They Do It With Mirrors by Agatha Christie

not.” Miss Bellever sounded reproachful. “Naturally I knew that nothing must be touched or moved.”
    â€œAnd just now, when you took us into the room, everything was exactly as it had been when you found the body?”
    Miss Bellever considered. She sat back screwing up her eyes. She had, Inspector Curry thought, one of those photographic memories.
    â€œOne thing was different,” she said. “There was nothing in the typewriter.”
    â€œYou mean,” said Inspector Curry, “that when you first went in,Mr. Gulbrandsen had been writing a letter on the typewriter, and that that letter had since been removed?”
    â€œYes, I’m almost sure that I saw the white edge of the paper sticking up.”
    â€œThank you, Miss Bellever. Who else went into that room before we arrived?”
    â€œMr. Serrocold, of course. He remained there when I came to meet you. And Mrs. Serrocold and Miss Marple went there. Mrs. Serrocold insisted.”
    â€œMrs. Serrocold and Miss Marple,” said Inspector Curry. “Which is Miss Marple?”
    â€œThe old lady with white hair. She was a school friend of Mrs. Serrocold’s. She came on a visit about four days ago.”
    â€œWell, thank you, Miss Bellever. All that you have told us is quite clear. I’ll go into things with Mr. Serrocold now. Ah, but perhaps—Miss Marple’s an old lady, isn’t she? I’ll just have a word with her first and then she can go off to bed. Rather cruel to keep an old lady like that up,” said Inspector Curry virtuously. “This must have been a shock to her.”
    â€œI’ll tell her, shall I?”
    â€œIf you please.”
    Miss Bellever went out. Inspector Curry looked at the ceiling.
    â€œGulbrandsen?” he said. “Why Gulbrandsen? Two hundred odd, maladjusted youngsters on the premises. No reason any of them shouldn’t have done it. Probably one of them did. But why Gulbrandsen? The stranger within the gates.”
    Sergeant Lake said: “Of course, we don’t know everything yet.”
    Inspector Curry said:
    â€œSo far, we don’t know anything at all.”
    He jumped up and was gallant when Miss Marple came in. She seemed a little flustered and he hurried to put her at her ease.
    â€œNow don’t upset yourself, Ma’am.” The old ones like Ma’am, he thought. To them, police officers were definitely of the lower classes and should show respect to their betters. “This is all very distressing, I know. But we’ve just got to get the facts clear. Get it all clear.”
    â€œOh yes, I know,” said Miss Marple. “So difficult, isn’t it? To be clear about anything, I mean. Because if you’re looking at one thing, you can’t be looking at another. And one so often looks at the wrong thing, though whether because one happens to do so or because you’re meant to, it’s very hard to say. Misdirection, the conjurers call it. So clever, aren’t they? And I never have known how they manage with a bowl of goldfish—because really that cannot fold up small, can it?”
    Inspector Curry blinked a little and said soothingly:
    â€œQuite so. Now, Ma’am, I’ve had an account of this evening’s events from Miss Bellever. A most anxious time for all of you, I’m sure.”
    â€œYes, indeed. It was all so dramatic, you know.”
    â€œFirst this to-do between Mr. Serrocold and”—he looked down at a note he had made—“this Edgar Lawson.”
    â€œA very odd young man,” said Miss Marple. “I have felt all along that there was something wrong about him.”
    â€œI’m sure you have,” said Inspector Curry. “And then, after that excitement was over, there came Mr. Gulbrandsen’s death. I understand that you went with Mrs. Serrocold to see the—er—the body.”
    â€œYes, I did. She asked me to come with her. We are very old