The Valentine Murder by Evelyn James

Author:Evelyn James [James, Evelyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Raven Publications
Published: 2020-07-28T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

They were passing back through Hangleton, Jones taking his time as the roads were pitch black and narrow, when a commotion near The King’s Arms drew their attention.

“Hello, what’s that all about?” Tommy said.

There was a police constable visible among a group of four or five people, though it was difficult to say what he was doing. He seemed to be speaking fast and gesticulating with his arms. Clara was instantly curious.

“We should investigate. Please pull over, Jones.”

Their driver obeyed, but there was a concerned look on his face.

“Any trouble, miss, just shout for me,” he told Clara, his voice serious. “I shall wait with the car.”

What he left unspoken was that he didn’t trust the people around here and he didn’t like the look of the little group ahead. They seemed agitated, and their voices were raised. What had stirred up the excitement?

Clara left the car with Tommy and they walked over to the group casually. Closer, they could hear the police constable speaking, regaling his audience with some story.

“…and then it ran across the field, right where Mr Beech died!”

His onlookers gasped and their alarm was obvious. They consisted of a woman and three men, all over the age of thirty and one of the gents was probably pushing eighty. He leaned over his walking stick and had to crane up his head at an awkward angle to listen.

“Good evening,” Clara called. Clara worked on the theory that all good detective work was really the result of incredible nosiness. She had no real reason for stopping to see what the group was discussing, no reason to suppose it had anything to do with Mr Beech’s death, but her natural curiosity would not allow her to just turn away. You never knew when you might garner an interesting titbit of information from a seemingly random conversation.

The group glanced up at her voice, but then immediately ignored her, assuming she was a passer-by headed for the pub, or simply not caring to speak to her. The constable had not looked in her direction and was still talking, despite her interruption.

“I was scared to death, I can tell you. Seeing a thing like that. It isn’t right.”

“You should have a drink,” the old gent instructed him.

“Not on duty,” the constable hastily added, and Clara got the impression he had realised she was there and was on his best behaviour. She suspected, had she and Tommy not arrived, he would have gladly accepted the drink.

“That’s a shame, drop of whisky would settle your nerves,” the old man insisted.

“It’s a bad omen,” the solitary woman in the group declared. “Blood being spilt and all, now we shall see more things like this.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” the constable shivered. “I shan’t sleep tonight.”

“How long have you left on your patrol?” The old boy asked.

“Four hours. And then I switch with Withering. You know, I was on duty when Mr Beech was found dead too. I was the one called up there and saw his body.

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