Lady Holme: A 1920s historical mystery where women break the barriers and have fun doing it (Sophie Burgoyne Mysteries) by Bellamy G J

Author:Bellamy, G J
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2022-08-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Horses are only human, too

Early Saturday afternoon, Morton, Gowers, and Detective Clark cycled down to the sea and continued along the coastal track. They came to a stop below Marley Mound and got off their bikes.

Morton walked ahead, closely scanning the path on either side.

“What’s the tide doing?” asked Sergeant Gowers.

“It’s at full ebb now, so it’ll turn soon and come back in.”

“Whereabouts was he fished out?”

“See that rock? It was submerged when we got to him. He got fouled in a long bit of rope tied to it. Lucky, or he’d have gone right out.”

“You got to him by boat, I hear. I wouldn’t fancy traipsing through that lot to pull him in. What is it, mud or sand?”

“A bit of both. It’s quite firm here, but it’s dangerous elsewhere.”

“Reminds me of the Thames Estuary. The muck there wants to pull your boots off. Where did he go in?”

“I’ll show you.”

Morton had found the place before Clark got there.

“Stay back,” shouted Morton, standing by the clump of blackthorn. “It’s been trampled enough.” He then crouched down to examine the ground, disappearing from view. A minute later, he popped up among some low scrub at the edge of the bank leading down to the sea. He took off his bowler, smoothed his hair, and replaced the hat. Morton searched the mudflats and then gazed across the Solent. He turned, gazing up at Marley Mound. Carefully, he changed position, and looked again. He came out from the scrub and walked beyond the blackthorn bushes, which he examined minutely. He emerged after a while and returned to the others.

“See what you make of it,” said Morton to Gowers. The sergeant left to perform his own examination of the scene.

“It’s a dead end down there,” began Morton. “This path’s not used much and can’t be overlooked from up top. For open country, he chose a most suitable spot to kill Smythe. The only risk he ran when he killed him was being observed by a passing boat while rolling the body down the slope. Have you asked at the port in Lymington?”

“No, we haven’t, sir.”

“Right. Uniforms can do that job. Know anyone on the Lymington force who can expedite matters?”

“I do.”

“Good. Ring him and tell him to find anyone on a boat along this stretch yesterday morning. They have to be gossiping on the docks. The locals will remember which boats were in the area at the time. I want a list of those boats, whether they came from Southampton or Timbuktu. Got that?”

“Yes, sir. You want that right away?”

“No, next month will do.”

“Oh, I see, yes, at once, sir.” Clark left immediately.

A little later, Gowers, having finished his examination, returned to Morton.

“He followed Smythe,” said Gowers. “He knew this was a dead end and saw his chance.”

“Yes. See where that horse crashed about?”

“Couldn’t miss it. The murderer’s horse didn’t, though. Ground’s soft beyond that bush and there’s plenty of hoof-prints but only from the one horse. It’s all hard-packed and stony on this side.

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