by Rob Falconer
Chapter 2
Mrs. Gossip
“Aha! Here comes Hercules.”
Harry “Sarge” Pottle was the desk sergeant at the small police station in Pentlesham, and his referring to D.I. John Pratt as Hercules wasn’t a reference to his strength, rather than to John’s love of detective stories, in particular those written by Agatha Christie. It also suggested Sarge’s almost total ignorance of them.
“Anything happening?” asked John, although he wasn’t expecting much, as there was never a great deal in the way of real crime in such a rural community. He was actually only making a courtesy call before visiting an elderly relative who lived nearby.
“I’ve just the thing,” said Sarge. He hunted under the desk and eventually brought out a letter. “I doubt you can do much with this though.” He winked to nobody in particular.
“It’s a poison-pen letter,” said John, a little disappointed.
“Aye,” agreed Sarge, “And, as the letter was printed from a computer and not handwritten, you won’t be able to deduce much from that.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong,” explained John. “In a rural area like this, how many of the sort of people who would write a letter like this would have a computer? I mean, you could hardly ask a relative or a friend to type it up and print it out for you, could you?”
“And that’s where you’re wrong,” replied Sarge, happily. “There’s a course every Monday evening right here in the village hall, run by a rather handsome - or so I gather - young man from the local university. ‘Computers for Stupid People’ it’s called, or something like that. It’s very popular, especially with the older folk, and especially with the ladies. So, if you asked me to compile a list of all the people whom I suspect might want to write such a letter, I could write down about twenty names. And nineteen of those on the list would be able to type and print off such a letter.”
John felt a little crestfallen, so he ignored Sarge’s gaze, and read the letter carefully.
