The Body in the Library (Miss Marple 3)

“Quite frequently. She’s a first-class player, of course, and very nice. My father-in-law is a keen bridge player and whenever possible liked to get hold of Josie to make the fourth instead of an outsider. Naturally, as she has to arrange the fours, she can’t always play with us, but she does whenever she can, and as”—her eyes smiled a little—“my father-in-law spends a lot of money in the hotel, the management are quite pleased for Josie to favour us.”

Melchett asked:

“You like Josie?”

“Yes, I do. She’s always good-humoured and cheerful, works hard and seems to enjoy her job. She’s shrewd, though not well educated, and—well—never pretends about anything. She’s natural and unaffected.”

“Please go on, Mrs. Jefferson.”

“As I say, Josie had to get her bridge fours arranged and Mark was writing, so Ruby sat and talked with us a little longer than usual. Then Josie came along, and Ruby went off to do her first solo dance with Raymond—he’s the dance and tennis professional. She came back to us afterwards just as Mark joined us. Then she went off to dance with a young man and we four started our bridge.”

She stopped, and made a slight insignificant gesture of helplessness.

“And that’s all I know! I just caught a glimpse of her once dancing, but bridge is an absorbing game and I hardly glanced through the glass partition at the ballroom. Then, at midnight, Raymond came along to Josie very upset and asked where Ruby was. Josie, naturally, tried to shut him up but—”

Superintendent Harper interrupted. He said in his quiet voice: “Why ‘naturally,’ Mrs. Jefferson?”

“Well”—she hesitated, looked, Melchett thought, a little put out—“Josie didn’t want the girl’s absence made too much of. She considered herself responsible for her in a way. She said Ruby was probably up in her bedroom, said the girl had talked about having a headache earlier—I don’t think that was true, by the way; Josie just said it by way of excuse. Raymond went off and telephoned up to Ruby’s room, but apparently there was no answer, and he came back in rather a state—temperamental, you know. Josie went off with him and tried to soothe him down, and in the end she danced with him instead of Ruby. Rather plucky of her, because you could see afterwards it had hurt her ankle. She came back to us when the dance was over and tried to calm down Mr. Jefferson. He had got worked up by then. We persuaded him in the end to go to bed, told him Ruby had probably gone for a spin in a car and that they’d had a puncture. He went to bed worried, and this morning he began to agitate at once.” She paused. “The rest you know.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jefferson. Now I’m going to ask you if you’ve any idea who could have done this thing.”

She said immediately: “No idea whatever. I’m afraid I can’t help you in the slightest.”

He pressed her. “The girl never said anything? Nothing about jealousy? About some man she was afraid of? Or intimate with?”

Adelaide Jefferson shook her head to each query.

There seemed nothing more that she could tell them.

The Superintendent suggested that they should interview young George Bartlett and return to see Mr. Jefferson later. Colonel Melchett agreed, and the three men went out, Mrs. Jefferson promising to send word as soon as Mr. Jefferson was awake.

“Nice woman,” said the Colonel, as they closed the door behind them.

“A very nice lady indeed,” said Superintendent Harper.

III

George Bartlett was a thin, lanky youth with a prominent Adam’s apple and an immense difficulty in saying what he meant. He was in such a state of dither that it was hard to get a calm statement from him.

“I say, it is awful, isn’t it? Sort of thing one reads about in the Sunday papers—but one doesn’t feel it really happens, don’t you know?”

“Unfortunately there is no doubt about it, Mr. Bartlett,” said the Superintendent.

“No, no, of course not. But it seems so rum somehow. And miles from here and everything—in some country house, wasn’t it? Awfully county and all that. Created a bit of a stir in the neighbourhood—what?”

Colonel Melchett took charge.

“How well did you know the dead girl, Mr. Bartlett?”

George Bartlett looked alarmed.

“Oh, n-n-n-ot well at all, s-s-sir. No, hardly at all—if you know what I mean. Danced with her once or twice—passed the time of day—bit of tennis—you know.”

“You were, I think, the last person to see her alive last night?”

“I suppose I was—doesn’t it sound awful? I mean, she was perfectly all right when I saw her—absolutely.”

“What time was that, Mr. Bartlett?”

“Well, you know, I never know about time—wasn’t very late, if you know what I mean.”

“You danced with her?”

“Yes—as a matter of fact—well, yes, I did. Early on in the evening, though. Tell you what, it was just after her exhibition dance with the pro fellow. Must have been ten, half-past, eleven, I don’t know.”

“Never mind the time. We can fix that. Please tell us exactly what happened.”

“Well, we danced, don’t you know. Not that I’m much of a dancer.”

“How you dance is not really relevant, Mr. Bartlett.”

George Bartlett cast an alarmed eye on the Colonel and stammered:

“No—er—n-n-n-o, I suppose it isn’t. Well, as I say, we danced, round and round, and I talked, but Ruby didn’t say very much and she yawned a bit. As I say, I don’t dance awfully well, and so girls—well—inclined to give it a miss, if you know what I mean. She said she had a headache—I know where I get off, so I said righty ho, and that was that.”

“What was the last you saw of her?”

“She went off upstairs.”

“She said nothing about meeting anyone? Or going for a drive? Or—or—having a date?” The Colonel used the colloquial expression with a slight effort.

Bartlett shook his head.

“Not to me.” He looked rather mournful. “Just gave me the push.”

“What was her manner? Did she seem anxious, abstracted, anyt

hing on her mind?”

George Bartlett considered. Then he shook his head.

“Seemed a bit bored. Yawned, as I said. Nothing more.”

Colonel Melchett said:

“And what did you do, Mr. Bartlett?”

“Eh?”

“What did you do when Ruby Keene left you?”

George Bartlett gaped at him.

“Let’s see now—what did I do?”

“We’re waiting for you to tell us.”

“Yes, yes—of course. Jolly difficult, remembering things, what? Let me see. Shouldn’t be surprised if I went into the bar and had a drink.”

“Did you go into the bar and have a drink?”

“That’s just it. I did have a drink. Don’t think it was just then. Have an idea I wandered out, don’t you know? Bit of air. Rather stuffy for September. Very nice outside. Yes, that’s it. I strolled around a bit, then I came in and had a drink and then I strolled back to the ballroom. Wasn’t much doing. Noticed what’s-her-name—Josie—was dancing again. With the tennis fellow. She’d been on the sick list—twisted ankle or something.”

“That fixes the time of your return at midnight. Do you intend us to understand that you spent over an hour walking about outside?”

“Well, I had a drink, you know. I was—well, I was thinking of things.”

This statement received more credulity than any other.

Colonel Melchett said sharply:

“What were you thinking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Things,” said Mr. Bartlett vaguely.

“You have a car, Mr. Bartlett?”

“Oh, yes, I’ve got a car.”

“Where was it, in the hotel garage?”

“No, it was in the courtyard, as a matter of fact. Thought I might go for a spin, you see.”

“Perhaps you did go for a spin?”

“No—no, I didn’t. Swear I didn’t.”

“You didn’t, for instance, take Miss Keene for a spin?”

“Oh, I say. Look here, what are you getting at? I didn’t—I swear I didn’t. Really, now.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bartlett, I don’t think there is anything more at present. At present,” repeated Colonel Melchett with a good deal of emphasis on the words.