The Fortescue Candle: An Anthony Bathurst Mystery by Brian Flynn

Author:Brian Flynn [Flynn, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B08FHG1BZK
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2020-10-05T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XVIII

SEEDS FROM SUTTON

Inspector Sutton removed his hat, wiped his brow, and carefully placed the hat on the chair beside him. Then he pulled the chair on which he was seated nearer to Anthony Bathurst’s table. He coughed painstakingly. Mr. Bathurst looked across at him, and there was weariness in Anthony’s eyes.

“Good evening, Inspector. You come as a boon and a blessing to men, no doubt, but at the present moment I don’t know that I’m exactly overjoyed to see you. It’s damn’ bad manners on my part, I agree, but you’ve interrupted a train of thought.” Anthony shed his mood and grinned cheerfully, and the grin, at birth, took the censure from the words.

Sutton, reassured, felt more comfortable than he had done. He took out his note-book, placed it in front of him, and flicked the pages with an air of supreme confidence.

“Here’s the stuff that you wanted, Mr. Bathurst. What you asked me to get the other day, you know. First of all, we’ll deal with Messrs. Searle and Ellis, the two commercial travellers.” He paused—expectantly—pencil poised in air.

“Ah,” said Anthony, “that’s just what I want. That’s good of you. Searle and Ellis! Well, what have you got for me?”

“Nothing to please you, I’m afraid.”

“Say that you don’t know, Sutton! De gustibus—etcetera. Let’s have it, Lestrade. Don’t spare me.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“That’s all right, Sutton. Searle and Ellis, you said. Fire away.”

Sutton cleared his official throat. “From inquiries made, Mr. Bathurst, I have established the fact that neither Searle nor Ellis was at St. Aidans on the same night or even round about the time that Daphne Arbuthnot was killed. That’s your first point cleared up.”

Anthony held up his hand. “Half a minute, Inspector. Don’t rush me. Hang on a bit if you don’t mind. That refers to the town of St. Aidans itself. How about the vicinity of St. Aidans? Did you check up on that?”

Sutton shook his head. “Sorry, Mr. Bathurst. Not there either. You draw another blank. The nearest points touched within a week on either side of the date of the murder were the towns of Mariner and Roome—that was by Searle—three days before the murder. Mariner is twenty-two miles from Spearings, and Roome farther away still.”

Anthony nodded acquiescence. “Go on, Inspector. That’s Searle. Let’s have Ellis now.”

Sutton turned a page of his note-book. “Ellis comes out even better from the inquiry than Searle. Or worse, perhaps. Depends on the point of view that you take, of course. Ellis’s nearest point of contact with St. Aidans was a day after the murder. At that time he was at Chalke. You’ve a rough idea how far away that is. Chalke is over fifty miles from Spearings. Fifty-eight to be exact. He arrived in Chalke by way of Thistleton.”

Anthony pulled at his upper lip. “Easy distances by car, each of ’em, you know, Sutton. Don’t know that I’m as chock-full satisfied as you appear to be. You’ve checked up on them thoroughly, I suppose? Hotels and everything?”

“Quite, Mr.

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