Agatha Christie - The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side

Upon arrival at Gossington Hall Miss Marple rang the bell and asked to see Mr Jason Rudd.

Giuseppe's successor, a rather shaky-looking elderly man, conveyed doubt.

'Mr Rudd,' he said, 'does not see anybody without an appointment, madam. And today especially -'

'I have no appointment,' said Miss Marple, 'but I will wait,' she added.

She stepped briskly past him into the hall and sat down on a hall chair.

'I'm afraid it will be quite impossible this morning, madam.'

'In that case,' said Miss Marple, 'I shall wait until this afternoon.'

Baffled, the new butler retired. Presently a young man came to Miss Marple. He had a pleasant manner and a cheerful, slightly American voice.

'I've seen you before,' said Miss Marple. 'In the Development. You asked me the way to Blenheim Close.'

Harley Preston smiled good-naturedly. 'I guess you did your best, but you misdirected me badly.'

'Dear me, did I?' said Miss Marple. 'So many Closes, aren't there. Can I see Mr Rudd?'

'Why, now, that's too bad,' said Harley Preston. 'Mr Rudd's a busy man and he's – er – fully occupied this morning and really can't be disturbed.'

'I'm sure he's very busy,' said Miss Marple. 'I came here quite prepared to wait.'

'Why, I'd suggest now,' said Hailey Preston, 'that you should tell me what it is you want. I deal with all these things for Mr Rudd, you see. Everyone has to see me first.'

'I'm afraid,' said Miss Marple, 'that I want to see Mr Rudd himself. And,' she added, 'I shall wait here until I do.'

She settled herself more firmly in the large oak chair.

Hailey Preston hesitated, started to speak, finally turned away and went upstairs.

He returned with a large man in tweeds.

'This is Dr Gilchrist. Miss – er -'

'Miss Marple.'

'So you're Miss Marple,' said Dr Gilchrist. He looked at her with a good deal of interest.

Hailey Preston slipped away with celerity.

'I've heard about you,' said Dr Gilchrist. 'From Dr Haydock.'

'Dr Haydock is a very old friend of mine.'

'He certainly is. Now you want to see Mr Jason Rudd? Why?'

'It is necessary that I should,' said Miss Marple.

Dr Gilchrist's eyes appraised her.

'And you're camping here until you do?' he asked.

'Exactly.'

'You would, too,' said Dr Gilchrist. 'In that case I will give you a perfectly good reason why you cannot see Mr Rudd. His wife died last night in her sleep.'

'Dead? exclaimed Miss Marples. 'How?'

'An overdose of sleeping stuff. We don't want the news to leak out to the Press for a few hours. So I'll ask you to keep this knowledge to yourself for the moment.'

'Of course. Was it an accident?'

'That is definitely my view,' said Gilchrist.

'But it could be suicide.'

'It could – but most unlikely.'

'Or someone could have given it to her?'

Gilchrist shrugged his shoulders.

'A most remote contingency. And a thing,' he added firmly, 'that would be quite impossible to prove.'

'I see,' said Miss Marple. She took a deep breath. 'I'm sorry, but it's more necessary than ever that I should see Mr Rudd.'

Gilchrist looked at her.

'Wait here,' he said.

Jason Rudd looked up as Gilchrist entered.

'There's an old dame downstairs,' said the doctor; 'looks about a hundred. Wants to see you. Won't take no and says she'll wait. She'll wait till this afternoon, I gather, or she'll wait till this evening and she's quite capable, I should say, of spending the night here. She's got something she badly wants to say to you. I'd see her if I were you.'

Jason Rudd looked up from his desk. His face was white and strained.

'Is she mad?'

'No. Not in the least.'

'I don't see why I – Oh, all right – send her up. What does it matter?'

Gilchrist nodded, went out of the room and called to Hailey Preston.

'Mr Rudd can spare you a few minutes now, Miss Marple,' said Hailey Preston, appearing again by her side.

'Thank you. That's very kind of him,' said Miss Marple as she rose to her feet. 'Have you been with Mr Rudd long?' she asked.

'Why, I've worked with Mr Rudd for the last two and a half years. My job is public relations generally.'

'I see.' Miss Marple looked at him thoughtfully. 'You remind me very much,' she said, 'of someone I knew called Gerald French.'

'Indeed? What did Gerald French do?'

'Not very much,' said Miss Marple, 'but he was a very good talker.' She sighed. 'He had had an unfortunate past.'

'You don't say,' said Halley Preston, slightly ill at ease. 'What kind of a past?'

'I won't repeat it,' said Miss Marple. 'He didn't like it talked about.'

Jason Rudd rose from his desk and looked with some surprise at the slender elderly lady who was advancing towards him.

'You wanted to see me?' he said. 'What can I do for you?'

'I am very sorry about your wife's death,' said Miss Marple. 'I can see it has been a great grief to you and I want you to believe that I should not intrude upon you now or offer you sympathy unless it was absolutely necessary. But there are things that need badly to be cleared up unless an innocent man is going to suffer.'

'An innocent man? I don't understand you.'

'Arthur Badcock,' said Miss Marple. 'He is with the police now, being questioned.'

'Questioned in connection with my wife's death? But that's absurd, absolutely absurd. He's never been near the place. He didn't even know her.'

'I think he knew her,' said Miss Marple. 'He was married to her once.'

'Arthur Badcock? But – he was – he was Heather Badcock's husband. Aren't you perhaps,' – he spoke kindly and apologetically – 'Making a little mistake?'

'He was married to both of them,' said Miss Marple. 'He was married to your wife when she was very young, before she went into pictures.'

Jason Rudd shook his head.

'My wife was first married to a man called Alfred Beadle. He was in real estate. They were not suited and they parted almost immediately.'

'Then Alfred Beadle changed his name to Badcock,' said Miss Marple. 'He's in a real estate firm here. It's odd how some people never seem to like to change their job and want to go on doing the same thing. I expect really that's why Marina Gregg felt that he was no use to her. He couldn't have kept up with her.'

'What you've told me is most surprising.'

'I can assure you that I am not romancing or imagining things. What I am telling you is sober fact. These things get round very quickly in a village, you know, though they take a little longer,' she added, 'in reaching the Hall.'

'Well,' Jason Rudd stalled, uncertain what to say, then he accepted the position, 'and what do you want me to do for you, Miss Marple?' he asked.

'I want, if I may, to stand on the stairs at the spot where you and your wife received guests on the day of the fête.'

He shot a quick doubtful glance at her. Was this, after all, just another sensation-seeker? But Miss Marple's face was grave and composed.

'Why certainly,' he said, 'if you want to do so. Come with me.'

He led her to the staircase head and paused in the hollowed-out bay at the top of it.

'You've made a good many changes in the house since the Bantrys were here,' said Miss Marple. 'I like this. Now, let me see. The tables would be about here, I suppose, and you and your wife would be standing '

'My wife stood here.' Jason showed her the place. 'People came up the stairs, she shook hands with them and passed them on to me.'

'She stood here,' said Miss Marple.

She moved over and took her place where Marina Gregg had stood. She remained there quite quietly without moving. Jason Rudd watched her. He was perplexed but interested. She raised her right hand slightly as though shaking, looked down the stairs as though to see people coming up it. Then she looked straight ahead of her. On the wall half-way up the stairs was a large picture, a copy of an Italian Old Master. On either side of it were narrow windows, one giving out on the garden and the other giving on to the end of the stables and the weathercock. But Miss Marple looked at neither of these. Her eyes were fixed on the picture itself.