Murder Near Slaughter

by L. A. Nisula

  I was trying to think of a way to leave politely without interrupting his thoughts, which seemed to be keeping him distracted enough to allow me an easy escape, when he came to his conclusion.

  “I suppose it could be just this one item, of course. If you could just find out about...”

  I cut him off. One such mission was more than enough for me. “I’m afraid I’m supposed to meet Inspector Wainwright. I don’t want to be late. He gets very irritated when someone is late.” Not as irritated as he’d be when I arrived, but Mr. Burton didn’t need to know that.

  “That’s the Scotland Yard man, isn’t it?” From his tone, I could tell he remembered Inspector Wainwright quite well. “Then you’d better go. Thank you for this. Perhaps Mrs. Campbell would go in and ask something similar for me.”

  “That’s an excellent idea. I’m sure I’ll see you in Eybry.” I hurried off before he could change his mind.

  As I’d told Mr. Burton I was going to see Inspector Wainwright, I thought it best I be seen doing just that, in case he asked someone, although it did mean I would have to put off finding some lunch. Of course, if Mr. Burton saw me going into a shop to get a bite to eat, he’d probably get the idea to send me somewhere else to check prices. Better to wait until he had finished his business and left town. Besides, I was still hoping the fact that we’d helped Inspector Wainwright with Sergeant Harris would mean I could get some information from him in return.

  I took a moment to get my bearings and realized I had already been heading in the direction of the police station, which meant I wouldn’t have to find a way to get there without passing Mr. Burton. Perhaps my luck was getting better.

  Chapter 17

  OF COURSE, AS SOON AS INSPECTOR WAINWRIGHT was in the picture, my luck failed. I stopped at the desk to ask the constable on duty if Inspector Wainwright was free, half-hoping, I’ll admit, to be told that he had stepped out to investigate some new clue that would solve everything. The constable looked surprised, although whether it was because I was asking to see Inspector Wainwright, or because I had just left and was now back again, I couldn’t tell, and said, “His last interview just left as you were coming in and no one else has come by, so I think it’ll be fine if you just go back.” And then he wouldn’t have to escort me if it wasn’t. Avoiding Inspector Wainwright’s irritation always seemed to work in my favor.

  “Thank you. I know where his office is.”

  When I got to Inspector Wainwright’s office, such as it was, he was still sitting at the same table in the common room I’d seen him at before, with a stack of folders spread out in front of him. Reviewing case notes, I assumed. I watched him for a minute to make certain he wasn’t doing anything that might solve the case quickly, then said, “Hello, again.”

  Inspector Wainwright didn’t look up from his papers. “Miss Pengear.”

  I took that as an invitation to join him and went to the chair across from his desk. I gave him another moment to start the conversation, then said, “You’re welcome for bringing you witnesses to help with Sergeant Harris.”

  “You realize it’s quite likely they were feeling remorseful for having Lord Hector accused of a crime they’re guilty of.”

  “If they’d killed Mr. Hoyt, they’d have let Lord Hector take the blame. They don’t like him, and they’re convinced his father can pay to get him out of trouble.”

  “And do you see the Marquess of Ludston around?”

  I hadn’t seen anything strange in his absence, but it seemed Inspector Wainwright wanted me to know something, so I answered, “I’d assumed Lord Hector hadn’t had time to telephone him yet. Or they haven’t been added to the exchange yet and he needed to send a messenger, which would take longer. Or he simply didn’t want his father to know he’d gotten into another scrape, if he thought he could get out of it on his own. Save his father for dire emergencies.”

  “They are on the telephone. Sergeant Harris rang them this morning to see if there was any chance of an alibi for him. That was when he discovered that Lord Hector had disowned his youngest son in all but name.”

  I understood the implication at once. “So he wasn’t running any risk by arresting him.”

  “Very little.”

  “So much for his courage and not being blinded by a title.”

  That almost got a smile from Inspector Wainwright.

  “Still, Miss Hayworth and Miss Dyer didn’t know that. They told me they’d expected his father would get him out of any trouble when they left the body there.”

  “And yet there have been rumors of it in the village, according to Constable Taylor. There are several merchants in the area who won’t extend credit unless they’re certain Mr. Briggs has approved the expense.”

  “That might just mean they don’t think he’ll remember to pay. Not that Mr. Briggs strikes me as that reliable either.”

  He ignored that remark. “And Miss Hayworth does seem to know the local gossip.”

  “True, but I would think the same could be said for most people in the village.” But I knew what he was really getting at, and I was trying to be nicer to him for Inspector Burrows’s sake, so I told him what he was really wondering about. “Yes, I do like them, but I have not ruled them out as suspects, merely pushed them down the list with other unlikely choices. I haven’t told them anything that might compromise your case. And besides, half the village seems to think Mrs. Albright or I did him in, so it’s in my best interests that you get this solved quickly.”

  I had expected Inspector Wainwright to glare or walk away, but he surprised me by saying, “It’s easier to suspect a stranger, particularly an interfering and irritating one, over a local.”

  That was the closest to sympathy I’d ever expected to get from him.

  He went on without pausing, “I believe Miss Hayworth and Miss Dyer are still with Sergeant Harris.”

  “That seems an awfully long time to be giving a statement, especially as it must be at least the third time they’ve done it.”

  “They did move a body. And my point was, you would be more comfortable waiting for them in the lobby.”

  So much for the sympathy, although he wasn’t actually demanding I leave, which I took to be a sign he was trying. “Actually, I was planning on getting something to eat and going back to the cottage. Good luck with your paperwork.” I left before he had to think of some way to answer.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  As I left the police station for the second time that day, I debated whether or not to go back to the cottage on my own. It seemed the only way I would get something to eat, if nothing else. But it was still early in the day. If I stayed in Stow-on-the-Wold, I’d have time to look in the shops and then could try to meet up with Miss Dyer and Miss Hayworth and discover if they’d heard anything interesting while they were being questioned. Although I could always call on them later and find out what had happened. In the end, I decided to walk towards the post office and see how difficult it would be to get back to Oakwood Cottage on my own and then decide. As I’d assumed everyone from Eybry who’d come to Stow-on-the-Wold was either still at the police station or had already left for home, I wasn’t paying overmuch attention to the people passing. I wished I would have. I’d barely reached the end of the street heading in the direction of the post office when I spotted Mr. Reynolds coming towards me. Not who I wanted to see after the past hour spent dealing with difficult policemen. He spotted me before I had a chance to determine if it was worth the risk of getting lost to avoid him by ducking down the nearest side street.

  “We meet again.”

  I’d been spotted, so I said, “Good afternoon.”

  “And why were you in town? Doing a bit of shopping?”

  “The inspector needed me for something.” That was, strictly speaking, true even if Inspector Wainwright would never admit it.

  “Good of you to do your civic duty.”

  “And you? Why were you in town?”

  “My rounds, my rounds. Must keep my cu
stomers happy.”

  I nodded and was about to say, “Then I won’t bother you when you’re working,” when he went on.

  “I’m sure you’re thinking I wasn’t doing a very good job of it when we met, but that’s all sorted out.”

  I hadn’t been thinking that at all, but had been wondering how to get away from him without more conversation, which made me curious. He clearly wanted me to know something. “That’s good to hear.”

  “Yes, yes, a happy customer is good for business.” He said that as if it were some deep insight and looked quite pleased with himself.

  Now I was terribly curious. Mr. Reynolds looked ready to leave, so he must have wanted me to know he’d smoothed things over with Mr. Burton, but why? I spoke before he could begin taking his leave. “Yes, I spoke to Mr. Burton and he seemed quite pleased with the result.”

  “That’s good to hear. Now I’ll...”

  I fumbled around for something to ask that might help me figure out what he wanted. “But one thing I was curious about, why did you give Mr. Sundur a discount and resist giving Mr. Burton one?”

  Mr. Reynolds looked ready to walk away without saying goodbye, then changed his mind. “Confidentially, I had to take Mr. Burton’s discount out of my profit. The main office was very upset when I gave Mr. Sundur his extra bit off, and I couldn’t afford to anger them again, not when I just got the route.”

  “Were you a new employee, then?”

  “Oh no, I’ve worked for them for years, but the route wasn’t as convenient as this one. It was in their line of alcohol and spirits, which meant a good bit more travel further away.”

  I wondered what sort of company sold both third-rate canned goods and alcohol, but that didn’t seem relevant. Although it did explain why Mr. Briggs seemed to like him. “Then why give Mr. Sundur a discount to begin with?”

  “Oh, he’s a wily one. I think he knew I would be eager to show how good I could be in the new position, and he used it against me.” Mr. Reynolds didn’t seem particularly upset by it.

  “How so?”

  “He said he’d been thinking of changing suppliers. He has a larger shop, as you can see, Stow-on-the-Wold being a town not just a village, and he carries a few brands of tinned goods, so he can afford to lose one temporarily. I didn’t feel I had any choice but to offer him an incentive to stay. It wouldn’t look good to lose a good client in your first week, particularly one so close to your home village.”

  That seemed to make sense, but to be certain, I asked, “Is that common?”

  “In the industry? Oh yes. Discounts are very common. It’s how we keep our clients from straying. But here’s Lord Hector. Perhaps he will be good enough to see you back to Eybry.”

  I would have walked off without replying to that, but Lord Hector was already upon us and had heard the offer Mr. Reynolds had made on his behalf. “Naturally, it’s the only gentlemanly thing to do, although it was quite bad of you not to allow me to be the gentleman and offer myself.” I was about to say I had no intention of going back with him when Lord Hector added, “I think Miss Hayworth and Miss Dyer will be ready to leave soon. I was going to find transport for the lot of us,” which made it seem a little better. “Now if I only knew where to look for the transport I’m to arrange.” Lord Hector looked at Mr. Reynolds, fully expecting him to provide a solution.

  Mr. Reynolds had looked ready to walk away and leave me to Lord Hector, but he realized Lord Hector wouldn’t allow that, so he smiled in what I’m sure he thought was a pleasant way, but made me wonder how he ever managed to sell anything at all and said, “Then allow me to walk you to the pub. There’s bound to be some sort of transport there.”

  “Lead on!” Lord Hector said with enthusiasm I could only assume came from the fact that he had just escaped spending the night in jail. “Have you been to Stow-on-the-Wold before, Miss Pengear?”

  “Only once.”

  “When you were questioned, no doubt.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, then you haven’t seen a thing. What shall we show her, Mr. Reynolds?”

  “What? Oh, I suppose... Yes, there are some lovely things to look at on the way there. We’ll just keep our eyes open.”

  Lord Hector seemed to find that answer amusing, but I had no idea why. I followed the pair of them down the street and debated whether to rent some sort of conveyance on my own.

  Lord Hector turned down the next street without pausing to get directions from Mr. Reynolds. I wondered if he knew where he was going, or just wandering and expecting someone to tell him if he went wrong. “Now that seems like a place of historical interest. What do you think, Mr. Reynolds? A school? Hospital?” Lord Hector pointed to the building across the street from us. I humored him and looked, seeing a building of the same honey-colored stone as everything else but a bit larger than the others in the street, or longer, at least, with old mullioned windows and nothing of particular interest about it.

  “Clearly the home of a prosperous merchant,” Mr. Reynolds said as we passed the building. “I would say a cloth merchant from the carving around the windows.”

  I did not see any carving that indicated cloth, merely the same sort of vague swirling, folding patterns I’d seen in a good bit of the stonework around us.

  “A very good catch, Mr. Reynolds,” Lord Hector said with what I was sure was false enthusiasm, although Mr. Reynolds seemed to think it was genuine. “What else can you tell us?”

  Mr. Reynolds warmed to his subject and became quite expansive. “And there you see a lovely example of a coat of arms on the side, pointing to a gentleman’s residence.” He pointed to a plaque on the wall above the windows, which was green with age and hard to make out from across the street.

  I pretended to be interested, then I noticed Lord Hector looking down at his feet in a way that suggested he was trying not to laugh. I considered stomping on his foot to keep him quiet, but he seemed to understand that he should keep his thoughts to himself, so I settled for glaring at him when he glanced up. He gave me a naughty schoolboy sort of grin and asked, “And what about that there, Mr. Reynolds?” pointing to what seemed to be a stone birdbath covered in moss and a rather pretty shade of yellow lichen.

  “A fine example of an ancient grinding stone. An excellent find, my lord. Quite rare.”

  I’d seen similar stone bases with tops flipped over like strange stone mushrooms in half the farmyards we’d passed, usually used to hold small sheds or beehives off of the ground, which made Mr. Reynolds’s response odd, to say the least, but he went on explaining ancient grinding techniques, which I doubted would have worked to grind anything but a person’s fingers, or possibly a few toes in one case. He managed to keep up the descriptions, which became more elaborate and less likely the longer we went on, until Lord Hector stopped at the corner of the street. Apparently, this time he was planning on waiting for directions.

  Mr. Reynolds was in the middle of a long description of how the Celts ground corn with stones like the one Lord Hector had pointed out, which not only sounded physically impossible to do as he described it but also altogether impossible, as I didn’t think there’d been any corn in Britain then, which meant we had to wait for him to finish his tale before he realized his opinion on something else was required. He seemed confused at first that we’d stopped, then even more confused when he realized where we were standing. “I think the pub is just over there, around the corner and down the street over there.”

  The way he had pointed seemed to indicate we were supposed to go back where we had started.

  Lord Hector nodded as if he were taking in all of the advice even though it didn’t seem to lead anywhere. “Well, I think we can manage from here, don’t you, Miss Pengear? And I’d hate to keep you from your work. Around the corner here, you say?” He pointed to the corner opposite the one Mr. Reynolds had indicated.

  “Exactly, my lord. And you are correct, I do have business here in town. Lovely to have seen you again, Miss Pengear.�
�

  I nodded so I wouldn’t have to make up some insincere answer.

  Lord Hector kept smiling and nodding until Mr. Reynolds had made it back down the block and around a corner, then he turned to me. “Sorry to take you out of your way, but the ladies weren’t quite finished at the station, and it’s too much fun to wind him up. He’ll say anything to make you think he knows something. Never ask him for directions, though. He’ll give you some, but they’re as likely to send you to Coventry as to where you’re going.”

  As I followed Lord Hector in a completely different direction from the one Mr. Reynolds had suggested, I tried for a bit of information. “You seem to know him quite well.”

  “Freddie invites him to the lodge. Mrs. Quimby’s doesn’t only sell tinned food. She also has a large line of cheap wines under another name, and old Reynolds used to represent them. Now he’s quite generous with the left-over samples. He also knows all the gossip in town, and Freddie’s an incorrigible gossip, not that he’d ever admit it. And Reynolds has the best kind, all the scandals about the local old biddies.”

  “Any worth repeating?” I asked, thinking about motives for murdering Mr. Hoyt.

  “Only the ones of dubious veracity, which is most of them. Freddie will believe anything if it’s shocking enough, and Reynolds seems to have an even more tenuous relationship with the truth than I do. I think he’s trying to get in good with Freddie so he’ll put in a good word with his father. Probably thinks it would be a big step up for him to go from peddling third-rate tinned goods to representing the fourth largest importer of quality gentleman’s grooming products. No idea why, though. They’re as likely to make you break out in a rash as groom anything, and a rash is decidedly unattractive. But if he manages to sell Mrs. Quimby’s tinned tomatoes, he could probably manage it. Although I’d love to know how he managed to move old Hoyt on his own. It was hard enough with the two of us. I tried asking the London fellow, but he was only interested in how we did it.”