Impact of Evidence: A Welsh Borders Mystery by Carnac Carol

Author:Carnac, Carol
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: British Library Publishing
Published: 2024-02-12T00:00:00+00:00

2

“I’d certainly say the standard of intelligence is being well maintained,” said Lancing, when they had left the onion-laden fug of the Evanses’ cottage and returned gratefully to the Bentley, where they both lighted cigarettes. Rivers nodded.

“Yes. Evans is much brighter than he looks—and his wife’s a masterpiece. She’s the real brains of the outfit. I wonder where she came from. Neither of them were country born; Evans came here after the ’14–’18 war, and I should guess he might have originated in Bristol. But what a hell of a lot of mischief they could make if they really got going in a coroner’s court. That story of seeing Dering drive the doctor’s car—it could be neither proved nor disproved, but it’d be very damaging to Dering. It’s the sort of smear story that implants a doubt in honest people’s minds.”

“Any germination going on in your own grey matter?” enquired Lancing.

“I don’t know, laddy. That’s the devil of it. That woman’s an obese old horror and as venomous as a rattlesnake—but she may be right, you know. I don’t think she’d have played the marriage lines card if she hadn’t got something. And whereas you can say it’s no business of ours if the Derings are lawfully married or not—we’re not moral censors, thank God—we’ve got to admit that if they’re not married they’ve offered hostages to blackmailers.”

“I know,” said Lancing soberly. “And there was the suggestion about chucking Welby downstairs. It’s obvious Mike Dering could have done it—we realised that all the time.”

“So could Alf Evans have chucked Welby downstairs,” replied Rivers. “He’d worked in the house at one time; he could have got hold of a key—and I don’t believe the shepherd chap would have noticed the time. Their clock doesn’t go and that elderly radio had been defunct for years by the look of it.”

“Could we be back at the Henry–Mike solution?” queried Lancing. “Evans looted the body, then came the car crash and it all looked Bob’s your uncle until a policeman came nosing around. And if Welby had died, chief, wouldn’t Michael Dering have been very near a capital charge? We can afford to go easy about him, because Welby will soon be able to tell us what happened—but the other would have been a different kettle of fish. Dering was alone in the woodshed all that afternoon.”

Rivers nodded. “The Evanses hate the Derings like stink,” he said. “The Derings got the cottage and the job the Evanses wanted, and I suppose Mrs. Evans resented Susan Dering because, to put it crudely, Susan’s a lady.”

“Anything there?” queried Lancing. “Say if the whole job went haywire, chief. Alf Evans murdered some old pal of his own and got it all nicely taped to prove that Dering had done it—bringing off a double—and then old Robinson mucked it all up by finding the body and heaving it into his car and got killed on top of it.”

“It’s too complicated,” said Rivers. “Pull up here again; I want to have another look at that Buick.

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