At Bertram's Hotel (Miss Marple 11)

“Are you really asking me? Isn’t it obvious? Mr. Justice Ludgrove is seen near the scene of a bank holdup. Someone recognizes him, mentions it. We go into it. It’s all a mistake. He was somewhere else at the time. But it wasn’t for a while that we realized that these were all what is sometimes called ‘deliberate mistakes.’ Nobody’s bothered about the man who had looked so like him. And doesn’t look particularly like him really. He takes off his makeup and stops acting his part. The whole thing brings about confusion. At one time we had a High Court judge, an Archdeacon, an Admiral, a Major-General, all seen near the scene of a crime.

“After the Bedhampton train robbery at least four vehicles were concerned before the loot arrived in London. A racing car driven by Malinowski took part in it, a false Metal Box lorry, an old-fashioned Daimler with an admiral in it, and an old clergyman with a thatch of white hair in a Morris Oxford. The whole thing was a splendid operation, beautifully planned.

“And then one day the gang had a bit of bad luck. That muddle-headed old ecclesiastic, Canon Pennyfather, went off to catch his plane on the wrong day, they turned him away from the air station, he wandered out into Cromwell Road, went to a film, arrived back here after midnight, came up to his room, of which he had the key in his pocket, opened the door, and walked in to get the shock of his life when he saw what appeared to be himself sitting in a chair facing him! The last thing the gang expected was to see the real Canon Pennyfather, supposed to be safely in Lucerne, walk in! His double was just getting ready to start off to play his part at Bedhampton when in walked the real man. They didn’t know what to do but there was a quick reflex action from one member of the party. Humfries, I suspect. He hit the old man on the head, and he went down unconscious. Somebody, I think, was angry over that. Very angry. However, they examined the old boy, decided he was only knocked out, and would probably come round later and they went on with their plans. The false Canon Pennyfather left his room, went out of the hotel and drove to the scene of activities where he was to play his part in the relay race. What they did with the real Canon Pennyfather I don’t know. I can only guess. I presume he too was moved later that night, driven down in a car, taken to the market gardener’s cottage which was at a spot not too far from where the train was to be held up and where a doctor could attend to him. Then, if reports came through about Canon Pennyfather having been seen in the neighbourhood, it would all fit in. It must have been an anxious moment for all concerned until he regained consciousness and they found that at least three days had been knocked out of his remembrance.”

“Would they have killed him otherwise?” asked Miss Marple.

“No,” said Father. “I don’t think they would have killed him. Someone wouldn’t have let that happen. It had seemed very clear all along that whoever ran this show had an objection to murder.”

“It sounds fantastic,” said Bess Sedgwick. “Utterly fantastic! And I don’t believe you have any evidence whatever to link Ladislaus Malinowski with this rigmarole.”

“I’ve got plenty of evidence against Ladislaus Malinowski,” said Father. “He’s careless, you know. He hung around here when he shouldn’t have. On the first occasion he came to establish connection with your daughter. They had a code arranged.”

“Nonsense. She told you herself that she didn’t know him.”

“She may have told me that but it wasn’t true. She’s in love with him. She wants the fellow to marry her.”

“I don’t believe it!”

“You’re not in a position to know,” Chief-Inspector Davy pointed out. “Malinowski isn’t the sort of person who tells all his secrets and your daughter you don’t know at all. You admitted as much. You were angry, weren’t you, when you found out Malinowski had come to Bertram’s Hotel.”

“Why should I be angry?”

“Because you’re the brains of the show,” said Father. “You and Henry. The financial side was run by the Hoffman brothers. They made all the arrangements with the Continental banks and accounts and that sort of thing, but the boss of the syndicate, the brains that run it, and plan it, are your brains, Lady Sedgwick.”

Bess looked at him and laughed. “I never heard anything so ridiculous!” she said.

“Oh no, it’s not ridiculous at all. You’ve got brains, courage and daring. You’ve tried most things; you thought you’d turn your hand to crime. Plenty of excitement in it, plenty of risk. It wasn’t the money that attracted you, I’d say, it was the fun of the whole thing. But you wouldn’t stand for murder, or for undue violence. There were no killings, no brutal assaults, only nice quiet scientific taps on the head if necessary. You’re a very interesting woman, you know. One of the few really interesting great criminals.”

There was silence for some few minutes. Then Bess Sedgwick rose to her feet.

“I think you must be mad.” She put her hand out to the telephone.

“Going to ring up your solicitor? Quite the right thing to do before you say too much.”

With a sharp gesture she slammed the receiver back on the hook.

“On second thoughts I hate solicitors…All right. Have it your own way. Yes, I ran this show. You’re quite correct when you say it was fun. I loved every minute of it. It was fun scooping money from banks, trains and post offices and so-called security vans! It was fun planning and deciding; glorious fun and I’m glad I had it. The pitcher goes to the well once too often? That’s what you said just now, wasn’t it? I suppose it’s true. Well, I’ve had a good run for my money! But you’re wrong about Ladislaus Malinowski shooting Michael Gorman! He didn’t. I did.” She laughed a sudden high, excited laugh. “Never mind what it was he did, what he threatened…I told him I’d shoot him—Miss Marple heard me—and I did shoot him. I did very much what you suggested Ladislaus did. I hid in that area. When Elvira passed, I fired one shot wild, and when she screamed and Micky came running down the street, I’d got him where I wanted him, and I let him have it! I’ve got keys to all the hotel entrances, of course. I just slipped in through the area door and up to my room. It never occurred to me you’d trace the pistol to Ladislaus—or would even suspect him. I’d pinched it from his car without his knowing. But not, I can assure you, with any idea of throwing suspicion on him.”

She swept round on Miss Marple. “You’re a witness to what I’ve said, remember. I killed Gorman.”

“Or perhaps you are saying so because you’re in love with Malinowski,” suggested Davy.

“I’m not.” Her retort came sharply. “I’m his good friend, that’s all. Oh yes, we’ve been lovers in a casual kind of way, but I’m not in love with him. In all my life, I’ve only loved one person—John Sedgwick.” her voice changed and softened as she pronounced the name.

“But Ladislaus is my friend. I don’t want him railroaded for something he didn’t do. I killed Michael Gorman. I’ve said so, and Miss Marple has heard me…And now, dear Chief-Inspector Davy—” her voice rose excitedly, and her laughter rang out—“catch me if you can.”

With a sweep of her arm, she smashed the window with the heavy telephone set, and before Father could get to his feet, she was out of the window and edging her way rapidly along the narrow parapet. With surprising quickness in spite of his bulk, Davy had moved to the other window and flung up the sash. At the same time he blew the whistle he had taken from his pocket.

Miss Marple, getting to her feet with rather more difficulty a moment or two later, joined him. Together they stared out along the façade of Bertram’s Hotel.

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sp; “She’ll fall. She’s climbing up a drainpipe,” Miss Marple exclaimed. “But why up?”

“Going to the roof. It’s her only chance and she knows it. Good God, look at her. Climbs like a cat. She looks like a fly on the side of the wall. The risks she’s taking!”

Miss Marple murmured, her eyes half closing, “She’ll fall. She can’t do it….”

The woman they were watching disappeared from sight. Father drew back a little into the room.

Miss Marple asked:

“Don’t you want to go and—”

Father shook his head. “What good am I with my bulk? I’ve got my men posted ready for something like this. They know what to do. In a few minutes we shall know…I wouldn’t put it past her to beat the lot of them! She’s a woman in a thousand, you know.” He sighed. “One of the wild ones. Oh, we’ve some of them in every generation. You can’t tame them, you can’t bring them into the community and make them live in law and order. They go their own way. If they’re saints they go and tend lepers or something, or get themselves martyred in jungles. If they’re bad lots they commit the atrocities that you don’t like hearing about: and sometimes—they’re just wild! They’d have been all right, I suppose, born in another age when it was everyone’s hand for himself, everyone fighting to keep life in their veins. Hazards at every turn, danger all round them, and they themselves perforce dangerous to others. That world would have suited them; they’d have been at home in it. This one doesn’t.”

“Did you know what she was going to do?”

“Not really. That’s one of her gifts. The unexpected. She must have thought this out, you know. She knew what was coming. So she sat looking at us—keeping the ball rolling—and thinking. Thinking and planning hard. I expect—ah—” He broke off as there came the sudden roar of a car’s exhaust, the screaming of wheels, and the sound of a big racing engine. He leaned out. “She’s made it, she’s got to her car.”