Tread Softly: An Anthony Bathurst Mystery by Brian Flynn

Author:Brian Flynn [Flynn, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B08F6YT7HN
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2020-10-05T05:00:00+00:00

PART TWO

THE PUNISHMENT

CHAPTER I

Mr. Bathurst Meditative

Anthony Lotherington Bathurst for a second time drank beer with Inspector MacMorran and P.C. Pike Holloway. MacMorran was talking. Holloway was content to let him. Why not? It wasn’t his fault or his responsibility that the Inspector wasted time. The wastage could be well employed.

“As far as I am concerned,” said the Inspector, “the case is finished. The Merivale murder can be put on the files and gradually forgotten. And I’ll tell you why, if either of you is sufficiently interested to listen to me. It’ll be a change for Mr. Bathurst to listen. Claude Merivale murdered his wife. He has been tried on that charge and acquitted. He can’t be tried again. The law of the land won’t allow it. So there we are. Merivale 1 MacMorran 0. No extra time need be played. All the results and full reports including Scottish League matches! Thank you, Mr. Bathurst—I don’t mind if I do.”

Anthony smiled and refilled the Inspector’s glass. Pike Holloway, observing the activity, hastily emptied his own tankard. Consideration for others!

“Well, Andrew,” returned Mr. Bathurst, “I won’t deny the truth of what you say. I can’t. All the same, I’m strongly tempted to keep going. In my own humble way. Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time, now I come to think of it. Shoot!”

“Which, to your mind, Andrew, is the most significant point of the whole affair? No—I’ll alter that—the two most important points? Take your time, have a good look round, and pick where you like.”

Pike Holloway put his tankard on the corner of the mantelpiece, brushed his moustache and prepared to listen. Despite the prophecies of his grandmother, not often did he take part in the counsels of the great. MacMorran thought carefully over Anthony Bathurst’s question. He had been told to take his time—and he would.

“Firstly,” he replied with slow emphasis, “the scratch on Mrs. Merivale’s throat, taking into consideration the fact, mind you, that we know Merivale had a jagged nail showing when he came down to give himself up and, secondly, the discrepancy in his ‘times.’ That is to say the difference in his own story compared with what we know Constable Holloway here has told us. They’re the two points that I select.” MacMorran finished his oration and drank more beer. “Well—what do you think of ’em yourself?” he added hopefully.

“I’ll take one and reject the other.”

“H’m! Not so bad for me. A bit above my usual form. I’m showin’ improvement in my old age.”

Anthony proceeded. “I’ll take the scratch on the throat, and for my other, I’ll take the disappearance of Merivale’s light suit from the wardrobe at the Catena Club. First of all, we’ll talk about the scratch on Mrs. Merivale’s throat. And I think, my far from merry Andrew, that I shall probably surprise you with the opinion that I shall give you of it. Because in my opinion it would have been much more significant

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