Miss Marple's final cases - Agatha Christie [59]
‘Do you mean it was Mrs Cresswell who killed Miss Greenshaw?’
‘I think that after bringing you your coffee, the woman locked the door on you as she went out, carried the unconscious Miss Greenshaw down to the drawing-room, then assumed her “Miss Greenshaw” disguise and went out to work on the rockery where you could see her from the window. In due course she screamed and came staggering to the house clutching an arrow as though it had penetrated her throat. She called for help and was careful to say “he shot me” so as to remove suspicion from the housekeeper. She also called up to the housekeeper’s window as though she saw her there. Then, once inside the drawing-room, she threw over a table with porcelain on it—and ran quickly upstairs, put on her marquise wig and was able a few moments later to lean her head out of the window and tell you that she, too, was locked in.’
‘But she was locked in,’ said Lou.
‘I know. That is where the policeman comes in.’
‘What policeman?’
‘Exactly—what policeman? I wonder, Inspector, if you would mind telling me how and when you arrived on the scene?’
The inspector looked a little puzzled.
‘At twelve twenty-nine we received a telephone call from Mrs Cresswell, housekeeper to Miss Greenshaw, stating that her mistress had been shot. Sergeant Cayley and myself went out there at once in a car and arrived at the house at twelve thirty-five. We found Miss Greenshaw dead and the two ladies locked in their rooms.’
‘So, you see, my dear,’ said Miss Marple to Lou. ‘The police constable you saw wasn’t a real police constable. You never thought of him again—one doesn’t—one just accepts one more uniform as part of the law.’
‘But who—why?’
‘As to who—well, if they are playing A Kiss for Cinderella, a policeman is the principal character. Nat Fletcher would only have to help himself to the costume he wears on the stage. He’d ask his way at a garage being careful to call attention to the time—twelve twenty-five, then drive on quickly, leave his car round a corner, slip on his police uniform and do his “act”.’
‘But why?—why?’
‘Someone had to lock the housekeeper’s door on the outside, and someone had to drive the arrow through Miss Greenshaw’s throat. You can stab anyone with an arrow just as well as by shooting it—but it needs force.’
‘You mean they were both in it?’
‘Oh yes, I think so. Mother and son as likely as not.’
‘But Miss Greenshaw’s sister died long ago.’
‘Yes, but I’ve no doubt Mr Fletcher married again. He sounds the sort of man who would, and I think it possible that the child died too, and that this so-called nephew was the second wife’s child, and not really a relation at all. The woman got a post as housekeeper and spied out the land. Then he wrote as her nephew and proposed to call upon her—he may have made some joking reference to coming in his policeman’s uniform—or asked her over to see the play. But I think she suspected the truth and refused to see him. He would have been her heir if she had died without making a will—but of course once she had made a will in the housekeeper’s favour (as they thought) then it was clear sailing.’
‘But why use an arrow?’ objected Joan. ‘So very far fetched.’
‘Not far fetched at all, dear. Alfred belonged to an archery club—Alfred was meant to take the blame. The fact that he was in the pub as early as twelve twenty was most unfortunate from their point of view. He always left a little before his proper time and that would have been just right—’ she shook her head. ‘It really seems all wrong—morally, I mean, that Alfred’s laziness should have saved his life.’
The inspector cleared his throat.
‘Well, madam, these suggestions of yours are very interesting. I shall have, of course, to investigate—’
IV
Miss Marple and Raymond West stood by the rockery and looked down at that gardening basket full of dying vegetation.
Miss Marple murmured:
‘Alyssum, saxifrage, cytisus,