Sleeping Murder - Agatha Christie [57]
“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….”
Twenty-one
J. J. AFFLICK
I
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