A Pocket Full of Rye

“It was only the faintest suspicion of a question mark but the young woman responded. ‘I know. Percival made an appointment twice for him, but he wouldn’t keep it. He was quite unreasonable—they’ve all been worried—’ She broke off and then resumed in her former assured manner.”

This first exchange of many between Miss Dove and Inspector Neele emphasizes his ability to ask subtle questions and her own intelligence. She confides the family’s doubts about Rex’s health in short bursts, as if aware that she is betraying a confidence. This introduces the theme of family secrecy and Neele’s role in uncovering it as he seeks to solve the crime.

“‘Lovely legs she’s got,’ said Constable Waite with a sigh. ‘And super nylons—’ ‘Legs are no help to me,’ said Inspector Neele. ‘I’m left with what I had before. A pocketful of rye—and no explanation of it.’”

This exchange establishes Neele’s character as unlike his constable’s: He is not distracted by aesthetics. The nylons in particular are a marker of the postwar context—nylon was rationed for years during the war and afterward, so new stockings were difficult to acquire. Neele, however, is focused on the deeper mystery, which will turn out to be key to the case.

“But this place, this pretentiously named Yewtree Lodge was just the kind of mansion that rich people built themselves and then called it ‘their little place in the country.’ It wasn’t in the country either, according to Inspector Neele’s idea of the country. The house was a large solid red-brick structure, sprawling lengthwise rather than upward, with rather too many gables, and a vast number of leaded paned windows.”

Neele’s astringent commentary underlines his own class position as a working man. His disdain for the nouveau riche that the Fortescues represent continues when he takes in the house, as it has “rather too many gables,” underscoring that the built environment reveals their priorities and values.

“‘You don’t seem to have been particularly fond of anybody,’ said Pat disapprovingly. Lance grasped and squeezed her arm. ‘I’m fond of you,’ he said.”

This exchange between Pat and Lance reveals their differing priorities: Pat is concerned about his detachment from his family, as if it is a moral failing. She is more correct than she knows, as Lance has recently orchestrated his father’s murder from afar. Lance responds with physical affection and assures her that she is his first priority. On the surface, it is an expression of devotion, but it is also an early clue to his motive for murder.

“He paused for a moment before looking back into the room. Adele Fortescue still held the handkerchief to her eyes. The ends of it hung down but did not quite obscure her mouth. On her lips was a very faint smile.”

Once more, the novel sets up Neele as a careful observer, as he takes the time to watch Adele when she is not aware. She adopts the posture of grief, but below the handkerchief, her smile betrays the truth: She does not grieve her husband but celebrates her newfound wealth. This scene sets her up as an early suspect and further cements the Fortescue family as a mercenary one.

“He could see her mind ranging vividly over all the possibilities. He said, with caution: ‘It seems possible that Mr. Fortescue’s illness resulted from something he ate at breakfast.’ ‘Breakfast?’ She seemed surprised. ‘That’s difficult. I don’t see how…’ She paused and shook her head. ‘I don’t see how she could have done it, then…unless she slipped something into the coffee—when Elaine and I weren’t looking.’”

In this scene, the novel establishes that the murder has awakened Jennifer’s interest and intelligence, perhaps in ways her ordinary life does not. Neele observes, somewhat uneasily, that she is deeply interested in the case. Jennifer’s immediate focus on Adele mirrors Neele’s own early assumptions and establishes that she was not at all beloved in the family.

“He quoted softly, ‘They’re all very unpleasant people.’ Sergeant Hay looked somewhat puzzled. ‘Alice in Wonderland,’ said Neele. ‘Don’t you know your Alice, Hay?’ ‘It’s a classic, isn’t it, sir?’ said Hay. ‘Third Programme stuff. I don’t listen to the Third Programme.’”

Once more, the novel uses the contrast of Neele’s sergeant to establish his intellectual depth as an investigator. Neele quotes Lewis Carroll to assert that none of the Fortescues are sympathetic—a reference that Hay does not recognize. The allusion further suggests that the Fortescues occupy their own inscrutable universe that makes the pursuit of justice more complex than it appears.

“Well, she jolly well wasn’t going to cut sandwiches. They’d got plenty to eat without that, hadn’t they? Two cakes, biscuits and scones and honey. Fresh black-market farm butter. Plenty without her bothering to cut tomato or fois gras sandwiches. She’d got other things to think about.”

This brief glimpse into Gladys’s point of view, the last before her untimely death, establishes her rebellious streak—she “jolly well” isn’t going to cut sandwiches, a defiant assertion of self-will. The reference to black-market butter underlines that the Fortescues have skirted rationing laws. The “other things” on her mind foreshadow her importance to the case’s solution.

“So charming, so innocent, such a fluffy and pink and white old lady was Miss Marple that she gained admittance to what was now practically a fortress in a state of siege far more easily than could have been believed possible. Though an army of reporters and photographers were being kept at bay by the police, Miss Marple was allowed to drive in without question, so impossible would it have been to believe that she was anyone but an elderly relative of the family.”

This introduction of Miss Marple emphasizes her class position, age, and gender—she conveys feminine delicacy and aged wisdom and is described like a harmless pet rather than a person. The house is closed off to the world but not to her because her appearance suggests that she belongs. The novel establishes early that the ways Miss Marple is underestimated by society are useful to her.

“Miss Marple would be useful to him. She was upright, of unimpeachable rectitude and she had, like most old ladies, time on her hands and an old maid’s nose for scenting bits of gossip. She’d get things out of servants, and out of the women of the Fortescue family perhaps, that he and his policemen would never get.”

Neele’s assessment of Miss Marple demonstrates his practical nature and his own firm grasp of gender stereotypes. He assumes that because of her age and position, she will be interested in “bits of gossip” and has time to indulge in it. He admits that his own gender is a disadvantage, as he cannot disarm witnesses the way that she does. This establishes that Neele underrates Miss Marple’s value even as he accepts her help.

“His face assumed a peculiarly wooden and stupid appearance. In actual fact this meant that Inspector Neele’s mind was racing once more round an imaginary track. A moving picture was enacting itself before the eyes of his mind. He saw a new pot of marmalade, he saw hands carefully removing its cover, he saw a small quantity of marmalade removed, mixed with a preparation of taxine and replaced in the pot, the top smoothed over and the lid carefully replaced.”

This passage provides a characteristic example of Neele’s thought process as a detective. While he tends to follow a more rational, empirical tack than Miss Marple, he is also intuitive and imaginative, and his intuitions, like this one, are often correct. Incompetent police are a trope in amateur detective fiction, but Neele does not fall into this category. He is an intelligent man whose approach is complemented by the amateur sleuth Miss Marple’s.

“Jennifer Fortescue started violently. She dropped her handbag on the floor and bent to pick it up. ‘Blackbirds, Inspector? Blackbirds? What kind of blackbirds?’ Her voice was rather breathless. Smiling a little, Inspector Neele said: ‘Just blackbirds. Alive or dead or even, shall we say, symbolical?’”

The novel’s wording here emphasizes Jennifer’s shock, as if she has been struck. She repeats the question, putting even more emphasis on the birds than Neele did, which is a subtle clue as to her role in the scheme. Neele, in contrast, is calm and even slightly arch, invoking “symbolical” birds as an allusion to the nursery rhyme that will come to dominate the part of the text. He does not, however, attribute meaning to her behavior, which prevents him from putting the case in full perspective until it is almost too late.

“‘Line ’em up, Percy,’ said Lance, laughing. ‘Bogus Diamond Mines, Inaccessible Rubies, the Oil Concessions where no oil is. Do you think I’m quite as big a fool as I look?’ Percival said: ‘Of course, some of these holdings are highly speculative, but remember, they may turn out immensely valuable.’ ‘Changed your tune, haven’t you?’ said Lance, grinning. ‘Going to offer me father’s latest wildcat acquisition as well as the old Blackbird Mine and things of that kind.’”

This scene demonstrates the damaged relationship and differing temperaments of the Fortescue brothers. Lance laughs even as he accuses his brother of cheating him, while Percival obscures his own motives by claiming that the risky holdings may have more value than he truly believes. Lance mentions the Blackbird Mine, subtly betraying his motive for the murder scheme.

“‘She didn’t keep faith. You know she didn’t keep faith.’ ‘Where is your daughter now, madam?’ ‘I’ve told you. I have no daughter. There isn’t such a person as Ruby Mackenzie any longer.’ ‘You mean she’s dead?’ ‘Dead?’ The woman laughed suddenly. ‘It would be better for her if she were dead. Much better. Much, much better.’”

Mrs. Mackenzie’s dialogue betrays that she equates her quest for vengeance with a kind of religion, as she accuses her daughter of failing to “keep faith.” She insists that death is better than apostasy, laughing at the idea. Her idea of family loyalty brings her to a psychiatric hospital, a cautionary tale about Family, Loyalty, and the Ties That Bind.

“‘I know just how you feel,’ said Miss Marple. And this again was true. Mrs. Percival’s husband was obviously bored by her and paid very little attention to her, and the poor woman had managed to make no local friends. Running up to London and shopping, matinées and a luxurious house to live in did not make up for the lack of humanity in her relations with her husband’s family.”

This scene underscores Miss Marple’s perspicacity and empathy. She immediately senses Jennifer’s deep isolation from her family and community. Material comfort is no real balm in the stifling atmosphere of the Fortescue home. Like Neele, Miss Marple perceives that the Fortescues are devoid of human warmth, and she sees Jennifer as a victim of their family culture.

“‘It’s like England is,’ said Miss Marple. ‘There are not so many Yewtree Lodges, my dear.’ ‘I think that’s a good thing,’ said Pat. ‘I don’t believe this was ever a happy house. I don’t believe anybody was ever happy in it, in spite of all the money they spent and the things they had.’”

Miss Marple, for all her cynicism, gently assures Pat that the Fortescues are not representative of England as a whole. Pat’s insistence on the family’s misery despite their wealth underlines that she is not materialistic. She does not share values with the Fortescues, though she loves Lance too much to see that he is just as greedy as the rest of his family.

“He swung round towards her and his face lit up in a smile. ‘Hallo. Why, it’s Miss Griffith.’ Miss Griffith was delighted. Eleven years since he had seen her and he knew her name. She said in a confused voice: ‘Fancy your remembering.’ And Lance said easily, with all his charm to the fore: ‘Of course I remember.’”

Here, the novel showcases Lance’s efforts to be personable, especially with women outside his family. He greets Miss Griffith by name, denying that this was any particular consideration on his part. Miss Griffith is clearly smitten, almost disoriented by his charisma. This scene raises the question of who else Lance might have charmed, setting the stage for the end of the investigation.

“‘I’ve been looking forward to the glamorous Grosvenor. Why did you sack her? Thought she knew a bit too much?’ ‘Of course not. What an idea!’ Percy spoke angrily, a flush mounting his pale face. He turned to the inspector. ‘You mustn’t pay any attention to my brother,’ he said coldly. ‘He has a rather peculiar sense of humour.’”

This encounter underlines that Lance is frivolous and takes little seriously. He refers to the previous secretary as “the glamorous Grosvenor” rather than as a professional and then casually implies that his brother may be involved in crime. Percival rises to his bait, underlining his own immaturity. This scene seems to confirm Neele’s suspicions that Percival is hiding something, so he maintains his status as a red herring.

“‘And if your theory is correct, if this whole series of murders arises out of the old Blackbird Mine business, then Ruby Mackenzie must be here in this house, and there’s only one person that Ruby Mackenzie could be.’ ‘I think, you know,’ said Miss Marple, ‘that you’re being a little too dogmatic.’”

Here, Neele clings to a theory of the case based in family drama, assuming that this is also Miss Marple’s theory of the case. As befits their gendered dynamic, he almost speaks over her, assuming that he knows what she is about to say. Instead, she gently rebuffs him, telling him that he is being “too dogmatic”—a clue that the nursery rhyme is not key to the case in a literal way but as a tool for the killer and thus a clue to his identity.

“‘He, of course, is a liar, but that doesn’t really matter because, if you know liars are liars, it comes to the same thing. But I did want to get the telephone calls clear and the nylon stockings and all that.’ Inspector Neele blinked again and wondered what he had let himself in for and why he had ever thought that Miss Marple might be a desirable and clearheaded colleague.”

The dialogue here reveals Miss Marple’s intricate thought processes and Neele’s inability to follow them. Miss Marple knows that Gladys is key to the case, so the timing of the telephone calls and her motives for dressing up are crucial evidence. To Neele, her words seem nonsensical, bringing on regret and doubt about his own decisions.

“‘Yes—that matters so much—that’s really why I’m sure.’ Neele looked at her playfully. ‘Because of your knowledge of criminals.’ ‘Oh no—of course not. Because of Pat—a dear girl—and the kind that always marries a bad lot—that’s really what drew my attention to him at the start.’”

Neele pokes fun at Miss Marple’s social background here, hinting that she is unlikely to be familiar with the profile of the typical killer. Miss Marple’s rejoinder is a reminder that there is more than one kind of experience to draw from. Pat’s marital history is its own kind of clue, which leads Miss Marple to Lance, a kind of validation of femininity and intuition.

“‘Coincidences do happen, Inspector.’ ‘Oh, yes,’ said Neele. ‘They happen. But they mustn’t happen too often, Miss Dove. I dare say,’ he added, ‘that we may meet again in the future.’ ‘I hope’—said Mary Dove—‘I don’t mean to be rude, Inspector Neele—but I hope we don’t.’”

This exchange validates Neele’s longstanding suspicion of Miss Dove—not the culprit in this crime but the likely mastermind in others. His reminder about coincidences serves as a kind of warning. Miss Dove’s response is not a promise of reform but merely a desire to continue to avoid the consequences of her actions.

“‘Black knave,’ repeated Miss Ramsbottom, fingering the card. ‘Handsome, but a black heart. Yes, I was afraid of it. Ah, well, you can’t always help loving a sinner. The boy always had a way with him.’”

Miss Ramsbottom’s cards echo the resolution of the case—Lance is the dark knight, responsible for the murders. She ruefully admits to her nephew’s winning ways, implying that they even weakened her usual misanthropy. Miss Ramsbottom, in her way, is as astute a judge of character as Miss Marple, though she chooses isolation over connection.