Checkmate to Murder: A Second World War Mystery by E.C.R. Lorac

Author:E.C.R. Lorac
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2020-11-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

I

When Reeves had left him, Macdonald did a little quick thinking regarding his own time-table, and came to the conclusion he had an hour or two to spare which he could devote to the matter of Listelle. Reeves was on the same trail, though Stort was his immediate quarry. Macdonald thought that there might be a chance—admittedly a remote chance—that if Stort and Listelle had come back to the neighbourhood of the studio, the latter might have paid a visit to his old haunt at the Green Dragon. It had happened more than once in Macdonald’s experience that a “wanted” man, suspected of having returned to his own neighbourhood, had dropped in for a drink at a familiar pub. The temptation to do so seemed irresistible in certain cases, as though the old habit of “dropping in for another” had overcome caution. Enquiries had already been made at The Spotted Dog, nearer at hand, but without result.

The middle of the afternoon is not a good time for approaching a public-house with the idea of acquiring information, but Macdonald, having made his way to the High Street and found the little alleyway where the Green Dragon was situated, went to the side door of the house and rang the bell. The door was opened by a stout, cheery-faced, grey-haired lady, dressed in a “period” gown of black satin, her vast bosom embellished with gold chains, locket and a huge cameo brooch. Her grey hair was dressed over pads and secured by diamond-studded combs, and her whole appearance was perfect in its consistency. She was a picture of the early nineteen-hundreds, and Macdonald liked her at sight. Before he could speak, she addressed him reproachfully.

“Nothing doing, dearie. I’ve told you so before. It’s no manner of use you coming worrying me. You’ve got to take your turn in hours like all the rest.”

“Quite right, but I haven’t come to worry you about that,” said Macdonald cheerfully, and she replied,

“Lor’! You’re not the boy I took you for. They’re always on to me. Silly, I call it, and it does get my goat when they come worrying at the side door. You’ll get me into trouble, I tell ’em—it’s an old joke, but none the worse for that. Now what is it you want, dearie?”

“You are the proprietress here?”

“That’s right. Me, and my boy Jem helps, ever since my old man went home.” She surveyed Macdonald with her shrewd old blue eyes. “If it’s not a bottle of Scotch you’re after—and you look as though you’ve too much sense for that—then you’re a plain-clothes man. That right? No offence meant.”

“And none taken. You’re quite right. It’s nothing to worry you: I’m making a few enquiries about a man who used to come and play darts here. Can you spare a few minutes for a chat?”

“Come in,” she replied at once. “I’m not that keen on having the police in me house, if you follow, but you look a nice fellow. First on the right, and mind the cat.

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