The Sussex Downs Murder (British Library Crime Classics Book 11) by Bude John

Author:Bude, John [Bude, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: British Library Publishing Division
Published: 2014-11-15T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XI

THE THIRD PROBLEM

CEDRIC CLARK , proprietor of Clark’s Filling Station at Findon, had a business friend coming to see him that morning. He was hoping to sell John Rother’s Hillman. Since Meredith had last examined the car, the windscreen and dash-board had been repaired, the blood-stains carefully erased, and the bodywork entirely repainted. Clark had followed the report of the inquest in the evening paper of the day before and, in keeping with the rest of the locality, had been shocked by the findings of the jury. William’s death, moreover, had placed him in a quandary with regard to the sale of the car. He would now have to make a visit to Chalklands and get Mrs. Rother’s authority to go ahead with the sale. Thornton was coming over to see him at eleven, so Clark hopped on to his motor-cycle and ran out to Chalklands directly after breakfast. He did not actually see Janet Rother—the housekeeper explained that she was still in bed resting—so he sent a message and in return received permission to go ahead with the sale of the car.

At eleven o’clock Tim Thornton rattled up in his weather-beaten service-car and stopped with a plaintive screech of brakes just beyond the petrol-pumps.

“That’s a blooming good advert for you—that car is, and no mistake,” said Clark. “Economizing on oil, eh?”

Thornton, a big-boned, lazy-looking fellow with sandy hair and a ginger moustache, climbed slowly out of his car and stood staring at the premises known as Clark’s Filling Station.

“Excuse me. Can you tell me if there is a garage anywhere near here? I understood that a damn’ fool called Clark was running a place in this one-horse village.”

“You need a garage,” retorted Clark pointedly, nodding at the relic and slapping Thornton on the back. “Come inside, m’lad, and we’ll see what we can do for you. We’ve a wreckage van at your disposal. Care to borrow it?”

“Grrrr!” growled Thornton as he followed his friend into the poky hole which went by the grandiloquent title of office. “Well, how’s business?”

“Oh, so-so. Can’t complain. How are you doing out your way?”

“Not too bad. Had a bit of bother in this district, haven’t you?” he went on after lighting a cigarette. “See from last night’s paper that they brought in a verdict of murder on that Rother chap.”

“Yeah,” agreed Clark. “Funny business that. First this spot of bother under Cissbury—now it seems that William Rother has copped it in the neck too. Sort of family curse, eh?”

“That Hillman handy?”

“Round the back, Tim. Want to see it now?”

“Well, I’ve got to be back by twelve to interview a customer.”

“Then we’d better snap into it, ole man. You’ll need all the time you can get if you’re going back on that barrel-organ outside. I bet the thirty limit has never worried her , eh? ”

“We do at least keep our pumps painted,” countered Thornton as he followed the proprietor through a maze of cars to where the Hillman was parked in a far corner of the main garage.

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