Nemesis
A message from a dead acquaintance prompts a bus tour to an unknown crime…In utter disbelief Miss Marple read the letter addressed to her from the recently deceased Mr Rafiel – an acquaintance she had met briefly on her travels.Recognising in Miss Marple a natural flair for justice, Mr Rafiel had left instructions for her to investigate a crime after his death. The only problem was, he had failed to tell her who was involved or where and when the crime had been committed. It was most intriguing.
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First published in Great Britain by Collins, The Crime Club 1971
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This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008196622
Ebook Edition © December 2016 ISBN: 9780007422623
Version: 2017-04-11
To Daphne Honeybone
In the afternoons it was the custom of Miss Jane Marple to unfold her second newspaper. Two newspapers were delivered at her house every morning. The first one Miss Marple read while sipping her early morning tea, that is, if it was delivered in time. The boy who delivered the papers was notably erratic in his management of time. Frequently, too, there was either a new boy or a boy who was acting temporarily as a stand-in for the first one. And each one would have ideas of his own as to the geographical route that he should take in delivering. Perhaps it varied monotony for him. But those customers who were used to reading their paper early so that they could snap up the more saucy items in the dayâs news before departing for their bus, train or other means of progress to the dayâs work were annoyed if the papers were late, though the middle-aged and elderly ladies who resided peacefully in St Mary Mead often preferred to read a newspaper propped up on their breakfast table.
Today, Miss Marple had absorbed the front page and a few other items in the daily paper that she had nicknamed âthe Daily All-Sortsâ, this being a slightly satirical allusion to the fact that her paper, the Daily Newsgiver, owing to a change of proprietor, to her own and to other of her friendsâ great annoyance, now provided articles on menâs tailoring, womenâs dress, female heart-throbs, competitions for children, and complaining letters from women and had managed pretty well to shove any real news off any part of it but the front page, or to some obscure corner where it was impossible to find it. Miss Marple, being old-fashioned, preferred her newspapers to be newspapers and give you news.
In the afternoon, having finished her luncheon, treated herself to twenty minutesâ nap in a specially purchased, upright armchair which catered for the demands of her rheumatic back, she had opened the Times, which lent itself still to a more leisurely perusal. Not that the Times was what it used to be. The maddening thing about the Times was that you couldnât find anything any more. Instead of going through from the front page and knowing where everything else was so that you passed easily to any special articles on subjects in which you were interested, there were now extraordinary interruptions to this time-honoured programme. Two pages were suddenly devoted to travel in Capri with illustrations. Sport appeared with far more prominence than it had ever had in the old days. Court news and obituaries were a little more faithful to routine. The births, marriages and deaths which had at one time occupied Miss Marpleâs attention first of all owing to their prominent position had migrated to a different part of the Times, though of late, Miss Marple noted, they had come almost permanently to rest on the back page.
