Nemesis by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online Page B

post again now, will you?”
    “Oh, some people do. They find it interesting, they say. They get bored when they have nothing to do. But I think I shall rather enjoy living a life of leisure. I shall enjoy my legacy, too, that Mr Rafiel left me. It was very kind of him and I think he'd want me - well, to enjoy it even if I spent it in what he'd think of perhaps as a rather silly, female way! Expensive clothes and a new hairdo and all that. He'd have thought that sort of thing very silly.” She added suddenly, “I was fond of him, you know. Yes, I was quite fond of him. I think it was because he was a sort of challenge to me. He was difficult to get on with, and therefore I enjoyed managing it.”
    “And managing him?”
    “Well, not quite managing him, but perhaps a little more than he knew I was.”
    Miss Marple trotted away down the road.
    She looked back once and waved her hand. Esther Anderson was still standing on the doorstep, and she waved back cheerfully.
    “I thought this might have been something to do with her or something she knew about,” said Miss Marple to herself. “I think I'm wrong. No, I don't think she's concerned in this business, whatever it is, in any way. Oh dear, I feel Mr Rafiel expected me to be much cleverer than I am being. I think he expected me to put things together but what things? And what do I do next, I wonder?” She shook her head.
    She had to think over things very carefully. This business had been, as it were, left to her. Left to her to refuse, to accept, to understand what it was all about? Or not to understand anything, but to go forward and hope that some kind of guidance might be given to her. Occasionally she closed her eyes and tried to picture Mr Rafiel's face. Sitting in the garden of the hotel in the West Indies in his tropical suit; his bad-tempered corrugated face, his flashes of occasional humour. What she really wanted to know was what had been in his mind when he worked up this scheme, when he set out to bring it about. To lure her into accepting it, to persuade her to accept it, to - well, perhaps one should say to bully her into accepting it. The third was much the most likely, knowing Mr Rafiel. And yet, take it that he had wanted something done and he had chosen her, settled upon her to do it. Why? Because she had suddenly come into his mind? But why should she have come into his mind?
    She thought back to Mr Rafiel and the things that had occurred at St Honoré. Had perhaps the problem he had been considering at the time of his death sent his mind back to that visit to the West Indies? Was it in some way connected with someone who had been out there, who had taken part or been an onlooker there and was that what had put Miss Marple into his mind? Was there some link or some connection? If not, why should he suddenly think of her? What was it about her that could make her useful to him, in any way at all. She was an elderly, rather scatty, quite ordinary person, physically not very strong, mentally not nearly as alert as she used to be. What had been her special qualifications, if any? She couldn't think of any. Could it possibly have been a bit of fun on Mr Rafiel's part? Even if Mr Rafiel had been on the point of death he might have wanted to have some kind of joke that suited his peculiar sense of humour.
    She could not deny that Mr Rafiel could quite possibly wish to have a joke, even on his death-bed. Some ironical humour of his might be satisfied.
    “I must,” said Miss Marple to herself firmly, “I must have some qualification for something.” After all, since Mr Rafiel was no longer in this world, he could not enjoy his joke at first hand. What qualifications had she got? “What qualities have I got that could be useful to anyone for anything?” said Miss Marple.
    She considered herself with proper humility. She was inquisitive, she asked questions, she was the sort of age and type that could be expected to ask questions. That was one point, a