A Murder Is Announced

Inspector Craddock had had a bad night on his night journey home. His dreams had been less dreams than nightmares. Again and again he was racing through the grey corridors of an old-world castle in a desperate attempt to get somewhere, or to prevent something, in time. Finally he dreamt that he awoke. An enormous relief surged over him. Then the door of his compartment slid slowly open, and Letitia Blacklock looked in at him with blood running down her face, and said reproachfully: ‘Why didn’t you save me? You could have if you’d tried.’

This time he really awoke.

Altogether, the Inspector was thankful finally to reach Milchester. He went straight away to make his report to Rydesdale who listened carefully.

‘It doesn’t take us much further,’ he said. ‘But it confirms what Miss Blacklock told you. Pip and Emma-h’m, I wonder.’

‘Patrick and Julia Simmons are the right age, sir. If we could establish that Miss Blacklock hadn’t seen them since they were children-’

With a very faint chuckle, Rydesdale said: ‘Our ally, Miss Marple, has established that for us. Actually Miss Blacklock had never seen either of them at all until two months ago.’

‘Then, surely, sir-’

‘It’s not so easy as all that, Craddock. We’ve been checking up. On what we’ve got, Patrick and Julia seem definitely to be out of it. His Naval record is genuine-quite a good record bar a tendency to “insubordination”. We’ve checked with Cannes, and an indignant Mrs Simmons says of course her son and daughter are at Chipping Cleghorn with her cousin Letitia Blacklock. So that’s that!’

‘And Mrs Simmonsis Mrs Simmons?’

‘She’s been Mrs Simmons for a very long time, that’s all I can say,’ said Rydesdale dryly.

‘That seems clear enough. Only-those two fitted. Right age. Not known to Miss Blacklock, personally. If we wanted Pip and Emma-well, there they were.’

The Chief Constable nodded thoughtfully, then he pushed across a paper to Craddock.

‘Here’s a little something we’ve dug up on Mrs Easterbrook.’

The Inspector read with lifted eyebrows.

‘Very interesting,’ he remarked. ‘Hoodwinked that old ass pretty well, hasn’t she? It doesn’t tie in with this business though, as far as I can see.’

‘Apparently not.’

‘And here’s an item that concerns Mrs Haymes.’

Again Craddock’s eyebrows rose.

‘I think I’ll have another talk with the lady,’ he said.

‘You think this information might be relevant?’

‘I think it might be. It would be a long shot, of course…’

The two men were silent for a moment or two.

‘How has Fletcher got on, sir?’

‘Fletcher has been exceedingly active. He’s made a routine search of the house by agreement with Miss Blacklock-but he didn’t find anything significant. Then he’s been checking up on who could have had the opportunity of oiling that door. Checking who was up at the house on the days that that foreign girl was out. A little more complicated than we thought, because it appears she goes for a walk most afternoons. Usually down to the village where she has a cup of coffee at the Bluebird. So that when Miss Blacklock and Miss Bunner are out-which is most afternoons-they go blackberrying-the coast is clear.’

‘And the doors are always left unlocked?’

‘They used to be. I don’t suppose they are now.’

‘What are Fletcher’s results? Who’s known to have been in the house when it was left empty?’

‘Practically the whole lot of them.’

Rydesdale consulted a page in front of him.

‘Miss Murgatroyd was there with a hen to sit on some eggs. (Sounds complicated but that’s what she says.) Very flustered about it all and contradicts herself, but Fletcher thinks that’s temperamental and not a sign of guilt.’

‘Might be,’ Craddock admitted. ‘She flaps.’

‘Then Mrs Swettenham came up to fetch some horse meat that Miss Blacklock had left for her on the kitchen table because Miss Blacklock had been in to Milchester in the car that day and always gets Mrs Swettenham’s horse meat for her. That make sense to you?’

Craddock considered.

‘Why didn’t Miss Blacklock leave the horse meat when she passed Mrs Swettenham’s house on her way back from Milchester?’

‘I don’t know, but she didn’t. Mrs Swettenham says she (Miss B.) always leaves it on the kitchen table, and she (Mrs S.) likes to fetch it when Mitzi isn’t there because Mitzi is sometimes so rude.’

‘Hangs together quite well. And the next?’

‘Miss Hinchcliffe. Says she wasn’t there at all lately. But she was. Because Mitzi saw her coming out of the side door one day and so did a Mrs Butt (she’s one of the locals). Miss H. then admitted she might have been there but had forgotten. Can’t remember what she went for. Says she probably just dropped in.’

‘That’s rather odd.’

‘So was her manner, apparently. Then there’s Mrs Easterbrook. She was exercising the dear dogs out that way and she just popped in to see if Miss Blacklock would lend her a knitting pattern but Miss Blacklock wasn’t in. She says she waited a little.’

‘Just so. Might be snooping round. Or might be oiling a door. And the Colonel?’