4_50 From Paddington - Agatha Christie [56]
III
“Sir, listen, do you know what?”
Inspector Craddock looked at his excited sergeant.
“Yes, Wetherall, what is it?”
“I’ve placed him, sir. That chap. All the time I was trying to fix it and suddenly it came. He was mixed up in that tinned food business with Dicky Rogers. Never got anything on him—too cagey for that. And he’s been in with one or more of the Soho lot. Watches and that Italian sovereign business.”
Of course! Craddock realized now why Alfred’s face had seemed vaguely familiar from the first. It had all been small-time stuff—never anything that could be proved. Alfred had always been on the outskirts of the racket with a plausible innocent reason for having been mixed up in it at all. But the police had been quite sure that a small steady profit came his way.
“That throws rather a light on things,” Craddock said.
“Think he did it?”
“I shouldn’t have said he was the type to do murder. But it explains other things—the reason why he couldn’t come up with an alibi.”
“Yes, that looked bad for him.”
“Not really,” said Craddock. “It’s quite a clever line—just to say firmly you can’t remember. Lots of people can’t remember what they did and where they were even a week ago. It’s especially useful if you don’t particularly want to call attention to the way you spend your time—interesting rendezvous at lorry pull-ups with the Dicky Rogers crowd, for instance.”
“So you think he’s all right?”
“I’m not prepared to think anyone’s all right just yet,” said Inspector Craddock. “You’ve got to work on it, Wetherall.”
Back at his desk, Craddock sat frowning, and making little notes on the pad in front of him.
Murderer (he wrote)… A tall dark man!!!
Victim?… Could have been Martine, Edmund
Crackenthorpe’s girlfriend or widow.
Or
Could have been Anna Stravinska. Went out of circulation at appropriate time, right age and appearance, clothing, etc. No connections with Rutherford Hall as far as is known. Could be Harold’s first wife! Bigamy!
" " first mistress. Blackmail!
If connection with Alfred, might be blackmail. Had knowledge that could have sent him to gaol? If Cedric—might have had connections with him abroad— Paris? Balearics?
Or
Victim could be Anna S. posing as Martine
or
Victim is unknown woman killed by unknown murderer!
“And most probably the latter,” said Craddock aloud.
He reflected gloomily on the situation. You couldn’t get far with a case until you had the motive. All the motives suggested so far seemed either inadequate or far fetched.
Now if only it had been the murder of old Mr. Crackenthorpe… Plenty of motive there….
Something stirred in his memory….
He made further notes on his pad.
Ask Dr. Q. about Christmas illness.
Cedric—alibi.
Consult Miss M. for the latest gossip.
Sixteen
When Craddock got to 4 Madison Road he found Lucy Eyelesbarrow with Miss Marple.
He hesitated for a moment in his plan of campaign and then decided that Lucy Eyelesbarrow might prove a valuable ally.
After greetings, he solemnly drew out his notecase, extracting three pound notes, added three shillings and pushed them across the table to Miss Marple.
“What’s this, Inspector?”
“Consultation fee. You’re a consultant—on murder! Pulse, temperature, local reactions, possible deepseated cause of said murder. I’m just the poor harassed local G.P.”
Miss Marple looked at him and twinkled. He grinned at her. Lucy Eyelesbarrow gave a faint gasp and then laughed.
“Why, Inspector Craddock—you’re human after all.”
“Oh, well, I’m not strictly on duty this afternoon.”
“I told you we had met before,” said Miss Marple to Lucy. “Sir Henry Clithering is his godfather—a very old friend of mine.”
“Would you like to hear, Miss Eyelesbarrow, what my godfather said about her—the first time we met? He described her as just the finest detective God ever