the handle came off three weeks ago and nobody's come to put it on yet. In the meantime you can't open the door. I'm bound to say that story seems correct. The spindle and the two handles were on a shelf outside the door in the hall and they were thickly coated with dust, but of course a professional would have ways of opening that door all right.”
“Better look up the girl's record. See if her papers are in order. But it seems to me the whole thing is very theoretical.”
Again the Chief Constable looked inquiringly at his subordinate. Craddock replied quietly:
“I know, sir, and of course if you think the case ought to be closed, it must be. But I'd appreciate it if I could work on it for just a little longer.”
Rather to his surprise the Chief Constable said quietly and approvingly:
“Good lad.”
“There's the revolver to work on. If this theory is correct, it wasn't Scherz's revolver and certainly nobody so far has been able to say that Scherz ever had a revolver.”
“It's a German make.”
“I know, sir. But this country's absolutely full of continental makes of guns. All the Americans brought them back and so did our chaps. You can't go by that.”
“True enough. Any other lines of inquiry?”
“There's got to be a motive. If there's anything in this theory at all, it means that last Friday's business wasn't a mere joke and wasn't an ordinary hold-up, it was a cold-blooded attempt at murder. Somebody tried to murder Miss Blacklog. Now why? It seems to me that if anyone knows the answer to that it must be Miss Blacklog herself.”
“I understand she rather poured cold water on that idea?”
“She poured cold water on the idea that Rudi Scherz wanted to murder her. And she was quite right. And there's another thing, sir.”
“Yes?”
“Somebody might try again.”
“That would certainly prove the truth of the theory,” said the Chief Constable dryly. “By the way, look after Miss Marple, won't you?”
“Miss Marple? Why?”
“I gather she is taking up residence at the Vicarage in Chipping Cleghorn and coming into Medenham Wells twice a week for her treatments. It seems that Mrs. What's-her-name is the daughter of an old friend of Miss Marple's. Good sporting instincts, that old bean. Oh, well, I suppose she hasn't much excitement in her life and sniffing round after possible murderers gives her a kick.”
“I wish she wasn't coming,” said Craddock seriously.
“Going to get under your feet?”
“Not that, sir, but she's a nice old thing. I shouldn't like anything to happen to her... always supposing, I mean, that there's anything in this theory.”
A Murder is Announces
Chapter 9CONCERNING THE DOOR
“I'm sorry to bother you again, Miss Blacklog -”
“Oh, it doesn't matter. I suppose, as the inquest was adjourned for a week, you're hoping to get more evidence?”
Detective-Inspector Craddock nodded.
“To begin with, Miss Blacklog, Rudi Scherz was not the son of the proprietor of the Hotel des Alpes at Montreux. He seems to have started his career as an orderly in a hospital at Berne. A good many of the patients missed small pieces of jewellery. Under another name he was a waiter at one of the small winter sports places. His speciality there was making out duplicate bills in the restaurant with items on one that didn't appear on the other. The difference, of course, went into his pocket. After that he was in a department store in Zurich. Their losses from shop-lifting were rather above the average whilst he was with them. It seems likely that the shop-lifting wasn't entirely due to customers.”
“He was a picker up of unconsidered trifles, in fact?” said Miss Blacklog dryly. “Then I was right in thinking that I had not seen him before?”
“You were quite right - no doubt you were pointed out to him at the Royal Spa Hotel and he pretended to recognise you. The Swiss police had begun to make his own country rather too hot for him, and he came over here with a
“Better look up the girl's record. See if her papers are in order. But it seems to me the whole thing is very theoretical.”
Again the Chief Constable looked inquiringly at his subordinate. Craddock replied quietly:
“I know, sir, and of course if you think the case ought to be closed, it must be. But I'd appreciate it if I could work on it for just a little longer.”
Rather to his surprise the Chief Constable said quietly and approvingly:
“Good lad.”
“There's the revolver to work on. If this theory is correct, it wasn't Scherz's revolver and certainly nobody so far has been able to say that Scherz ever had a revolver.”
“It's a German make.”
“I know, sir. But this country's absolutely full of continental makes of guns. All the Americans brought them back and so did our chaps. You can't go by that.”
“True enough. Any other lines of inquiry?”
“There's got to be a motive. If there's anything in this theory at all, it means that last Friday's business wasn't a mere joke and wasn't an ordinary hold-up, it was a cold-blooded attempt at murder. Somebody tried to murder Miss Blacklog. Now why? It seems to me that if anyone knows the answer to that it must be Miss Blacklog herself.”
“I understand she rather poured cold water on that idea?”
“She poured cold water on the idea that Rudi Scherz wanted to murder her. And she was quite right. And there's another thing, sir.”
“Yes?”
“Somebody might try again.”
“That would certainly prove the truth of the theory,” said the Chief Constable dryly. “By the way, look after Miss Marple, won't you?”
“Miss Marple? Why?”
“I gather she is taking up residence at the Vicarage in Chipping Cleghorn and coming into Medenham Wells twice a week for her treatments. It seems that Mrs. What's-her-name is the daughter of an old friend of Miss Marple's. Good sporting instincts, that old bean. Oh, well, I suppose she hasn't much excitement in her life and sniffing round after possible murderers gives her a kick.”
“I wish she wasn't coming,” said Craddock seriously.
“Going to get under your feet?”
“Not that, sir, but she's a nice old thing. I shouldn't like anything to happen to her... always supposing, I mean, that there's anything in this theory.”
A Murder is Announces
Chapter 9CONCERNING THE DOOR
“I'm sorry to bother you again, Miss Blacklog -”
“Oh, it doesn't matter. I suppose, as the inquest was adjourned for a week, you're hoping to get more evidence?”
Detective-Inspector Craddock nodded.
“To begin with, Miss Blacklog, Rudi Scherz was not the son of the proprietor of the Hotel des Alpes at Montreux. He seems to have started his career as an orderly in a hospital at Berne. A good many of the patients missed small pieces of jewellery. Under another name he was a waiter at one of the small winter sports places. His speciality there was making out duplicate bills in the restaurant with items on one that didn't appear on the other. The difference, of course, went into his pocket. After that he was in a department store in Zurich. Their losses from shop-lifting were rather above the average whilst he was with them. It seems likely that the shop-lifting wasn't entirely due to customers.”
“He was a picker up of unconsidered trifles, in fact?” said Miss Blacklog dryly. “Then I was right in thinking that I had not seen him before?”
“You were quite right - no doubt you were pointed out to him at the Royal Spa Hotel and he pretended to recognise you. The Swiss police had begun to make his own country rather too hot for him, and he came over here with a
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