Colonel Melchett said, "He didn't report the loss of his car until the following morning, and he was extremely vague about it then; pretended that he couldn't remember exactly when he had last noticed it."
"That might be cleverness, sir. As I see it, he's either a very clever gentleman pretending to be a silly ass, or else well, he is a silly ass."
"What we want," said Melchett, "is motive. As it stands, he had no motive whatever for killing Ruby Keene."
"Yes, that's where we're stuck every time. Motive. All the reports from the Palais de Danse at Brixwell are negative, I understand."
"Absolutely! Ruby Keene had no special boy friend. Slack's been into the matter thoroughly. Give Slack his due; he is thorough."
"That's right, sir. 'Thorough' is the word."
"If there was anything to ferret out he'd have ferreted it out. But there's nothing there. He got a list of her most frequent dancing partners all vetted and found correct. Harmless fellows, and all able to produce alibis for that night."
"Ah," said Superintendent Harper. "Alibis. That's what we're up against."
Melchett looked at him sharply. "Think so? I've left that side of the investigation to you."
"Yes, sir. It's been gone into very thoroughly. We applied to London for help over it."
"Well?"
"Mr. Conway Jefferson may think that Mr. Gaskell and young Mrs. Jefferson are comfortably off, but that is not the case. They're both extremely hard up."
"Is that true?" "Quite true, sir. It's as Mr. Conway Jefferson said; he made over considerable sums of money to his son and daughter when they married. That was a number of years ago, though. Mr. Frank Jefferson fancied himself as knowing good investments. He didn't invest in anything absolutely wildcat, but he was unlucky and showed poor judgment more than once. His holdings have gone steadily down. I should say that Mrs. Jefferson found it very difficult to make both ends meet and send her son to a good school."
"But she hasn't applied to her father-in-law for help?"
"No, sir. As far as I can make out she lives with him and, consequently, has no household expenses."
"And his health is such that he wasn't expected to live long?"
"That's right, sir. Now for Mr. Mark Gaskell, he's a gambler, pure and simple. Got through his wife's money very soon. Has got himself tangled up rather badly just at present. He needs money badly, and a good deal of it."
"Can't say I liked the looks of him much," said Colonel Melchett. "Wild-looking sort of fellow, what? And he's got a motive, all right. Twenty-five thousand pounds it meant to him, getting that girl out of the way. Yes, it's a motive all right." "They both had a motive." "I'm not considering Mrs. Jefferson." "No, sir, I know you're not. And, anyway, the alibi holds for both of them. They couldn't have done it. Just that."
"You've got a detailed statement of their movements that evening?" "Yes, I have. Take Mr. Gaskell first. He dined with his father-in-law and Mrs. Jefferson, had coffee with them afterward when Ruby Keene joined them. Then said he had to write letters and left them. Actually, he took his car and went for a spin down to the front. He told me quite frankly he couldn't stick playing bridge for a whole evening. The old boy's mad on it. So he made letters an excuse. Ruby Keene remained with the others. Mark Gaskell returned when she was dancing with Raymond. After the dance Ruby came and had a drink with them, then she went off with young Bartlett, and Gaskell and the others cut for partners and started their bridge. That was at twenty minutes to eleven, and he didn't leave the table until after midnight. That's quite certain, sir. Everyone says so: the family, the waiters, everyone. Therefore, he couldn't have done it. And Mrs. Jefferson's alibi is the same. She, too, didn't leave the table. They're out, both of them out." Colonel Melchett leaned back, tapping the table with a paper cutter.
Superintendent Harper said, "That is, assuming the girl was killed before midnight."
"Haydock said she was. He's a very sound fellow in police work. If he says a thing, it's so."
"There might be reasons -- health, physical idiosyncrasy or something."
"I'll put it to him." Melchett glanced at his watch, picked up the telephone receiver and asked for a number. He said, "Haydock ought to be in now. Now, assuming that she was killed after midnight-"
Harper said, "Then there might be a chance. There was some coming and going afterward. Let's assume that Gaskell had asked the girl to meet him outside somewhere say at twenty past twelve. He slips away for a minute or two, strangles her, comes back, and disposes of the body later in the early hours of the morning."
Melchett said, "Takes her by car twenty miles to put her in Bantry's library? Dash it all, it's not a likely story."
"No, it isn't," the superintendent admitted at once.
The telephone rang. Melchett picked up the receiver. "Hullo, Haydock, is that you? Ruby Keene. Would it be possible for her to have been killed after midnight?"
"I told you she was killed between ten and midnight."
"Yes, I know, but one could stretch it a bit, what?"
"No, you couldn't stretch it. When I say she was killed before midnight I mean before midnight, and don't try and tamper with the medical evidence."
"Yes, but couldn't there be some physiological whatnot? You know what I mean?"
"I know that you don't know what you're talking about. The girl was perfectly healthy and not abnormal in any way, and I'm not going to say she was just to help you fit a rope round the neck of some wretched fellow whom you police wallahs have got your knife into. Now, don't protest. I know your ways. And, by the way, the girl wasn't strangled willingly, that is to say, she was drugged first. Powerful narcotic. She died of strangulation, but she was drugged first." Haydock rang off.
Melchett said gloomily, "Well, that's that."
Harper said, "Thought I'd found another likely starter, but it petered out."
"What's that? Who?"
"Strictly speaking, he's your pigeon, sir. Name of Basil Blake. Lives near Gossington Hall."
"Impudent young jackanapes!" The colonel's brow darkened as he remembered Basil Blake's outrageous rudeness. "How's he mixed up in it?"
"Seems he knew Ruby Keene. Dined over at the Majestic quite often, danced with the girl. Do you remember what Josie said to Raymond when Ruby was discovered to be missing. 'She isn't with that film man, is she?' I've found out it was Blake she meant. He's employed with the Lenville Studios, you know. Josie has nothing to go upon except a belief that Ruby was rather keen on him."
"Very promising. Harper, very promising."
"Not so good as it sounds, sir. Basil Blake was at a party at the studios that night. You know the sort of thing. Starts at eight with cocktails and goes on and on until the air's too thick to see through and everyone passes out. According to Inspector Slack, who's questioned him, he left the show round about midnight. At midnight Ruby Keene was dead."
"Anyone bear out his statement?"
"Most of them, I gather, sir, were rather . . . er far gone. The . . . er young woman now at the bungalow, Miss Dinah Lee, says that statement is correct."
"Doesn't mean a thing."
"No, sir, probably not. Statements taken from other members of the party bear Mr. Blake's statement out, on the whole, though ideas as to time are somewhat vague."
"Where are these studios?"
"Lenville, sir, thirty miles southwest of London."
"It's about the same distance from here."
"Yes, sir."
Colonel Melchett rubbed his nose. He said in a rather dissatisfied tone, "Well, it looks as though we could wash him out."
"I think so, sir. There is no evidence that he was seriously attracted by Ruby Keene. In fact," Superintendent Harper coughed primly "he seems fully occupied with his own young lady."
Melchett said, "Well, we are left with X, an unknown murderer, so unknown Slack can't find a trace of him. Or Jefferson's son-in-law, who might have wanted to kill the girl, but didn't have a chance to do so. Daughter-in-law ditt
o. Or George Bartlett, who has no alibi, but, unfortunately, no motive either. Or with young Blake, who has an alibi and no motive. And that's the lot! No, stop. I suppose we ought to consider the dancing fellow, Raymond Starr. After all, he saw a lot of the girl."
Harper said slowly, "Can't believe he took much interest in her or else he's a thundering good actor. And, for all practical purposes, he's got an alibi too. He was more or less in view from twenty minutes to eleven until midnight, dancing with various partners. I don't see that we can make a case against him."
"In fact," said Colonel Melchett, "we can't make a case against anybody."
"George Bartlett's our best hope," Harper said. "If we could only hit on a motive."
"You've had him looked up?"
"Yes, sir. Only child. Coddled by his mother. Came into a good deal of money on her death a year ago. Getting through it fast. Weak rather than vicious."
"May be mental," said Melchett hopefully.
Superintendent Harper nodded. He said, "Has it struck you, sir, that that may be the explanation of the whole case?"
"Criminal lunatic, you mean?"
"Yes, sir. One of those fellows who go about strangling young girls. Doctors have a long name for it."
"That would solve all our difficulties," said Melcbett.
"There's only one thing I don't like about it," said [missing text]
Conway Jefferson stirred in his sleep and stretched. His arms were flung out, long, powerful arms into which all the strength of his body seemed to be concentrated since his accident. Through the curtains the morning light glowed softly. Conway Jefferson smiled to himself. Always, after a night of rest, he woke like this, happy, refreshed, his deep vitality renewed. Another day! So, for a minute, he lay. Then he pressed the special bell by his hand. And suddenly a wave of remembrance swept over him. Even as Edwards, deft and quiet-footed, entered the room a groan was wrung from his master. Edwards paused with his hand on the curtains. He said, "You're not in pain, sir?"
Conway Jefferson said harshly, "No. Go on, pull 'em." The clear light flooded the room. Edwards, understanding, did not glance at his master.
His face grim, Conway Jefferson lay remembering and thinking. Before his eyes he saw again the pretty, vapid face of Ruby. Only in his mind he did not use the adjective "vapid." Last night he would have said "innocent." A naive, innocent child! And now? A great weariness came over Conway Jefferson. He closed his eyes. He murmured below his breath, "Margaret." It was the name of his dead wife.
"I like your friend," said Adelaide Jefferson to Mrs. Bantry. The two women were sitting on the terrace.
"Jane Marple's a very remarkable woman," said Mrs. Bantry.
"She's nice too," said Addie, smiling.
"People call her a scandal monger," said Mrs. Bantry, "but she isn't really."
"Just a low opinion of human nature?"
"You could call it that."
"It's rather refreshing," said Adelaide Jefferson, "after having had too much of the other thing." Mrs. Bantry looked at her sharply. Addie explained herself. "So much high thinking idealization of an unworthy object!"
"You mean Ruby Keene?"
Addie nodded. "I don't want to be horrid about her. There wasn't any harm in her. Poor little rat, she had to fight for what she wanted. She wasn't bad. Common and rather silly and quite good-natured, but a decided little gold digger. I don't think she schemed or planned. It was just that she was quick to take advantage of a possibility. And she knew just how to appeal to an elderly man who was lonely."
"I suppose," said Mrs. Bantry thoughtfully, "that Conway was lonely."
Addie moved restlessly. She said, "He was this summer." She paused and then burst out, "Mark will have it that it was all my fault! Perhaps it was; I don't know." She was silent for a minute, then, impelled by some need to talk, she went on speaking in a difficult, almost reluctant way. "I've had such an odd sort of life. Mike Carmody, my first husband, died so soon after we were married it -- it knocked me out. Peter, as you know, was born after his death. Frank Jefferson was Mike's great friend. So I came to see a lot of him. He was Peter's godfather, Mike had wanted that. I got very fond of him and oh, sorry for him too."
"Sorry?" queried Mrs. Bantry with interest.
"Yes, just that. It sounds odd. Frank had always had everything he wanted. His father and his mother couldn't have been nicer to him. And yet how can I say it, you see, old Mr. Jefferson's personality is so strong. If you live with it you can't somehow have a personality of your own. Frank felt that."
"When we were married he was very happy, wonderfully so. Mr. Jefferson was very generous. He settled a large sum of money on Frank; said he wanted his children to be independent and not have to wait for his death. It was so nice of him so generous. But it was much too sudden. He ought really to have accustomed Frank to independence little by little."
"It went to Frank's head. He wanted to be as good a man as his father, as clever about money and business, as farseeing and successful. And of course he wasn't. He didn't exactly speculate with the money, but he invested in the wrong things at the wrong time. It's frightening, you know, how soon money goes if you're not clever about it. The more Frank dropped, the more eager he was to get it back by some clever deal. So things went from bad to worse."
"But, my dear," said Mrs. Bantry, "couldn't Conway have advised him?"
"He didn't want to be advised. The one thing he wanted was to do well on his own. That's why we never let Mr. Jefferson know. When Frank died there was very little left; only a tiny income for me. And I didn't let his father know either. You see," she turned abruptly "it would have seemed like betraying Frank to him. Frank would have hated it so. Mr. Jefferson was ill for a long time. When he got well he assumed that I was a very-well-off widow. I've never undeceived him. It's been a point of honor. He knows I'm very careful about money, but he just approves of that, thinks I'm a thrifty sort of woman. And of course Peter and I have lived with him practically ever since, and he's paid for all our living expenses. So I've never had to worry." She said slowly, "We've been like a family all these years, only -- only, you see or don't you see? I've never been Frank's widow to him; I've been Frank's wife."
Mrs. Bantry grasped the implication. "You mean he's never accepted their deaths?"
"No. He's been wonderful. But he's conquered his own terrible tragedy by refusing to recognize death. Mark is Rosamund's husband and I'm Frank's wife, and though Frank, and Rosamund aren't exactly here with us they are still existent."
Mrs. Bantry said softly, "It's a wonderful triumph of faith."
"I know. We've gone on, year after year. But suddenly, this summer, something went wrong in me. I felt -- felt rebellious. It's an awful thing to say, but I didn't want to think of Frank any more! All that was over, my love and companionship with him, and my grief when he died. It was something that had been and wasn't any longer."
"It's awfully hard to describe. It's like wanting to wipe the slate clean and start again. I wanted to be me, Addie, still reasonably young and strong and able to play games and swim and dance -- just a person. Even Hugo, you know Hugo McLean? he's a dear and wants to marry me, but of course I've never really thought of it, but this summer I did begin to think of it, not seriously, only vaguely." She stopped and shook her head. "And so I suppose it's true. I neglected Jeff. I don't mean really neglected him, but my mind and thoughts weren't with him. When Ruby, as I saw, amused him, I was rather glad. It left me freer to go and do my own things. I never dreamed, of course I never dreamed, that he would be so so infatuated with her!"
Mrs. Bantry asked, "And when did you find out?"
"I was dumbfounded, absolutely dumbfounded! And, I'm afraid, angry too."
"I'd have been angry," said Mrs. Bantry.
"There was Peter, you see. Peter's whole future depends on Jeff. Jeff practically looked on him as a grandson, or so I thought, but of course he wasn't a grandson. He was no relation at all. And to think that he was going to be dis
inherited!" Her firm, well-shaped hands shook a little where they lay in her lap. "For that's what it felt like. And for a vulgar gold-digging little simpleton! Oh, I could have killed her!"
She stopped, stricken. Her beautiful hazel eyes met Mrs. Bantry's in a pleading horror. She said, "What an awful thing to say!"
Hugo McLean, coming quietly up behind them, asked, "What's an awful thing to say?"
"Sit down, Hugo. You know Mrs. Bantry, don't you?"
McLean had already greeted the older lady. He said, now, in a slow, persevering way, "What was an awful thing to say?"
Addie Jefferson said, "That I'd like to have killed Ruby Keene."
Hugo McLean reflected a minute or two. Then he said, "No, wouldn't say that if I were you. Might be misunderstood." His eyes, steady, reflective gray eyes, looked at her meaningly. He said, "You've got to watch your step, Addie." There was a warning in his voice.
The Body In The Library - Miss Marple 02 Page 10