A Country Way of Death by R. A. Bentley

Author:R. A. Bentley [Bentley, R. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-01-25T05:00:00+00:00

Back in the village, they watched the old farmer's car turn away round the corner, Stan Bush driving and his much travelled bicycle piled in behind.

'I expect he loved him really,' grunted Rattigan cynically.

'He'll miss him when it sinks in,' said Miles, 'probably at early milking. Let's go and see Shutler.'

Clad in a filthy overall, the blacksmith was already back at work, completing the shoeing of a handsome black gelding. 'There's a good chap,' he said, easing his back. 'You can go home now.'

'This is Bulloch's hunter, isn't it?' said Miles.

'Tis, zur,' said the man in charge of it.

'Nice beast. Where's the boss at the moment?'

'Down bottom end by now. He wur in about the horse, then drove there. Any message for him?'

Miles shook his head. 'No it's all right, thanks. Can you put a time on it, when he left here?'

The man hesitated, glancing at Gabriel. 'Dunno really. Two o'clock?'

'Marie'll know,' said Gabriel. 'It was her as seen him.'

'All right, thanks. Would now be convenient, Gabriel?'

Gabriel nodded. 'Come in and sit down.' Drying the sweat from his face and shiny pate, he led then into his office, motioning them to a decrepit sofa. 'He'd thrown a shoe so Marie booked him in,' he said. 'It hadn't happened then. The murder, I mean. Take a pew. What's the latest on Bill?'

'I haven't seen my father yet, but I'm not expecting any surprises. What do you know about things between Bill and Mr Rowsell senior? Not much love lost on the face of it.'

Gabriel gave a little snort. 'Bill had to do as he was told. I'd have called him henpecked if there'd been a hen to peck 'im. The old man's a bit of a miser, so Stan reckons. Never does nothin' to the place.'

'When did Mrs Rowsell die?'

'Oh, twenty year ago, must be.'

'Any pals?'

'Bill? Dunno as he had really. Bit of a loner I think. He used to hang around along of us when we were younger but not now.'

'He used to call on Miss Pruitt apparently, and the Clements.'

'Sooner him than me! That woman makes me feel about twelve again.' He laughed. 'No, Beatrice is all right. Didn't know about the Clements.'

'Did he drink? Socially I mean.'

'No, not for years. Shouldn't be surprised if he'd took the pledge. Religious, you know.'

'So we gather. Lady friends?'

'Not that I know of. Bit discouragin', wouldn't it be, gettin' preached at continuous?'

'I suppose it would. Now if you could just tell me what you were doing before, during and after the murder we'll leave you in peace. This'll be your formal statement, so the sergeant will type it up and if you agree it's accurate we'll get you to sign it.'

'All right. I was caulkin' some shoes and doin' a bit of paperwork until one or so. Then I had a pie and pint in the Bell. That was until your mum come rushin' in wantin' the telephone.'

'You didn't see anyone else, apart from in the Bell?'

'Don't think so. Yes, sorry, the Vicar and Beatrice.

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