“Disgusting,” said Mrs. Bantry. Peter said politely, “Oh, do you think so?” “Got any other souvenirs?” asked Sir Henry. “Well, I don’t know. I’ve got something that might be.” “Explain yourself, young man.” Peter looked at him thoughtfully. Then he pulled out an envelope. From the inside of it he extracted a piece of brown tape-like substance. “It’s a bit of that chap George Bartlett’s shoelace,” he explained. “I saw his shoes outside the door this morning and I bagged a bit just in case.” “In case what?” “In case he should be the murderer, of course. He was the last person to see her, and that’s always frightfully suspicious, you know…. Is it nearly dinnertime, do you think? I’m frightfully hungry. It always seems such a long time between tea and dinner…. Hullo, there’s Uncle Hugo. I didn’t know mums had asked him to come down. I suppose she sent for him. She always does if she’s in a jam. Here’s Josie coming…. Hi, Josie!”
Josephine Turner, coming along the terrace, stopped and looked rather startled to see Mrs. Bantry and Miss Marple. Mrs. Bantry said pleasantly, “How d’you do, Miss Turner. We’ve come to do a bit of sleuthing.”
Josie cast a guilty glance round. She said, lowering her voice, “It’s awful. Nobody knows yet. I mean it isn’t in the papers yet. I suppose everyone will be asking me questions, and it’s so awkward. I don’t know what I ought to say.”
Her glance went rather wistfully toward Miss Marple, who said, “Yes, it will be a very difficult situation for you, I’m afraid.”
Josie warmed to this sympathy. “You see, Mr. Prestcott said to me, “Don’t talk about it. And that’s all very well, but everyone is sure to ask me and you can’t offend people, can you? Mr. Prescott said he hoped I’d feel able to carry on as usual, and he wasn’t very nice about it, so, of course, I want to do my best. And I really don’t see why it should all be blamed on me.”
Sir Henry said, “Do you mind me asking you a frank question?”
“Oh, do ask me anything you like,” said Josie a little insincerely.
“Has there been any unpleasantness between you and Mrs. Jefferson and Mr. Gaskell over all this?”
“Over the murder, do you mean?”
“No, I don’t mean the murder.”
Josie stood twisting her fingers together. She said rather sullenly, “Well, there has and there hasn’t, if you know what I mean. Neither of them has said anything. But I think they blame it on me, Mr. Jefferson taking such a fancy to Ruby, I mean. It wasn’t my fault, though, was it? These things happen, and I never dreamt of such a thing happening beforehand, not for a moment. I was quite dumbfounded.” Her words rang out with what seemed undeniable sincerity.
Sir Henry said kindly, “I’m sure you were. But once it had happened?”
Josie’s chin went up. “Well, it was a piece of luck, wasn’t it? Everyone’s got the right to have a piece of luck sometimes.” She looked from one to the other of them in a slightly defiant, questioning manner, and then went on across the terrace and into the hotel.
Peter said judicially, “I don’t think she did it.”
Miss Marple murmured, “It’s interesting, that piece of fingernail. It had been worrying me, you know how to account for her nails.”
“Nails?” asked Sir Henry.
“The dead girl’s nails,” explained Mrs. Bantry. “They were quite short and, now that Jane says so, of course it was a little unlikely. A girl like that usually has absolute talons!”
Miss Marple said, “But of course if she tore one off, then she might clip the others close so as to match. Did they find nail parings in her room, I wonder?”
Sir Henry looked at her curiously. He said, “I’ll ask Superintendent Harper when he gets back.”
“Back from where?” asked Mrs. Bantry. “He hasn’t gone over to Gossington, has he?”
Sir Henry said gravely, “No. There’s been another tragedy. Blazing car in a quarry.”
Miss Marple caught her breath. “Was there someone in the car?” “I’m afraid so, yes.”
Miss Marple said thoughtfully, “I expect that will be the Girl Guide who’s missing. Patience no, Pamela Reeves.”