A Murder Is Announced

‘Handsome is as handsome does,’ said Dora Bunner. ‘Much too fond of poking fun at people. And a lot of going on with girls, I expect. I’m just a figure of fun to him-that’s all. He doesn’t seem to realize that people have their feelings.’

‘Young peopleare rather careless that way,’ said Miss Marple.

Miss Bunner leaned forward suddenly with a mysterious air.

‘You won’t breathe a word, will you, my dear?’ she demanded. ‘But I can’t help feeling that hewas mixed up in this dreadful business. I think he knew that young man-else Julia did. I daren’t hint at such a thing to dear Miss Blacklock-at least I did, and she just snapped my head off. And, of course, it’sawkward -because he’s her nephew-or at any rate hercousin -and if the Swiss young man shot himself Patrick might be held morally responsible, mightn’t he? If he’d put him up to it, I mean. I’m really terribly confused about the whole thing. Everyone making such a fuss about that other door into the drawing-room. That’s another thing that worries me-the detective saying it had been oiled. Because you see, I saw-’

She came to an abrupt stop.

Miss Marple paused to select a phrase.

‘Most difficult for you,’ she said sympathetically. ‘Naturally you wouldn’t want anything to get round to the police.’

‘That’s just it,’ Dora Bunner cried. ‘I lie awake at nights and worry-because, you see, I came upon Patrick in the shrubbery the other day. I was looking for eggs-one hen lays out-and there he was holding a feather and a cup-an oily cup. And he jumped most guiltily when he saw me and he said: “I was just wondering what this was doing here.” Well, of course, he’s a quick thinker. I should say he thought that up quickly when I startled him. And how did he come to find a thing like that in the shrubbery unless he was looking for it, knowing perfectly well it was there? Of course, I didn’tsay anything.’

‘No, no, of course not.’

‘But I gave him alook, if you know what I mean.’

Dora Bunner stretched out her hand and bit abstractedly into a lurid salmon-coloured cake.

‘And then another day I happened to overhear him having a very curious conversation with Julia. They seemed to be having a kind of quarrel. He was saying: “If I thought you had anything to do with a thing like that!” and Julia (she’s always so calm, you know) said: “Well, little brother, what would you do about it?” And then,most unfortunately, I trod on that board that always squeaks, and they saw me. So I said, quite gaily: “You two having a quarrel?” and Patrick said, “I’m warning Julia not to go in for these black-market deals.” Oh, it was all very slick, but I don’t believe they were talking about anything of the sort! And if you ask me, I believe Patrick had tampered with that lamp in the drawing-room-to make the lights go out, because I remember distinctly that it was the shepherdess-notthe shepherd. And the next day-’

She stopped and her face grew pink. Miss Marple turned her head to see Miss Blacklock standing behind them-she must just have come in.

‘Coffee and gossip, Bunny?’ said Miss Blacklock, with quite a shade of reproach in her voice. ‘Good morning, Miss Marple. Cold, isn’t it?’

The doors flew open with a clang and Bunch Harmon came into the Bluebird with a rush.

‘Hallo,’ she said, ‘am I too late for coffee?’

‘No, dear,’ said Miss Marple. ‘Sit down and have a cup.’

‘We must get home,’ said Miss Blacklock. ‘Done your shopping, Bunny?’

Her tone was indulgent once more, but her eyes still held a slight reproach.

‘Yes-yes, thank you, Letty. I must just pop into the chemists in passing and get some aspirin and some cornplasters.’

As the doors of the Bluebird swung to behind them, Bunch asked:

‘What were you talking about?’

Miss Marple did not reply at once. She waited whilst Bunch gave the order, then she said:

‘Family solidarity is a very strong thing. Very strong. Do you remember some famous case-I really can’t remember what it was. They said the husband poisoned his wife. In a glass of wine. Then, at the trial, the daughter said she’d drunk half her mother’s glass-so that knocked the case against her father to pieces. They do say-but that may be just rumour-that she never spoke to her father or lived with him again. Of course, a father is one thing-and a nephew or a distant cousin is another. But still there it is-no one wants a member of their own family hanged, do they?’

‘No,’ said Bunch, considering. ‘I shouldn’t think they would.’

Miss Marple leaned back in her chair. She murmured under her breath, ‘People are really very alike, everywhere.’

‘Who am I like?’

‘Well, really, dear, you are very much like yourself. I don’t know that you remind me of anyone in particular. Except perhaps-’

‘Here it comes,’ said Bunch.

‘I was just thinking of a parlourmaid of mine, dear.’

‘A parlourmaid? I should make a terrible parlourmaid.’