Caribbean Mystery by Agatha Christie

Author:Agatha Christie [Christie, Agatha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Women Sleuths, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9780061740053
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2004-01-06T00:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

MISS MARPLE SEEKS ASSISTANCE

If anybody had been there to observe the gentle-looking elderly lady who stood meditatively on the loggia outside her bungalow, they would have thought she had nothing more on her mind than deliberation on how to arrange her time that day—An expedition, perhaps, to Castle Cliff—a visit to Jamestown—a nice drive and lunch at Pelican Point—or just a quiet morning on the beach—

But the gentle old lady was deliberating quite other matters—she was in militant mood.

“Something has got to be done,” said Miss Marple to herself.

Moreover, she was convinced that there was no time to be lost—There was urgency.

But who was there that she could convince of that fact? Given time, she thought she could find out the truth by herself.

She had found out a good deal. But not enough—not nearly enough. And time was short.

She realized, bitterly, that here on this Paradise of an island, she had none of her usual allies.

She thought regretfully of her friends in England—Sir Henry Clithering—always willing to listen indulgently—his godson Dermot, who in spite of his increased status at Scotland Yard was still ready to believe that when Miss Marple voiced an opinion there was usually something behind it.

But would that soft-voiced native police officer pay any attention to an old lady’s urgency? Dr. Graham? But Dr. Graham was not what she needed—too gentle and hesitant, certainly not a man of quick decisions and rapid actions.

Miss Marple, feeling rather like a humble deputy of the Almighty, almost cried aloud her need in Biblical phrasing.

Who will go for me?

Whom shall I send?

The sound that reached her ears a moment later was not instantly recognized by her as an answer to prayer—far from it—At the back of her mind it registered only as a man possibly calling his dog.

“Hi!”

Miss Marple, lost in perplexity, paid no attention.

“Hi!” The volume thus increased, Miss Marple looked vaguely round.

“HI!” called Mr. Rafiel impatiently. He added—“You there—”

Miss Marple had not at first realized that Mr. Rafiel’s “Hi You” was addressed to her. It was not a method that anyone had ever used before to summon her. It was certainly not a gentlemanly mode of address. Miss Marple did not resent it, because people seldom did resent Mr. Rafiel’s somewhat arbitrary method of doing things. He was a law unto himself and people accepted him as such. Miss Marple looked across the intervening space between her bungalow and his. Mr. Rafiel was sitting outside on his loggia and he beckoned her.

“You were calling me?” she asked.

“Of course I was calling you,” said Mr. Rafiel. “Who did you think I was calling—a cat? Come over here.”

Miss Marple looked round for her handbag, picked it up, and crossed the intervening space.

“I can’t come to you unless someone helps me,” explained Mr. Rafiel, “so you’ve got to come to me.”

“Oh yes,” said Miss Marple, “I quite understand that.”

Mr. Rafiel pointed to an adjacent chair. “Sit down,” he said, “I want to talk to you. Something damned odd is going on in this island.

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