Murder Near Slaughter

by L. A. Nisula

  I left by the back gate and tried to determine what path Mr. Elliott would have taken from there to the shop, but it didn’t make much sense. To reach the lane along the back of the shops I had taken the first time, I would have had to walk along the wall almost to the side gate, which brought back the old problem of why use the back gate at all. So that left the other direction.

  But that quickly proved to be an odd choice as well. It took me to another, wider street, one direction leading to the front of the church and the other to the high street. There was no convenient, sheltered path where one could carry a dead body without being noticed. All of the side streets that crossed it seemed to be at least somewhat busy, with the fronts of cottages facing them on both sides, plenty of places to be spotted out of a window or by someone doing a bit of gardening. Eventually, I was on the high street, where someone carrying a body was sure to be spotted.

  So why had Mr. Elliott chosen that route? I was beginning to think it was the sort of questioning Inspector Wainwright ought to do. Something that odd no doubt had some bearing on the case. Besides, me bringing him a clue instead of poking around on my own would please Inspector Wainwright and stop me from having to figure out how to question Mr. Elliott again. That just left the matter of how to get the clue to Inspector Wainwright at the station all the way in Stow-on-the-Wold, although as we were living in the cottage where the body was found it was quite likely he or one of the constables would end up at our cottage sooner rather than later for another look around. It would be simple enough to pass on the wallet and the new discoveries then. Which left me with nothing to do but to make my way back to Oakwood Cottage, except perhaps a bit of a wander through the high street shops and perhaps get a bit of lunch.

  Mr. Elliott’s shop was one of the first that I passed, and I was quite glad I’d decided against questioning him right then. He had what seemed to be several groups of walkers inside, all ordering food and hampers. He would not have appreciated having to stop to answer my questions any more than he would have liked having all of his customers hear that he was involved in a murder investigation. I passed his shop and continued down the high street, planning to get a bite to eat from somewhere else.

  It seemed to be a morning for tidying up loose ends, so I went into Mr. Burton’s shop. There were no other customers, but Mr. Burton was behind his counter. He smiled as I came in. “Miss Pengear, right? From Oakwood Cottage.”

  “That’s right. I was hoping you had another of those excellent cheese sandwiches.”

  “I think I can manage that. It’s nice to be appreciated.” He went to the table behind the counter and began assembling the sandwich. “I hope you’re having a nice holiday here. Lovely place for walking. And we have some very good artists in the area.”

  “Yes, I met a couple of them at Mulberry Cottage.” He didn’t seem opposed to talking while he worked, and surely he wouldn’t want to turn away what was beginning to be a return customer, so I chose my words very carefully—his sandwiches were excellent, and I didn’t want both of my local sources angry with me—and asked, “Do you mind my asking, what were you and Mr. Reynolds arguing about the day I was in here?”

  “You mean when Mr. Hoyt’s... Oh dear, you found him, didn’t you?” He stopped slicing bread and looked over at me.

  “Yes, it wasn’t quite how we planned to start our holiday.”

  “I should think not.”

  “But you can see why I’m interested in everything that happened that day.”

  Mr. Burton turned back to his bread. “Of course. Well, that was an old argument, and one that’s settled now. Mr. Reynolds was giving the shop in Stow-on-the-Wold a better discount than he gave me. He insisted it was due to the size of the order, but when Mr. Hoyt was the representative, the discounts were the same. I happen to know that Mr. Sundur, he owns the shop in question, orders tinned goods from three different suppliers, so our orders aren’t that different in size. I’ve been arguing it with Mr. Reynolds ever since I found out. But that’s all been resolved. When he was in yesterday, he offered me an extra five percent off, and I thought that was good enough.”

  “That seems very considerate of him.” I wasn’t sure that it did, but Mr. Burton seemed pleased with it. “And how did you find out the difference?”

  He looked over at the door. “I probably shouldn’t say. But you did find the body, so I suppose... It was in the pub. Mr. Reynolds was there having dinner when I stopped in to deliver their order. Mr. Hoyt was minding the bar, and I saw him look over at Mr. Reynolds. It was a very odd look, as if he knew what he was seeing but didn’t know what to do about it. So when I brought his order up to the counter, naturally I glanced over as he was checking it. And Mr. Reynolds was looking at his order book, at the page for Sundur’s shop, and I saw the discount he was giving them.”

  “Did you say anything?”

  “Not at the time, no. I didn’t know what to make of it. He’d had the route for almost a year by then. So I came back here and thought about what to say, and when he came in, I told him I knew he was giving them a better deal. He denied it at first, so I told him I wanted to see the account. He didn’t want to show it and gave me some nonsense about confidentiality, so I told him I’d already seen it in the pub. That was when he told me the story about order sizes. I was tempted to cancel my order right there, but I wasn’t sure who I would get tinned goods from on such short notice, and there are people in the village who like to support the company as they are somewhat local, so I told him I was considering changing suppliers and left it at that. It’s been an on-going argument for months now. When you came in, I was telling him I would write to the company supervisors directly and ask for the same rate he gave Sundur.”

  “And now he’s changed his mind?”

  “Yes, after almost four months of arguing, but I think the murder may have shaken him a bit. It’s shaken all of us.” Mr. Burton wrapped my sandwich in paper and brought it over to me.

  “I’m sure. Thank you for telling me.” I paid for my sandwich and left.

  I brought my sandwich to the same bench Mrs. Albright and I had sat on and considered what I’d learned while I ate. It wasn’t very much.

  Mr. Hoyt’s wallet had fallen out when Mr. Elliott had moved him, so there was no need to go looking for it, but it also wasn’t terribly helpful in locating the murder scene.

  Briefly, I considered if I had found another motive, but if Mr. Hoyt had been considering blackmailing Mr. Reynolds by telling Mr. Burton about the discounts he was giving another shop, it was a poor attempt at it. Mr. Burton had been placated by a discount of five percent. That was hardly earth-shattering, so if Mr. Hoyt had attempted blackmail, it would have been simple enough for Mr. Reynolds to thwart it by offering exactly what he had just offered. No point to killing over that.

  No, my best chance at finding suspects still seemed to be having Miss Hayworth and Miss Dyer introduce me to some of the ladies in the area at the memorial service. It seemed likely that a few of his paramours would show up, if only to make it seem as if they hadn’t been his paramours. Perhaps I would find a suspect there. I finished my sandwich and headed back to the cottage.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  When I entered the cottage, it was to find Constable Edwards and Constable Kittering were taking up all of the space in the entryway. They seemed to be fiddling with the police tapes, which seemed a hopeful sign. Constable Edwards spotted me first. “Sorry we’re in the way, and I think we’ve driven Mrs. Albright to the neighbor’s, but you’ll be happy to know you can get to the kitchen without going outside, or will be able to once we finish moving this around. Still can’t use the sitting room, but not sure you’d want to considering.”

  “I’ll be happy with kitchen access. What convinced Sergeant Harris?”

  “Nothing, but Inspector Wainwright started complaining about having to go all the way ’round if he wanted his tea, so we’re to make a path.”

  “Then I am very grateful to Inspector Wainw
right’s tea.” I didn’t want to do anything that might interfere with getting indoor kitchen access back, so I added, “I’ll be upstairs and out of your way, but when you’ve finished, I do have some information for you.”

  Both constables laughed. Constable Kittering moved so I could reach the staircase. “We knew you wouldn’t leave it alone, not when you found him. One of us will be up to let you know when we’ve finished with the entryway.”

  “Thank you.” As I climbed the stairs, I grinned to myself. Inspector Wainwright would never have his tea in the kitchen of a crime scene, most especially not ours. He would go to his room at the inn if he wanted to be alone or to the pub if he thought gossip would help his case. That told me that something I had said to him recently had proved helpful to his case. I wished I knew what. It certainly wouldn’t be anything I’d found that morning.

  I didn’t want to make the constables try to guess which room was mine, so when I got upstairs, I went to my room long enough to retrieve a book and a chair and set myself up near the window at the end of the hallway. From there, I could see across the lawn to Mrs. Otway’s cottage, although not well enough to see if Mrs. Albright was indeed there. I would be able to see if she started for home though. I spent a few minutes going over my morning, but there was nothing I hadn’t already considered several times from several angles, so I picked up my book and started reading.

  It was not as long of a wait as I’d feared. There was a good bit noise, mainly the scrape of furniture moving about, and after no more than half-an-hour, I heard footsteps on the stairs and Constable Edwards came around the landing. “I take it you did a bit of poking around this morning?”

  “I should start calling it that when I talk to Inspector Wainwright. Poking around does seem less like I’m stepping on his investigation. But yes, I did go into Eybry, and I did have a little look around as I went.” No reason to tell him I’d been looking for the original murder scene. That was definitely stepping on Inspector Wainwright’s investigation. “And I have something for him; you can save me the trip to see him.”

  “Happy to,” Constable Edwards said. He did not make any sign that he knew it was seeing Inspector Wainwright, not the trip, that I was hoping to avoid.

  If I was going to hand it over, I might as well tell him all of it, even the not useful bits. It might save them a bit of time if they didn’t have to look at something I’d already examined. “There’s a bit of a story of how I found it.” I told him about going to the various places where the body had been found, hoping I was making it sound as if I’d merely happened across them on the way to the village, although I knew he wouldn’t really believe that. Still, it meant I didn’t have to tell him exactly why I’d been poking around. I took the wallet out of my pocket and unwrapped it. “This is Mr. Hoyt’s. I found it in the churchyard near the back gate.”

  “The back gate? We’d been told he was found by the side gate.”

  “That’s what everyone told me too. But this was in the trampled grass near the back gate.” I gave him the best description I could of where I’d found the wallet.

  “Well, I didn’t think to look there, as everyone said he was by the side gate, but thank you. Perhaps someone was going to steal it off his body and their conscience got the better of them. Or they realized they’d likely be arrested for murder. Or it did fall out of his pocket near the gate, and when they spotted the body, they realized it was more serious than they’d thought and left it. In any case, I’ll see the inspector gets this.”

  “I don’t mind if you’d like to tell him you’re the one who found it.” I had the feeling that would be easier for him, both because it would allow him to avoid saying he’d missed looking by the admittedly unlikely back gate and because he could avoid bringing me up, something which I was sure would make everything easier.

  “It’s kind of you to say, but the inspector knows you’re poking around, so he’ll figure out you found it sooner or later. Besides, he didn’t mention the back gate either, so I’m not the only one who didn’t think to look there.”

  “You might tell him it was really quite unlikely. The side gate would have been so much more convenient for Mr. Elliott.” I described my examination of the two paths.

  “I’ll be sure to let him know that too. Perhaps it was a robbery after the fact, and the thief dropped it when he realized how it would look.”

  “I suppose, but there wouldn’t have been much time for it between Mr. Elliott leaving the body and Mr. Reynolds finding it.”

  “Then perhaps Mr. Elliott noticed the dropped wallet and tossed it back into the churchyard to hide it.”

  “Perhaps.” That did seem more likely, but why would he want to hide it? As long as it wasn’t in his shop, it didn’t point to him. But I didn’t think arguing with Constable Edwards over it was productive, and it was something I ought to leave to Inspector Wainwright anyway, so I thanked Constable Edwards again for restoring our access to the kitchen and walked downstairs with him.

  Constable Kittering was outside. It seemed he’d been sent to let Mrs. Albright know she could return, as she was following him across the lawn from the direction of Mrs. Otway’s cottage. Once we’d bid the constables good evening, Mrs. Albright and I enjoyed the novelty of going from the entryway to the kitchen without going outside.

  “This is certainly much easier,” Mrs. Albright said as she got the kettle. “Did they tell you what changed Sergeant Harris’s mind?”

  “Inspector Wainwright’s tea.” I told her the story Constable Edwards had told me.

  “Well, I never. I suppose he must have been grateful for some clue you found. Pity he didn’t let slip which.”

  “And if he has a good clue, then he should be perfectly capable of solving it himself.”

  “I suppose so. And that means we can start our holiday properly.”

  Chapter 14

  THE NEXT MORNING, I WOKE UP to the lovely feeling of having a whole day with nothing planned. As I had officially ended my unofficial investigation the night before, I was now officially on holiday and free to do whatever I chose. I dressed in a blue walking suit that would be comfortable for sitting in the back garden with a book or walking into Eybry to see the shops then went downstairs to enjoy the novelty of going to the kitchen for breakfast without having to pass outside.

  I was just deciding whether or not I wanted to make another slice of toast when we heard a pounding on the front door, not the irritated sound of Inspector Wainwright’s knock or the brisk sound of the police constables, but someone who definitely had business with us but was trying to be polite about it. I wasn’t sure who that could be. Mrs. Albright looked up from the kettle.

  “I’ll go,” I offered.

  It was a relief to be able to walk through to the front door without having to go outside. I told myself to remember that the next time Inspector Wainwright was irritating me, on this case at least.

  I wasn’t sure who I’d been expecting on the other side of the door, but it was most definitely not Lord Hector for several reasons, the fact that I would have expected him to be recovering from his evening’s entertainment at this hour chief among them.

  “Miss Pengear, good morning. Sorry to bother you at this wretched hour, but I was hoping you could do me a small service.”

  Part of me wanted to say no at once and part was curious to find out what he wanted, and I was quite certain I did not want to invite him inside, so I merely nodded for him to go on.

  “Well, I thought about our conversation about the ladies at Mulberry Cottage, and I thought it was a good time to try to be a bit friendlier towards them. You see, Freddie and I cut through their yard on the way home last night, and we may have trampled a few flowerbeds, I’m not completely sure as I only remember parts of it, but it seemed a good time to be neighborly and apologize. But when I went over, Miss Dyer all but accused me of trying to get into their shed. She’s a bit protective of it, you see. I happen to know she has paintings back there. I tried
to slip in there once when it was raining and I was lost going home, and before you say it, yes I was a bit tipsy, and it does give her several excellent reasons to suspect me, but as you were investigating yesterday, I thought it might be related. And that policeman is there, and I would hate for her to say something to him and have him think that I was trying to take away some evidence, or plant some, or something like that...”

  Honestly, I’d assumed that any signs I’d been poking around would have been hidden by the signs of the police who’d examined that same area. And while it seemed Lord Hector had indeed poked around Miss Dyer’s shed on his own, I didn’t want him blamed for my sleuthing. I knew he had nothing to worry about from Inspector Wainwright; he’d guess how I’d been spending my time and would surely figure out what had happened, but Miss Dyer and Miss Hayworth might not.

  “So if you’d at least consider having a word with her. I’m sure you must be having breakfast, so I’ll get out of your way. Good morning.”

  I was surprised he was leaving so quickly. I’d been worried that I’d have to struggle to get rid of him. It seemed he wasn’t terrible when he was sober and away from Mr. Briggs’s influence. So as he stepped away from the door I said, “When we’ve finished, I’ll go down and have a word with them. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

  He looked genuinely surprised by that. “Don’t worry. I get myself in more than enough trouble on my own. But thank you. And if you’d like a drink after...”