Invitation to Die by Barbara Cleverly

Author:Barbara Cleverly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime Fiction
Publisher: Soho Press
Published: 2019-05-22T00:58:25+00:00

Chapter 14

Cambridge, Monday, the 19th of May, 1924

Sergeant Thoday arrived at the graveyard at three o’clock, keen to get on. He listened quietly, making notes as his boss refreshed his memory of the crime scene. No need for that. Two hours on his knees yesterday had fixed every unproductive blade of grass in his memory. Whoever had throttled the old soldier and laid him out with such care had, predictably, not neglected to clear away any trace of his own presence. Thoday was more interested in the new evidence thrown up by the pathologist. Now he was being allocated duties that included checking a bag of clothing and effects from the corpse of the tramp and tracking down their provenance. This was more the detective work he thirsted for!

“I need to know who he is, Sarge. Name and pack-drill by the end of the day. We won’t get anywhere until we have an identity,” Redfyre said. And when he was done at the morgue, the sergeant was told, he could well make further enquiries at the market and all the hostels and organisations that had contact with down-and-outs. “‘That hairy vagrant who hangs around the market square’ isn’t good enough. We’re not planting Dunstan in an unmarked grave.

“Oh, and when your feet are throbbing, Sarge, you can call in for a reviving cup of tea at Aunty’s!” Redfyre suggested. “We’ve had reports of an altercation on the premises on the day in question—Friday. Someone from the café rang the station, alerting them to a fracas about to break out. Constable Thompson was at the desk, just clocking off, and he was dispatched and came running. Too late. By the time he arrived, a university official—a bulldog?—had already stopped the fight and cleared the ring, Thompson was told. Our birds had flown. The constable put in a report anyway. The super, it was, who picked it up and thought it might have some significance for our case. I agree. Check it out, if you will.”

“You said ‘birds,’ sir?”

“Takes at least two to make a fracas. One of the combatants was reported to be a tramp. Well-known in these parts, I understand. Get the facts from Thompson—this is his patch. I’m interested in the identity of both blokes involved. And the self-appointed umpire—I want his name. Now, while you’re busy doing that, I shall be in the marketplace sampling a jellied eel or two with Bert the pie man, and at teatime, I’m scheduled to squire a gaggle of lady bat-fanciers about the graveyard. Oh joy!”

Thoday was glad to be excused from the eels and the batty ladies. Redfyre was welcome to those. But he decided with silent truculence to turn the inspector’s list of to-dos upside down. The clothes at the morgue weren’t going anywhere. They’d keep. You couldn’t say the same for witnesses. They upped sticks and disappeared or their memories failed. No! Attack the easily breached spot in any wall first, he reckoned. That was the best plan. Hang routine.

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