Chapter 5. Murder in Retrospect
It was some ten days later that Miss Marple entered a small hotel in Mayfair, and was given an enthusiastic reception by young Mr and Mrs Reed.
‘This is my husband, Miss Marple. Giles, I can’t tell you how kind Miss Marple was to me.’
‘I’m delighted to meet you, Miss Marple. I hear Gwenda nearly panicked herself into a lunatic asylum.’
Miss Marple’s gentle blue eyes summed up Giles Reed favourably. A very likeable young man, tall and fair with a disarming way of blinking every now and then out of a natural shyness. She noted his determined chin and the set of his jaw.
‘We’ll have tea in the little waiting-room, the dark one,’ said Gwenda. ‘Nobody ever comes there. And then we can show Miss Marple Aunt Alison’s letter.
***
On the following day, news went round the village of St Mary Mead that Miss Marple was at home again. She was seen in the High Street at eleven o’clock. She called at the Vicarage at ten minutes to twelve. That afternoon three of the gossipy ladies of the village called upon her and obtained her impressions of the gay Metropolis and, this tribute to politeness over, themselves plunged into details of an approaching battle over the fancywork stall at the Fete and the position of the tea tent.
Later that evening Miss Marple could be seen as usual in her garden, but for once her activities were more concentrated on the depredations of weeds than on the activities of her neighbours. She wasdistraite at her frugal evening meal, and hardly appeared to listen to her little maid Evelyn’s spirited account of the goings-on of the local chemist. The next day she was stilldistraite, and one or two people, including the Vicar’s wife, remarked upon it. That evening Miss Marple said that she did not feel very well and took to her bed. The following morning she sent for Dr Haydock.
Dr Haydock had been Miss Marple’s physician, friend and ally for many years. He listened to her account of her symptoms, gave her an examination, then sat back in his chair and waggled his stethoscope at her.
‘For a woman of your age,’ he said, ‘and in spite of that misleading frail appearance, you’re in remarkably good fettle.’
‘I’m sure my general health is sound,’ said Miss Marple. ‘But I confess I do feel a little overtired-a little run down.’
‘You’ve been gallivanting about. Late nights in London.’
‘That, of course. I do find London a little tiring nowadays. And the air-so used up. Not like fresh seaside air.’
‘The air of St Mary Mead is nice and fresh.’
‘But often damp and rather muggy. Not, you know, exactlybracing.’
Dr Haydock eyed her with a dawning of interest.
‘I’ll send you round a tonic,’ he said obligingly.
‘Thank you, Doctor. Easton’s syrup is always very helpful.’
‘There’s no need for you to do my prescribing for me, woman.’
‘I wondered if, perhaps, a change of air-?’
Miss Marple looked questioningly at him with guileless blue eyes.
‘You’ve just been away for three weeks.’
‘I know. But to London which, as you say, is enervating. And then up North-a manufacturing district. Not like bracing sea air.’
Dr Haydock packed up his bag. Then he turned round, grinning.
***
On her way to call upon her friends, Colonel and Mrs Bantry, Miss Marple met Colonel Bantry coming along the drive, his gun in his hand and his spaniel at his heels. He welcomed her cordially.
‘Glad to see you back again. How’s London?’
Miss Marple said that London was very well. Her nephew had taken her to several plays.
‘Highbrow ones, I bet. Only care for a musical comedy myself.’
Miss Marple said that she had been to a Russian play that was very interesting, though perhaps a little too long.
‘Russians!’ said Colonel Bantry explosively. He had once been given a novel by Dostoievsky to read in a nursing home.
He added that Miss Marple would find Dolly in the garden.
Mrs Bantry was almost always to be found in the garden. Gardening was her passion. Her favourite literature was bulb catalogues and her conversation dealt with primulas, bulbs, flowering shrubs and alpine novelties. Miss Marple’s first view of her was a substantial posterior clad in faded tweed.
At the sound of approaching steps, Mrs Bantry reassumed an erect position with a few creaks and winces, her hobby had made her rheumaticky, wiped her hot brow with an earth-stained hand and welcomed her friend.
‘Heard you were back, Jane,’ she said. ‘Aren’t my new delphiniums doing well? Have you seen these new little gentians? I’ve had a bit of trouble with them, but I think they’re all set now. What we need is rain. It’s been terribly dry.’ She added, ‘Esther told me you were ill in bed.’ Esther was Mrs Bantry’s cook and liaison officer with the village. ‘I’m glad to see it’s not true.’
‘Just a little overtired,’ said Miss Marple. ‘Dr Haydock thinks I need some sea air. I’m rather run down.’
‘Oh, but you couldn’t go awaynow,’ said Mrs Bantry. ‘This is absolutely the best time of the year in the garden. Your border must be just coming into flower.’
‘Dr Haydock thinks it would be advisable.’
‘Well, Haydock’s not such a fool as some doctors,’ admitted Mrs Bantry grudgingly.
‘I was wondering, Dolly, about that cook of yours.’
‘Which cook? Do you want a cook? You don’t mean that woman who drank, do you?’
‘No, no, no. I mean the one who made such delicious pastry. With a husband who was the butler.’
‘Oh, you mean the Mock Turtle,’ said Mrs Bantry with immediate recognition. ‘Woman with a deep mournful voice who always sounded as though she was going to burst into tears. Shewas a good cook. Husband was a fat, rather lazy man. Arthur always said he watered the whisky. I don’t know. Pity there’s always one of a couple that’s unsatisfactory. They got left a legacy by some former employer and they went off and opened a boarding-house on the south coast.’
‘That’s just what I thought. Wasn’t it at Dillmouth?’
‘That’s right. 14 Sea Parade, Dillmouth.’
‘I was thinking that as Dr Haydock has suggested the seaside I might go to-was their name Saunders?’
‘Yes. That’s an excellent idea, Jane. You couldn’t do better. Mrs Saunders will look after you well, and as it’s out of the season they’ll be glad to get you and won’t charge very much. With good cooking and sea air you’ll soon pick up.’
‘Thank you, Dolly,’ said Miss Marple, ‘I expect I shall.’