Sleeping Murder mm-14

by Agatha Christie

  The moment had come, Giles thought. He asked casually, ‘Do you remember somebody called Afflick?’

  ‘Ar. You mean Jackie Afflick? As was in Fane and Watchman’s office?’

  ‘Yes. Wasn’t he a friend of Miss Helen’s?’

  ‘That were just a bit of nonsense. Doctor put a stop to it and quite right too. He wasn’t any class, Jackie Afflick. And he was the kind that’s too sharp by half. Cut themselves in the end, that kind do. But he weren’t here long. Got himself into hot water. Good riddance. Us don’t want the likes of he in Dillmouth. Go and be smart somewhere else, that’s what he were welcome to do.’

  Gwenda said: ‘Was he here when that tennis net was cut up?’

  ‘Ar. I see what you’re thinking. But he wouldn’t do a senseless thing like that. He were smart, Jackie Afflick were. Whoever did that it was just spite.’

  ‘Was there anybody who had a down on Miss Helen? Who would be likely to feel spiteful?’

  Old Manning chuckled softly.

  ‘Some of the young ladies might have felt spiteful all right. Not a patch on Miss Helen to look at, most of ’em weren’t. No, I’d say that was done just in foolishness. Some tramp with a grudge.’

  ‘Was Helen very upset about Jackie Afflick?’ asked Gwenda.

  ‘Don’t think as Miss Helen cared much about any of the young fellows. Just liked to enjoy herself, that’s all. Very devoted some of them were-young Mr Walter Fane, for one. Used to follow her round like a dog.’

  ‘But she didn’t care for him at all?’

  ‘Not Miss Helen. Just laughed-that’s all she did. Went abroad to foreign parts, he did. But he come back later. Top one in the firm he is now. Never married. I don’t blame him. Women causes a lot of trouble in a man’s life.’

  ‘Are you married?’ asked Gwenda.

  ‘Buried two, I have,’ said old Manning. ‘Ar, well, I can’t complain. Smoke me pipe in peace where I likes now.’

  In the ensuing silence, he picked up his rake again.

  Giles and Gwenda walked back up the path towards the house and Miss Marple desisting from her attack on bindweed joined them.

  ‘Miss Marple,’ said Gwenda. ‘You don’t look well. Is there anything-’

  ‘It’s nothing, my dear.’ The old lady paused for a moment before saying with a strange kind of insistence, ‘You know, I don’t like that bit about the tennis net. Cutting it to ribbons. Even then-’

  She stopped. Giles looked at her curiously.

  ‘I don’t quite understand-’ he began.

  ‘Don’t you? It seems so horribly plain to me. But perhaps it’s better that you shouldn’t understand. And anyway-perhaps I am wrong. Now do tell me how you got on in Northumberland.’

  They gave her an account of their activities, and Miss Marple listened attentively.

  ‘It’s really all very sad,’ said Gwenda. ‘Quite tragic, in fact.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. Poor thing-poor thing.’

  ‘That’s what I felt. How that man must suffer-’

  ‘He? Oh yes. Yes, of course.’

  ‘But you meant-’

  ‘Well, yes-I was thinking ofher -of the wife. Probably very deeply in love with him, and he married her because she was suitable, or because he was sorry for her, or for one of those quite kindly and sensible reasons that men often have, and which are actually so terribly unfair.’

  ‘I know a hundred ways of love,

  And each one makes the loved one rue,’

  quoted Giles softly.

  Miss Marple turned to him.

  ‘Yes, that is so true. Jealousy, you know, is usually not an affair of ncauses. It is much more-how shall I say?-fundamental than that. Based on the knowledge that one’s love is not returned. And so one goes on waiting, watching, expecting…that the loved one will turn to someone else. Which, again, invariably happens. So this Mrs Erskine has made life a hell for her husband, and he, without being able to help it, has made life a hell for her. But I think she has suffered most. And yet, you know, I dare say he is really quite fond of her.’

  ‘He can’t be,’ cried Gwenda.

  ‘Oh, my dear, you are very young. He has never left his wife, and that means something, you know.’

  ‘Because of the children. Because it was his duty.’

  ‘The children, perhaps,’ said Miss Marple. ‘But I must confess that gentlemen do not seem to me to have a great regard for duty in so far as their wives are concerned-public service is another matter.’

  Giles laughed.

  ‘What a wonderful cynic you are, Miss Marple.’

  ‘Oh dear, Mr Reed, I do hope not that. One always has hope for human nature.’

  ‘I still don’t feel it can have been Walter Fane,’ said Gwenda thoughtfully. ‘And I’m sure it wasn’t Major Erskine. In fact I know it wasn’t.’

  ‘One’s feelings are not always reliable guides,’ said Miss Marple. ‘The most unlikely people do things-quite a sensation there was in my own little village when the Treasurer of the Christmas Club was found to have put every penny of the funds on a horse. He disapproved of horse-racing and indeed any kind of betting or gambling. His father had been a Turf Agent and had treated his mother very badly-so, intellectually speaking, he was quite sincere. But he chanced one day to be motoring near Newmarket and saw some horses training. And then it all came over him-blood does tell.’

  ‘The antecedents of both Walter Fane and Richard Erskine seem above suspicion,’ said Giles gravely but with a slight amused twist to his mouth. ‘But then murder is by way of being an amateur crime.’

  ‘The important thing is,’ said Miss Marple, ‘that they were there. On the spot. Walter Fane was here in Dillmouth. Major Erskine, by his own account, must actually have been with Helen Halliday very shortly before her death - and he did not return to his hotel for some time that night.’

  ‘But he was quite frank about it. He-’

  Gwenda broke off. Miss Marple was looking at her very hard.

  ‘I only want to emphasize,’ said Miss Marple, ‘the importance of being on the spot.’ She looked from one to the other of them.

  Then she said, ‘I think you will have no trouble in finding out J. J. Afflick’s address. As proprietor of the Daffodil Coaches, it should be easy enough.’

  Giles nodded. ‘I’ll get on to it. Probably in the telephone directory.’ He paused. ‘You think we should go and see him?’

  Miss Marple waited for a moment or two, then she said: ‘If you do-you must be very careful. Remember what that old gardener just said-Jackie Afflick is smart. Please-please be careful…’

  Chapter 21. J. J. Afflick

  J. J. Afflick, Daffodil Coaches, Devon & Dorset Tours, etc. had two numbers listed in the telephone book. An office address in Exeter and a private address on the outskirts of that town.

  An appointment was made for the following day.

  Just as Giles and Gwenda were leaving in the car, Mrs Cocker ran out and gesticulated. Giles put on the brake and stopped.

  ‘It’s Dr Kennedy on the telephone, sir.’

  Giles got out and ran back. He picked up the receiver.

  ‘Giles Reed here.’

  ‘Morning. I’ve just received rather an odd letter. From a woman called Lily Kimble. I’ve been racking my brains to remember who she is. Thought of a patient first-that put me off the scent. But I rather fancy she must be a girl who was in service once at your house. House-parlourmaid at the time we know of. I’m almost sure her name was Lily, though I don’t recollect her last name.’

  ‘There was a Lily. Gwenda remembers her. She tied a bow on the cat.’

  ‘Gwennie must have a very remarkable memory.’

  ‘Oh, she has.’

  ‘Well, I’d like to have a word with you about this letter-not over the phone. Will you be in if I come over?’

  ‘We’re just on our way to Exeter. We could drop in on you, if you prefer, sir. It’s all on our way.’

  ‘Good. That’ll do splendidly.’


  ‘I don’t like to talk too much about all this over the phone,’ explained the doctor when they arrived. ‘I always have an idea the local exchanges listen in. Here’s the woman’s letter.’

  He spread the letter on the table. It was written on cheap lined paper in an uneducated hand.

  Dear sir(Lily Kimble had written)

  I’d be grateful if you could give me advise about the enclosed wot i cut out of paper. I been thinking and i talked it over with mr Kimble, but i don’t know wots best to do about it. Do you think as it means money or a reward becos i could do with the money im sure but woodnt want the police or anything like that, i often hav been thinking about that nite wen mrs Halliday went away and i don’t think sir she ever did becos the clothes was wrong. i thort at first the master done it but now im not so sure becos of the car i saw out of the window. A posh car it was and i seen it before but i woodnt like to do anything without asking you first if it was all rite and not police becos i never hav been mixed up with police and mr Kimble woodnt like it. I could come and see you sir if i may next thursday as its market day and mr Kimble will be out. id be very grateful if you could.

  yours respectfully,

  Lily Kimble.

  ‘It was addressed to my old house in Dillmouth,’ said Kennedy, ‘and forwarded on to me here. The cutting is your advertisement.’

  ‘It’s wonderful,’ said Gwenda. ‘This Lily-you see-she doesn’t think it was my father who did it!’

  She spoke with jubilation. Dr Kennedy looked at her with tired, kindly eyes.

  ‘Good for you, Gwennie,’ he said gently. ‘I hope you’re right. Now this is what I think we’d better do. I’ll answer her letter and tell her to come here on Thursday. The train connection is quite good. By changing at Dillmouth Junction she can get here shortly after 4.30. If you two will come over that afternoon, we can tackle her all together.’

  ‘Splendid,’ said Giles. He glanced at his watch. ‘Come on, Gwenda, we must hurry. We’ve got an appointment,’ he explained. ‘With Mr Afflick of the Daffodil Coaches, and, so he told us, he’s a busy man.’

  ‘Afflick?’ Kennedy frowned. ‘Of course! Devon Tours in Daffodil Coaches, horrible great butter-coloured brutes. But the name seemed familiar in some other way.’

  ‘Helen,’ said Gwenda.

  ‘My goodness-not that chap?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But he was a miserable little rat. So he’s come up in the world?’

  ‘Will you tell me something, sir?’ said Giles. ‘You broke up some funny business between him and Helen. Was that simply because of his-well, social position?’

  Dr Kennedy gave him a dry glance.

  ‘I’m old-fashioned, young man. In the modern gospel, one man is as good as another. That holds morally, no doubt. But I’m a believer in the fact that there is a state of life into which you are born-and I believe you’re happiest staying in it. Besides,’ he added, ‘I thought the fellow was a wrong ’un. As he proved to be.’

  ‘What did he do exactly?’

  ‘That I can’t remember now. It was a case, as far as I can recall, of his trying to cash in on some information obtained through his employment with Fane. Some confidential matter relating to one of their clients.’

  ‘Was he-sore about his dismissal?’

  Kennedy gave him a sharp glance and said briefly: ‘Yes.’

  ‘And there wasn’t any other reason at all for your disliking his friendship with your sister? You didn’t think he was-well-odd in any way.’

  ‘Since you have brought the matter up, I will answer you frankly. It seemed to me, especially after his dismissal from his employment, that Jackie Afflick displayed certain signs of an unbalanced temperament. Incipient persecution mania, in fact. But that does not seem to have been borne out by his subsequent rise in life.’

  ‘Who dismissed him? Walter Fane?’

  ‘I have no idea if Walter Fane was concerned. He was dismissed by the firm.’

  ‘And he complained that he had been victimized?’

  Kennedy nodded.

  ‘I see…Well, we must drive like the wind. Till Thursday, sir.’

  ***

  The house was newly built. It was of Snowcrete, heavily curved, with a big expanse of window. They were shown in through an opulent hall to a study, half of which was taken up by a big chromium-plated desk.

  Gwenda murmured nervously to Giles, ‘Really, I don’t know what we should have done without Miss Marple. We lean upon her at every turn. First her friends in Northumberland and now her Vicar’s wife’s Boys’ Club Annual Outing.’

  Giles raised an admonitory hand as the door opened and J. J. Afflick surged into the room.

  He was a stout man of middle age, dressed in a rather violently checked suit. His eyes were dark and shrewd, his face rubicund and good-natured. He looked like the popular idea of a successful book-maker.

  ‘Mr Reed? Good morning. Pleased to meet you.’

  Giles introduced Gwenda. She felt her hand taken in a rather over-zealous grip.

  ‘And what can I do for you, Mr Reed?’

  Afflick sat down behind his huge desk. He offered cigarettes from an onyx box.

  Giles entered upon the subject of the Boys’ Club Outing. Old friends of his ran the show. He was anxious to arrange for a couple of days’ touring in Devon.

  Afflick replied promptly in a businesslike manner-quoting prices and making suggestions. But there was a faintly puzzled look on his face.

  Finally he said: ‘Well, that’s all clear enough, Mr Reed, and I’ll send you a line to confirm it. But this is strictly office business. I understood from my clerk that you wanted a private appointment at my private address.’

  ‘We did, Mr Afflick. There were actually two matters on which I wanted to see you. We’ve disposed of one. The other is a purely private matter. My wife here is very anxious to get in touch with her stepmother whom she has not seen for many years, and we wondered if you could possibly help us.’

  ‘Well, if you tell me the lady’s name-I gather that I’m acquainted with her?’

  ‘You were acquainted with her at one time. Her name is Helen Halliday and before her marriage she was Miss Helen Kennedy.’

  Afflick sat quite still. He screwed up his eyes and tilted his chair slowly backwards.

  ‘Helen Halliday-I don’t recall…Helen Kennedy…’

  ‘Formerly of Dillmouth,’ said Gwenda.

  The legs of Afflick’s chair came down sharply.

  ‘Got it,’ he said. ‘Of course.’ His round rubicund face beamed with pleasure. ‘Little Helen Kennedy! Yes, I remember her. But it’s a long time ago. Must be twenty years.’

  ‘Eighteen.’

  ‘Is it really? Time flies, as the saying goes. But I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed, Mrs Reed. I haven’t seen anything of Helen since that time. Never heard of her, even.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Gwenda. ‘That’s very disappointing. We did so hope you could help.’

  ‘What’s the trouble?’ His eyes flickered quickly from one face to another. ‘Quarrel? Left home? Matter of money?’

  Gwenda said: ‘She went away-suddenly-from Dillmouth-eighteen years ago with-with someone.’

  Jackie Afflick said amusedly: ‘And you thought she might have gone away with me? Now why?’

  Gwenda spoke boldly: ‘Because we heard that you-and she-had once-been-well, fond of each other.’

  ‘Me and Helen? Oh, but there was nothing in that. Just a boy and girl affair. Neither of us took it seriously.’ He added drily, ‘We weren’t encouraged to do so.’

  ‘You must think us dreadfully impertinent,’ began Gwenda, but he interrupted her.

  ‘What’s the odds? I’m not sensitive. You want to find a certain person and you think I may be able to help. Ask me anything you please-I’ve nought to conceal.’ He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘So you’re Halliday’s daughter?’

  ‘Yes. Did you know my father?’

  He shook his head
.

  ‘I dropped in to see Helen once when I was over at Dillmouth on business. I’d heard she was married and living there. She was civil enough-’ he paused-‘but she didn’t ask me to stay to dinner. No, I didn’t meet your father.’

  Had there, Gwenda wondered, been a trace of rancour in that ‘She didn’t ask me to stay to dinner’?

  ‘Did she-if you remember-seem happy?’

  Afflick shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Happy enough. But there, it’s a long time ago. I’d have remembered if she’d looked unhappy.’

  He added with what seemed a perfectly natural curiosity: ‘Do you mean to say you’ve never heard anything of her since Dillmouth eighteen years ago?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘No-letters?’

  ‘There were two letters,’ said Giles. ‘But we have some reason to think that she didn’t write them.’

  ‘You think she didn’t write them?’ Afflick seemed faintly amused. ‘Sounds like a mystery on the flicks.’

  ‘That’s rather what it seems like to us.’

  ‘What about her brother, the doctor chap, doesn’t he know where she is?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I see. Regular mystery, isn’t it? Why not advertise?’

  ‘We have.’

  Afflick said casually: ‘Looks as though she’s dead. You mightn’t have heard.’

  Gwenda shivered.

  ‘Cold, Mrs Reed?’

  ‘No. I was thinking of Helen dead. I don’t like to think of her dead.’

  ‘You’re right there. I don’t like to think of it myself. Stunning looks she had.’

  Gwenda said impulsively: ‘You knew her. You knew her well. I’ve only got a child’s memory of her. What was she like? What did people feel about her? What did you feel?’

  He looked at her for a moment or two.

  ‘I’ll be honest with you, Mrs Reed. Believe it or not, as you like. I was sorry for the kid.’

  ‘Sorry?’ She turned a puzzled stare on him.

  ‘Just that. There she was-just home from school. Longing for a bit of fun like any girl might, and there was that stiff middle-aged brother of hers with his ideas about what a girl could do and couldn’t do. No fun at all, that kid hadn’t. Well, I took her about a bit-showed her a bit of life. I wasn’t really keen on her and she wasn’t really keen on me. She just liked the fun of being a daredevil. Then of course they found out we were meeting and he put a stop to it. Don’t blame him, really. Cut above me, she was. We weren’t engaged or anything of that kind. I meant to marry some time-but not till I was a good bit older. And I meant to get on and to find a wife who’d help me get on. Helen hadn’t any money, and it wouldn’t have been a suitable match in any way. We were just good friends with a bit of flirtation thrown in.’