Back at his desk, Craddock sat frowning, and making little notes on the pad in front of him.
'And most probably the latter,' said Craddock aloud.
He reflected gloomily on the situation.
You couldn't get far with a case until you had the motive. All the motives suggested so far seemed either inadequate or far fetched.
Now if only it had been the murder of old Mr. Crackenthorpe… Plenty of motive there…
Something stirred in his memory…
He made further notes on his pad.
Chapter 16
When Craddock got to 4 Madison Road he found Lucy Eyelesbarrow with Miss Marple.
He hesitated for a moment on his plan of campaign and then decided that Lucy Eyelesbarrow might prove a valuable ally. After greetings, he solemnly drew out his notecase, extracted three pound notes, added three shillings and pushed them across the table to Miss Marple.
'What's this, Inspector?'
'Consultation fee. You're a consultant – on murder! Pulse, temperature, local reactions, possible deep-seated cause of said murder. I'm just the poor harassed local G.P.'
Miss Marple looked at him and twinkled. He grinned at her. Lucy Eyelesbarrow gave a faint gasp and then laughed.
'Why, Inspector Craddock – you're human after all.'
'Oh, well, I'm not strictly on duty this afternoon.'
'I told you we had met before,' said Miss Marple to Lucy. 'Sir Henry Clithering is his godfather – a very old friend of mine.'
'Would you like to hear, Miss Eyelesbarrow, what my godfather said about her – the first time we met? He described her as just the finest detective God ever made – natural genius cultivated in a suitable soil. He told me never to despise the –' Dermot Craddock paused for a moment to seek for a synonym for 'old pussies' – '– er – elderly ladies. He said they could usually tell you what might have happened, what ought to have happened, and even what actually did happen! And,' he said, 'they can tell you why it happened. He added that this particular – er – elderly lady – was at the top of the class.'
'Well!' said Lucy. 'That seems to be a testimonial all right.'
Miss Marple was pink and confused and looked unusually dithery.
'Dear Sir Henry,' she murmured. 'Always so kind. Really I'm not at all clever – just, perhaps, a slight knowledge of human nature – living, you know, in a village –'
She added, with more composure: 'Of course, I am somewhat handicapped, by not actually being on the spot. It is so helpful, I always feel, when people remind you of other people – because types are alike everywhere and that is such a valuable guide.'
Lucy looked a little puzzled, but Craddock nodded comprehendingly.
'But you've been to tea there, haven't you?' he said.
'Yes, indeed. Most pleasant. I was a little disappointed that I didn't see old Mr. Crackenthorpe – but one can't have everything.'
'Do you feel that if you saw the person who had done the murder, you'd know?' asked Lucy.
'Oh, I wouldn't say that, dear. One is always inclined to guess – and guessing would be very wrong when it is a question of anything as serious as murder. All one can do is to observe the people concerned – or who might have been concerned – and see of whom they remind you.'
'Like Cedric and the bank manager?'
Miss Marple corrected her.
'The bank manager's son, dear. Mr. Eade himself was far more like Mr. Harold – a very conservative man – but perhaps a little too fond of money – the sort of man, too, who would go a long way to avoid scandal.'
Craddock smiled, and said:
'And Alfred?'
'Jenkins at the garage,' Miss Marple replied promptly. 'He didn't exactly appropriate tools – but he used to exchange a broken or inferior jack for a good one. And I believe he wasn't very honest over batteries – though I don't understand these things very well. I know Raymond left off dealing with him and went to the garage on the Milchester road. As for Emma,' continued Miss Marple thoughtfully, 'she reminds me very much of Geraldine Webb – always very quiet, almost dowdy – and bullied a good deal by her elderly mother. Quite a surprise to everybody when the mother died unexpectedly and Geraldine came into a nice sum of money and went and had her hair cut and permed, and went off on a cruise, and came back married to a very nice barrister. They had two children.'
The parallel was clear enough. Lucy said, rather uneasily: 'Do you think you ought to have said what you did about Emma marrying? It seemed to upset the brothers.'
Miss Marple nodded.
'Yes,' she said. 'So like men – quite unable to see what's going on under their eyes. I don't believe you noticed yourself.'
'No,' admitted Lucy. 'I never thought of anything of that kind. They both seemed to me –'
'So old?' said Miss Marple smiling a little. ' But Dr. Quimper isn't much over forty, I should say, though he's going grey on the temples, and it's obvious that he's longing for some kind of home life, and Emma Crackenthorpe is under forty – not too old to marry and have a family. The doctor's wife died quite young having a baby, so I have heard.'
'I believe she did. Emma said something about it one day.'
'He must be lonely,' said Miss Marple. 'A busy hard-working doctor needs a wife – someone sympathetic – not too young.'
'Listen, darling,' said Lucy. 'Are we investigating crime, or are we matchmaking?'
Miss Marple twinkled.
'I'm afraid I am rather romantic. Because I am an old maid, perhaps. You know, dear Lucy, that, as far as I am concerned, you have fulfilled your contract. If you really want a holiday abroad before taking up your next engagement, you would have time still for a short trip.'
'And leave Rutherford Hall? Never! I'm the complete sleuth by now. Almost as bad as the boys. They spend
