4_50 From Paddington - Agatha Christie [24]
Lucy said gently:
“Not, perhaps, until after you have interviewed Miss Marple and got her confirmation of it.”
“I shall interview her all right. She must be cracked.”
Lucy forbore to point out that to be proved right is not really a proof of mental incapacity. Instead she said:
“What are you proposing to tell Miss Crackenthorpe? About me, I mean?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, as far as Miss Marple is concerned I’ve done my job, I’ve found the body she wanted found. But I’m still engaged by Miss Crackenthorpe, and there are two hungry boys in the house and probably some more of the family will soon be coming down after all this upset. She needs domestic help. If you go and tell her that I only took this post in order to hunt for dead bodies she’ll probably throw me out. Otherwise I can get on with my job and be useful.”
The inspector looked hard at her.
“I’m not saying anything to anyone at present,” he said. “I haven’t verified your statement yet. For all I know you may be making the whole thing up.”
Lucy rose.
“Thank you. Then I’ll go back to the kitchen and get on with things.”
Seven
I
“We’d better have the Yard in on it, is that what you think, Bacon?”
The Chief Constable looked inquiringly at Inspector Bacon. The inspector was a big stolid man—his expression was that of one utterly disgusted with humanity.
“The woman wasn’t a local, sir,” he said. “There’s some reason to believe—from her underclothing—that she might have been a foreigner. Of course,” added Inspector Bacon hastily, “I’m not letting on about that yet awhile. We’re keeping it up our sleeves until after the inquest.”
The Chief Constable nodded.
“The inquest will be purely formal, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve seen the Coroner.”
“And it’s fixed for—when?”
“Tomorrow. I understand the other members of the Crackenthorpe family will be here for it. There’s just a chance one of them might be able to identify her. They’ll all be here.”
He consulted a list he held in his hand.
“Harold Crackenthorpe, he’s something in the City—quite an important figure, I understand. Alfred—don’t quite know what he does. Cedric—that’s the one who lives abroad. Paints!” The inspector invested the word with its full quota of sinister significance. The Chief Constable smiled into his moustache.
“No reason, is there, to believe the Crackenthorpe family are connected with the crime in any way?” he asked.
“Not apart from the fact that the body was found on the premises,” said Inspector Bacon. “And of course it’s just possible that this artist member of the family might be able to identify her. What beats me is this extraordinary rigmarole about the train.”
“Ah, yes. You’ve been to see this old lady, this—er—” (he glanced at the memorandum lying on his desk) “Miss Marple?”
“Yes, sir. And she’s quite set and definite about the whole thing. Whether she’s barmy or not, I don’t know, but she sticks to her story—about what her friend saw and all the rest of it. As far as all that goes, I dare say it’s just make-believe—sort of thing old ladies do make up, like seeing flying saucers at the bottom of the garden, and Russian agents in the lending library. But it seems quite clear that she did engage this young woman, the lady help, and told her to look for a body—which the girl did.”
“And found one,” observed the Chief Constable. “Well, it’s all a very remarkable story. Marple, Miss Jane Marple—the name seems familiar somehow… Anyway, I’ll get on to the Yard. I think you’re right about its not being a local case—though we won’t advertise the fact just yet. For the moment we’ll tell the Press as little as possible.”
II
The inquest was a purely formal affair. No one came forward to identify the dead woman. Lucy was called to give evidence of finding the body and medical evidence was given as to the cause of death—strangulation. The proceedings were then adjourned.
It was a cold blustery day when the Crackenthorpe family came out of the hall where the inquest had been held. There were five of them all told, Emma, Cedric, Harold, Alfred, and Bryan Eastley, the