Perfunctory as it was, though, it succeeded in its object. Miss Hartnell, it is true, saw no signs of life. On the contrary, she saw, through the window, Mrs. Spenlow lying on the hearthrug - dead.
'Of course,' said Miss Hartnell, telling the story afterward, 'I managed to keep my head. That Politt creature wouldn't have had the least idea of what to do. 'Got to keep our heads,' I said to her. 'You stay here and I'll go for Constable Palk.' She said something about not wanting to be left, but I paid no attention at all. One has to be firm with that sort of person. I've always found they enjoy making a fuss. So I was just going off when, at that very moment, Mr. Spenlow came round the corn er of the house.'
Here Miss Hartnell made a significant pause. It enabled her audience to ask breathlessly, 'Tell me, how did he look?'
Miss Hartnell would then go on: 'Frankly, I suspected something at once! He was far too calm. He didn't seem surprised in the least. And you may say what you like, it isn't natural for a man to hear that his wife is dead and display no emotion what ever.'
Everybody agreed with this statement.
The police agreed with it too. So suspicious did they consider Mr. Spenlow's detachment that they lost no time in ascertaining how that gentleman was situated as a result of his wife's death. When they discovered that Mrs. Spenlow had been the money ed partner, and that her money went to her husband under a will made soon after their marriage, they were more suspicious than ever.
Miss Marple, that sweet-faced (and some said vinegar-tongued) elderly spinster who lived in the house next to the rectory, was interviewed very early - within half an hour of the discovery of the crime. She was approached by Police Constable Palk, importantly thumbing a notebook. 'If you don't mind, ma'am, I've a few questions to ask you.'
Miss Marple said, 'In connection with the murder of Mrs. Spenlow?'
Palk was startled. 'May I ask, madam, how you got to know of it?'
'The fish,' said Miss Marple.
The reply was perfectly intelligible to Constable Palk. He assumed correctly that the fishmonger's boy had brought it, together with Miss Marple's evening meal.
Miss Marple continued gently, 'Lying on the floor in the sitting room, strangled - possibly by a very narrow belt. But whatever it was, it was taken away.'
Palk's face was wrathful. 'How that young Fred gets to know everything -'
Miss Marple cut him short adroitly. She said, 'There's a pin in your tunic.'
Constable Palk looked down, startled. He said, 'They do say: 'See a pin and pick it up, all the day you'll have good luck.'
'I hope that will come true. Now what is it you want me to tell you?'
Constable Palk cleared his throat, looked important, and consulted his notebook. 'Statement was made to me by Mr. Arthur Spenlow, husband of the deceased. Mr. Spenlow says that at two-thirty, as far as he can say, he was rung up by Miss Marple and asked if he would come over at a quarter past three, as she was anxious to consult him about something. Now, ma'am, is that true?'
'Certainly not,' said Miss Marple.
'You did not ring up Mr. Spenlow at two-thirty?'
'Neither at two-thirty nor any other time.'
'Ah,' said Constable Palk, and sucked his moustache with a good deal of satisfaction.
'What else did Mr. Spenlow say?'