Night had barely fallen in St. Mary Mead as an unmarked police car pulled up to park outside the local doctor's surgery. Inspector Brian Talbert turned off the car and contemplated the surgery, the silence deafening after the roar of the engine. In defiance of the normal hours kept by the surgery, light filled every room of the little building and one of the local constables stood tiredly on the front steps.
Talbert brushed the back of his hand against the new stubble on his cheeks, questioning his decision to try and grow a beard for the third time in as many days. His colleagues all thought it a respectable career move that would help disguise his naturally boyish features and give a more accurate impression of his true age of thirty-seven years. His wife had yet to be convinced of the wisdom of this move but his three-year old son Phillip had spent a full evening touching his hands to Daddy's face to see why it felt so funny.
Thinking ruefully that he'd much rather be at home with Phillip, Talbert got out of the car and approached the constable on the front steps of the surgery.
"Constable," said Talbert, nodding in greeting.
"Inspector," said the Constable, nodding in reply. "The doctor - I mean, that is, the body - is in the back room. The old bird who found him is waiting in the waiting room, with Constable Goodall. It seemed the obvious place to put her - the waiting room, I mean. I didn't mean leaving her with Goodall."
"Thank you, Constable," said Talbert, sighing. "I'll take it from here."
"Of course, Inspector," said the Constable, straightening up.
Talbert stepped around the constable and entered the doctor's surgery. He'd only been in the village of St. Mary Mead less than five years and already the little surgery had become a place of familiarity due to Phillip's frequent ill health.
He moved past the receptionist's desk and the side room where Dr Alexander usually examined his patients. At the very back of the building was Dr Alexander's small study, most of the walls covered in bookcases full of the latest medical journals. Books not only lined the shelves but had also been laid on top of other books and squeezed into any available space. A portrait of Mrs Alexander and the couple's twin daughters was hung side by side with the doctor's medical qualifications. These were familiar sights to Talbert from the times that Dr Alexander had invited him back to discuss the cruel nature of reality while his son played on oblivious in the examination room.
Normally, a small shelf devoted to French and German literature was fixed to the wall directly above the doctor's desk. Tonight, the shelf had come loose, dropping a good deal of international literature directly onto the back of Dr Alexander's balding head. The doctor was slumped over on the desk, still buried under the books. The doctor's face was hidden from view but blood had oozed out down the back of his coat and dripped down a dangling forearm to pool on the floor.
Talbert scratched his nose and then his stubble. It wasn't a pretty sight and he wondered with concern which of St. Mary Mead's elderly ladies had made the grisly discovery. He stepped forward to look at the plaster wall that had formerly held the shelf. The holes in which the screws had sat had been worn away until the screws had simply been pulled straight out by the weight of so many books. Talbert recalled watching the doctor adding yet another new book to that shelf the last time he was here.
Knowing better than to disturb the body before the coroner had been in to look, Talbert sighed again and retreated from the study. Dr Alexander had been worldlier and better educated than most doctors in small villages. Talbert could only hope that Alexander's successor was able to provide not only the care that Phillip needed but also the discretion that his parents wanted.
Talbert walked back through the surgery to the waiting room. Even before he reached the door he could make out the pleasant and constant murmur of someone talking which easily identified the discoverer of Dr Alexander as the old spinster Miss Marple. Talbert knew her as one of a tight and well-known group of women in the village who met on a regular weekly basis - ostensibly for the purpose of playing bridge but more effectively for the verification and dissemination of village gossip. Talbert had once commented to his wife that he thought those old women were so swift and committed that they could have given British intelligence a run for their money. His wife had snorted and warned him that what he'd said would probably be common knowledge round the village by sundown the next day.
Miss Marple herself he had only met on a couple of occasions and both times had struggled to get a word in edgewise. Miss Marple tended to come on quite strongly and was quite adept at getting her way. To be fair, Talbert had to admit that she was nowhere near as malicious as some of her ilk could be and not as prone to hysteria. There were worse witnesses one could have.
Talbert opened the door to the waiting room to confirm that it was indeed Miss Marple who was waiting for him. Miss Marple was settled in a deep armchair with a cup of tea clutched in her spidery fingers. She paused mid-sentence as Talbert entered and her eyes lit up like a cat that's just sighted her prey. Constable Goodall looked so relieved that Talbert had to wonder how long he had been left at the old woman's mercy.
"Miss Marple," said Talbert.
"Inspector Talbert," answered Miss Marple cheerfully. "You're well, I hope. How are Mrs Talbert and little Phillip?"
"We're all quite well, Miss Marple," said Talbert. "And how are you?"
"Well enough, I suppose," said Miss Marple thoughtfully. "But it's an awful business, really. It's Mrs Alexander and her daughters that I feel truly sorry for."
"Of course," agreed Talbert absently, gesturing for Goodall to leave the room.
Goodall did so, collecting his police helmet and looking pathetically grateful as he passed. Talbert pulled up a stool to sit opposite Miss Marple, the old lady watching his every movement around the room. He almost wished she had some knitting to distract her from her hawk-like observation.
"I doubt we'll have to keep you here much longer, Miss Marple," said Talbert comfortingly.
"Well, I daresay with the village doctor dead we'll have to wait for the doctor in the next town over to come and visit," shrugged Miss Marple. "And, of course, we'll probably have to wait for all of the records on Dr Alexander to arrive before we know the full story."
"Of course, Miss Marple," agreed Talbert. "Um... what? What story?"
"Well," said Miss Marple, leaning forward conspiratorially. "I would be very surprised if a newcomer like Dr Alexander had been able to acquire a mortal enemy in the short amount of time he and his family have been living in St. Mary Mead. Much more likely that it's someone from where he lived before he came here. Wouldn't you agree, Inspector?"
With annoyance, Talbert realised he was leaning forward in his seat and he made a point of leaning back and trying to look casual.
"Now, Miss Marple," said Talbert firmly. "There's no need to get ahead of ourselves. What we've got here is most likely a case of accidental death. I don't want you getting yourself all excited. There's just some police procedures we need to run through."
Miss Marple smiled at him and Talbert got the distinct impression he was being humoured. She took a thoughtful sip of her tea and tilted her head to the side, looking away at the darkened windows. Talbert pulled a notebook and a pencil from his coat and Miss Marple's eyes swivelled back to him.
"Now, can you tell me what time you arrived at the surgery?" he asked, flipping to a blank page.
"It was about a quarter to seven," said Miss Marple. "I know it was definitely after six thirty because I passed the Vicar as he came out of the Vicarage and he told me the time. St. Mary Mead's lucky to have a man like Lennard Clement as Vicar, don't you think, Inspector? Not the most punctual of men by nature but that young wife of his has effectively taken care of that. You heard, of course, about her habit of winding forward the Vicar's clocks by 15 minutes? He's now guaranteed to be so punctual that half the village set their clocks by him. Would you believe it, Inspector?"
"I'll take your word for it, Miss Marple," said Talbert. "So, it was after six thirty?"
"Definitely after six-thirty," agreed Miss Marple. "And not yet seven because you can usually hear the church clock chime the hour from inside the surgery and I didn't hear them until a good ten or fifteen minutes after I discovered the body."
She paused and sipped at her tea, her eyes drifting to the window again.
"I've been having a little trouble with my reading glasses and I do so much love to read in the evenings," she continued, and Talbert took note of the glasses that the old woman was wearing on a chain around her neck. "So, I wanted to talk to Dr Alexander about them and I know he generally stays late at the surgery on Thursdays because that's when a lot of the mail from London is delivered. He mentioned to me a couple of weeks ago that he was so looking forward to getting a report of an expedition to the country of New Guinea. Are you familiar with New Guinea, Inspector?"
"No, Miss Marple," said Talbert, casually glancing at the clock on the wall with the sinking feeling that this was going to be one of the longest interviews of his entire police career. "I'm not familiar with New Guinea."
Miss Marple nodded as if this confirmed several of her deep-held beliefs on the nature of Talbert's personal character.
"Oh, yes," said Miss Marple, as if answering her own question. "Dr Alexander was very fond of reading all sorts of literature and was constantly paying for it to be posted all the way to St. Mary Mead. A true intellectual and man of the world - not at all the sort of man you'd expect to take up a post in a little village like St. Mary Mead."
"It's been my experience, Miss Marple," said Talbert. "That family men often have different priorities to other people."
"Oh, Inspector," said Miss Marple, looking grave. "That's so very, very true. One man's motive might sometimes be confusing but once you take into account the people they care about, it usually becomes much clearer."
"And you know this from your extensive experience?" asked Talbert, a little harsher than he'd intended.
Miss Marple just raised an eyebrow at him and took another sip of her tea.
"All right, Miss Marple," said Talbert. "I know this is upsetting but I think you better tell me - just for the record - exactly what it is you saw. It was after six-thirty and you came to the surgery to find Dr Alexander. What happened next?"
"It was closer to 6:45 by the time I got into the surgery," Miss Marple corrected him. "The receptionist leaves on time on Thursdays so I expected Dr Alexander to be by himself in his study. So, I rang the bell on the desk but he didn't come out so I walked through to the back to have a look."
"Was the door to the study open or shut when you got there?" asked Talbert.
"Open," said Miss Marple, taking another sip of her tea. "Which I immediately thought was strange."
"Strange? What was strange about it?" frowned Talbert.
"Well, Dr Alexander loved his books," said Miss Marple. "If he'd received his delivery, he'd shut himself up in his study and completely lose himself in whatever it was that he'd just managed to acquire. I'd dropped in to talk to him on a couple of occasions, you see, and he sometimes got so lost in what he was reading that he wouldn't really hear the bell at the front. I suppose it's also a real possibility that his hearing might have been starting to go but none of us like to admit when old age is starting to catch up to us, do we? No. That's why I went in when he didn't answer the bell. I thought he'd be sitting down with his report on New Guinea, totally oblivious to everything around him."
"But the door was open?" prompted Talbert. "Did you go in?"
"It was obvious from the corridor, Inspector," said Miss Marple. "I could see that the poor man was quite dead but I admit curiosity got the better of me and I went a little closer to get a better look. It was clear from the way the poor man's neck was bent that there was nothing to be done for him."
"And can you describe the scene, just for the record?" asked Talbert. "You don't have to go into too much detail but anything you say could be very helpful."
"Well," said Miss Marple. "Dr Alexander was collapsed over his desk with a shelf-full of his own books collapsed on top of his head. Interestingly, I noticed the New Guinea report was amongst them - as if he'd already received it but had been so busy that he'd just shelved it until he had the time to look at it properly. Which makes it all the stranger that the study door was open. I mean, if he was going to take the time to sit down at the desk, you'd think he'd also take the time to close his door."
Talbert started doodling idly on the edge of his notepad. He hoped Miss Marple would assume it was some kind of shorthand and not a sign of his attention wandering.
"And, I'm sad to say that I didn't see it right away but after a few minutes I did finally notice that someone had gouged out the plaster in the wall," said Miss Marple. "No doubt to make it seem like the shelf had just fallen accidentally."
"There's nothing to say that it didn't fall accidentally, Miss Marple," said Talbert. "I know this is all very dramatic for you, but if you would please stick to only the facts."
Another sip of tea was taken as Talbert was examined in grim silence.
"It might have been an accident, Inspector, except that my neighbour's cousin happened to put up that shelf brand new less than a week ago. You and your wife were visiting London at the time, as I recall, which is likely why you didn't know," said Miss Marple. "Now, if that shelf had only been up a week, that's nowhere near long enough for there to have been enough wear on the screws for it to simply fall straight out of the wall. Nowhere near long enough."
"Do you know if this... ah, neighbour's cousin, has any qualifications in such things. It's possible the shelf was put up wrongly," said the Inspector, taking real notes in his fastest scrawl. "Which could have led to a tragic accident."
"Oh, no, Inspector," said Miss Marple. "This particular young man is a carpenter in training and he's done charitable favours for many of the villagers of St. Mary Mead's. In fact, he's done so many favours free of charge that I marvel at his ability to make any sort of living for himself. Still, some people just can't stop themselves from helping others."
"I'll still need his name, though, Miss Marple," said Talbert.
"Oh, didn't I say?" she asked, looking surprised. "Dear me, I am sorry. His name is Kenneth Miller."
Talbert added this name to his page and underlined it.
"Still," said Miss Marple. "At heart, young Kenneth is a local boy. Grew up here you know so I'd be very surprised if he had anything to do with the death."
"Yes," said Talbert. "You said you thought it was someone Dr Alexander knew from before St. Mary Mead."
"I think, Inspector, that we can be reasonably certain of that," said Miss Marple. "The problem is with people moving about so much after the war that you don't always know these strangers who are coming into town, do we? Time was they'd come with a letter of introduction, with someone you knew vouching for them and proving that they were who they said they were. These days, though, you never quite know what to believe."
Talbert nodded and glanced again at the clock while Miss Marple looked again to the windows. The glare of headlights flashed across the windows as a car parked in the road outside.
"Still, as I said," said Miss Marple. "In this sort of situation, it's the families I feel sorry for. Not only for poor Mrs Alexander and her children but I think this is the kind of case where the culprit is a family man as well."
Talbert frowned and glanced sideways at Miss Marple as the surgery's front door opened. Footsteps approached and then Colonel Melchett appeared in the doorway, accompanied by three constables. The red-headed Colonel Melchett was the Chief Constable of the County. His involvement in a homicide case was not unusual except that Talbert had not yet declared it a homicide and that the Colonel would have had to undertake a drive of more than two hours to reach St. Mary Mead.
Melchett stood in the doorway and cleared his nose with a loud snort.
"Miss Marple," he said gravely.
"Good evening, Colonel Melchett," replied Miss Marple, with equal gravity. "I wish we could be meeting under better circumstances than this."
As the Colonel agreed, Talbert barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Was there anybody that Miss Marple didn't know?
The Colonel turned to regard Talbert severely. Talbert had only met the man a few times and they had had only one brief conversation.
"It's Inspector Talbert, isn't it?" asked the Colonel, snorting again.
"It is," admitted Talbert, rising to his feet. "The death is starting to look a little suspicious so your arrival is quite fortuitous."
"Hmmm," said Melchett, snapping his fingers and taking the folder that one of his constables passed him.
Talbert frowned and looked to Miss Marple, who had gone back to watching him with hawk-like eyes as she sipped her tea.
"Tell me, Inspector Talbert, were you aware that Dr Alexander was under investigation by Scotland Yard?" asked Melchett, making a show of flipping through the folder.
"Scotland Yard?" frowned Talbert. "Whatever could Scotland Yard have wanted with a village doctor?"
"Turns out that St. Mary Mead was just the latest in a long string of English villages," said Melchett. "Simply offering his medical services to townspeople was often enough to earn him a place, even if it was at an existing practice."
Talbert blinked and looked across to Miss Marple who looked back unblinkingly. Talbert had a sinking suspicion that something was up but he wasn't sure what.
"Well," said Talbert. "Looks like you were right on the money, there, Miss Marple. You said it had to have been someone from where he lived before."
Miss Marple pursed her lips and didn't answer.
"Forgive me for asking, Colonel Melchett," said Miss Marple apologetically. "But I wonder if you could tell me exactly what it was that Scotland Yard was investigating. There are so many possibilities."
"It appears that certain of the doctor's patients had a strange and uncommon tendency to die," said the Colonel, snorting again as he rearranged his tie. "Most particularly unfortunate were any of those with a pre-existing affliction; young children born unlucky with deformities or deficiencies of the mind or body. It's the belief of those at Scotland Yard that Dr Alexander had taken it upon himself to rid the villages he tends of any person who is not perfectly fit and healthy."
"And no doubt he moves on before anyone becomes suspicious," said Miss Marple. "How perfectly wicked. For a man with two children of his own to be murdering the children of others."
"Wicked is quite the word, Miss Marple," agreed the Colonel. "But it gives us a list of suspects to start from. We can start with the relatives of the victims but I don't doubt that anybody who knew what he'd done might have wanted to kill the villain."
"So," said Talbert. "It's a case of too many suspects rather than not enough."
"A lot of potential suspects with motive," said the Colonel. "But means and opportunity are a little harder to come by. There hasn't been a death yet in the time that Dr Alexander and his family have been in St. Mary Mead - natural or otherwise."
"But the use of the shelf seems to indicate that the murderer had some familiarity with the doctor's habits," said Miss Marple. "And I'm inclined to think that whoever it was might have met Dr Alexander beforehand and then been reunited while in St. Mary Mead."
"Surely," said Talbert. "Dr Alexander would have recognised anyone he'd previously treated."
"Not necessarily," said Miss Marple. "While there is rarely any doubt as to the mother of a child, fatherhood is by no means as assured. It's sad but the truth is that it is entirely possible for a child to exist without their father being overly involved in their lives. And sadder still is the truth that some men cannot handle the prospect of a sick child, especially one who stands no chance of ever recovering. Imagine the guilt of abandoning your own child for their deformities only to learn later that a stranger has murdered that very same child. I can barely imagine the guilt that must plant, the urge to seek retribution and revenge."
"We're looking for a grieving father, it seems to me," said the Colonel. "For it feels like a man's crime to me, that kind of violence. A grieving father who lives in St. Mary Mead."
The Colonel fixed his eyes on Talbert and snorted loudly again, as was his habit of passing the time.
"It's another sad truth that many of these afflictions can affect more than one child," admitted Miss Marple. "If the murderer had one sick child that was killed by Dr Alexander, there's no reason that he would not later have had a second child with a similar affliction."
There was no doubting this time that Miss Marple was looking directly at Talbert as she spoke.
"I'm sorry?" frowned Talbert.
"She's saying, Inspector," said the Colonel. "That we're looking for a relative newcomer to St. Mary Mead who is familiar with the doctor's surgery and who may have had a second child with some kind of serious illness or affliction. All qualities that describe you, Inspector Talbert."
Talbert paused and opened his mouth a couple of times like a fish.
"I can assure you," said Talbert finally. "That my wife and I have never had any children other than Phillip. And from what you've told me, it seems lucky that Dr Alexander is dead as it's my son who was most likely to be his next victim."
"You say you and your wife together have not had any other child than Phillip," said Miss Marple thoughtfully. "But what about separately? As I understand it, you hadn't been married long before you came to St. Mary Mead. No reason that one of you might not have been previously married to someone else and lost a child before coming here."
"I say, Miss Marple," sighed Talbert. "But you do have an overly excited imagination."
He looked to the Colonel in exasperation but the Colonel's stony gaze was locked on Talbert.
"The officers of Scotland Yard hadn't yet approached Dr Alexander himself," said the Colonel. "But they had approached some of the local police - to get the lay of the land so to speak."
"But I'm afraid that any good Inspector who is being asked questions may be all too good at working out the reason for those questions being asked," said Miss Marple. "So if anybody was to know in advance of Dr Alexander's activities, it would likely be an officer of the law."
"This is preposterous," said Talbert. "You can't be serious."
"I'm afraid I must disagree with you, there," said the Colonel gravely. "It sounds frightening plausible to me."
Miss Marple put down her tea-cup and leaned forward in her seat to study Talbert's panicking face.
"What we have not got is solid evidence," said Miss Marple. "Though I think we all know who did it."
"We know nothing of the sort," disagreed Talbert.
"But we're hoping you'll confess of your own accord," said the Colonel. "It won't take long to trawl through the list of Dr Alexander's victims. Eventually we'll be able to tie one of them to you, Inspector. You'll save the police force a good deal of time and effort if you tell us where to look now."
"I'll do no such thing," said Talbert, looking around and realising with a start that the only door was blocked by Melchett and his constables.
"Think of the children, Inspector Talbert," said Miss Marple, setting aside her tea cup. "Dr Alexander might not have been a good man but his children have just been deprived of their father and they deserve justice for it. Think of your own wife and child. Would you rather hand yourself over with some dignity? Or will you cower in your home while the weeks to pass and the Colonel here slowly gathers the evidence and then drags you in to the station? Or will you take your family on the run, dragging young Phillip away from the medical care he needs? It'd be far kinder for your family if you confessed now."
"I..." Talbert stopped.
Miss Marple's gaze was implaccable and Melchett's was stony and unforgiving. Talbert could think only that at least Phillip would be safe.
"I did it," said Talbert.
Melchett nodded gravely and waved the constables behind him to come forward and arrest Talbert.
"Are you going to tell me why?" asked the Colonel.
Talbert handed his gun over to one of the constables.
"My first wife and I had a daughter like Phillip," said Talbert. "I... I left town and stayed away for a whole year. I never saw the girl for more than five minutes and I didn't meet the doctor who was looking after her. When I finally came back, the girl had died and my wife had killed herself in grief. I thought it was just... I thought my daughter's condition had killed her."
"It wasn't until you heard about the enquiries of Scotland Yard that you suspected the truth?" asked Miss Marple, gentler than Talbert thought he deserved.
"I hadn't the faintest clue," admitted Talbert. "But it soon became clear that he killed my daughter and he may as well have killed my wife too. I had always told myself that it didn't matter that I never saw much of my daughter because she just never meant to live very long. It was never meant to be. But when I realised what Dr Alexander had done, all I could think was that my daughter could have lived. Even with her condition, she would have lived. She would have been like Phillip. She would have been happy and beautiful like him. She would have been mine and I should have been there to take care of her. I was too much of a coward to be a father to her when she was alive, so the least I could do was avenge her after her death."
Talbert allowed one of the constables to handcuff his hands in front of him. Melchett stood aside and waved for the constables to lead him outside.
"How did you know, Colonel?" asked Talbert, stopping at the door. "You knew before you even reached the scene. How?"
Melchett's gaze slid sideways to Miss Marple.
"Miss Marple suspected and rang to inform me of her suspicions," said Melchett. "I rang Scotland Yard to confirm and then drove straight over here. Dr Alexander might have been a monster but you ought to have let the law deal with him, Inspector."
"I know," said Talbert. "I just couldn't stand by and do nothing. Not again."
Melchett snorted, such an ingrained habit of his that it could have meant anything.
Talbert looked over his shoulder at Miss Marple, sitting in the armchair.
"Solved the case in just over two hours without moving," said Talbert. "I think you would have made a great detective, Miss Marple."
Miss Marple chuckled, the seriousness of the situation forgotten momentarily at her genuine delight in the compliment. It was an enchanting sound and, if nothing else, Brian Talbert regretted that he'd likely never get the chance to know the full brilliance of Miss Jane Marple, of St. Mary Mead. The End
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