The Mirror Crack'd - Agatha Christie [88]
‘Most remarkable,’ she said, ‘most curious. I don’t suppose anybody would ever have thought of it. I didn’t myself, until the two things came together, so to speak.’
Then she shook her head, and a little line appeared between her eyes. If only there was someone…
She went over in her mind the various accounts she had been given of that particular scene…
Her eyes widened in thought. There was someone — but would he, she wondered, be any good? One never knew with the vicar. He was quite unpredictable.
Nevertheless she went to the telephone and dialled.
‘Good morning, Vicar, this is Miss Marple.’
‘Oh, yes, Miss Marple — anything I can do for you?’
‘I wonder if you could help me on a small point. It concerns the day of the fête when poor Mrs Badcock died. I believe you were standing quite near Miss Gregg when Mr and Mrs Badcock arrived.’
‘Yes — yes — I was just before them, I think. Such a tragic day.’
‘Yes, indeed. And I believe that Mrs Badcock was recalling to Miss Gregg that they had met before in Bermuda. She had been ill in bed and had got up specially.’
‘Yes, yes, I do remember.’
‘And do you remember if Mrs Badcock mentioned the illness she was suffering from?’
‘I think now — let me see — yes, it was measles — at least not real measles — German measles — a much less serious disease. Some people hardly feel ill at all with it. I remember my cousin Caroline…’
Miss Marple cut off reminiscences of Cousin Caroline by saying firmly: ‘Thank you so much, Vicar,’ and replacing the receiver.
There was an awed expression on her face. One of the great mysteries of St Mary Mead was what made the vicar remember certain things — only outstripped by the greater mystery of what the vicar could manage to forget!
‘The taxi’s here, dear,’ said Miss Knight, bustling in. ‘It’s a very old one, and not too clean I should say. I don’t really like you driving in a thing like that. You might pick up some germ or other.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Miss Marple. Setting her hat firmly on her head and buttoning up her summer coat, she went out to the waiting taxi.
‘Good morning, Roberts,’ she said.
‘Good morning, Miss Marple. You’re early this morning. Where do you want to go?’
‘Gossington Hall, please,’ said Miss Marple.
‘I’d better come with you, hadn’t I, dear?’ said Miss Knight. ‘It won’t take a minute just to slip on outdoor shoes.’
‘No, thank you,’ said Miss Marple, firmly. ‘I’m going by myself. Drive on, Inch. I mean Roberts.’
Mr Roberts drove on, merely remarking:
‘Ah, Gossington Hall. Great changes there and everywhere nowadays. All that development. Never thought anything like that’d come to St Mary Mead.’
Upon arrival at Gossington Hall Miss Marple rang the bell and asked to see Mr Jason Rudd.
Giuseppe’s successor, a rather shaky-looking elderly man, conveyed doubt.
‘Mr Rudd,’ he said, ‘does not see anybody without an appointment, madam. And today especially —’
‘I have no appointment,’ said Miss Marple, ‘but I will wait,’ she added.
She stepped briskly past him into the hall and sat down on a hall chair.
‘I’m afraid it will be quite impossible this morning, madam.’
‘In that case,’ said Miss Marple, ‘I shall wait until this afternoon.’
Baffled, the new butler retired. Presently a young man came to Miss Marple. He had a pleasant manner and a cheerful, slightly American voice.
‘I’ve seen you before,’ said Miss Marple. ‘In the Development. You asked me the way to Blenheim Close.’
Hailey Preston smiled good-naturedly. ‘I guess you did your best, but you misdirected me badly.’
‘Dear me, did I?’ said Miss Marple. ‘So many Closes, aren’t there? Can I see Mr Rudd?’
‘Why, now, that’s too bad,’ said Hailey Preston. ‘Mr Rudd’s a busy man and he’s — er — fully occupied this morning and really can’t be disturbed.’
‘I’m sure he’s very busy,’ said Miss