EQMM 2016-09-10 75th Anniversary Issue by Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine

Author:Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine [Magazine, Ellery Queen’s Mystery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“His name is Max Belling,” said PCSO Gareth Young. “He was an accountant. Lived in one of those posh houses behind the high street.”

“Perhaps you can take my DI and a search team over there later this morning,” said Banks. They were sitting in the village hall, which Annie had commandeered as an incident room, sipping weak tea, and despite all the windows and doors being open, the hall was still hot. “Was Belling a wealthy man?”

“Wealthy enough. There’s a lot of that here in Fortford. Professionals, businessmen who’ve made enough to retire at forty or thereabouts. Like George Harris. Owns a string of stationery shops. Doesn’t have to do a stroke of work anymore, and he can’t be more than forty-five. And Dr. Cruickshank’s not short of a bob or two either. He was another mate of Max Belling’s. I reckon he must do plastic surgery on the side down Harley Street or somewhere.”

Banks laughed. “Any rumours of Belling fiddling the books or anything?”

Young shook his head. “Good investments is what I heard, sir. But then they’d hardly tell me if he was bent, would they?”

“How long have you been PCSO here, Gareth?”

“Six months.”

“Your predecessor?”

“Nick Vauxhall, sir. He died.”

Banks remembered a memo about the death of a local PCSO. “Cycling accident, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right, sir. Caught the bug after the Tour de France came through here. I didn’t know him, myself. I moved over here from Northallerton.”

“Can you tell me anything more about Max Belling?”

“Not really. He kept himself to himself. Never in any trouble.”

“Was he married? Children?”

“No, sir. Lived alone. I do believe there was a wife on the scene once, but it’s my impression she left quite awhile ago.”

“Would you happen to know who his close friends were? What about this George Harris you mentioned?”

“He’s one of them,” said Young. “There’s a crowd who drink at the Hope and Anchor, bottom of main street, near the Helmthorpe Road. Belling, Harris, Doc Cruickshank, Ned Howard, a few others. It’s a bit upmarket. Most of the tourists take one look at the prices and head up the street to The Unicorn.”

“Keeps the riffraff out?”

“I suppose it does.”

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