Death of a Blackbird: A thrilling British crime novel set in 1930s London (Detective Inspector Matthew Stannard) by C. K. Harewood

Death of a Blackbird: A thrilling British crime novel set in 1930s London (Detective Inspector Matthew Stannard) by C. K. Harewood

Author:C. K. Harewood [Harewood, C. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blue Laurel Press
Published: 2024-04-09T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Twenty-Six

Matthew watched the police car drive off, taking Pettifer to the station. He had decided to remain behind to search the rectory. After Pinder’s balls-up, Matthew wasn’t inclined to trust it to anyone else. He found the OXO tin in the bookcase in Pettifer’s study. The rolls of money Mrs Gould had spoken of were still inside. He also found a pair of black brogues with a dark stain on one of the soles. It looked like blood to Matthew.

He returned to the farmhouse and put the OXO tin in the gap on Clough’s kitchen shelf. It fitted exactly. So did the shoe, the bloody footprint matching the outline of Pettifer’s footwear. There was no doubt in Matthew’s mind. Pettifer had been in the farmhouse after Clough had been shot. Had he also been there when Clough was murdered?

Matthew walked back to the station and into CID. He’d barely got through the door when Denham and Barnes rushed towards him.

‘We may have something, sir,’ Denham said. ‘We were over at The King George for lunch. The landlord told us there had been a red-haired man in the pub that he hadn’t liked the look of and who had trodden manure into the carpet.’

‘When was this?’ Matthew asked.

‘The night of Tuesday the thirteenth. Mrs Askey said a red-haired man had gone down to the farm, if you remember.’

‘The landlord didn’t know this man?’

Barnes shook his head. ‘He’d never seen him before and he didn’t think he looked like he came from Craynebrook. He was rough-looking. Had a big scar on his chin and was built like a brick you-know-what.’

Matthew considered. ‘Tuesday night. That’s six days before Clough was killed. That fits the timeframe for the bruises he had on his body.’

‘You mean this red-haired man could have been the one who beat Clough up? Then he went back on the Sunday and killed him?’

‘Hold your horses, Barnes,’ Matthew said. ‘I’ve just arrested Father Pettifer on suspicion of murder.’

‘The vicar?’ Barnes cried.

Matthew nodded. ‘I found a letter at the farm from Pettifer to Clough severing all ties with him because Clough had refused to do him a favour he’d asked. And his housekeeper says he was drunk on Sunday night and that was unusual. You know as well as I do that any unusual behaviour in a murder investigation is suspicious.’ He told them about the OXO tin and shoes.

‘So,’ Denham’s brow creased, ‘he had a row with Clough, shot him and then killed him?’

‘That I don’t know,’ Matthew said, and remembered the bullet in his pocket. He pulled it out and handed it to Barnes. ‘I found that embedded in the hall just outside the kitchen door. I need you to get that to the lab. Find out what gun it came from.’

Denham was frowning. ‘I thought Pinder searched the farmhouse. Why didn’t he find the letter or the bullet?’

‘That’s a bloody good question, Denham,’ Matthew agreed. ‘Where is Pinder?’

‘We left him at the pub, sir,’ Barnes said, glancing warily at Denham.



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