THE TEATIME MYSTERY an absolutely gripping cozy mystery for all crime thriller fans by FAITH MARTIN

Author:FAITH MARTIN [MARTIN, FAITH]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books crime thriller, mystery and suspense
Published: 2024-01-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

‘But that’s simply not possible,’ Causon said, after a moment’s startled thought. He frowned, then eyed the old man cynically. ‘Unless you’re lying, of course. You do realize that that’s by far the most likely interpretation of what you’ve just said,’ he finished heavily.

‘I know that — isn’t that what I’ve been saying all along?’ James demanded helplessly. ‘That’s why I was so sure that you wouldn’t believe me.’

The frustration was clear in his voice now, and Jenny, for one, was convinced that it was real. The older man sounded both indignantly aggrieved, which was the way you genuinely felt when you were speaking the truth and no one believed you, and at the same time resigned. As if, even before he’d made his case, he knew that it was hopeless. All of which combined to incline the travelling cook to believe him. Either that, or the groundsman was wasted in the world of turf management, and should get himself to a theatre forthwith, where he could give Gielgud, Richardson, and all the others a few pointers.

‘That’s exactly why I haven’t said anything about it before now. Don’t you think I know how far-fetched it sounds?’ he demanded. ‘Even I can see that it’s simply not possible. I’ve been trying to make myself believe I was mistaken. That someone must have slipped out, I dunno, really quickly or something, so that I didn’t notice. But I just don’t think it happened. I can’t really take it all in,’ the old man was carrying on despairingly. ‘But I’m not lying, I know I’m not, even though I also know there’s no way on earth I’ll be able to convince you. And it stands to reason that you’ve got no incentive to believe me anyway. A man with a job like yours — you must have people lying to you like troopers all the time.’

James Cluley heaved a massive sigh and rubbed a hand wearily across his chin. ‘And you don’t have to say it, either, about how bad it looks for me. I ain’t blind, nor yet stupid,’ he added bitterly. ‘But I swear on my dear old mother’s grave, I didn’t kill him. But again, I have no way of proving it. I can only tell you the truth, and hope . . . somehow . . .’ he trailed off, as if once more acknowledging the futility of his cause, and his thin shoulders slumped. But when, after a few moments, he raised his face again, he was looking stoical and oddly calm. ‘But the simple fact is,’ the old man reiterated, ‘I did see Tris go behind the pavilion, and I know that nobody else came back out again — at either end. And yet, when I went to get him, he was dead. And I didn’t do it. Now, make of that what you will, but that’s all I can say.’

Exhausted, and finished, he slumped forward, dropping his head into his hands.

Causon opened his mouth to speak, looked at the old man’s set shoulders, and then closed it again.

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