“After dinner Mark Gaskell went out in his car to the sea front, he said. That is when he took Pamela’s body to the cottage, arranged it, dressed in one of Ruby’s old dresses, on the hearth rug. She was still unconscious, but not dead, when he strangled her with the belt of the frock. Not nice, no, but I hope and pray she knew nothing about it. Really, I feel quite pleased to think of him hanging…. That must have been just after ten o’clock. Then back at top speed and into the lounge where Ruby Keene, still alive, was dancing her exhibition dance with Raymond. I should imagine that Josie had given Ruby instructions beforehand. Ruby was accustomed to doing what Josie told her. She was to change, go into Josie’s room and wait. She, too, was drugged; probably in the after-dinner coffee. She was yawning, remember, when she talked to young Bartlett.”
“Josie came up later with Raymond to ‘look for her,’ but nobody but Josie went into Josie’s room. She probably finished the girl off then with an injection, perhaps, or a blow on the back of the head. She went down, danced with Raymond, debated with the Jeffersons where Ruby could be and finally went up to bed. In the early hours of the morning she dressed the girl in Pamela’s clothes, carried the body down the side stairs and out. She was a strong, muscular young woman. Fetched George Bartlett’s car, drove two miles to the quarry, poured petrol over the car and set it alight. Then she walked back to the hotel, probably timing her arrival there for eight or nine o’clock. Up early in her anxiety about Ruby!”
“An intricate plot,” said Colonel Melchett.
“Not more intricate than the steps of a dance,” said Miss Marple.
“I suppose not.”
“She was very thorough,” said Miss Marple. “She even foresaw the discrepancy of the nails. That’s why she managed to break one of Ruby’s nails on her shawl. It made an excuse for pretending that Ruby had clipped her nails close.”
Harper said, “Yes, she thought of everything. And the only real proof you had was a schoolgirl’s bitten nails.”
“More than that,” said Miss Marple. “People will talk too much. Mark Gaskell talked too much. He was speaking of Ruby and he said, her teeth ran down her throat, but the dead girl in Colonel Bantry’s library had teeth that stuck out.”
Conway Jefferson said rather grimly, “And was the last dramatic finale your idea, Miss Marple?”
“Well, it was, as a matter of fact. It’s so nice to be sure, isn’t it?”
“Sure is the word,” said Conway Jefferson grimly.
“You see,” said Miss Marple, “once those two knew that you were going to make a new will, they’d have to do something. They’d already committed two murders on account of the money. So they might as well commit a third. Mark, of course, must be absolutely clear, so he went off to London and established an alibi by dining at a restaurant with friends and going on to a night club. Josie was to do the work. They still wanted Ruby’s death to be put down to Basil’s account, so Mr. Jefferson’s death must be thought due to his heart failing. There was digitalis, so the superintendent tells me, in the syringe. Any doctor would think death from heart trouble quite natural in the circumstances. Josie had loosened one of the stone balls on the balcony and she was going to let it crash down afterward. His death would be put down to the shock of the noise.”
Melchett said, “Ingenious devil.”
Sir Henry said, “So the third death you spoke of was to be Conway Jefferson?”
Miss Marple shook her head. “Oh, no, I meant Basil Blake. They’d have got him hanged if they could.”
“Or shut up in Broadmoor,” said Sir Henry.
Through the doorway floated Adelaide Jefferson. Hugo McLean followed her. The latter said, “I seem to have missed most of this! Haven’t got the hang of it yet. What was Josie to Mark Gaskell?”
Miss Marple said, “His wife. They were married a year ago. They were keeping it dark until Mr. Jefferson died.”