Sleeping Murder (Miss Marple 13)

I

J. J. Afflick, Daffodil Coaches, Devon & Dorset Tours, etc. had two numbers listed in the telephone book. An office address in Exeter and a private address on the outskirts of that town.

An appointment was made for the following day.

Just as Giles and Gwenda were leaving in the car, Mrs. Cocker ran out and gesticulated. Giles put on the brake and stopped.

“It’s Dr. Kennedy on the telephone, sir.”

Giles got out and ran back. He picked up the receiver.

“Giles Reed here.”

“Morning. I’ve just received rather an odd letter. From a woman called Lily Kimble. I’ve been racking my brains to remember who she is. Thought of a patient first—that put me off the scent. But I rather fancy she must be a girl who was in service once at your house. House-parlourmaid at the time we know of. I’m almost sure her name was Lily, though I don’t recollect her last name.”

“There was a Lily. Gwenda remembers her. She tied a bow on the cat.”

“Gwennie must have a very remarkable memory.”

“Oh, she has.”

“Well, I’d like to have a word with you about this letter—not over the phone. Will you be in if I come over?”

“We’re just on our way to Exeter. We could drop in on you, if you prefer, sir. It’s all on our way.”

“Good. That’ll do splendidly.”

“I don’t like to talk too much about all this over the phone,” explained the doctor when they arrived. “I always have an idea the local exchanges listen in. Here’s the woman’s letter.”

He spread the letter on the table. It was written on cheap lined paper in an uneducated hand.

Dear sir (Lily Kimble had written)

I’d be grateful if you could give me advise about the enclosed wot i cut out of paper. I been thinking and i talked it over with mr. Kimble, but i don’t know wots best to do about it. Do you think as it means money or a reward becos i could do with the money im sure but woodnt want the police or anything like that, i often hav been thinking about that nite wen mrs. Halliday went away and i don’t think sir she ever did becos the clothes was wrong. i thort at first the master done it but now im not so sure becos of the car i saw out of the window. A posh car it was and i seen it before but i woodnt like to do anything without asking you first if it was all rite and not police becos i never hav been mixed up with police and mr. Kimble woodnt like it. I could come and see you sir if i may next thursday as its market day and mr. Kimble will be out. id be very grateful if you could.

yours respectfully,

Lily Kimble.

“It was addressed to my old house in Dillmouth,” said Kennedy, “and forwarded on to me here. The cutting is your advertisement.”

“It’s wonderful,” said Gwenda. “This Lily—you see—she doesn’t think it was my father who did it!”

She spoke with jubilation. Dr. Kennedy looked at her with tired, kindly eyes.

“Good for you, Gwennie,” he said gently. “I hope you’re right. Now this is what I think we’d better do. I’ll answer her letter and tell her to come here on Thursday. The train connection is quite good. By changing at Dillmouth Junction she can get here shortly after 4.30. If you two will come over that afternoon, we can tackle her all together.”

“Splendid,” said Giles. He glanced at his watch. “Come on, Gwenda, we must hurry. We’ve got an appointment,” he explained. “With Mr. Afflick of the Daffodil Coaches, and, so he told us, he’s a busy man.”

“Afflick?” Kennedy frowned. “Of course! Devon Tours in Daffodil Coaches, horrible great butter-coloured brutes. But the name seemed familiar in some other way.”

“Helen,” said Gwenda.

“My goodness—not that chap?”

“Yes.”

“But he was a miserable little rat. So he’s come up in the world?”

“Will you tell me something, sir?” said Giles. “You broke up some funny business between him and Helen. Was that simply because of his—well, social position?”

Dr. Kennedy gave him a dry glance.

“I’m old-fashioned, young man. In the modern gospel, one man is as good as another. That holds morally, no doubt. But I’m a believer in the fact that there is a state of life into which you are born—and I believe you’re happiest staying in it. Besides,” he added, “I thought the fellow was a wrong ’un. As he proved to be.”

“What did he do exactly?”

“That I can’t remember now. It was a case, as far as I can recall, of his trying to cash in on some information obtained through his employment with Fane. Some confidential matter relating to one of their clients.”

“Was he—sore about his dismissal?”

Kennedy gave him a sharp glance and said briefly: “Yes.”

“And there wasn’t any other reason at all for your disliking his friendship with your sister? You didn’t think he was—well—odd in any way.”

“Since you have brought the matter up, I will answer you frankly. It seemed to me, especially after his dismissal from his employment, that Jackie Afflick displayed certain signs of an unbalanced temperament. Incipient persecution mania, in fact. But that does not seem to have been borne out by his subsequent rise in life.”

“Who dismissed him? Walter Fane?”

“I have no idea if Walter Fane was concerned. He was dismissed by the firm.”

“And he complained that he had been victimized?”

Kennedy nodded.

“I see … Well, we must drive like the wind. Till Thursday, sir.”

II

The house was newly built. It was of Snowcrete, heavily curved, with a big expanse of window. They were shown in through an opulent hall to a study, half of which was taken up by a big chromium-plated desk.

Gwenda murmured nervously to Giles, “Really, I don’t know what we should have done without Miss Marple. We lean upon her at every turn. First her friends in Northumberland and now her Vicar’s wife’s Boys’ Club Annual Outing.”

Giles raised an admonitory hand as the door opened and J. J. Afflick surged into the room.

He was a stout man of middle age, dressed

in a rather violently checked suit. His eyes were dark and shrewd, his face rubicund and good-natured. He looked like the popular idea of a successful bookmaker.

“Mr. Reed? Good morning. Pleased to meet you.”

Giles introduced Gwenda. She felt her hand taken in a rather over-zealous grip.

“And what can I do for you, Mr. Reed?”

Afflick sat down behind his huge desk. He offered cigarettes from an onyx box.

Giles entered upon the subject of the Boys’ Club Outing. Old friends of his ran the show. He was anxious to arrange for a couple of days’ touring in Devon.

Afflick replied promptly in a businesslike manner—quoting prices and making suggestions. But there was a faintly puzzled look on his face.

Finally he said: “Well, that’s all clear enough, Mr. Reed, and I’ll send you a line to confirm it. But this is strictly office business. I understood from my clerk that you wanted a private appointment at my private address.”

“We did, Mr. Afflick. There were actually two matters on which I wanted to see you. We’ve disposed of one. The other is a purely private matter. My wife here is very anxious to get in touch with her stepmother whom she has not seen for many years, and we wondered if you could possibly help us.”

“Well, if you tell me the lady’s name—I gather that I’m acquainted with her?”

“You were acquainted with her at one time. Her name is Helen Halliday and before her marriage she was Miss Helen Kennedy.”

Afflick sat quite still. He screwed up his eyes and tilted his chair slowly backwards.

“Helen Halliday—I don’t recall … Helen Kennedy….”

“Formerly of Dillmouth,” said Gwenda.

The legs of Afflick’s chair came down sharply.

“Got it,” he said. “Of course.” His round rubicund face beamed with pleasure. “Little Helen Kennedy! Yes, I remember her. But it’s a long time ago. Must be twenty years.”

“Eighteen.”

“Is it really? Time flies, as the saying goes. But I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed, Mrs. Reed. I haven’t seen anything of Helen since that time. Never heard of her, even.”