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A Caribbean Mystery: A Miss Marple Mystery
A Caribbean Mystery: A Miss Marple Mystery
A Caribbean Mystery: A Miss Marple Mystery
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A Caribbean Mystery: A Miss Marple Mystery

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

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As Jane Marple sat basking in the tropical sunshine she felt mildly discontented with life. True, the warmth eased her rheumatism, but here in paradise nothing ever happened. Then a question was put to her by a stranger: 'Would you like to see a picture of a murderer?' Before she has a chance to answer, the man vanishes, only to be found dead the next day. The mysteries abound: Where is the picture? Why is the hotelier prone to nightmares? Why doesn't the most talked-about guest, a reclusive millionaire, ever leave his room? And why is Miss Marple herself fearful for her life?

Of note: A Caribbean Mystery introduces the wealthy (and difficult) Mr Jason Rafiel, who will call upon Miss Marple for help in Nemesis (1971) -- after his death.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherHarperCollins
Release dateJan 6, 2004
ISBN9780061740053
Author

Agatha Christie

Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

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Rating: 3.6233842538190366 out of 5 stars
3.5/5

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  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    This was a good beach read.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    Perhaps this wasn't the best Agatha Christie book to read first. It was slow moving and dull. The mystery centers more on gossip than anything really happening in the story.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    It's a hot, sultry summer in Arizona, and we eagerly watch the skies for hints of gathering monsoon clouds. This felt like the perfect atmosphere to pick up a mystery, and on a whim, I decided to revisit one of my stand-by favorites: Agatha Christie. It's been several years since I last read a Christie mystery, but she was the first adult mystery writer that I discovered, the one that made me fall in love with the genre, and I will always have a fond, nostalgic spot in my memories for these mysteries. Fortunately, I did not read even close to all of her books when I was younger, which means I can dive back in and read new Christie stories as the mood demands.Did A Caribbean Mystery live up to my expectations? It did! I had a lot of fun reading this, and polished it off in a couple of days.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Miss Marple on Vacation Jane Marple goes to the Caribbean Islands on vacation, where sunny days, gossip and funny dinners in good companies happens. Unfortunately (or fortunately!?) murders also happens. So there goes Miss Marple, a little bit slow in the beginning but in full display of her wisdom as the plot advances. In this story, Marple is presenting since the beginning, giving the reader the basics insights about the characters. Discover the murder isn't an easy task (for me is always seems impossible) but Miss Marple delivers. An entertaining book!
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    I usually love Agatha Christie, easy to read on the tube (or holiday) maybe because it's freezing here I just din't get this one, the usual twist wasn't so surprising more just a bit silly and confusing and it's dated badly.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    This novel set in the late 1950s?? reflects how much things have changed in Britain since the Second World War. Not only are people travelling again, with even Miss Marple taking an overseas holiday, but young Brits are investing overseas (the Kendals have bought a boutique hotel) and business men like Mr Rafiel can conduct their businesses by telegram. [The author has been to the West Indies].There is also some reflection on Britain's past as a leader of an Empire, as Major Palgrave refers to his experiences in both Africa and India. By today's standards this is also a short novel. One of the themes is the community rumopur mill. For example who was it that first said that Major Palgrave had blood pressure problems? Nobody can remember but everybody automatically thought of it when he was found dead. Another issue Miss Marple thinks about is how much we accept what people say either about themselves or those whom they are associated with. In a village like St. Mary Mead you actually know a person's history, but when you are on holiday you accept what fellow holiday makers says about themselves at face value because you have no means of checking it. So how much of what you learn is the truth?Just as in the Hercule Poirot novels Agatha Christie began to introduce characters that he could confide in or test his ideas on, so she does the same thing in the Miss Marple novels. In St. Mary Mead Jane Marple uses someone she knows well, her friend Dolly, or the doctor, but in this novel she must assess which of her fellow holidaymakers is best. The doctor is inclined to treat her with some suspicion, the Canon's sister doesn't really have the depth of understanding, and so she uses an elderly man, Jason Rafiel, who is an invalid. Their's is an interesting relationship, after he comes to recognise Miss Marple's deductive powers.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Interesting insofar as it paves the way for a future book, Nemesis, but really apart from that it's a poor novel. Marple really isn't at her sharpest and needs a lot of help to carry out the investigation, the setting is extravagant for her, the characters are very forgettable and the conclusion's rushed. Not a favourite.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    This one is centered round Miss Marple, which is nice -- so many of the other books have her coming in quite late, in comparison. She's really quite awesome in this one -- going out and doing things and even being Nemesis at the end.

    I did look up the plot for this one, though, since my ebook copy had some odd missing text, so it wasn't a great revelation to me. Clever, though.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    A delightful mystery featuring Miss Marple. I'm usually not fond of travel mysteries, but this one is the exception to the rule, giving us a spinster far from home, but in a familiar setting. The plot is fairly straight-forward and mixes multiple murders with a sunny clime.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    I believe this is the Marple book with the most victims in all, yet the story is subpar. I couldn't get into the tale and the ramblings of the characters here felt uninteresting, if not forced. The tropical setting seems a bit shabby compared to quaint cottages and imposing mansions that usually figure in Agatha Christie stories. I had no chance of guessing right this time. I should've known that the glass eye of the Major was important, damn it!
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I saw from my inscription on the flyleaf of this book that I bought it back home in Loughborough in the spring of 1975, during my first year at grammar school, and I presume that I read it shortly afterwards. I certainly remember that I enjoyed it then, and I was surprised to find how much i enjoyed re-reading it now. I am sure that the first time around I was oblivious to the social comment and Miss Marple's wry observations of life (though I do recall thinking that her descriptions of St Mary Mead sounded very similar to the village in which I grew up.As always with Agatha Christie the plot is deftly constructed and the characters generally believable. This is far from her finest moment, but even here she keeps the reader hanging on and I have to confess to having been completely fooled as to the identity of the murderer.Definitely an enjoyable venture into nostalgia.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Agatha Christie might spend more time on plot and characterization that location sometimes, but I felt like I was sitting on the sands of a tropical beach resort.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Miss Jane Marple er på rekreation i det caribiske betalt af hendes nevø Raymond West, der har tjent gode penge som forfatter. Hun bor på et hotel, der netop er overtaget af Tim Kendal og hans kone Molly. Her møder hun en major Palgrave, der fortæller mange historier, enkelte af dem sikkert sande. Han bliver afbrudt i at fortælle hende at en af de tilstedeværende er morder og om natten dør han meget ubelejligt inden han kan fortælle videre. I første omgang bedømmer den stedlige læge Dr. Graham at det er et slagtilfælde eller lignende, men senere går det op for Miss Marple og lægen at det var et giftmord. Det pilleglas, hvor giften var placeret, forsøger en af stuepigerne Victoria at bruge som afpresning mod morderen, men hun bliver selv myrdet. Blandt gæsterne er et ægtepar Gregory og Lucky Dyson, et andet ægtepar Hillingdon, en kannik Preston og hans søster Joan, en rigmand Rafiel og dennes hjælpere sekretæren Esther Walthers og massøren Jackson. Til slut bliver Lucky myrdet, fordi hun bliver forvekslet med Molly og Molly bliver reddet lige som Tim skal til at forgive hende.Miss Marple optræder som Nemesis, hvilket morer Rafiel, men han husker senere på det (se "Nemesis").Udmærket Miss Marple mysterie
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I liked this, actually.... The clues were right there in the open, with a few Red Herrings, one of a second murderer on the island.
    Tim & Molly have recently purchased an island retreat from an older well liked & respected couple..... Miss Marple is there on vacation, a gift from her nephew..... She is listening to the old braggart Major Palgrave, reliving his past heroics & telling Miss Marple in a quite loud voice of a murderer he has come cross..... As he begins to show Miss Marple the photo, he suddenly startles and blanches....
    Later Major Palgrave is found murdered by overdose of blood pressure medicine.... But the Major did not suffer from any type of illness, so Miss Marple begins to investigate....
    Meanwhile, Molly seems to be having blackouts & sever depression, leading to an attempt of suicide....... Then another murder takes place, a woman who looks very much Like Molly....
    Interesting, the characters were interesting, especially the rich old man who takes a keen interest in Miss Marple when he learns how deceiving her looks are....
    No slurs against Italians only Black people! My, my, my aren't we progressive......
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This Miss Marple mystery was quite different from the usual, mostly because of the new setting. Jane’s nephew sends her to the Caribbean to help her recover after a bout of illness. Naturally, there is murder!Aside from not being set in England, the story is unique because Miss Marple does not have her usual retinue of supporters – Craddock, Dr. Haydock, or even local police who know of her exploits. Here, she is just a little old lady on holiday, so there is no reason for anyone to believe her suspicions. Plus, much of the story is told from her POV, which I particularly enjoyed. Major Palgrave dies the day after telling Jane a story about a serial wife killer and that he even has a snapshot of a murderer! The local doctor believes it was his heart, owing to the medication found in his room. When one of the maids says that it was never there before, he begins to doubt. Of course, Miss Marple was already on the case. Without her usual cast, Miss Marple enlists the aid of Mr. Rafiel – a rude, but sharp old man who helps her work through events. I figured out the culprit about halfway through, despite some red herrings, but it didn’t diminish my enjoyment of the book. It was nice to see Jane out of her element and having to contend with circumstances outside of the actual murder. Overall, a solid installment in the Miss Marple series.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    In which a pleasant holiday unites Miss Marple with a gruff millionaire and a long-forgotten murder… which leads to a new one.

    "A Caribbean Mystery" is a lesser Christie novel, barely worthy of praise. As with the loose-sequel, "Nemesis", this novel at least sees Miss Marple do a bit of investigating (which oddly doesn’t happen much in her better works), but the setting is about the only thing of interest here. The inimitable millionaire Jason Rafiel is a fascinating character, but he isn’t really connected to the murder in any useful way, so turns out to be neither here nor there. The rest of the characters are perfunctory and – while the actual solution is still surprising – we know from the start roughly where our suspicions should lie, so the playing field isn’t as wide as Christie would have us believe.

    The Joan Hickson adaptation is quite varied in style, but ultimately is not one of my favourites – coming late in the series’ run, when even Hickson was tiring. (Understandably, as she was in her 80s!) I’d recommend starting with one of the early Marple novels, and leave this until you’re stuck somewhere on holiday. At least it will be thematic.

    Marple Ranking: 12th out of 14
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Synopsis: 'This story takes place at the Golden Palm resort on the Caribbean island of St Honoré. Miss Marple's nephew has paid for her to holiday there after a bout of ill health. She speaks with Major Palgrave, a well-travelled man with many stories to share. She sits, half listening, until Palgrave tells a story about a man who got away with murder more than once. When Palgrave asks her if she wants to see a picture of a murderer, she listens intently - but after he look in his wallet for the photo, he suddenly changes the subject. Miss Marple looks up to see why and spots several people nearby. Tim was planning to kill his wife and so had to kill Major Palgrave when he recognised him. He also killed Victoria, who remembered the Serenite. Tim put belladonna in Molly's cosmetics to make her appear mad to the others. Tim had asked his wife to meet him by the creek, but Molly had been distracted by a vision due to the belladonna and wandered off. Tim saw Lucky and mistook her for Molly. He was about to poison Molly when Miss Marple came in.'Review: Really interesting story with lots of red herrings.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Just reread this one. Miss Marple goes to the Caribbean for a little sun and relaxation. But even here, murder follows. A fellow guest dies after telling her about a murderer he once met. She finds that a bit more than coincidence, especially when another person dies. Only Miss Marple can solve the crime.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Miss Marple takes a holiday in the Caribbean, only to come up against a serial murderer who is about to kill again. Not the most memorable of plots, but an unusual method of murder.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Miss Marple is staying at a Caribbean hotel when her suspicions are raised by the death of Major Palgrave who may or may not have a photography of a murderer who he recognises as being at the hotel. Miss Maple gets to the bottom of the mystery in her own initimitable way.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Audio book performed by Rosalind Ayres2.5**Miss Marple’s nephew has sent her on a holiday to the West Indies. The resort is lovely and she meets an interesting group of guests. But when one of the guests dies in his sleep, apparently of natural causes, she is suspicious. Major Palgrave had, earlier in the evening, been telling Miss Marple several stories, including one involving a murderer. But he had abruptly ended his story when other guests drew near, and Miss Marple is sure he had recognized someone. As she gathers facts she finds there are several people with secrets they do not want revealed, including affairs, tendencies to snoop, and suspicious deaths in their families.The plot is entertaining, but somewhat predictable. Maybe I’ve just read too many Christie novels recently. Ayers does a very fine job narrating.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Vacation reading!

    Indeed, I read the whole thing on a plane en route from the Caribbean.

    Here, Christie's well-beloved elderly sleuth, Miss Marple, is visiting a resort on Trinidad. When one of her fellow vacationers passes away, everyone, including the doctor, assumes that it was the man's high blood pressure and unhealthy lifestyle finally catching up with him.

    Miss Marple, however, is suspicious. Something about this affair doesn't sit quite well with her, and she starts poking her nose into things. At first, clues seem to point to an obvious culprit - but the more Marple (and the reader) learns, the more questionable nearly every single character starts to appear...

    It's a quick read, and as expected for Christie, well-crafted.

    I think the book could've been improved, however, by the inclusion of some more well-rounded Trinidadian characters (or even more depth to any of the 'foreign' visitors to the resort).


    I was also bothered by the loose end left dangling regarding the OTHER murderer that's revealed. It makes a good red herring, yes... but Marple and everyone else just seems to say, 'well, never mind about THAT crime, it was in the past...'
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Miss Marple is chilling out in the West Indies, knitting and dabbling her toes in the sea — oh, and solving murders. As one does on vacation. You can tell this is a later Marple because there's plenty of talk about S-E-X, but Marple still remains above it all. I must say, though, that I found it difficult to read Christie's affectionate descriptions of Miss Marple as a "sweet old pussy" without having Donald Trump flashbacks. Wonder if he's ever read any Miss Marple ... ?
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I'm not normally a Miss Marple fan, but I really liked this one. Normally Miss Marple is too passive a detective for my liking, but she really showed spunk in this one. They mystery was decent and interesting and I really liked the background characters. Emilia Fox did a great job narrating this audiobook. I'm going to have to pay attention to the narrators for Miss Marple books. I'd listen to another one narrated by her because I think she gives life to Miss Marple.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Miss Marple's nephew has paid for her to have a holiday in the Caribbean as part of her convalescence after a bad bout of pneumonia. The setting is very different to St Mary Mead, but the behaviours on display amongst the ex-pats are only too familiar. As the novel opens, Miss Marple is listening to the hotel bore, or at least making a polite show of same. She starts to pay more attention when the Major tells a story about a friend having accidentally taken a photo of someone who was almost certainly a serial murderer, but doesn't it take it seriously until the the Major starts to pull a copy of the photo out to show her -- and then sees someone and hastily puts it away. When the Major dies in his sleep that night, Miss Marple thinks there may be more to it than high blood pressure. Of course, nudging the local doctor to check whether the major really did have a prescription for blood pressure tablets is only the start. There are several potential suspects to be investigated as only Miss Marple can.There are some nice characterisations in this book, not least being Miss Marple herself. There was some fairly acid internal monologue from Marple in the previous book (The Mirror Crack'd) about the young not having invented sex, and it continues here. On the second page:"Sex" as a word had not been mentioned in Miss Marple's young days; but there had been plenty of it--not talked about so much--but enjoyed far more than nowadays, or so it seemed to her.And there's more in that vein. This is not an unworldly spinster, whatever the world may think.I spotted the murderer straight off, which diminished none of the pleasure of reading the book; not least because I realised who, but not why, which is neatly concealed in a shoal of red herrings. Not my favourite Marple, but still an entertaining way to pass a few hours.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Classic Miss Marple --what's not to love?
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Miss Marple is in the Caribbean for a rest paid for by her nephew, Raymond West. Her respite is suddenly interrupted by the death of Major Palgrave, one of her fellow guests at the hotel. Convinced that the major's death was not at all natural, she begins to ask difficult questions which leads to her solving this whodunit. I always find her stories having clever plots with interesting characters and this one was no different. I especially loved this book because of the setting of the West Indies' fictitious Island of St. Honore. It is a pleasant change of scenery for the traditional Miss Marple small English village story. Kept me guessing until the very end. I look forward to reading another one of her classic mysteries in the near future. I highly recommend her books to those who love light mystery reads.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Always love Miss Marple books
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This is the first Miss Marple novel that I've read. I enjoyed the mystery and the little things that Miss Marple does and says throughout the story. Mr. Rafiel from Nemesis first makes an appearance in this book.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Lindapanzo mentioned that she was enjoying this Christie so I picked it up last night for some light reading after a very stressful day. This was one I had never read and the first Miss Marple I’ve read in quite a while. It was interesting to see her having to operate outside her normal milieu of St. Mary Mead. However her powers of observation, ability to draw people out and her intuition don’t fail her even in this exotic location among strangers. It was an enjoyable mystery with interesting characters and good plot and although early on my intuition in picking out the villain proved to be a good instinct, I wasn’t really certain until almost the end. Recommended, especially for fans

Book preview

A Caribbean Mystery - Agatha Christie

One

MAJOR PALGRAVE TELLS A STORY

"Take all this business about Kenya," said Major Palgrave.

"Lots of chaps gabbing away who know nothing about the place! Now I spent fourteen years of my life there. Some of the best years of my life, too—"

Old Miss Marple inclined her head.

It was a gentle gesture of courtesy. Whilst Major Palgrave proceeded with the somewhat uninteresting recollections of a lifetime, Miss Marple peacefully pursued her own thoughts. It was a routine with which she was well acquainted. The locale varied. In the past, it had been predominantly India. Majors, Colonels, Lieutenant-Generals—and a familiar series of words: Simla. Bearers. Tigers. Chota Hazri—Tiffin. Khitmagars, and so on. With Major Palgrave the terms were slightly different. Safari. Kikuyu. Elephants. Swahili. But the pattern was essentially the same. An elderly man who needed a listener so that he could, in memory, relive days in which he had been happy. Days when his back had been straight, his eyesight keen, his hearing acute. Some of these talkers had been handsome soldierly old boys, some again had been regrettably unattractive; and Major Palgrave, purple of face, with a glass eye, and the general appearance of a stuffed frog, belonged in the latter category.

Miss Marple had bestowed on all of them the same gentle charity. She had sat attentively, inclining her head from time to time in gentle agreement, thinking her own thoughts and enjoying what there was to enjoy: in this case the deep blue of a Caribbean Sea.

So kind of dear Raymond—she was thinking gratefully, so really and truly kind … Why he should take so much trouble about his old aunt, she really did not know. Conscience, perhaps; family feeling? Or possibly he was truly fond of her….

She thought, on the whole, that he was fond of her—he always had been—in a slightly exasperated and contemptuous way! Always trying to bring her up to date. Sending her books to read. Modern novels. So difficult—all about such unpleasant people, doing such very odd things and not, apparently, even enjoying them. Sex as a word had not been mentioned in Miss Marple’s young days; but there had been plenty of it—not talked about so much—but enjoyed far more than nowadays, or so it seemed to her. Though usually labelled Sin, she couldn’t help feeling that that was preferable to what it seemed to be nowadays—a kind of Duty.

Her glance strayed for a moment to the book on her lap lying open at page twenty-three which was as far as she had got (and indeed as far as she felt like getting!).

"‘Do you mean that you’ve had no sexual experience at ALL?’ demanded the young man incredulously. ‘At nineteen? But you must. It’s vital.’

"The girl hung her head unhappily, her straight greasy hair fell forward over her face.

"‘I know,’ she muttered, ‘I know.’

He looked at her, stained old jersey, the bare feet, the dirty toe nails, the smell of rancid fat … He wondered why he found her so maddeningly attractive.

Miss Marple wondered too! And really! To have sex experience urged on you exactly as though it was an iron tonic! Poor young things….

My dear Aunt Jane, why must you bury your head in the sand like a very delightful ostrich? All bound up in this idyllic rural life of yours. REAL LIFE—that’s what matters.

Thus Raymond—and his Aunt Jane—had looked properly abashed—and said Yes, she was afraid she was rather old-fashioned.

Though really rural life was far from idyllic. People like Raymond were so ignorant. In the course of her duties in a country parish, Jane Marple had acquired quite a comprehensive knowledge of the facts of rural life. She had no urge to talk about them, far less to write about them—but she knew them. Plenty of sex. Rape, incest, perversion of all kinds. (Some kinds, indeed, that even the clever young men from Oxford who wrote books didn’t seem to have heard about.)

Miss Marple came back to the Caribbean and took up the thread of what Major Palgrave was saying….

A very unusual experience, she said encouragingly. "Most interesting."

I could tell you a lot more. Some of the things, of course, not fit for a lady’s ears—

With the ease of long practice, Miss Marple dropped her eyelids in a fluttery fashion, and Major Palgrave continued his bowdlerized version of tribal customs whilst Miss Marple resumed her thoughts of her affectionate nephew.

Raymond West was a very successful novelist and made a large income, and he conscientiously and kindly did all he could to alleviate the life of his elderly aunt. The preceding winter she had had a bad go of pneumonia, and medical opinion had advised sunshine. In lordly fashion Raymond had suggested a trip to the West Indies. Miss Marple had demurred—at the expense, the distance, the difficulties of travel, and at abandoning her house in St. Mary Mead. Raymond had dealt with everything. A friend who was writing a book wanted a quiet place in the country. "He’ll look after the house all right. He’s very house proud.

He went on to deal with the next points. Travel was nothing nowadays. She would go by air—another friend, Diana Horrocks, was going out to Trinidad and would see Aunt Jane was all right as far as there, and at St. Honoré she would stay at the Golden Palm Hotel which was run by the Sandersons. Nicest couple in the world. They’d see she was all right. He’d write to them straight away.

As it happened the Sandersons had returned to England. But their successors, the Kendals, had been very nice and friendly and had assured Raymond that he need have no qualms about his aunt. There was a very good doctor on the island in case of emergency and they themselves would keep an eye on her and see to her comfort.

They had been as good as their word, too. Molly Kendal was an ingenuous blonde of twenty odd, always apparently in good spirits. She had greeted the old lady warmly and did everything to make her comfortable. Tim Kendal, her husband, lean, dark and in his thirties, had also been kindness itself.

So there she was, thought Miss Marple, far from the rigours of the English climate, with a nice bungalow of her own, with friendly smiling West Indian girls to wait on her, Tim Kendal to meet her in the dining room and crack a joke as he advised her about the day’s menu, and an easy path from her bungalow to the sea front and the bathing beach where she could sit in a comfortable basket chair and watch the bathing. There were even a few elderly guests for company. Old Mr. Rafiel, Dr. Graham, Canon Prescott and his sister, and her present cavalier Major Palgrave.

What more could an elderly lady want?

It is deeply to be regretted, and Miss Marple felt guilty even admitting it to herself, but she was not as satisfied as she ought to be.

Lovely and warm, yes—and so good for her rheumatism—and beautiful scenery, though perhaps—a trifle monotonous? So many palm trees. Everything the same every day—never anything happening. Not like St. Mary Mead where something was always happening. Her nephew had once compared life in St. Mary Mead to scum on a pond, and she had indignantly pointed out that smeared on a slide under the microscope there would be plenty of life to be observed. Yes, indeed, in St. Mary Mead, there was always something going on. Incident after incident flashed through Miss Marple’s mind, the mistake in old Mrs. Linnett’s cough mixture—that very odd behaviour of young Polegate—the time when Georgy Wood’s mother had come down to see him—(but was she his mother—?) the real cause of the quarrel between Joe Arden and his wife. So many interesting human problems—giving rise to endless pleasurable hours of speculation. If only there were something here that she could—well—get her teeth into.

With a start she realized that Major Palgrave had abandoned Kenya for the North West Frontier and was relating his experiences as a subaltern. Unfortunately he was asking her with great earnestness: Now don’t you agree?

Long practice had made Miss Marple quite an adept at dealing with that one.

I don’t really feel that I’ve got sufficient experience to judge. I’m afraid I’ve led rather a sheltered life.

And so you should, dear lady, so you should, cried Major Palgrave gallantly.

You’ve had such a very varied life, went on Miss Marple, determined to make amends for her former pleasurable inattention.

Not bad, said Major Palgrave, complacently. Not bad at all. He looked round him appreciatively. Lovely place, this.

Yes, indeed, said Miss Marple and was then unable to stop herself going on: Does anything ever happen here, I wonder?

Major Palgrave stared.

Oh rather. Plenty of scandals—eh what? Why, I could tell you—

But it wasn’t really scandals Miss Marple wanted. Nothing to get your teeth into in scandals nowadays. Just men and women changing partners, and calling attention to it, instead of trying decently to hush it up and be properly ashamed of themselves.

There was even a murder here a couple of years ago. Man called Harry Western. Made a big splash in the papers. Dare say you remember it.

Miss Marple nodded without enthusiasm. It had not been her kind of murder. It had made a big splash mainly because everyone concerned had been very rich. It had seemed likely enough that Harry Western had shot the Count de Ferrari, his wife’s lover, and equally likely that his well-arranged alibi had been bought and paid for. Everyone seemed to have been drunk, and there was a fine scattering of dope addicts. Not really interesting people, thought Miss Marple—although no doubt very spectacular and attractive to look at. But definitely not her cup of tea.

And if you ask me, that wasn’t the only murder about that time. He nodded and winked. I had my suspicions—oh!—well—

Miss Marple dropped her ball of wool, and the Major stooped and picked it up for her.

Talking of murder, he went on. I once came across a very curious case—not exactly personally.

Miss Marple smiled encouragingly.

Lot of chaps talking at the club one day, you know, and a chap began telling a story. Medical man he was. One of his cases. Young fellow came and knocked him up in the middle of the night. His wife had hanged herself. They hadn’t got a telephone, so after the chap had cut her down and done what he could, he’d got out his car and hared off looking for a doctor. Well, she wasn’t dead but pretty far gone. Anyway, she pulled through. Young fellow seemed devoted to her. Cried like a child. He’d noticed that she’d been odd for some time, fits of depression and all that. Well, that was that. Everything seemed all right. But actually, about a month later, the wife took an overdose of sleeping stuff and passed out. Sad case.

Major Palgrave paused, and nodded his head several times. Since there was obviously more to come Miss Marple waited.

"And that’s that, you might say. Nothing there. Neurotic woman, nothing out of the usual. But about a year later, this medical chap was swapping yarns with a fellow medico, and the other chap told him about a woman who’d tried to drown herself, husband got her out, got a doctor, they pulled her round—and then a few weeks later she gassed herself.

"Well, a bit of a coincidence—eh? Same sort of story. My chap said—‘I had a case rather like that. Name of Jones (or whatever the name was)—What was your man’s name?’ ‘Can’t remember. Robinson I think. Certainly not Jones.’

"Well, the chaps looked at each other and said it was pretty odd. And then my chap pulled out a snapshot. He showed it to the second chap. ‘That’s the fellow,’ he said—‘I’d gone along the next day to check up on the particulars, and I noticed a magnificent species of hibiscus just by the front door, a variety I’d never seen before in this country. My camera was in the car and I took a photo. Just as I snapped the shutter the husband came out of the front door so I got him as well. Don’t think he realized it. I asked him about the hibiscus but he couldn’t tell me its name.’ Second medico looked at the snap. He said: ‘It’s a bit out of focus—But I could swear—at any rate I’m almost sure—it’s the same man.

Don’t know if they followed it up. But if so they didn’t get anywhere. Expect Mr. Jones or Robinson covered his tracks too well. But queer story, isn’t it? Wouldn’t think things like that could happen.

Oh, yes, I would, said Miss Marple placidly. Practically every day.

Oh, come, come. That’s a bit fantastic.

If a man gets a formula that works—he won’t stop. He’ll go on.

Brides in the bath—eh?

That kind of thing, yes.

Doctor let me have that snap just as a curiosity—

Major Palgrave began fumbling through an overstuffed wallet murmuring to himself: Lots of things in here—don’t know why I keep all these things….

Miss Marple thought she did know. They were part of the Major’s stock-in-trade. They illustrated his repertoire of stories. The story he had just told, or so she suspected, had not been originally like that—it had been worked up a good deal in repeated telling.

The Major was still shuffling and muttering—"Forgotten all about that business. Good-looking woman she was, you’d never suspect—now where—Ah—that takes my mind back—what tusks! I must show you—"

He stopped—sorted out a small photographic print and peered down at it.

Like to see the picture of a murderer?

He was about to pass it to her when his movement was suddenly arrested. Looking more like a stuffed frog than ever, Major Palgrave appeared to be staring fixedly over her right shoulder—from whence came the sound of approaching footsteps and voices.

Well, I’m damned—I mean— He stuffed everything back into his wallet and crammed it into his pocket.

His face went an even deeper shade of purplish red—He exclaimed in a loud, artificial voice:

As I was saying—I’d like to have shown you those elephant tusks—Biggest elephant I’ve ever shot—Ah, hallo! His voice took on a somewhat spurious hearty note.

Look who’s here! The great quartette—Flora and Fauna—What luck have you had today—Eh?

The approaching footsteps resolved themselves into four of the hotel guests whom Miss Marple already knew by sight. They consisted of two married couples and though Miss Marple was not as yet acquainted with their surnames, she knew that the big man with the upstanding bush of thick grey hair was addressed as Greg, that the golden blonde woman, his wife, was known as Lucky—and that the other married couple, the dark lean man and the handsome but rather weather-beaten woman, were Edward and Evelyn. They were botanists, she understood, and also interested in birds.

No luck at all, said Greg—At least no luck in getting what we were after.

Don’t know if you know Miss Marple? Colonel and Mrs. Hillingdon and Greg and Lucky Dyson.

They greeted her pleasantly and Lucky said loudly that she’d die if she didn’t have a drink at once or sooner.

Greg hailed Tim Kendal who was sitting a little way away with his wife poring over account books.

Hi, Tim. Get us some drinks. He addressed the others. Planters Punch?

They agreed.

Same for you, Miss Marple?

Miss Marple said Thank you, but she would prefer fresh lime.

Fresh lime it is, said Tim Kendal, and five Planters Punches.

Join us, Tim?

Wish I could. But I’ve got to fix up these accounts. Can’t leave Molly to cope with everything. Steel band tonight, by the way.

Good, cried Lucky. Damn it, she winced, I’m all over thorns. Ouch! Edward deliberately rammed me into a thorn bush!

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