Lessons for Idle Tongues (Cambridge Fellows Book 10) by Charlie Cochrane

Author:Charlie Cochrane [Cochrane, Charlie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2018-10-22T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Doctor Selby lived just off the road from Cambridge to Long Stanton All Saints, so it made sense to drop in on him en route to seeing the Frenches. Sergeant Cohen had done more than just provide Jonty with an address; he confirmed that Selby had signed the death certificates for both Daniel Davis and Bates’s boy, whose name was Kenneth Hodges. That fact—the certificates, not the name—wasn’t surprising if Selby was the local man. Useful position of power to be in, though, if you had a homicidal bent.

Still, that was getting ahead of things, Jonty reminded himself as he parked his car outside a neat Georgian house with a well-kept garden and a brass plate announcing Selby as the owner. He’d made an appointment—Cohen had provided a telephone number too—even though that risked his quarry being prepared. He’d toyed with making up a story about why he needed a consultation, maybe pleading some old rugby injury to his knee had suddenly flared up for no reason. That subterfuge went out the window when he realised the chap might be suspicious anyway, especially if he recognised the name Jonty Stewart. And knew why said Dr. Stewart had a habit of dropping in on people to ask difficult questions. Attack was definitely the best form of defence . . . although if the doctor was guilty, the approach Orlando had suggested Jonty take was going to confuse him.

Jonty’s knock at the door was answered by a maternal-looking housekeeper with a ready smile, a bosom like HMS Dreadnought, and hands that suggested a delicate touch with pastry. He was ushered straight into Selby’s waiting room and accepted the offer of refreshments with alacrity. Perhaps it would include a little cake or two, lunch seeming an awfully long time in the past.

The doctor himself was maybe in his early fifties, lean and energetic looking, and an ex-rower, given the oar on the wall.

“I have to say I’m intrigued, Dr. Stewart,” Selby said, when the housekeeper had gone off to the land of kettles and patty tins. “Delighted to help, of course, but rather bewildered as to what use I’ll be.”

“I hope that will become plain in a moment. I have to warn you, it’s an odd tale.” Jonty produced his notebook. “You signed the death certificates for Lucy French, Daniel Davis, and Kenneth Hodges?”

“The first two certainly. The third . . .”

“Ah. Colloquially known as Bates’s boy?”

“Oh yes.” Selby nodded. “Nasty business. Tetanus, caught off some dirty wire, we believe. Have you ever seen a case of lockjaw? It’s not pleasant.”

“I haven’t. And never hope to do so.” Jonty shuddered. “You had no suspicions that it could be anything but lockjaw?”

“None at all. Why?”

“Ah. I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to explain at present.” Jonty inclined his head gravely, consulting his notebook as if to confirm what he was allowed to say. “If it ever becomes a matter of public record, then I promise to arrange a meeting with you, in order to explain fully.

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