| Miss Marple sipped her tea and recoiled in horror. "What on earth is this?" she spluttered. "Masala tea, madam," blurted out a nearby flunkey. "Oh," said Miss Marple, "Could you take it away please, and get me some Darjeeling?" The three of them were seated, along with Ariadne Oliver, on the verandah of one of the family mansions in the Park, where high tea had been served by liveried bearers a few minutes ago. Poirot slurped his masala chai and continued, "But is money all there is to l'affaire Mrs B? Come, mes amis, let's exercise the little grey cells." |
| "Why would anybody give away that kind of money to an outsider?" wondered Hastings, choking over a samosa, "I would have thought charities would have fitted the bill if she didn't get along with her family. Could you get me some toast?" An obedient waiter trotted away. "I'm sure there's more than meets the eye," said Ms Oliver, picking up a sabudana vada, "after all, this IS the mysterious East, and there are sure to be all sorts of little known Asiatic poisons. What about that devil's root or something that's supposed to addle your mind?" Miss Marple carefully pushed away a dish of pakodas and took up her knitting. |
| "Ariadne, my dear, that's your novelist's imagination. Here's an old widow shut up in this house, left to fend for herself, and along comes a gentleman who looks after her businesses and helps her cope, so why shouldn't she leave her fortune to him? I think it's perfectly natural, and it shows she had plenty of gumption." |
| "I would have no problem with a gallant knight on a white steed, Miss Marple, but a chivalrous CA in a Honda City rescuing the fairy princess is too much," protested Ms Oliver, despondently eating a vada pav. "Why, Ariadne, remember how the old dowager left all her money to the au pair girl in Hallowe'en Party?" said Miss Marple. |
| "Or," she continued, "How Emily Arundell left her entire fortune to her companion in Dumb Witness, cutting out her family?" Ms Oliver refused to be convinced. "I'd prefer a wickedly curved Oriental dagger any day," she sighed. |
| "What seems so strange," said Hastings, "is that Mrs B was such a sweet old lady, interested in charity and intensely religious. How could such a conventional woman do a thing like that?" "Excellent, Hastings," cried Poirot, arranging the sev puris in a hexagon, "we must find the piece of the puzzle that's out of place, the fact that doesn't fit in. |
| That will be the clue to the riddle. Why, for instance, did she visit the South Pole?" "Well, Captain Scott visited it," pointed out Hastings. Poirot rolled his eyes heavenwards, "My dear Hastings, was Mrs B Captain Scott? Do all rich childless widows go to the South Pole?" "Don't forget," said Miss Marple, "that she was also a businesswoman. We'll be doing her less than justice if we think of her as any other rich old woman. She had a mind of her own." "Do you think she could have been dragged to the South Pole against her wishes, after being drugged probably," said Ms Oliver breathlessly, "Maybe the CA did it." |
| "Why would anyone do that?" asked Miss Marple mildly. "Perhaps she was schizophrenic?" asked Hastings. "Ooh," squealed Ms Oliver, "like Psycho. Or like this thing I'm eating "" it's both sweet and spicy." "Dahi kachori, madam," said the butler obsequiously. "Perhaps the butler did it," giggled Ms Oliver. |
| "We must not forget, ladies, that she was also reclusive," said Poirot, cleaning his moustaches with a large silk handkerchief after popping a sev puri into his mouth. "Then what was she doing barging into chefs' kitchens to learn Lebanese and Mexican cooking?" asked Miss Marple. |
| "Oh, I'm sure she had a romantic reason in this romantic Eastern city," gushed Ms Oliver. "For goodness sake, Ariadne, the woman was seventy-seven years old," said Hastings, waving away the papdi chaat hastily. "But the question is, was she a recluse by inclination or one by necessity?" shrewdly observed M Poirot. |
| Miss Marple dropped a stitch in her excitement, "You mean, was she cooped up at home because she didn't want visitors, or because nobody came to visit?" "Absolutely," exclaimed Poirot, "except for our good friend the CA. Quelle naturelle, she was grateful." "What on earth do you mean, M Poirot?" asked Ms Oliver. "Sacre bleu, madam," said M Poirot with a low bow, "what I mean is""the CA didn't do it." |
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