She's rather dense in that way.
She's got one of those shrewd, limited, practical minds that never do foresee the future and are usually astonished by it."
"It seems to have taken everyone by surprise," said Mrs Bantry.
"Addie and Mark Gaskell, too, apparently."
Miss Marple smiled.
"I dare say he had his own fish to fry.
A bold fellow with a roving eye! Not the man to go on being a sorrowing widower for years, no matter how fond he may have been of his wife.
I should think they were both restless under old Mr Jefferson's yoke of perpetual remembrance. Only," added Miss Marple cynically, "it's easier for gentlemen, of course."
Chapter 29
At that very moment Mark was confirming this judgment on himself in a talk with Sir Henry Clithering.
With characteristic candour Mark had gone straight to the heart of things.
"It's just dawned on me," he said, "that I'm Favourite Suspect Number One to the police!
They've been delving into my financial troubles. I'm broke, you know; or very nearly.
If dear old Jeff dies according to schedule in a month or two, and Addie and I divide the dibs also according to schedule, all will be well.
Matter of fact, I owe rather a lot. If the crash comes, it will be a big one!
If I can stave it off, it will be the other way round; I shall come out on top and be very rich."
Sir Henry Clithering said,
"You're a gambler, Mark."
"Always have been.
Risk everything, that's my motto!
Yes, it's a lucky thing for me that somebody strangled that poor kid.
I didn't do it. I'm not a strangler.
I don't really think I could ever murder anybody. I'm too easy-going.
But I don't suppose I can ask the police to believe that!
I must look to them like the answer to the criminal investigator's prayer!
Motive, on the spot, not burdened with high moral scruples!
I can't imagine why I'm not in the jug already.
That superintendent's got a very nasty eye."
"You've got that useful thing, an alibi."
"An alibi is the fishiest thing on God's earth!
No innocent person ever has an alibi!
Besides, it all depends on the time of death, or something like that, and you may be sure if three doctors say the girl was killed at midnight, at least six will be found who will swear positively that she was killed at five in the morning and where's my alibi then?"
"Well, you are able to joke about it."
"Damned bad taste, isn't it?" said Mark cheerfully. "Actually, I'm rather scared.
One is, with murder! And don't think I'm not sorry for old Jeff. I am. But it's better this way, bad as the shock was, than if he'd found her out."
"What do you mean, found her out?"
Mark winked.
"Where did she go off to last night?
I'll lay you any odds you like she went to meet a man.
Jeff wouldn't have liked that. He wouldn't have liked it at all.
If he'd found she was deceiving him, that she wasn't the prattling little innocent she seemed, well, my father-in-law is an odd man.
He's a man of great self-control, but that self-control can snap. And then, lookout!"
Sir Henry glanced at him curiously.
"Are you fond of him or not?"
"I'm very fond of him, and at the same time I resent him - I'll try and explain.
Conway Jefferson is a man who likes to control his surroundings.
He's a benevolent despot, kind, generous and affectionate, but his is the tune and the others dance to his piping." Mark Gaskell paused. "I loved my wife.
I shall never feel the same for anyone else.
Rosamund was sunshine and laughter and flowers, and when she was killed I felt just like a man in the ring who's had a knockout blow.
But the referee's been counting a good long time now.