The Case of the Faithful Heart by Brian Flynn

Author:Brian Flynn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2021-06-09T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XVII

COUNTERFEIT ORDERS

“That shop opposite,” said Mr. Bathurst, “is my objective for this afternoon. You will observe that the name is Clutterbuck, and its business is the selling of flowers, in the town of Liskerry and its vicinity. Ask Miss Hillier if she’ll pull up there, will you, Annesley? Thank you.” Keith Annesley leant forward in Ann’s car. “Bathurst wants you to stop at Clutterbuck’s, Miss Hillier. Do you mind?”

Ann, pale-faced and fine-drawn, seared and scarred by successive sorrows, nodded quickly and obeyed Anthony’s request. Mr. Bathurst alighted. Keith Annesley joined him on the pavement. Anthony walked round at once to the front of the car. “I should like you to come in with me, Miss Hillier, if you would. Run the car round somewhere and park, will you?”

Ann nodded again. “I know where I can park it. In the street at the side of the Roundhouse. You stay here and I’ll rejoin you in a few moments.”

Ann drove off. Anthony and Annesley stood on the edge of the pavement and awaited her return. As good as her word, she was back with them in less than five minutes. “Why do you want me to come in?”

“I should like you to hear what these people have to say. That’s one thing. Another is that you represent your family. In that way you establish, as it were, the bona fides of our call. Please don’t be distressed at . . . well, at anything.”

“I am past that, I think,” said Ann coldly.

They entered the florist’s shop. Anthony saw at once that its trade was first class from every point of view. A girl, trim, neat, and well schooled, came to meet them.

Anthony smiled. “May I have a word with the manager . . . or perhaps manageress?”

The girl bowed. “Certainly, sir. I’ll call Mr. Tomlinson for you. Will you wait a moment, please?”

They waited, Ann, Anthony, and Annesley. A murmur of approaching voices reached them. It came from no great distance. The heavy scent of many blooms began to be apparent. A man came towards them. Tall, thin, and stooping-shouldered. “I am the manager here,” he said, almost with an air of apology. “What can I do for you?”

“Good afternoon,” said Anthony. He indicated the proximity of Ann Hillier. “This lady is Miss Hillier. From ‘Hillearys’, Lanrebel. The address, I take it, is familiar to you.”

Mr. Tomlinson furrowed his brows in an attempt to remember. “I don’t really know—do you mean that I should know the address?”

“I am not altogether sure of that,” returned Mr. Bathurst, “but I fancy that you should. In the matter of a recent order—shall we say? I suggest that either the name ‘Hillier’ or the address ‘Hillearys’ should be known to you.”

The manager murmured a polite “Excuse me for a moment,” and faded away. Again a murmur of voices came to the ears of the three people who were waiting in the shop. The manager of Clutterbuck’s, florists of Liskerry, was in consultation with two of his young lady assistants.

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