The Devil's Brew (Hilary Manningham-Butler Book 3) by Treby Jack

Author:Treby, Jack [Treby, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: mystery, spy, coffee, Central America, whodunnit, crime, plantation, 1930s, Murder Mystery, Traditional British, MI5, thriller
Publisher: Carter & Allan
Published: 2016-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

A battered police truck had pulled up on the edge of the square. It was a large open backed vehicle, sturdy and mud spattered, with thick, heavy tyres and a murky front cabin. Two muscular officers had stepped down from the cab and were having a quiet smoke, having presumably driven some distance to get here. The truck would not get much further, though, even along the newly constructed road. It wasn’t worth risking the axle trying to manoeuvre the vehicle all the way up to the hacienda. A couple of horses were tethered outside the post office and I recognised one of them as the surly brown nag I had ridden on Friday afternoon. Tejada must have sent the horses down to the village with Mr Langbroek when he had summoned the reinforcements. I had no idea how the bodies of the deceased would be carried down here when the time came. Not on horse back, presumably. That would be taking things too far. Perhaps the general would requisition a few of the carts Mr Weiman used to transport his coffee. The bodies would be brought down to the village and then loaded onto the truck and driven to Guatemala City for a proper autopsy.

I was surprised to find myself away from the estate this afternoon. I had been prepared for an abrupt rebuff when I had tentatively floated the idea of travelling down to the village to make a phone call. Those of us who had come from the capital had already, in effect, missed the afternoon train, so it wasn’t as if we were likely to abscond; and if we had to remain up in the mountains for another day, it was only fair we had the opportunity to pass on the change of plan to everyone back home. General Tejada was not ordinarily a man to be persuaded by anything approaching a logical argument but, luckily for us, he was in a relaxed mood, now that he had caught his man. Having settled down with another pot of coffee in the courtyard, to await the arrival of the reinforcements, he regarded my entreaty with indifference rather than outright scorn.

Gunther Weiman was kind enough to add his support to the idea and it was this which tipped the balance. ‘I did promise that I would take Jane into the village this morning,’ the German told him, ‘so she could telephone her daughter. Miss Talbot doesn’t know her father has passed away.’

Tejada grunted, sipping at his coffee. ‘You need to get that telephone of yours fixed, señor. Very well.’ He placed his cup down on the table and regarded me with a steely eye. ‘You and the señora can go and make your phone calls. Provided you are back here on the estate within the hour.’

I blinked. ‘An hour? That...might be a tall order.’ It would take that long just to walk down to the village.

‘An hour!’ Tejada insisted. He gestured across to a second table, where Ricardo Gonzales was sitting with his wife Consuela.

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