‘But you knew before that, didn’t you?’ said Bunch. ‘When the lamp fused. When you wrote down those things on the paper.’
‘Yes, my dear. It all came together then, you see —all the various isolated bits—and made a coherent pattern.’
Bunch quoted softly:
‘Lamp? Yes. Violets? Yes. Bottle of Aspirin. You meant that Bunny had been going to buy a new bottle that day, and so she ought not to have needed to take Letitia’s?’
‘Not unless her own bottle had been taken or hidden. It had to appear as though Letitia Blacklock was the one meant to be killed.’
‘Yes, I see. And then “Delicious Death”. The cake—but more than the cake. The whole party set-up. A happy day for Bunny before she died. Treating her rather like a dog you were going to destroy. That’s what I find the most horrible thing of all—the sort of—of spurious kindness.’
‘She was quite a kindly woman. What she said at the last in the kitchen was quite true. “I didn’t want to kill anybody.” What she wanted was a great deal of money that didn’t belong to her! And before that desire—(and it had become a kind of obsession—the money was to pay her back for all the suffering life had inflicted on her)—everything else went to the wall. People with a grudge against the world are always dangerous. They seem to think life owes them something. I’ve known many an invalid who has suffered far worse and been cut off from life much more than Charlotte Blacklock —and they’ve managed to lead happy contented lives. It’s what in yourself that makes you happy or unhappy. But, oh dear, I’m afraid I’m straying away from what we were talking about. Where were we?’
‘Going over your list,’ said Bunch. ‘What did you mean by “Making enquiries?” Inquiries about what?’
Miss Marple shook her head playfully at Inspector Craddock.
‘You ought to have seen that, Inspector Craddock. You showed me that letter from Letitia Blacklock to her sister. It had the word “enquiries” in it twice—each time spelt with an e. But in the note I asked Bunch to show you, Miss Blacklock had written “inquiries” with an i. People don’t often alter their spelling as they get older. It seemed to me very significant.’
‘Yes,’ Craddock agreed. ‘I ought to have spotted that.’
Bunch was continuing. ‘Severe afflictions bravely borne. That’s what Bunny said to you in the café and of course Letitia hadn’t had any affliction. Iodine. That put you on the track of goitre?’
‘Yes, dear. Switzerland, you know, and Miss Blacklock giving the impression that her sister had died of consumption. But I remembered then that the greatest authorities on goitre and the most skillful surgeons operating on it are Swiss. And it linked up with those really preposterous pearls that Letitia Blacklock always wore. Not really her style—but just right for concealing the scar.’
‘I understand now her agitation the night the string broke,’ said Craddock. ‘It seemed at the time quite disproportionate.’
‘And after that, it was Lotty you wrote, not Letty as we thought,’ said Bunch.
‘Yes, I remembered that the sister’s name was Charlotte, and that Dora Bunner had called Miss Blacklock Lotty once or twice—and that each time she did so, she had been very upset afterwards.’
‘And what about Berne and Old Age Pensions?’
‘Rudi Scherz had been an orderly in a hospital in Berne.’
‘And Old Age Pension.’
‘Oh, my dear Bunch, I mentioned that to you in the Bluebird though I didn’t really see the application then. How Mrs Wotherspoon drew Mrs Bartlett’s Old Age Pension as well as her own—though Mrs Bartlett had been dead for years—simply because one old woman is so like another old woman—yes, it all made a pattern and I felt so worked up I went out to cool my head a little and think what could be done about proving all this. Then Miss Hinchcliffe picked me up and we found Miss Murgatroyd…’
Miss Marple’s voice dropped. It was no longer excited and pleased. It was quiet and remorseless.
‘I knew then something had got to be done. Quickly! But there still wasn’t any proof. I thought out a possible plan and I talked to Sergeant Fletcher.’