasant. I'm a little disappointed that I didn't see old Mr. Crackenthorpe. But we can't have everything." "You think if you saw the murderer you'd know?" asked Lucy. "Oh, it's not like that, my dear. We always guess. But when we have a problem as serious as a murder, it's very wrong to just guess. We can only observe People who are involved in the matter, or who may be related, and then see who they remind you of."

"Like Cedric and the bank manager?" Miss Marple corrected her words. "The bank manager's son, my dear. Mr. Ead himself is more like Mr. Harold. He's a very reserved man, but maybe a little too fond of money—he's the kind of guy who'll take the initiative to keep a scandal out of the way. " Craddock smiled and said: "Where's Alfred?" "When you see him you can't help but think of Kim Ken at the garage," said Miss Marple quickly. "He doesn't necessarily steal tools, but he often trades a bad or inferior jack for a good one. I think He's been dishonest about the battery too, but I don't know anything about that sort of thing. I know Raymond's gone to the garage on Michester Road. As for Emma," said Marc. Miss Poe went on thoughtfully, "she was very much like Gilaldine Webb--always very plain, almost untidy--always at the mercy of her old mother. But when her mother unexpectedly When she died, Gilrodine inherited a decent sum of money. So she went out and got her hair cut short and permed, and went on a cruise. She came back and married a very good lawyer. They had two children. "

"The comparison is clear enough," said Lucy, a little uneasy. "Don't you think it right to mention what you said about Emma's marriage? That incident seems to have troubled the two brothers." Miss Marple nodded. "Yes," she said, "like men, they can't see what's happening right in front of their eyes. I don't think you've noticed it yourself." "No," admitted Lucy, "I never thought of that. I think they both—" "Is that old?" said Miss Marple, smiling, "but Dr. Quimper is only in his early forties, though his sideburns are beginning to gray, and he is evidently yearning for a family life; Emma Cracken Thorpe was not yet forty, and not too old to marry and have children. The doctor's wife died in childbirth very young. I heard so."

"I think so. Emma was talking about it one day." "He must be lonely," said Miss Marple. "A busy, diligent doctor needs a wife. A sympathetic, not too young woman." "Listen, my dear," said Lucy, "are we investigating a crime, or are we matchmaking?" "I think I'm a little romantic. Maybe it's because I'm an old maid. You know, Lucy dear? You've done everything in your contract as far as I'm concerned. If you really want to start at the next job You used to go on vacation and you still had time for short trips."

"Tell me to leave Loserzin Lodge? No! I've become quite a detective by now. And almost like those two boys. They spend their whole time looking for clues. Yesterday, they checked through all the rubbish bins. It smells bad, and they really don't know what they're looking for. Inspector Craddock, if they triumphantly take a torn note that reads:' Martine—if you value your life, stay away from the long warehouse!' You will know that I put it in the pigsty on purpose to pity them!" "Why put it in the pigsty, my dear?" asked Miss Marple attentively. "Do they raise pigs?"

"Oh no, not anymore. It's just because I go there sometimes." For some reason Lucy blushed a little, and Miss Marple looked at her with increased interest. "Who's at the cottage now?" Craddock asked. "Cedric's there, Brian's there for the weekend. Harold and Alfred are coming tomorrow. They called this morning. Inspector Craddock, I don't know why I have a feeling that you've been alarmed." They're gone." Craddock smiled. "I startled them a little. I want them to explain what they did on Friday, December 20th."

"Can they explain?" "Harold can. Alfred can't, and won't say." "It's hard for me to come up with an alibi," said Lucy. "The time, place, and date. That must be hard." "It will take time and patience, but we'll figure it out." He looked at his watch. "I'm going to talk to Cedric at Loserzin Lodge, but I need to find Dr. Kunpo first." "It's about the right time for you to see him now. He usually operates at six o'clock and he's done about six-thirty. I've got to get back to cooking."

"Miss Esborough, I'd like to ask you something now. What do the whole family think about Martine?" Lucy immediately replied: "They were all mad at Emma for reporting to you, and mad at Dr. Quimper because he seemed to be encouraging her to do so. Harold and Alfred thought it was a hoax, not real. Love Mar wasn't sure. Cedric thought it was fake, too, but he didn't take it as seriously as the other two. Brian, on the other hand, seemed convinced it was real." "Why? May I ask?" "Ah, that's what Bryan is, just taking things at face value. He thought it was Edmond's wife and daughter, or rather, his widow, who suddenly had to go back to France, but someday they'd He's got a letter from her again. He thinks it's only natural that she hasn't heard from her till now, because he never writes himself, and Brian is a pretty sweet fellow, like a dog you take out for a walk." "Did you take him for a walk, then, dear?" asked Miss Marple. "Maybe, to the pigsty." Lucy's keen eyes looked at her. "There were so many gentlemen coming and going in that house," said Miss Marple, meditating. When Miss Marple said the word "man" it was always very Victorian--reminiscent of a time before her own.As soon as you hear it, you think you are seeing a well-dressed, energetic (maybe bearded) man, sometimes very unprincipled, but always very attentive to women. "You're such a pretty girl," said Miss Marple, looking critically at Lucy. "I suppose they take a lot of notice of you, don't they?" Lucy blushed a little, and some fragmentary memories flashed in her heart.She thought of Cedric leaning against the wall of the pigsty, and Brian, wistful, sitting on the kitchen counter, and Alfred fingering her as he put away the dishes. "Men," said Miss Marple, in a tone that revealed that she was speaking of a foreign and dangerous race. "They're all the same in some ways—even when they're very old..." "My dear," cried Lucy, "you would have been burned as a witch if you had said that a hundred years ago!" So she told her of old Mr. Crackenthorpe's conditional proposal of marriage. "As a matter of fact," said Lucy, "it's fair to say that they all expressed to me what you call 'pursuing.' It's not about my good looks; they must think I know something." She laughed. But Inspector Craddock was not smiling. "But beware," he said, "they will not pursue you, and may murder you." "That's easier, I suppose." Lucy agreed with him. Then, she shivered slightly. "We'll forget," she said, "that those two kids had so much fun, we'll almost see it all as a game. But, it's not a game." "By the way," said Miss Marple, "murder is no game." She was silent for a minute or two, and then said: "Those two kids will be going back to school soon, right?" "Yes, next week. To-morrow they spend their last days at James Stodard's." "I'm glad of that," said Miss Marple gravely. "I don't want anything to happen to them while they're there." "You mean old Mr. Crackenthorpe. Do you think he's the next to be murdered?" "Oh, no!" said Miss Marple. "He'll be all right. I mean the boys." "The two children?" "Ah, Alexander." "But, really—" "Look around for clues, don't you? Kids love that kind of thing. But it can be very dangerous." Craddock looked at her thoughtfully. "Miss Marple, you still don't believe that an unknown woman was killed by an unknown man, do you? Are you absolutely connecting this case with Loserzin Villa?" "Yes, I thought there was definitely something to it." "All we know about the murderer is that he was a tall, brown-haired man. That's what your friend said, and that's all she can tell us. There were three tall, brown-haired men You know, on the day of the interrogation, I went out to see the three brothers standing on the pavement waiting for the car to come. They had their backs to me, but it was strange that when they were wearing thick coats, Looks the same. Three tall, brown-haired men. But, in reality, they're three very different types." He sighed, "That's going to be hard." "I wonder," said Miss Marple in a low voice. "I've always wondered. I don't know if it's any simpler than we suppose. Murder is often very simple, and there's often an obvious, but nasty one." motivation..." "Do you believe in that mysterious Martine, Miss Marple?" "I am quite convinced that Edmund Crackenthorpe has either married a girl called Martine, or intends to marry her. I know that Emma Crackenthorpe has shown you her letter. From what I've seen of her and what Lucy has told me about her, I don't think Emma Crackenthorpe could have made that up. Really, why would she?" "Then suppose there is Martine," said Craddock thoughtfully, "that there is, so to speak, a motive. Martine reappears now with a son, so that the Crackenthorpe estate will be less. But, as we can imagine, it is not to the extent of murder, and they are all very poor financially." "Even Harold?" asked Lucy incredulously. "Even the apparently well-to-do Harold Crackenthorpe is not the calm, conservative magnate he appears to be. He's deeply troubled and involved in some pretty bad speculative business." Implications. If you get a lot of money soon, maybe you can avoid financial collapse." "But if so—" said Lucy, breaking off suddenly. "Why, Esborough—" "I know, my dear," said Miss Marple, "that it's the wrong person, and that's what you mean." "Yes. Martine's death will do no good to Harald, or to anyone else, unless—" "Unless after Luther Crackenthorpe's death. Quite right, I thought so too. And old Crackenthorpe, I know from his physician, is much more vigorous than outsiders imagine." .” "He's got years to go," said Lucy, and she frowned. "What?" said Craddock encouragingly. "He was a little sick over Christmas," said Lucy, "and he said the doctor made all the fuss about it, 'Anyone'd think I died from the poison he made all that fuss about!' That's what he said." She looked at Craddock questioningly. "Yes," Craddock said, "that's really what I wanted to ask Dr. Cumper." "I must go, then," said Lucy, "for God's sake, it's late!" Miss Marple put down her knitting, and picked up the Times, which had a half-finished crossword. "I'd like a dictionary here," she muttered, "'', and ''—I always get those two words mixed up. One is the name of a Hungarian wine, I think. .” "That's 'Toukai'," Lucy turned around from the door and said, "But one word is made up of five letters, and the other is made up of seven letters. Where is the clue?" "Oh, not in the crossword puzzle," said Miss Marple vaguely, "that's in my head." Craddock stared at her closely, and then, saying "good night," he was gone.

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